Chapter One Thousand Seven Hundred Thirty-Seven
8th August 1966
Krakow, Poland
In his long career as a soldier, Emil had seen death in many forms. One thing that always stuck with him was how often those who died had a look of surprise frozen on their faces. They had been planning on getting through the day, surviving the next few minutes. They had things they were looking forward to, families and friends. What never seemed to enter their thinking was that their lives would be cut short until it happened. Then their last seconds were spent surprised by the sudden end. We are all the stars of our dramas, Emil thought to himself, until we aren’t. He was seeing that expression again and again as he was led through the overflowing city morgue.
When Emil had arranged to travel to Krakow, Maria had been in bad shape. Her relationship with Zella had been defined by their disagreements for years. The thought that the last time they had spoken had involved an argument over something trivial was something that had only existed in nightmares. As he had flown to Poland, Emil had been briefed about the situation. There were rumors that it had not been a riot that the Polish Army had put down, but a political demonstration by Free Galicia protesting the package of punitive laws that had been passed by the Government in Warsaw. Information was scarce, but Emil was hearing that the Galician Freikorps were on the move now that those who had been advocating a political solution been shoved aside in reaction to the shooting. Now, all Hell was about to break loose in Southern Poland because the Polish Army was about to find itself taking on veteran combat soldiers as opposed to Galician separatists and student demonstrators in Krakow. Many of those flocking to the Freikorps had been Emil’s men, so he knew what they were capable of.
As Emil walked into a viewing room, he could tell that the morgue attendants had known he was coming and had tried their best. They had her laid out on a table with a sheet covering her. There was a pair of bullet wounds in the center of her chest that they couldn’t do anything about and the expression on her face wasn’t one of surprise, but the pained expression of someone who had helplessly bled out. There was one substantial problem though, she wasn’t Zella.
“I’m afraid that there has been a mistake” Emil said, trying to hide the relief that he was feeling. Still, if Zella was still alive somewhere. Where was she?
Then his aide spotted a tattoo on the inner arm of this girl, a black triangle with a Z notation underneath, meaning Zigeuner, and was instantly outraged. It was from the old German prison identification system that had long been abandoned, a black triangle for those deemed to have committed antisocial offenses and their ethnicity if that was regarded as a contributing factor. The Courts had declared it discriminatory under the Law and a violation of the Constitution’s guarantee of equal protection. It had however become a symbol of resistance and solidarity among certain communities in the years since, especially here in Poland. It was instantly clear what must have happened, and Emil just felt tired.
Kattowitz, Silesia
“We heard that you had died” Zella’s Supervisor said when Zella finally got him on the phone. That was after considerable difficulty convincing her Supervisor’s Secretary that she wasn’t someone pulling a prank. It was just as well that Zella had gotten through because she was running out of coins to use in the payphone that she was calling from.
“Whoever told you that, they are wrong” Zella replied.
“Then what happened?”
“After the shooting started, Yuri and I barely avoided getting trampled getting out of the square” Zella said, “People were running everywhere, then the cable between the camera and VTR got detached. The last few minutes of the of video is useless.”
“You were recording in the square as the shooting started?” Zella’s Supervisor asked.
“Yes” Zella replied, “We got the whole thing.”
There was an intake of breath on the other end of line.
“I think I am love with you Marcella von Holz” Her Supervisor said deadpan, “Where are you now? Please tell me you have the tape with you?”
“Outside a market in Kattowitz” Zella said, “When we got back to the hotel it didn’t seem to be a good idea to stick around in Krakow. We’ll be back in Berlin this evening.”
“That isn’t good enough” The Supervisor said, “There is an airport in Kattowitz, be there in an hour, there will be tickets waiting at the gate.”
“What about my car?” Zella asked, “And I lost my Credentials back there somewhere in that mess.”
“No one will give a shit and we can always send someone for the car” The Supervisor said, “I want that tape in this studio early enough to be on the evening news tonight. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Sir” Zella replied.
“Good” Her Supervisor said before the line went dead.
Hanging up the phone, Zella heard the coins drop.
Looking at her car, Yuri was conked out in the passenger seat looking worse for wear and snoring. Zella didn’t imagine that she looked much better. He woke up when Zella closed the door, started the engine and an interview segment came on over the radio, Benjamin Hirst from outer space. In the movies, the radio would have been ripped out of the dashboard and thrown out of the car. Zella settled for turning it off.
“There’s been a change of plan” Zella said to Yuri as she put the car into gear.