“Won’t she have trouble traveling into Germany?”

  “When you have as much money as Kurt’s family has, arrangements can be made. I assume they’ve been made. She’s leaving by train this afternoon. I’ll have lunch with her and see her off at the station.”

  “I’m sorry, Anton. I don’t know exactly what your feelings toward her were, but I know this must be a blow.”

  “I was fond of her, and I’ll miss her.” He realized this was true, even though, because of his involvement with Tereza, he was glad Eliska was leaving.

  “Old Mr. Kopecky’s been calling you again. He wants to know whether you’ve seen his son.”

  “I’m planning to go to his son’s place this morning. I’ll call the old man back after I’ve seen the son. He’s in an apartment not far from here.”

  Anton wrote a couple of letters in longhand and cleared up the rest of the work on his desk. He took the letters to Martina, their receptionist and secretary, for typing. “I’m leaving now, and I’ll be gone till sometime later this afternoon.”

  Anton wondered whether society’s rebels and black sheep made good resistance workers. He’d take a close look at the young man he was going to visit to see whether he was someone to be mentioned to Anton’s contact. He walked to the apartment of the young Mr. Kopecky and knocked on the door. The place was in a run-down building in a run-down part of town. Nobody answered. He knocked again, much louder this time. He was about to walk away when he heard noises inside. Someone was coming to the door.

  Anton could tell he had waked the man. His hair was tousled, he had several days’ growth of beard, and he didn’t smell good. An alcoholic, Anton was sure of it. “What do you want?”

  “I’m Anton Janak, your father’s attorney. May I come in?”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Anton followed him into a cluttered sitting room. An empty wine bottle was turned on its side on the coffee table. He sat on a filthy loveseat. “Your father is concerned about you.”

  “Why is that?”

  “You aren’t working, and he’s spending money on you. His resources aren’t limitless.”

  “I can’t find a job.”

  “I know they’re not easy to find right now, but you’d encounter more opportunities if you’d make sure you’re looking your best when you go out job hunting.” The man wouldn’t be stable enough for any kind of undercover work.

  “I went down to the Skoda Plant at Pilsen. It was just my luck that the manager I talked to there was a man I used to work for here in Prague. He threw me out without even giving me a chance to ask for work.”

  “Where were you working for him here?”

  “I worked for an agency that furnished janitors for office buildings.”

  “Maybe you should try there again, since the man you worked for is now in Pilsen.”

  “They won’t take me back. I was arrested for stealing something there. I didn’t do it, but nobody would listen.”

  “There are plenty of restaurants in town. Have you tried them?”

  “I’ll have to try the restaurants. You wouldn’t have any money on you, would you? I’m all out of everything around here.”

  If he gave the man money, he’d soon be calling at their law office, asking for more. “No, I didn’t bring any money with me. I don’t have any to spare, anyway.” He didn’t know what more he could say, but he’d give it one more try. “Has it occurred to you that your country needs you? We’re in bad shape now with the occupation. If you aren’t concerned about your parents, think about Czechoslovakia. We need every citizen to be productive in some way.”

  “I am concerned about my parents and my country,” he whined. “I just can’t get a job.” He looked as if he were near tears.

  Anton stood. “I need to go now. Please think about what I’ve said.” He left young Kopecky sitting there, looking helpless.

  He felt sorry for old Mr. Kopecky, and he dreaded calling the man and telling him he hadn’t done any good. It would have to be done, though, and he’d call when he got back to the office after seeing Eliska off.

  A leisurely walk to the Café Slavia would get him there at just about the right time to meet Eliska. It had turned cloudy while he was in the house, and a chilly wind was blowing. He started to wish he had worn a jacket. By the time he reached the restaurant, a light rain was falling. The black Mercedes was parked outside, and through the fogged windows he could make out the same young German who had taken them to the party. The passenger seat was piled with suitcases, and the lid of the trunk was tied down—it wouldn’t close because of the trunk and bags inside.

  Eliska was already there, seated by one of the front windows. She looked lovely in a plum-colored suit with a matching hat. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “I’m going to miss you so,” she said.

  “I’ll miss you, too.” He couldn’t help thinking this was happening at the most opportune time, since he found himself becoming more attached to Tereza every day. It would mean a loss of opportunity to find out what was happening with her German friends, but there was nothing to be done about that.

  The waiter came with soup. “I ordered for you. I know what you like.”

  He had to agree that she did. He wanted to ask whether she had been at his apartment last night, but he knew she would want to know where he’d been, and he couldn’t think what to tell her. “What time does your train leave?”

  “It leaves at three, but I should get there early. I have quite a few bags.”

  “I noticed. Have some arrangements been made to get you across the border?”

  “My father-in-law will meet me with a car. He assures me there won’t be a problem. They’ve been most generous.”

  And they’d undoubtedly be most generous with border guards. “I hope the rain stops before you get there.”

  “I was hoping to see you last night for one last fling. I went by your apartment, but I couldn’t wait, because I still had a lot of packing to do. Where were you?”

  “My aunt wasn’t feeling well. I spent the night with her to make sure she was going to be okay.”

  “You’re very thoughtful, as always. As I said in my note, Hans will be staying in my house. He’ll look after the place while I’m gone.”

  “Do you think you’ll be back in Prague someday?”

  “Of course. As soon as the war ends, we’ll move back here. You don’t think I could leave you and my other friends forever, do you?”

  If he survived the war, and more importantly, if Tereza survived, there wouldn’t be a place for Eliska in his life. He couldn’t say this now, however. They finished lunch, and he took care of the bill. The rain was coming down harder now, and they rushed to the car. The driver helped Eliska into the front seat, and Anton squeezed into the back with the suitcases. The young man drove them to the station, where Anton helped him unload the luggage and get it onto a porter’s cart. Anton told the driver to go on; he would help the porter get the bags into Eliska’s compartment and into the baggage compartment of the train. She fluttered around, trying to decide which ones she needed with her, but finally they were all sorted out. Anton kissed her goodbye in her compartment, and she promised to write him. She waved to him at the window as the train pulled away.

  The rain was pouring down now, and he found a bench and sat in the station for a while. He had no umbrella, and it would be impossible to get a taxi in this downpour. He sat there wondering whether he should send a message through his contact about Eliska’s leaving; that source of information drying up. He decided that he should. Of course the hostess at the party, Mrs. Horakova, might invite him to more functions, considering the fact that she knew Teta Adelka so well. Going to them would be the last thing he’d want to do, but he would have to make that decision later if she invited him.

  The rain stopped suddenly, and he hurried through the wet streets to his office. He called Mr. Kopecky. “Sir, I saw your son today”

  “How’d it go?”

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t able to do much good.”

  “He wouldn’t listen to you?”

  “Well, he did listen, at least. I told him about your concerns and encouraged him to find work. I hate to say this, but it appears he might be an alcoholic.”

  “I’ve reached that conclusion myself.”

  Anton could hear the sadness in the old man’s tone. “How long has he been drinking that way?”

  “Quite sometime. Years. I’ve talked to him about it. Nothing changed.”

  “Until he stops . . .”

  “Yes, I’m afraid you’re right. In any case, I do appreciate your seeing him and trying. I don’t think there’s anything else we can do for him.”

  Anton agreed and hung up. It was time to go home and code a message about Eliska’s departure. Then he’d take whatever food Mrs. Svobodova left for him to Tereza’s apartment.

  #

  They set the food aside and made love in Tereza’s bed. He felt so grateful to somebody, something, maybe just to fate, that he had found her. He knew without any reservations that he was happy Eliska was gone. It was all about Tereza now. He held her tight for an hour, even though they both were famished.

  “There’s only one problem with sex,” he said.

  “What’s that?” She sounded worried.

  “It works up an appetite, and food isn’t that easy to come by.”

  She laughed. “It’s worth the misery of being hungry. Besides, I have a surprise. There’s this young man in the supply room. I think he has a crush on me. He gave me a couple of oranges, and I brought them home. I didn’t know whether I could get them past the searcher, but she didn’t seem to notice. I just put them on a table in the room where we’re searched. I picked them up and carried them out when I left.”

  So a young man had a crush on her already. This brought up a subject he’d been trying not to think about. She might feel the need to go to bed with a Nazi in order to obtain information. Should he tell her not to tell him about it if she did? He didn’t want to talk about it now, and never would.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “I’m just hungry. My landlady left a potato dish of some kind. I think it has some cheese in it.”

  “I have a tiny bit of bread, too, and with the oranges, we’ll have plenty.”

  “Let’s eat, and then I need to go. I want to spend the nights with you, but I think my chances of getting out of your apartment without being seen are better this time of day than in the morning, when everyone’s going to work.”

  They ate the potatoes and bread, leaving the oranges for dessert. When they were through they had the last of the tea. “Tell me about your day,” Anton said.

  “It was actually identical to yesterday, except for the oranges. I wonder if the woman who does the searching is one of us. It’s not likely, though, because she’s in a German uniform. Maybe she just feels bad because of the food shortages and ignored the oranges. Anyway, I still can’t see how I’ll ever get the camera into the palace.”

  “That’s not for you to worry about. It’ll be arranged.” He kissed her and left her; he was feeling for the first time in his life the bittersweet longing all lovers feel at the moment of parting.

  #

  Anton stopped at the Tyn Church early the next morning to meet his contact and found that the contact also had a message for him. He accepted he newspaper that contained the message and took it home to decode it. Once deciphered, it instructed him to take Erik and Jakub to Pilsen on Saturday to meet a contact at the Hotel Continental. Anton would return to Prague alone; Erik and Jakub would remain in Pilsen. Erik would have to figure out how to deal with his parents.

  Maybe he could tell them he had a job offer in Pilsen. Most likely the “job” had to do with what was planned for the Skoda Munitions Works. Anton had been trained to kill with a knife and with his hands, if necessary. A large, muscular man with a shaved head, a man of few words, had spent a day with him at a clearing in the woods near Benosov, showing him the fundamentals. He could still remember the bizarre contrast of the bird songs from the nearby trees as he concentrated on learning to thrust a knife into just the right spot to reach the heart.

  Now, he supposed, it was Jakub and Erik’s turn. What a pity that teenagers had to be relied on for this work. It was a reflection of the fragmented state of the resistance since the reprisals after the assassination of Heydrich. He wondered how much beer the young men would drink in a town famous for its beer, but decided they wouldn’t have enough money to make it a serious problem.

  They left early Saturday; he could get there and back the same day. Their meeting was scheduled for eleven in the morning in the hotel restaurant, where a man would ask if they were looking for work. Erik and Jakub would reply that they were and would leave with the contact.

  They were stopped by soldiers at the edge of Prague. They showed their papers, and one of the soldiers, a tall, gangly youth, leaned down. “Where are you going?”

  “We’re going to Pilsen. We heard rumors that the hotels were hiring there, and we’re looking for work.”

  That seemed to satisfy the soldier, and he waved them on. Cars were backing up behind them. “What are we going to be doing in Pilsen,” Jakub asked.

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t given that information. A contact will be waiting for us, and you’ll find out eventually. I’m to leave you there and come back alone.”

  “Do you have any idea how long we’ll be there?” Erik asked.

  “I don’t know that either.”

  “I told my parents I had a job offer, and I’d try to come home on weekends unless I had to work then. I tried to be vague about it. They’re worried, as usual.”

  They arrived at the Continental near the main square in Pilsen. Anton found a parking place, and they went into the restaurant and ordered coffee. It was a few minutes before eleven. They drank the coffee slowly and waited. There were a few other people in the restaurant, but no one approached them. At eleven-fifteen, Anton was getting concerned. “We’re leaving at eleven-thirty if no one shows up.” If their contact had been detained by the Gestapo or SS, he might be telling them right now that he was to meet three men in the restaurant at the Continental.

  Jakub looked grim. “This is disappointing. I was looking forward to taking part in something big for a change.”

  “I was, too.” Erik said. The look on his face said something different, however; he would be glad to go home to the safety of the family farm.

  “Okay, we’re leaving.” The hands on Anton’s watch showed eleven-thirty. They got up and he paid for the coffee. As they walked to the car, they could see a Gestapo officer coming down the street toward them. “Don’t rush,” Anton said. “Just take it easy and get into the car slowly. Jakub, you get behind the wheel.”

  Jakub didn’t question this but did as he was told. Erik got in the backseat. The officer pulled out his Luger as he approached them. Anton took his gun from under the dash and covered it with a map they had used to find the hotel. The officer got in the backseat with Erik and pointed the pistol at his head. Erik’s face was white. “Turn the car around. We need to go to headquarters to check your papers.”

  If the contact had revealed their plans, wouldn’t they have sent officers in cars for them? What was this man doing? Anton suspected he had taken a fancy to the Citroen Rosalie, old as it was, and was determined to dispose of them one way or another so he could have the car. But if this were the case, why hadn’t their contact shown up? Why couldn’t their work be simple?

  Anton had the cyanide pill in his pocket, but he didn’t think the teenagers had one. His contact had given him one early on, and Anton had gotten the impression that this wasn’t the usual thing for members of the resistance.

  Could he shoot the officer without Erik getting shot in the process? They were all dead anyway, unless he did something. Jakub started the car. Anton could see that his hands were shaking. “Go down here and turn left on the next street,” the officer said.

  They were heading away from Gestapo headquarters. He was going to take them out in the country and shoot them. If Anton showed his gun, Erik would be dead immediately, he was sure of that. They were on the next street now, and traffic was light. Anton lifted the gun and fired a shot through the seat back. The officer had a stunned look on his face when the bullet struck him in the chest. Erik had the presence of mind to grab the hand holding the pistol and point it toward the roof of the car. The gun went off as the officer slumped forward.

  Anton’s ears were ringing. He could see a man walking down the street turning to look at them—it was obvious he was curious about the sound of gunshots but wary of appearing to be too curious.

  “Drive slowly, Jakub. Erik, prop him up and get his jacket off.” He took off his shirt. Fortunately he had worn an undershirt. “Put this on him, and then lean him back against the seat. Maybe it’ll look like he’s sleeping. Not so fast, Jakub. We need to get out of here without being stopped. Good job, Erik. Just put his jacket on the floor and push it back under the seat.”

  No one said anything till they reached the edge of Pilsen. “Would you rather I’d drive?” Anton asked.

  “I’m okay. What are we going to do with him?”

  “There’s a road ahead that cuts over to Kladno. We’ll take it. It’s a country road, and we’ll find a place to pull off where we can drag his body into the woods. We’ll take all his clothes off. I want to keep everything. We won’t leave any identifying items on him. By the time the animals in the woods get through, there won’t be much left but bones.”

  Erik had finished buttoning Anton’s shirt, and blood was seeping through the front. “What are you going to do with his things? It won’t be safe to keep them.”

  “I’ll find a place. They could be useful in the future.”

  Jakub turned on the road to Kladno, and they were immediately surrounded by woods. “If you see a dirt road leading off this, preferably one that doesn’t lead to a house, turn in.”

  They had gone almost five miles before they came to such a road. It led a short distance into the forest and stopped at a clearing where someone had been cutting firewood. “Okay, let’s get his clothes off. Then we’ll drag him farther into the woods. First we’ll put all his things in the trunk.” They took his identification, his wallet, his wedding ring, and all his clothes and shoes. They were elated to have the pistol, and Jakub asked Anton to let him keep it. Anton refused. He bundled everything up in the trunk, careful that the blood from the jacket and his shirt not spread to anything else, and covered it with some rags that had been used to wash the car in some long-ago time when car washing had been the thing to do.