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inside the station and closed myself in a stall. Then I took out the documents—there were only about a half dozen pages this time—and I tore them up into little pieces and flushed them down the toilet.”
    â€œDid you ever see the man?”
    â€œNo. Not then, or ever again. It’s almost like it never really happened, like I just imagined it.” She paused again, remembering the man whispering to her. She could almost feel his hand on her shoulder and his warm breath on her neck. “I didn’t meet Falcon that day, just got on the train again for the run back to Krakow.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t tell anyone.”
    â€œNo, I was too . . . I don’t know . . . ashamed, I guess. It was the only time I failed to complete an assignment and I just couldn’t . . .”
    Berta gazed at her for what seemed like an eternity. Then she took Natalia’s hand. “You did the right thing.”
    Natalia pulled her hand away, pushed back her chair and got to her feet. “No, I didn’t. You wouldn’t have done that, not destroyed the documents. I should have taken evasive action, circled around through the opposite door of the station, seeing if I could spot him again.”
    â€œBut you didn’t know what he looked like. How would you have spotted him again? You did the right thing, and it’s exactly what I would’ve done.”
    â€œBut those documents could have been important. They
were
important, or else they wouldn’t have been passed along.” She stopped. Berta had her arms folded across her chest, an impatient set to her mouth. “OK, so you would have done the same thing. That doesn’t make it right.”
    â€œMake it
right?
Christ, Natalia, don’t beat yourself up for something that happened a couple of years ago. Not after all you’ve done. Remember what we were taught: Survival is the most important thing. Live to fight another day.”
    â€œI guess you’re right . . . as usual.”
    Berta smiled. “Feel better now that you’ve got that off your chest?”
    â€œYeah, sure. Thanks.”
    Berta put a hand on her shoulder. “Well, we lived through all that, so I guess we can get through the mess we’re in now. I’m going to try to get some sleep.”
    Natalia nodded as her friend shuffled out of the room. Then she tossed back the vodka and sat down, staring at the empty glass.

Five
    16 A UGUST
    T HE FOLLOWING MORNING Adam woke up an hour before dawn, precisely as he’d planned. He dressed in the Waffen-SS uniform and gave his black boots a quick shine. He checked the clip on the Walther P-38 and slipped the pistol into the holster on his waist, then strapped a second holster to his right leg, just above the ankle. He inserted a knife with a black walnut handle into the ankle holster, slipped on his red-and-white AK armband and left his room.
    Adam walked briskly across the cobblestone expanse of Old Town’s central square, mostly deserted at this hour save for a few groups of commandos huddled around bonfires near the immense Gothic façade of St. John’s Cathedral with its towering spires and ornate wrought-iron gates. He passed under the two-story-high arch of Queen Anne’s Corridor that connected the cathedral to the Royal Castle and glanced at the clock high in the castle’s onion-dome tower, though he knew exactly what time it was. He continued south, past the soaring granite column topped with a bronze statute of King Zygmunt III overlooking the Medieval streets that wound through the ancient city.
    The eastern sky was brightening, but the persistent sooty haze hanging over the city would blot out the sun for most of the morning. Old Town and much of the City Center were still firmly in the hands of the AK, and Adam passed a barricade where a group of commandos stood guard, waiting nervously for the attack that would come at dawn. He shouted a greeting and made sure