Berry, Steve - Cotton Malone 15 - The Warsaw Protocol by Berry Steve

Author:Berry, Steve [Berry, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250140302
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group
Published: 2020-02-25T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Czajkowski decided to stay in Kraków for the day, wanting to be nearby so he and Sonia could communicate quickly in person. Michał Zima, the head of the BOR, had not been pleased with the decision, preferring to have the president of the nation within the controlled environs of Warsaw. He realized that Zima wanted to know what was happening, and why an agent of the Agencja Wywiadu was so directly involved with the president. That was unusual, to say the least, but he’d rebuffed all of Zima’s renewed overtures to learn more.

His night with Sonia had been wonderful. He was beginning to miss not having her around. But feelings like that could be dangerous, so he quelled any notions of emotional attachment. Those could be dealt with later. At the moment, the auction was all that mattered.

Sonia had shown him the tracking device on her phone and that the Spear of St. Maurice had spent the night at the American consulate. Her last report was that the spear had left Kraków and been taken south to the Poland–Slovakia border. But that had been nearly two hours ago. No telling what was happening now. He could only hope that Sonia stayed with it. They’d discussed all the options, and in the end he told her to use her best judgment as to what had to be done.

He trusted her implicitly.

But he also had to be prepared to deal with the situation, if she failed.

He realized there was no way he could deny any of the documents’ authenticity, since they were all either in his handwriting or signed by him. The one showed to Sonia by the Russians seemed representative of what he recalled providing to the SB. He’d worked as a paid informant for seven years, from mid-1982 until late 1989. Dilecki had been his main contact point, though others had, from time to time, been involved.

All informants were required to provide regular reports. If not, they were subject to being rounded up and “interrogated.” For him, that had meant contact with somebody in the SB every couple of months. Something. Anything. Once someone came onto the SB’s radar, it was nearly impossible to get off. You either provided what they wanted, or you ended up like that math professor, strapped naked to a stool and beaten savagely.

Or worse.

Defending himself now was going to be next to impossible. The documents themselves would be damning, and to his knowledge only a handful of people had known the truth. Not even Wałęsa, who’d headed Solidarity, had been aware of all that had been happening.

And it all started that day in Warsaw, when he left Mokotów Prison.

A few minutes before he’d been watching a man being tortured, the implications clear that he would be next unless he cooperated with the SB.

Then the next—

The clamor of a car horn brought him back to reality.

He’d stepped into the street without looking. Thankfully, the driver was paying attention and had stopped. He stared through the windshield at an older man who continued to pound the horn.

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