The Warsaw Protocol: A Novel(91)

“You’re an admirer?”

“Absolutely. He was an astronomer, with a doctorate in canon law. He was self-taught as a physician, polyglot, translator, diplomat, and economist. He spoke five languages. He’s the father of the scientific revolution. And most important, he was a Pole.”

A placard near the statue stated that, in 1493, while a student in Kraków, Copernicus visited the mine. Perhaps the first tourist ever to do so, the text suggested. The statue was carved in 1973 to commemorate the genius’ 500th birthday.

“I don’t like being helpless,” he whispered.

“You’re not. We have the situation under control. Let Malone and the Russians fight it out below. Whoever emerges we will deal with. They have no idea we’re here, and there’s only one way out.”

The others left the chamber.

The manager appeared at the far side and walked their way.

“We have everything contained. All of the tour groups that were in the lower levels are now topside. Level IX is empty except for the two groups we’re watching. We have all the exits guarded, with the only way out through here.”

“I assume there’s a place where we can watch that elevator?”

The man nodded. “There is a spot. Not far away, down on Level III. The passageways here move between the three levels. We’ll continue to ferry people up, and, as you asked, we’ve stopped selling tickets for the day. I’ve had all of the guides instructed to keep their groups near the elevators, or in the café and the adjacent dining hall.”

He’d never been one to solve problems from the bottom. Smart people started from the top. And he’d always considered himself smart. Never had he done anything legally wrong or corrupt in his life. The Warsaw Protocol? That was war. Different rules. But if he was forced to defend himself and reveal the truth to counter the documents, how many would agree with him?

Not enough.

Most would see him as a spy for the communists, providing information on his friends, family, and acquaintances. That he sold out his country. Few would believe the Warsaw Protocol ever existed. Those who did might think him a murderer. A classic lose–lose. And the resulting firestorm would not be survivable. Candidates had been destroyed with far less damaging slander. Things like being called insensitive to war veterans. Labeled narcissistic. Elitist. Bragging about their education. Poor health. Even staring too long at a video monitor during an interview. All had been used in attempts to destroy campaigns. But an even greater danger existed, one that history cautioned should not be ignored. The possibility of dividing Poland.

Something similar had happened before.

Not here, but in France.

He knew the incident well.

In 1894 a traitor was discovered within the French army. A spy, passing information to the Germans. An investigation revealed the potential culprit. Captain Alfred Dreyfus, a French artillery officer of Jewish descent, who was found guilty and sent to solitary confinement on Devil’s Island. Two years later an investigation unearthed the real culprit, who was tried. But officials suppressed vital evidence and the man was acquitted. The army then accused Dreyfus of more charges with more falsified evidence. Dreyfus was retried and found guilty again, but was pardoned and set free. Eventually it was proven that all of the accusations against Dreyfus were baseless.

But the whole thing bitterly divided France.

One half defended everything. Pro-army, mostly Catholic, screaming absolute loyalty to the nation. Dreyfus was a Jew who could not be trusted. He had to be a spy. The other half, anti-clerical, pro-republican, wanted justice for all, regardless of religion.

Political parties chose sides. Families split, sometimes for more than a generation. The debate continued for decades and remained even today with the “France for the French” nationalism clashing with a more global vision of the rule of law and a nation for everyone.

Incredible.

One court case created unresolvable divisions between people who never knew they disagreed with each other. It also revealed two vastly different views of what people thought was France.

The same would happen in Poland.

Revealing the Warsaw Protocol would open wounds that had never healed. What happened from 1945 to 1990 remained as fresh as yesterday in the minds of many Poles.

Divisions already existed.

Attacks on foreigners were steadily increasing.

Just recently, a fourteen-year-old Turkish girl was beaten on the street while her attackers shouted Poland for Poland. Anti-Semitic demonstrations had become commonplace with Jews burned in effigy. Jokes about the Holocaust were no longer unacceptable. Pro-fascist rallies happened monthly. Crimes committed from racial prejudice were on the rise. There’d even been a massive neo-Nazi march during last year’s celebration of Polish independence.

It would be easy for the populace to add one more divide to that mix.

Some would agree with the protocol’s radical tactics. Traitors had it coming. Solidarity did what it had to do. Others would find the lies and deaths no different from what the communists did, Solidarity nothing but hypocrisy.

The debate would be endless.

There’d be political shifts. Ones, as in France, that would split families and friends, cut across social classes, and rearrange long-standing alliances.

Old wounds would bleed again.

Sonia was staring, allowing him his thoughts. He wanted to talk to her, to explain, seek her help, but knew better. This was better kept to himself.