The spies of warsaw by Alan Furst Read Free Book Online
Authors: Alan Furst
said. "Anyhow, I wanted to say, if Herr Uhl should--
well, if he goes away, or whatever happens to such people, perhaps I
Furs_9781400066025_3p_all_r1.qxp 3/26/08 9:29 AM Page 32
3 2 * T H E S P I E S O F WA R S AW
could continue. Perhaps you would want something--something different."
"We might," he said. "One never knows the future."
"No," she said. "Probably it's better that way."
"Speaking of the future, your next meeting with Herr Uhl will
take place on the fifteenth of November. He doesn't say anything
about me, does he?"
"No, never. He comes to Warsaw on business."
Would she tell him if he did?
"In a week or two he will telephone," she said. "From the Breslau
railway station. That much he does tell me."
"A different kind of secret," Mercier said.
"Yes," she said. "The secret of a love affair." Again the smile, and
her eyes meeting his.
18 October, 4:20 p.m. On the 2:10 train from Warsaw, the first-class
compartment was full, but Herr Edvard Uhl had been early and taken
the seat by the window. The gray afternoon had at last produced a
slow rain over the October countryside, where narrow sandy roads led
away into the forest.
As the train clattered across central Poland, Uhl was not at ease.
He stared at the droplets sliding across the window, or at the brown
fields beyond, but his mind was too much occupied by going home,
going back to Breslau, to work and family. The unease was not unlike that of a schoolboy's Sunday night; the weekend teased you with
freedom, then the looming Monday morning took it away. The
woman in the seat across from him occupied herself with the consumption of an apple. She'd spread a newspaper over her lap, cut slices
with a paring knife, then chewed them, slowly, deliberately, and Uhl
couldn't wait for her to be done with the thing. The man sitting next
to her was German, he thought, with a long, gloomy Scandinavian
face, and wore a black leather coat, much favored by the Gestapo. But
that, Uhl told himself, was just nerves. The man stared out into space,
Furs_9781400066025_3p_all_r1.qxp 3/26/08 9:29 AM Page 33
H OT E L E U RO P E J S K I * 3 3
in a kind of traveler's trance, and, if he looked at Uhl, Uhl never
caught him at it.
The train stopped at Lodz, then at Kalisz, where it stood a long
time in the station, the locomotive's beat steady and slow. On the platform, the stationmaster stood by the first-class carriage and smoked a
cigarette until, at last, he drew a pocket watch from his vest and
waited as the second hand swept around the dial. Then, as he started
to raise his flag, two businessmen, both with briefcases, came trotting
along the platform and climbed aboard just as the stationmaster signaled to the engineer, and, with a jerk, the train began to move. The
two businessmen, one of them wiping the rain from his eyeglasses
with a handkerchief, came down the corridor and peered through the
window into Uhl's compartment. There was no room for them. They
took a moment, satisfying themselves that the compartment was full,
then went off to find seats elsewhere.
Uhl didn't like them. Calm down, he told himself, think pleasant
thoughts. His night with Countess Sczelenska. In detail. He'd woken
in the darkness and begun to touch her until, sleepily, with a soft, compliant sigh, she started to make love to him. Make love. Was she in
love with him? No, it was an "arrangement." But she did seem to enjoy
it, every sign he knew about said she did, and, as for himself, it was
better than anything else in his life. What if they ran away together?
This happened only in the movies, at least in his experience, but people surely did it, just not the people he knew. And then, if you ran
away, you had to run away to someplace. What place would that be?
Some years earlier, he had encountered an old school friend in
Breslau, who'd left Germany in the early 1930s and gone off to South
Africa, where he'd become, evidently, quite prosperous as the
well, if he goes away, or whatever happens to such people, perhaps I
Furs_9781400066025_3p_all_r1.qxp 3/26/08 9:29 AM Page 32
3 2 * T H E S P I E S O F WA R S AW
could continue. Perhaps you would want something--something different."
"We might," he said. "One never knows the future."
"No," she said. "Probably it's better that way."
"Speaking of the future, your next meeting with Herr Uhl will
take place on the fifteenth of November. He doesn't say anything
about me, does he?"
"No, never. He comes to Warsaw on business."
Would she tell him if he did?
"In a week or two he will telephone," she said. "From the Breslau
railway station. That much he does tell me."
"A different kind of secret," Mercier said.
"Yes," she said. "The secret of a love affair." Again the smile, and
her eyes meeting his.
18 October, 4:20 p.m. On the 2:10 train from Warsaw, the first-class
compartment was full, but Herr Edvard Uhl had been early and taken
the seat by the window. The gray afternoon had at last produced a
slow rain over the October countryside, where narrow sandy roads led
away into the forest.
As the train clattered across central Poland, Uhl was not at ease.
He stared at the droplets sliding across the window, or at the brown
fields beyond, but his mind was too much occupied by going home,
going back to Breslau, to work and family. The unease was not unlike that of a schoolboy's Sunday night; the weekend teased you with
freedom, then the looming Monday morning took it away. The
woman in the seat across from him occupied herself with the consumption of an apple. She'd spread a newspaper over her lap, cut slices
with a paring knife, then chewed them, slowly, deliberately, and Uhl
couldn't wait for her to be done with the thing. The man sitting next
to her was German, he thought, with a long, gloomy Scandinavian
face, and wore a black leather coat, much favored by the Gestapo. But
that, Uhl told himself, was just nerves. The man stared out into space,
Furs_9781400066025_3p_all_r1.qxp 3/26/08 9:29 AM Page 33
H OT E L E U RO P E J S K I * 3 3
in a kind of traveler's trance, and, if he looked at Uhl, Uhl never
caught him at it.
The train stopped at Lodz, then at Kalisz, where it stood a long
time in the station, the locomotive's beat steady and slow. On the platform, the stationmaster stood by the first-class carriage and smoked a
cigarette until, at last, he drew a pocket watch from his vest and
waited as the second hand swept around the dial. Then, as he started
to raise his flag, two businessmen, both with briefcases, came trotting
along the platform and climbed aboard just as the stationmaster signaled to the engineer, and, with a jerk, the train began to move. The
two businessmen, one of them wiping the rain from his eyeglasses
with a handkerchief, came down the corridor and peered through the
window into Uhl's compartment. There was no room for them. They
took a moment, satisfying themselves that the compartment was full,
then went off to find seats elsewhere.
Uhl didn't like them. Calm down, he told himself, think pleasant
thoughts. His night with Countess Sczelenska. In detail. He'd woken
in the darkness and begun to touch her until, sleepily, with a soft, compliant sigh, she started to make love to him. Make love. Was she in
love with him? No, it was an "arrangement." But she did seem to enjoy
it, every sign he knew about said she did, and, as for himself, it was
better than anything else in his life. What if they ran away together?
This happened only in the movies, at least in his experience, but people surely did it, just not the people he knew. And then, if you ran
away, you had to run away to someplace. What place would that be?
Some years earlier, he had encountered an old school friend in
Breslau, who'd left Germany in the early 1930s and gone off to South
Africa, where he'd become, evidently, quite prosperous as the
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