“Fine.” Kasiko’s contemplative mood seemed to switch off like an electric light. “All of you give me all your money!”
“What? Why?” a tall member of the group asked.
“You can stay,” was Kasiko’s icy response that stabbed at the stunned scientist, who instantly became very compliant.
In single file, they exited the cellar of the church. A small relief to the Brodenchy brothers, who wouldn’t want to be caught dead in a crusader’s church. Under cover of a moonless night, they made their way through dangerous countryside that had been friendly and serene only a week before. To a man, they wore the same kind of sensible shoe, an Oxford style appropriate for the halls of science and academia but ill suited for the terrain they now traversed.
They had only walked twenty minutes from the church when a small Soviet patrol crossed their path. Kasiko didn’t hesitate or delay. He opened fire and killed all three Soviets before they knew what hit them. The seven gentle scientists were horrified as he then took out a knife and stabbed each one in the heart without wasting precious ammunition.
Kasiko felt their looks. He went over to one of the Cossacks and pulled a radio from his dead hands. “With this he would have had half the Russian Army here looking to skin you alive. It’s my job to keep you safe and get you out of here. That is the only thing you should judge of me. I am going. If you are behind me, then you will be free. If not, it’s your life.”
The brothers Brodenchy were stunned but the younger observed to himself, “Strength, decisiveness, no mercy is the key to survival.” The young scientist-in-training had just learned a lesson he would never forget.
Kasiko’s plan was to travel by night on the back roads and forests that the Russians did not yet control; the group would then rest at two farms over two nights before finally crossing into the Alps on the third night by railcar. Kasiko’s uncle, a railroad foreman, had pre-arranged their meeting at a watering station.
Kasiko had little discussion with the men entrusted to him; he didn’t want to be distracted. Every sense he had was tuned to danger. He could almost smell the Soviets on the wind if they were close.
Kasiko’s arms waved downward in big sweeping arcs as the seven men behind him silently lowered themselves to hug the ground. After a minute, the freedom fighter came to the center of them and whispered, “There are Hungarian Home Guards up over that ridge. Wait here.”
As he scampered off in silence, the last thing the men saw was Kasiko reach inside his jacket. They could only imagine what type of terrible knife he was about to dispatch the Home Guard with. Each avoided the other’s stare, no doubt feeling guilty that their presence meant the death of more men. A minute passed and they saw Kasiko waving them on from the top of the rise. No one wanted to go first. They all feared the gore and blood surely awaiting their eyes. One more emphatic wave from Kasiko got them moving. As they reached the rise, the first to go over looked back in shock to the six straggling behind. Soon those six came across the same scene.
Kasiko was dolling out bread and wine from the guard shack to the scientists with the help of the Home Guards. Each man took a bottle and two loaves of bread. When the guard shack was well behind them, Dr. Ensiling asked, “Were those men partisans?”
“No, Doctor, just open to being bribed. What did you think I needed your money for?” Kasiko moved up front to his lead position.
Dr. Ensiling breathed his first deep breath that evening. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad sort, this Kasiko.
The rest of their journey was blessedly uneventful until they reached the watering station. They had arrived three hours ahead of the meeting time. Kasiko’s uncle had seven workers ready to disembark the train so that the six men and Kasiko could assume their places and sleeping bunks for the two-day train ride through northern Europe. Unexpectedly, Soviet troops had descended on the railroad siding. The reason became apparent as the men watched the tracks from a berm two kilometers off. A Russian armament train with troops, tanks, trucks, and even folded-wing airplanes stopped to fill its water tanks at the tower.
“We wait for the freight train,” was all Kasiko said to his charges.
Four hours later, the anemic whistle of the northbound freight echoed through the valley. Kasiko led his men to within fifty meters of the track. To his eyes and nose, there were no Soviets near. The old train rumbled into the yard area. His uncle was hanging off the end carriage of the train waving a lantern, signaling the engineer. Kasiko approached him cautiously.
“Uncle, are we still going to Antwerp?”
“Yes, my nephew. The train is a little behind schedule, but we are. Do you have your packages?”
Kasiko whistled and waved his scientists onboard. As they entered the crew van at the rear of the train his uncle said, “Kas, you said six. I count seven. I only have cover for seven including you.”
“I know. There was a change of plans. I’ll stay behind.”
“You can’t. Those soldiers you shot are all the news. They are looking for you, my nephew. They have searched this train twice. That’s why we are delayed.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“No, I will,” Dr. Brodenchy said. “I am the one who forced you to bring my brother. I am responsible and I will stay.”
Kasiko took in the scientist. “Your brother, is he a scientist?”
“Yes. He just graduated as a physicist. He was visiting…”
“I know; he was home from school…he is as good as all of you. It is I who am expendable here.”
Brodenchy was intrigued. The last thing he expected from this coarse and gruff freedom fighter was chivalry.
“Now, now, nephew,” Kasiko’s uncle said, “no one has to be sacrificed. I’ve got an idea.”
The train started with a slam, then jolted and started chugging down the track with some very odd, soft-handed, white-skinned, and manicured crewmen. Meanwhile, some very well dressed railroad workers waited in newfound overcoats and suits for the railroad employees’ bus to take them back across country to their freight yard. Kasiko tried out his hidden place in an upper berth in this old sleeper car that was now the crew’s rolling home.
Two days later, and without incident, the train arrived in Switzerland.
Chapter Two
Six years later, in 1962, young Peter Remo came home from P.S. 21 with a note from his second grade teacher:
Your son Peter is expected to have a project for the science fair this Monday.
When Tony got home, Anna showed the boy’s father the note. The next night Tony came home with a grape box and a bag. After dinner, young Peter watched as his father went to the closet and got the hammer. Using his foot and the claw of the hammer, he pried the box apart. The sides of the box were 5/8” clear pine and had a label across the face. He took one of these sturdy ends and flipped it label-down. He put the wood on his knee and looked at his son. “Ever hear about the cobbler who worked on his knee?”
Peter watched as his dad nailed little things onto the board in his lap, and then fitted a battery and a small light bulb to it. When he finished, he said, “C’mere.” Tony opened his arm above his knee, which Peter knew meant, “Hop on.”
The board was on the table as Tony told his son what it was. “This is the battree, this is the light bulb, this is the switch. When you trowe the switch, the juice goes from the battree, through the switch to light the bulb. Here, it’s your science project, take it to school tomorrow.”