captured those officers when they invaded. It would be just like the Nazis to kill their prisoners and blame it on us.”
“Us?”
“The Allies. Us. The good guys.”
“Yes, well, remember that Poland was attacked by both Germany and Russia. That’s what started this war. It is not so easy for Poles to think of Russia as an ally.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’re making like Al Capone.”
“Billy, we know it was the Russians. We have evidence that they murdered thousands of Polish officers, professors, and priests in 1940 while they were at peace with Germany. But the British government has sided with the Russians and their story of a German massacre, since it is easier than facing the truth. Your government has been silent, which is just as bad.”
“What kind of evidence?”
“Mountains of it. I can tell you the whole story later. For now, please understand that this is very dangerous. No one wants to hear the truth, since it may break the Allies’ alliance. Poland is being sacrificed, once again.”
“And you don’t like the idea of being sacrificed.”
“No. Neither did General Sikorski. You know what happened to him.” It had been big news. Four months ago, General Wladyslaw Sikorski, prime minister of the Polish Government in Exile and head of Polish military forces, had died in a plane crash.
“Yeah. It was an accident. His plane crashed after taking off from Gibraltar, right?”
“Correct about Gibraltar. But what you don’t know, because the news was suppressed, is that a military aircraft carrying the Soviet ambassador and other officials was parked next to Sikorski’s plane before he took off. No explanation has been given for the crash, even though the pilot survived.” Kaz cocked an eyebrow, full of meaning.
“Wait, why would the Russians kill Sikorski?”
“Because he was the leader of a free Polish government, and he insisted upon making known the truth about the Katyn Forest murders. Which made him a very inconvenient leader, for all parties concerned. Gibraltar is a British base, of course.” He took a long drink of wine and set the glass down, hard. Tiny spots of red appeared on the white tablecloth.
“Kaz, have you gone crazy?” I tried to keep my voice in a whisper. “Are you saying the British worked with the Russians to assassinate General Sikorski?”
“What could I be thinking? The British government condoning murder? I must sound like an Irishman. A crazy Irish rebel.” He lifted his glass and drank again, a satisfied smile curling around the rim of the glass.
“Are you in danger?”
“It is war, Billy. I am fighting for my country.”
“What exactly does the Polish Government in Exile have you doing anyway?”
“Investigating the Katyn Forest Massacre. So we may reveal the truth about it.”
“And that means you need to carry a gun? In London?”
“General Sikorski probably thought his plane was safe from sabotage in Gibraltar.”
I didn’t know what to say. I did know what not to say: that I was in London to investigate the murder of a lone Russian. The fillets of beef came, and I tried to concentrate on eating and not think about the knot in my gut. I didn’t like keeping a secret from Kaz, but I had a bad feeling about our reunion. He sounded like he was on a collision course with the Brits. And I knew that Uncle Ike valued unity among the Allies above all else. Kaz and his Polish pals were aiming to throw a monkey wrench into the workings of the alliance.
But that wasn’t what had my guts in a twist.
It was that, deep down in my Irish heart, I knew Kaz was right to keep his automatic close at hand.
CHAPTER THREE
Kaz was on the couch, the London Times scattered on the floor, drinking coffee and munching on toast from a room-service cart. He had a towel around his neck and looked like he’d been working out. Again. I pulled my bathrobe on and shuffled my way toward the aroma of coffee.
“Good morning, Billy. I thought about waking you to join me in calisthenics, but decided you needed a good sleep.”
“Kaz, it’s barely seven o’clock,” I said as I poured myself a cup and sat down. “What’s the news?”
“Heavy RAF and American bomber raids on Berlin. General Clark is approaching Monte Cassino, which overlooks the road to Rome. The Russians took Kiev, and held it against a German counterattack.”
“All good news.”
“Billy, Kiev is roughly two hundred miles from the Polish border. We are still eight miles south of Rome. Do you know what that means?”
“No, not before I’ve had my coffee, I don’t.”
“It means the Russians will take all of Poland before the British and Americans even get close to Germany.”
“I thought we called that liberating Poland,” I said, gulping the hot, black joe.
“I call it trading a Nazi master for a Communist master. The Nazis are the more bloodthirsty of the two, but neither will let Poland be free. And isn’t that what started this whole war? We were the first to be attacked, and Poles have been fighting ever since. In Italy, here with the RAF, and with the underground in Poland itself. I sometimes wonder what we are fighting for. Or who will fight for us, once the war is over and the Soviets occupy my country.”
“Would you go back after the war if the Russians ran the place?” I asked.
“Billy, I know what the Russians did to Polish officers. I think they would take even less kindly to Poles who had worn British uniforms. It would be a death sentence.”
“Isn’t that kind of harsh?”
“Harsh? I don’t think you understand, Billy, I don’t think you understand at all.”
“I don’t doubt you, Kaz. It’s just that General Eisenhower has been pounding Allied unity into our heads for so long, I have trouble criticizing the Russians. Hell, I even have trouble criticizing the Brits these days. And after all the propaganda stunts the Krauts have pulled, I have a hard time believing they’re aboveboard about the Katyn slaughter.”
“I know they are not to be trusted. I don’t mean to put you in a difficult position, Billy, but after what I’ve seen and learned, I’ve begun to question things. Everything has changed, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I chewed toast and washed it down with coffee. “And it’s only getting started.”
“I must get to work,” Kaz said, standing up. “Can you come by and visit today? Perhaps I can show you the evidence I’ve been gathering. It may help to explain things.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself, Kaz,” I said.
“Thank you, Billy. But do come to the Rubens Hotel. It’s off Buckingham Gate, immediately south of the palace. Ask for me at the desk and they’ll take you up.”
“I’m busy this morning, Kaz, but I’ll try to stop by this afternoon.”
“Are you going to Norfolk House? It’s a short walk from there to the hotel.”
“Yeah, I have to check in, scout out the arrangements.” Norfolk House was in St. James’s Square, a stone’s throw from Piccadilly Circus. It was going to be Uncle Ike’s new headquarters.
“Is Major Harding here yet? Is Big Mike coming with you?”
“I forgot to tell you, it’s Colonel Harding now. And yes, Big Mike will be here with him, maybe tomorrow.” Corporal Mike Miecznikowski was an MP who had joined up with us after Sicily, where he’d gotten in hot water for helping me out. He was a former Detroit cop, and as the nickname implied, a really large former Detroit cop. He was handy to have around, and I wondered what his take on this Polish stuff might be.
“Why did they send you ahead?”
“I didn’t have anything to do,” I lied.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t mean to unload all my troubles on you, but it is good to have a friend to
