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Chapter 11 - ROMANTIC INTERLUDE
While
fighting his unsuccessful
battle with the Canadian
bureaucracy to return to
Canada, Paszkowski was corresponding
with a family acquaintance
in Poland, who asked his
daughter Elzbieta, a 24-year-old
hospital lab technician,
to take charge of writing
letters to him. After corresponding
for a time, she asked him
to send her an invitation
to visit him in Germany,
which she needed in order
to obtain a passport and
visa. Paszkowski obliged,
enclosing some money for
the train ticket. When she
arrived at the Cologne train
station, Paszkowski recognized
her from a photograph she
had sent previously. They
had not actually met before.
There she was, smiling shyly,
a pretty blonde with shortly-cropped
hair and big blue eyes.
She was standing there,
her suitcase near her, nervously
clenching her handbag. "Hi,
how are you? Nice to see
you at last," I said, kissing
her cheeks, trying to help
her relax seeing how tense
she was. "Did you have a
good trip?" I asked picking
up her suitcase. She grabbed
my hand and said she had
something important to tell
me.
"Right
here? Can't it wait till
we get home?" I asked, surprised
and wondering what could
be so important that it
couldn't wait another half
hour.
She
burst into tears and sobbing
said, "The SB sent me here
to spy on you." The story
that emerged looked like
another of the SB's vile
plans. Somehow they had
discovered the correspondence
between us, probably by
checking the mail to my
family and friends. Two
agents paid her a visit
one day and threatened her
with losing her job and
destroying her chances of
ever having a career. They
made her write a letter
to me asking for the invitation
to West Germany and money
for the ticket. Scared as
she was, a young inexperienced
woman from a small town
who hadn't yet seen much
in her life, she had done
as they demanded. They told
her to go to West Germany
once I had sent the necessary
papers, and arranged it
with her employer so that
she could take three months
off. She was to stay with
me during that time and
whenever she found herself
alone, she was to go through
my address book, letters,
notes and any papers to
find and write down all
my contacts, names of people
I met, phoned or corresponded
with. She was to pay special
attention to letters and
contacts from Canada. After
the three months were up,
she was to return to Poland
and bring all the information
with her.
The
SB agents in playing their
little games were involving
a young, innocent woman
in dangerous liaisons. She
knew she could not go ahead
with the plan and spy on
me, and at the first opportunity
told me about the real purpose
of her visit.
At
home, after she had rested
from the long trip and the
tension caused by her mission,
we talked about what to
do next. She couldn't go
back to Poland. She would
have to face angry and vengeful
SB agents if she brought
nothing with her. The danger
was obvious. We decided
she would have to stay in
West Germany and apply for
refugee status while staying
with me.
Elzbieta
- Ela is my nickname for
her - was thrust into my
life by being forced to
carry out the SB's dangerous
schemes. She had tried to
protect me, now it was my
turn to take care of her.
The
day after Ela's arrival
in Cologne, she and Paszkowski
went to the local immigration
office to apply for political
asylum for her. Paszkowski
translated the forms for
her and acted as an interpreter
during a brief meeting with
an official. Her application
was accepted and she had
to pick up her passport.
Once the process for political
asylum was started, all
she had to do was wait.
Since
she had no place to go,
no money and didn't speak
German it was natural that
she stay with Paszkowski.
While
Paszkowski was at work during
the day, Ela would shop,
cook and take care of the
tiny apartment. Soon the
place looked clean and cosy,
her dinners were delicious
and Paszkowski now looked
forward to going home after
work. He would take her
on sightseeing trips happy
to see how inspired she
was with the things she
saw and stories he had to
tell her. They would walk
for miles in the park holding
hands and saying nothing.
It felt good just being
together. Before they knew
it, they were falling in
love.
As
the weeks flew by, they
lived in such happiness
that they seemed like a
small boat on a rough ocean.
They had started to make
plans to get married when
Ela found she was expecting
a baby. Their moments of
happiness would soon be
brutally shattered.
*
* * * *
The
telephone rang twice and
Ela hesitated to answer
it. She was afraid it would
be the raspy voice again,
telling her to go home and
to do her job as she had
been instructed. The first
time it happened, she hung
up immediately without saying
anything. She knew the SB
had found her and were trying
to scare her into obedience.
The
phone kept ringing. "It
might be Ryszard," she thought
and picked up the receiver.
"Hello,
is that you, you cheating
whore? Where is the information
you were supposed to deliver?"
The voice was angry and
he was speaking so fast
the words ran together.
"Say something you bitch!
You know what we do to people
like you? Break their necks!
You do your job or else..."
Ela quickly hung up, her
heart banged loudly in her
ears and her eyes filled
with tears. She was terrified.
That
night Paszkowski bought
another gun and taught Ela
how to use it. "Shoot if
somebody breaks into the
apartment. And don't be
afraid," he told her. She
nodded her head feeling
uneasy about holding a weapon.
They couldn't count on the
German police; they didn't
want to get involved. Paszkowski
felt it was his job to protect
his future wife and their
baby. He was on full alert,
and knowing SB methods he
knew they were not going
to let her off the hook
easily. However, neither
one was prepared for what
happened.
One
early evening in September,
1989, Ela was walking home
from visiting a friend a
few blocks away. They had
been talking about children
and she was preoccupied
with anticipation of the
baby she felt moving in
her womb. A car quietly
pulled up to the curb, the
door opened and she was
dragged into it. The man
who grabbed her choked her
with one hand, and slapped
her face with the other.
"I
told you to get to the job
you were supposed to do,"
he growled tightening his
grip on her neck.
Ela
groaned, crying softly.
"Let go of me," she pleaded.
"You
have one month to do what
you were sent for. If you
don't get back to Poland
with the material, we'll
find you and your lover
and kill you both." He punched
her a few more times, opened
the door and threw her onto
the pavement. The car pulled
away, its tires squealing.
Ela
dragged herself up and stumbled
home, crying fearfully for
the baby inside her.
When
Paszkowski arrived home,
he found her lying in bed,
bruised and exhausted, with
blackened eyes. Sobbing
uncontrollably, she told
him what had happened. In
a rage, Paszkowski got into
his car and searched the
neighbourhood hoping to
find the car carrying the
SB agents. His stomach clenched
in anguish at the vision
of Ela's bruised face and
the sound of her crying
in pain. It tortured him
deeply to think he'd completely
failed to protect her.
Unable
to locate the vehicle, Paszkowski
returned home and called
the police. Two officers
arrived, took down a report
and left. The couple never
heard from them again. Paszkowski
called to follow up, wanting
to know if the police were
going to do something to
protect them, especially
Ela and the baby, from the
SB, only to hear there was
nothing they could do.
Unable
to obtain protection from
German authorities, Paszkowski
decided they must leave
Germany quickly. Too much
was at stake. He sold everything
he owned and drove Ela to
Holland, crossing the border
illegally. Once in Amsterdam,
he left her with some acquaintances
and through contacts bought
two false passports. With
the passports in hand, he
bought two airline tickets
to Canada. He felt the Canadians
owed him something for his
services, so that would
be their destination.
"I
don't want anything from
them except a secure place
for my family," he thought.
Ela was completely unaware
of his experiences in Canada.
On
the 4th of October, 1989,
the couple boarded a Canadian
International Airlines flight
from Amsterdam to Edmonton.
At the passport control
area, Paszkowski showed
his West German passport
without incident. Ela produced
a British passport, which
might have proven awkward
since she couldn't then
speak a word of English.
A nervous smile was frozen
on her face as she passed
through the passport control
area, praying no one would
speak to her.
During
the flight, Paszkowski destroyed
their passports and plane
tickets, flushing them down
the airplane toilet so that
they couldn't be returned
to Amsterdam. When he returned
to his seat, Ela looked
at him with her big blue
eyes, unable to sleep despite
her fatigue. She was scared.
He was determined to stay
in the country that didn't
want him.
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