The Demi-Monde: Winter (35 page)

‘We have just escaped from the Rookeries, Chief Delegate, and I bring urgent and shocking intelligence. I have heard from Heydrich’s own lips that the elimination of all those living in the Ghetto – what Heydrich calls his “Final Solution” – is to begin within the next three days. The SS-Ordo Templi Aryanis under the command of Archie Clement have been given the task of razing Warsaw – and everyone in it – to the ground.’

‘Twaddle,’ sneered the Chief Delegate as he levered himself down into a chair by the fire and took a long gulp from the glass of Solution the landlord handed him. He gave an appreciative smack of his lips and raised the glass vaguely in Dabrowski’s direction in an ironic toast. ‘To Warsaw’s foremost Cassandra,’ he said, and drained his glass. ‘So tell me, Dabrowski, is this the poppycock I’ve been dragged out of my bed to listen to?’

‘I’m telling the truth.’

The Chief Delegate waved Dabrowski’s objections away and signalled the landlord to serve drinks to the other delegates. ‘You and the other hotheads in your so-called Warsaw Free Army have cried wolf before and yet here we are, still safe, sound and unmolested by Archie Clement’s thugs. It is the considered opinion of the Administration Committee’ – here he nodded to the men who had accompanied him to the inn – ‘that it would be ridiculous for the Anglos to attack the Ghetto. Why would they squander men and matériel on destroying Warsaw and the Poles when we pose no threat to the ForthRight?’ He shook his head. ‘It won’t do, Dabrowski: Heydrich might not like us Poles much, but he isn’t stupid.’

‘But I have heard …’

‘What have you heard? Admit it, Dabrowski, Heydrich might rant and rave, he might bluster and threaten but he knows as well as we do that to launch an attack on Warsaw would be a waste of time and energy. No, the ForthRight’s real enemy are those damned HerEtical witches. That’s where the next war will be fought: in the Coven.’

There were mutterings of agreement from the other members of the Administration Committee.

The Chief Delegate waved Dabrowski into a chair. ‘You look ill, Dabrowski, worn out. Maybe you’ve started to hear things. I’m told that soldiers who spend too long in the field start to ill-ucinate, start to become a little crazed. Maybe you should take a holiday?’

Dabrowski reacted badly. Perhaps if he had remained calm he might have had a chance of convincing the delegates, but instead he became angry. ‘Damn it all, Chief Delegate, I have a witness.’ He pointed to Trixie. ‘Lady Dashwood was with me, she heard Heydrich …’

‘Dashwood? The daughter of Comrade Commissar Algernon
Dashwood?’ The Chief Delegate began to laugh. ‘You really wish us to take the word of the daughter of the man who’s working thousands of our young men to death building his railway? Are you seriously suggesting that this Committee should accept the corroborating statement of a Dashwood?’

Trixie bridled. ‘I will have you know, Sir …’ she began, but Olbracht shouted her down.

‘You will have me know nothing, young lady,’ he snapped. ‘You will remain silent as all women should when men are talking. I have not come here to be harangued by a hysterical child.’

For a moment Trixie’s temper flared but she knew it would be a waste of energy when faced by such idiocy. She kept quiet, sitting cross-armed in her chair, shuddering with suppressed fury. Her time would come.

Dabrowski took a long, calming breath. ‘What I am telling you is the truth, Chief Delegate. In three days the SS will seal the Ghetto and then begin a systematic annihilation of all the Poles and nuJus in Warsaw. It is time to begin our battle for survival. It is time to mount our uprising. It is time for Operation Storm.’

The Chief Delegate gave a scoffing laugh. ‘How melodramatic you young people are! Operation Storm indeed. And what will this “storm” of yours entail?’

‘You must issue the order for the mobilisation of the Warsaw Free Army. We must evacuate the civilian population to the centre of the city. We must barricade the streets around the entrances to the Ghetto and move to defend the Blood Bank. We must send out emissaries to the Coven and to the Quartier Chaud asking for support. We must prepare to fight for our freedom.’

‘Fight?’ said the Chief Delegate as he jumped to his feet and
wagged a finger at Dabrowski. ‘What are we to fight with? Sticks and stones? According to you, we will be facing the SS, the most ferocious and battle-hardened troops in the whole of the DemiMonde. What you are suggesting is suicide.’

‘I have information that there are two barges packed with rifles and ammunition moored on the Berlin bank of the Rhine. Give me a hundred good men and I will lead a raiding party to seize these weapons and use them to arm our soldiers.’

‘Absolutely not!’ shouted the Chief Delegate. ‘Such an act of piracy will provoke just the sort of attack you are predicting. Stealing weapons from the Anglos would bring the most severe reprisals down on our heads. Is it your intention to goad them to attack us?’ Dramatically, he raised a hand and pointed a finger at Dabrowski. ‘Is that what you are, Dabrowski, an agent provocateur? Maybe you are a crypto in the pay of the Coven, sent to stir up trouble within the ForthRight? Is this a piece of malicious agitprop sponsored by that witch Jeanne Dark?’

Now it was Dabrowski’s turn to leap to his feet. ‘I am a loyal and patriotic Pole!’ he shouted angrily. ‘I beg you to listen to me. The SS will attack us in days.’

‘They will not!’

For several long seconds the two men stood, scarlet with rage, glowering at each other in the middle of the sawdust-strewn floor of the inn. It was then a man moved out from the group of delegates to stand beside Dabrowski. Unlike his colleagues, this man wore a beard, a broad-brimmed black hat and a long black coat on whose sleeve was a white armband decorated with a five-pointed star, the sign of the nuJus.

For Trixie this was truly a night when she met all of the ForthRight’s bogeymen: first a Shade and now a nuJu. The peculiar thing was that this nuJu wasn’t the beak-nosed, crook-backed creature nuJus were characterised as in The Stormer.
He looked like a diffident and dusty academic, but though he was a little old and careworn there was a distinct sparkle of intelligence twinkling in his eyes.

‘Perhaps I might be allowed to make an observation, Chief Delegate, on behalf of the nuJu citizens of Warsaw. My people do, after all, make up almost half of the population.’ Olbracht gave a nod of consent but Trixie could see that he wasn’t happy about the old nuJu’s interference. ‘Reluctant as I am,’ the nuJu began, ‘ever to demur when one as erudite as yourself has pronounced judgement, Chief Delegate Olbracht, I would counsel against dismissing Captain Dabrowski’s warnings out of hand. After all, our Cichociemni cryptos have been sending us warning messages of unusual activity in the Anglo Sectors for several weeks now. We know, for example, that all SS leave has been cancelled. This would support the Captain’s contention that they are mobilising for an attack.’

‘Irrelevant,’ Olbracht scoffed. ‘Tell me, Delegate Trotsky, has your spying told you anything that isn’t just gossip and innuendo?’

Trotsky gave a half-smile and delved into a pocket of his battered coat to retrieve a folded piece of paper. ‘We intercepted and deciphered the following semaphore message not more than an hour ago. It reads: “To Major T. Hartley, Officer Commanding Death’s Head Detachment of SS-Ordo Templi Aryanis: Warsaw District. Implement Case White with immediate effect. Demand to be made of Warsaw Administration for surrender of Daemon known as Norma Williams thought to be in the company of the renegade Captain Jan Dabrowski. Dawn-to-dusk curfew to be imposed. Civilians violating curfew to be shot. By Order Clement.”‘

Trotsky carefully refolded the piece of paper and returned it to his pocket. ‘I think, Chief Delegate, your optimism regarding
the safety of Warsaw and the rationality of Reinhard Heydrich is somewhat misplaced.’

Olbracht gave a scornful laugh. ‘Not so, Trotsky! All Comrade Leader Heydrich is concerned about is capturing a Daemon. He has no arguments with the people of Warsaw per se.’ He turned to Captain Dabrowski. ‘Which one is it, Dabrowski, which one of these delinquents is the Daemon? We will give it up to the SS and the Leader will call off his dogs. Who among them is Norma Williams?’

‘I refuse to tell you,’ said Dabrowski.

‘Then we’ll hand the whole pack of you over to the SS. That’ll settle this nonsense.’

Trixie saw Vanka edge protectively nearer to the Shade, unbuttoning his jacket. It was a sensible manoeuvre, one she imitated by nestling a hand around the butt of her Mauser.

‘It will settle nothing,’ said Dabrowski firmly. ‘Case White is the code name for the ForthRight’s plan to destroy Warsaw and all its inhabitants.’

‘You are wrong, Dabrowski,’ said Olbracht scornfully. ‘If we give up this Daemon …’

Trotsky laughed. ‘Oh, then they’ll just find another excuse. This onslaught has been coming for quite a while, Chief Delegate. All Poles have now been classified as UnderMentionable and denied ForthRight citizenship. Polish nuJus, such as myself, are already confined to the Ghetto by the decree Clement issued a month ago, the so-called non tolerandis nu-jueis. Our young men are being shipped off to work camps in the Hub in ever greater numbers and we never hear of them again. The Blood Tax is so high and the food rations so low that our people hardly have the strength to live, let alone fight.’ He gave a rueful shrug. ‘All it seems to me is that Heydrich has tired of subjecting us to a lingering death and has decided to administer the coup de
grâce. Whether we give up the Daemon or refuse, the result will be the same.’

Olbracht ignored him. ‘This mess is your fault, Dabrowski: by associating with Daemons you have brought the Leader’s wrath down on Warsaw. You must give this creature up. We must show ourselves to be loyal and obedient members of the ForthRight. We must surrender the Daemon and apologise.’

He whirled around and addressed the officer who was commanding the company of soldiers that had accompanied the delegates. ‘Lieutenant Adamczyk, arrest Captain Dabrowski and all of his companions.’

The Lieutenant made a move towards Dabrowski then stopped in mid-stride as the sound of a rifle bolt being worked echoed through the room. All eyes turned towards Sergeant Wysochi, who was pointing his rifle rather casually towards Olbracht. ‘I don’t think the Captain has a mind to be arrested tonight, Chief Delegate,’ he growled.

‘Are you mad, Sergeant?’ Olbracht gasped. ‘I could have you shot for this. Don’t you know that I’m the leader of the Warsaw Administration, that I’m …’

‘You’re a dead man unless you and all your pals turn around and get going.’ There was something in Wysochi’s tone that indicated he was in deadly earnest; Olbracht turned pale.

‘Captain Dabrowski, order this lunatic of yours to put down his rifle. This is mutiny!’

Dabrowski stood speechless, unable to choose between his sergeant and the man who was, at the very least, his titular commander. Trixie had seen the phenomenon before in young men in the ForthRight: they had been conditioned from birth to obey orders and this made it difficult for them to know how to disobey them.

Sergeant Wysochi took the decision out of his hands. ‘Don’t
matter what the Captain says, Chief Delegate, after what’s happened tonight I’m a dead man anyway, so whether the Checkya arrest me for one murder or two don’t make no difference.’ He raised the rifle to his shoulder and took careful aim at Olbracht’s forehead. ‘Now, Sir, are you going alive or are you staying dead?’ He clicked off the rifle’s safety, the sound ominous in the silence.

Olbracht and the rest of the Administration retreated out of the inn muttering threats about ‘mutiny’ and ‘court martials’.

When the last had gone, Wysochi lowered the rifle. ‘I think if we’re going after those barges, Major Dabrowski,’ said the Sergeant, pointedly using Dabrowski’s Warsaw Free Army rank, ‘we’d better get a move on. I’ve got a feeling that that prick Adamczyk will be back with more men and then he won’t be taking no for an answer. If we move on the barges tonight …’

‘Tonight?’ muttered Dabrowski. ‘But we’re not ready.’

‘We’ve got to take them tonight, Major. Strike while the iron is hot. We’ve got to present the delegates with a fait accompli.’

Fait accompli? wondered Trixie. Now that wasn’t a phrase you often heard coming from the lips of a Polak sergeant. There was more to this Wysochi than met the eye.

‘Taking those barges will be an act of war that even those cowards and renegades in the Administration won’t be able to apologise for. Anyway, if we wait Olbracht will alert his SS pals about what we’ve got planned: by tomorrow those barges will be so heavily guarded we’ll need an army to take them.’

Dabrowski shook his head. ‘We don’t have enough men.’

Wysochi looked over to the young second lieutenant who had been left at the inn when the delegates had scurried off. ‘You the officer here?’ he demanded.

The tall, thin boy stepped forward. ‘I am, Sir … er …
Sergeant.’ He saluted. ‘I’m Second Lieutenant Gorski.’ The Lieutenant was utterly unprepossessing. He looked about fifteen years old and was wearing an army greatcoat at least two sizes too big for him. The soldiers in his command were equally ragtag: they did not inspire confidence.

‘How many men in your company, Gorski?’ asked Wysochi.

‘Twelve … no, fifteen.’

‘Are they armed and ready to fight?’

Gorski swallowed, his overlarge Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. ‘Fight who … er, whom?’

‘The ForthRight, of course! We are going to seize a pair of barges moored in the Berlin docks, and confiscate the rifles they’re carrying on behalf of the Warsaw Free Army.’

The boy’s eyes popped. ‘But my orders are …’

‘Do as you’re fucking well told!’ barked Wysochi. ‘Major Dabrowski is the ranking officer here.’

Dabrowski sighed. ‘It’s no good, Sergeant, even with Gorski’s men there are only seventeen of us and that isn’t enough to take the barges. And we need a man who can operate a steam-barge. My idea was to sail the barges up the Rhine and unload them at the Gdańsk docks but without a barge captain we’re stymied. Operating a steam-barge is a tricky business; it’s not a job for amateurs.’