“Alright, sir? Why, of course it’s alright. Please. Make yourself at home. Come.” Kowalski opened the door, which bore a design that looked like some variation on the American flag with stars surrounding a red grid and what looked like a hat and two scythes. At the bottom were the figures 303.
“Our squadron insignia, sir, 303 squadron – the Kosciuszko squadron. Mr Kosciuszko was a Polish hero in the American War of Independence. One of the few occasions in history where you and we were on opposite sides, I believe. He was an engineer of brilliance who helped Mr Washington with his defences against the British. After that he was a hero at home fighting against the Russia of Catherine the Great. Unfortunately, despite his great efforts, he and we lost and Poland was wiped from the map by the Russians and, of course, the Prussians. That was over 140 years ago and here we are again. Except this time Mr Kosciuszko will be avenged and Poland will rise again, independent and free.”
“He’s a great one for history is our Jerzy.” Kubicki shook his head. “Come on. Let the poor people in. It’s Kilinski they’re concerned with not Kosciuszko.” Kubicki pushed through the door and beckoned Merlin down a narrow corridor. He turned into a room on the right. A double bunk bed took up most of the space in the room. An upturned wooden crate by the window served as a table. Some laundry hung from a rope hung across the room. “This is Kilinksi’s room. Up until three weeks ago he shared it with another man, Petr Marowitz. However, sadly, Marowitz died in a stupid accident. We hadn’t been allowed into battle at that point so poor old Marowitz didn’t last to see any real action. Anyway, Kilinski has had the luxury of having this place to himself for a while. I don’t know if Kellett’s got round to deciding who should have the spare bunk.”
“What was the accident?”
“Somehow Marowitz ended up walking into an active propeller. Took his head clean off.”
Robinson blanched.
“How unfortunate. May I, Mr Kowalski?” The pilot stepped aside to let Merlin go past him into the room. He saw something lodged under the lower of the bunk beds and bent down to find an old, blue trunk with a rusty padlock. There was no name or initial to indicate its owner. “Kilinski’s or Marowitz’s?”
“They took Marowitz’s stuff away, after the accident.”
“Well, I think it would be helpful if we had a look inside, if you gentlemen don’t object.”
Sieczko, Kubicki and Kowalski murmured their agreement. Merlin and Robinson had a quick look around to see if they could find a key, but were unsuccessful. Robinson did, however, find two old photographs on the windowsill behind a curtain.
“Can one of you find me something to deal with this padlock?” Merlin heaved the trunk onto the lower of the bunk beds. Kubicki grunted and disappeared down the corridor.
“Look at these, sir. I wonder which one is Ziggy.” Robinson showed him a picture of two young boys, one around eight or nine and the other maybe four or five. They were both dark-haired and smiling broadly at the camera. Merlin looked carefully at the photograph and thought he recognised Ziggy’s mouth in the younger boy. The second photograph portrayed a grey-haired woman looking self-consciously into the camera.
“His mother, I suppose, and a brother. He had a brother, did he, Jan?”
“Yes, but he wouldn’t talk about him. Wouldn’t even say what he was called.”
“Dead, do you think?”
“Perhaps, but as I say, Ziggy kept, how do you say, mummy on the subject.”
The two officers smiled, but did not correct Jan’s idiosyncratic slang. Kubicki returned with a small steel rod and quickly broke the padlock. Merlin paused before opening the trunk. “Perhaps you gentlemen wouldn’t mind…?”
The three Polish officers nodded and started for the door. “No, Jan. It would be helpful if one of you could stay.”