Tatiana and Alexander: A Novel(178)

"We need to call Red Cross in Hamburg."

"Governor Bishop is doing that for us. It's all taken care of. We just need to go. Right now."

They got into the truck.

"Where do you think we should start?" said Martin in sulky capitulation. "Apparently Sachsenhausen has one hundred subcamps. Maybe we should start with a few of those. Show me the map. They're small, we could get through them quickly."

"Depending on what you find there," said Tatiana. "But no, we should head for Sachsenhausen." She did not show Martin the map. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

"Hmm, no, I don't think so," said Martin. "On my information sheet it says the population of Sachsenhausen is twelve thousand prisoners. We don't have enough kits."

"We'll get more."

"What's the point? Why don't we just wait until we get more?"

"How long would you wait to give life support, Dr. Flanagan?" said Tatiana. "Not too long, right?"

"They've waited for us all these months, they can wait another couple of days, no?"

"I don't think they can, no."

Evgeny Brestov, the commandant of the camp was surprised, "shocked, actually," to find the three of them at his doorstep. "You're here to inspect mywhat ?" he said to Tatiana in Russian. He had not asked to see her credentials. Her uniform seemed to be enough for him. He was an overweight, underwashed, sloppily dressed man who quite obviously drank unconscionably.

"We're here to tend to the sick. Hasn't the military commander of Berlin been in touch with you?" Tatiana was the only one able to speak to him.

"Where did you learn Russian?" he asked her.

"At an American university," Tatiana replied. "I don't think I'm very good."

"Oh, no, no, your Russian is excellent."

Brestov walked with them down the road to his administrative offices where a telegraph wire from Stepanov marked "Urgent" was waiting for him.

"Well, if it's urgent, it's urgent," said Brestov. "Why hasn't anyone brought me this!" he bellowed. And then, "Why such urgency now, I don't understand. Everything is good. We are keeping up with the new regulations. If you ask me there are too many of them. Regulations. They ask us to do the impossible, then they complain when we don't do it to their liking."

"Of course. It must be very difficult."

He nodded vigorously. "So difficult. The guards have no experience. How are they going to manage a trained killing force like the Germans? You know they put up that sign on the gate to the camp, `Work Makes You Free' or something. You'd think the Fritzes would do a little bit of it."

"Maybe they know it won't make them free," said Tatiana.

"It might. We're discussing terms with the Germans. It certainly won't if they continue to be so recalcitrant."

"So who does the work?"

Brestov fell quiet. "Oh, you know..." he said, and changed the subject. "I'm going to introduce you to Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

my superintendent, Lieutenant Ivan Karolich. He oversees the daily routine of the camp."

"Where can we safely keep our truck?"

"Safely? Nowhere. Park it in front of my house. Lock it up."

Tatiana looked down the wooded path and saw that the commandant's house was several hundred yards from the camp's gatehouse. "Could we park it inside the camp? Otherwise, too hard for us to carry thousands of kits. You have what, twelve thousand in there?"

"Give or take."

"Which is it, give or take?"

"Give."

"How many?"

"Four thousand."

"Sixteen thousand men!" Then with less inflection Tatiana said, "I thought the camp was built to house only twelve thousand. Did you construct new barracks?"

"No, we stuffed them all in the sixty barracks we have. We can't build new barracks for them. All the lumber we log in Germany goes back to the Soviet Union to rebuild our cities."

"I see. So can we park inside the gate?"

"Well, all right. What do you have in your truck, anyway?"

"Medical supplies for the sick. Canned ham. Dried milk. Two bushels of apples. Wool blankets."

"The sick will get better. And they're eating too much as it is. It's summer, we don't need blankets. Have you got anything to drink there?" He coughed. "Besides dried milk, that is?"

"Why, yes, Commandant!" Tatiana said, glancing at Martin, and taking Brestov's arm as she led him to the back of the jeep. "I've got just the thing you need." She took out a bottle of vodka. Brestov relieved her of it swiftly.

A sheepish Martin drove the jeep through the gatehouse and parked it on the right-hand side. "The camp looks like an army base," he said quietly to Tatiana. "It's so well designed."

"Hmm," she said. "I bet when the Germans ran it, it was cleaner, better kept. Now look at it."

And true, the walls of the buildings were chipping, the grass was sloppy and uncut, wooden planks from broken window frames lay haphazardly on the grass. The iron was rusting. It had an unpainted, dogged, Soviet look.