“Yes. In 1940, the Russians murdered twenty-five thousand Polish soldiers and intellectuals in the Katyn Forest and buried them there. Stalin lied about it, and blamed the Nazis.
“The Russians eventually captured my great-uncle for his efforts. They tortured and then murdered him after a show trial in 1948, then buried him in an unmarked grave. It wasn’t until the fall of Communism in Poland that Witold Pilecki’s story was finally told to the whole world, though people who knew him personally knew it well.”
“Like Mr. Wilczek?”
“He told me his grandfather fought alongside my great-uncle against the Germans and even saved his grandfather’s life.”
Jack shook his head. “I understand now when you say that history isn’t just a school subject for you, but a daily reality.”
“Which is perhaps why I talk too much about it. Sorry.”
“Nothing to apologize for. It’s fascinating and painful all at the same time. You must be very proud of your family.”
“A family’s name and a family’s honor is everything, don’t you think?”
“No question.”
They were tooling along a southbound two-lane now. The road was fairly busy, mostly with passenger vehicles, but quite a few commercial ones as well, traveling in both directions.
“You mentioned before that you appreciated the fact my country wants to put a military base in Poland outside of NATO commitments. Is that because you don’t trust France and Germany to come to your aid against another Russian invasion? Sort of like the Phony War?”
“Would you? When have they ever lived up to their NATO commitments? The French and the Germans couldn’t save us from a Russian invasion, even if they wanted to.”
“But you trust us to come to your aid?”
“I trust President Ryan, yes.” She smiled. “Your Congress? Not so much.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“Am I wrong to do so?”
Jack shook his head. “I’m even sorrier you’re right.”
Liliana slapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, don’t think we Poles don’t love America. We do! You know our country disappeared from all of the European maps for over one hundred and twenty-three years, right? We were divided up and absorbed by the Austro-Hungarian, Russian, and German empires until 1918. But it was President Wilson who insisted after World War One that Poland be allowed to be a country again. That’s why we’re celebrating our hundredth anniversary this year. We love America, and we know we can rely on you whenever it really counts.”
“So long as President Ryan has anything to say about it, yeah, you can count on us, for sure.”
37
KRAKÓW, POLAND
Jack and Liliana hit traffic on the two-lane road on the north side of the city. Traffic was heavy in both directions.
It was hard to believe that a city of nearly eight hundred thousand residents had such small roads, but then again, Poland appeared to have a lot more public transportation than the United States did. On this side of town, at least, there weren’t any skyscrapers. Mostly low apartment buildings, homes, and businesses. Everything was neat and clean, as it had been in Warsaw. Maybe more so. The architecture had changed somewhat. Jack knew he was about as close to Budapest in the south and Vienna in the southwest as he was to Warsaw in the north. So perhaps it was the influence of the Austro-Hungarian Empire he was feeling.
“Everything looks neat and clean here. I take it Kraków was destroyed during the war, too, and then rebuilt?”
“The city was last destroyed during the Mongol invasion in the thirteenth century. The Nazis felt Kraków was the most Germanlike city in Poland, so they preserved it. They even ran their wartime administration from here, instead of Warsaw. There is a great deal of history here, including German history, which the Germans admire most of all.”
There were just five addresses and income tax statements on the list sent by Liliana’s friend at the tax office, and Liliana had already marked them on Google Maps.
“So where do you want to start?” Liliana asked.
“The most interesting place. His house.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
* * *
—
Liliana followed the ring road west, then south, avoiding the city center. They crossed the wide Vistula River and headed farther south. Without the onboard navigation, Liliana admitted, she would have had a hard time finding Stapinsky’s neighborhood, located on the edge of a protected forest. The homes here were larger than most, with distinctly alpine features and situated on large, heavily wooded private lots. From an American perspective, it had a middle-class feel, but Liliana assured