The Visitor (5 page)

“Didn’t the Nazis build airplane parts in these mines in the war?” the man asked.

“Yes,” the guide said. “In 1944, the Nazis set up a plant here. They thought that building the parts here would save them from being bombed as was the case at so many of their factories. The factory here was manned by Poles of Jewish origin, detained in a temporary camp located in the Kinga Park. The plant was disassembled at the time of the Soviet offensive, and the prisoners were taken to Belzec and other camps by the Nazis, where they were killed.” Hearing no more questions, the guide asked the man, “Are you ready to move on now?”

“Tak,” the tourist said.

She heard it clearly from behind the rock in the salt chamber. How did this man know her name? She came out and walked around the wooden bridge to the two men. Tak felt sheepish, caught, or so she thought, and approached him. “You know who I am?”

He stared at her, looking dumbfounded at her question. “I’m afraid not, madam. But allow me to present myself. I’m Baron Von Limbach.”

“Tak.”

Clearly surprised, he said, “Oh? Do you know of me?”

“Oh, no. I do not know of you. Why do you ask?”

“Because you said
Tak
when I told you my name and title.”

“My name is Tak.”

“Seriously?” Baron said, leaning toward her slightly as if to make very sure he heard her answer. “In spite of the many languages I speak, I have never heard of a person with the name of
Tak
.”

“Yes. Tak.”

Baron laughed a hearty laugh which resonated in the quiet air of the big, salt chamber. Then he asked, “Where’s your guide?

“I seemed to have lost him.”

“I see why you got lost. Whenever one of the guides said ‘tak,’ you thought you were supposed to follow.
Tak
means
yes
in Polish, which is one of the many languages I speak. So when I said tak earlier, you thought I was calling you!” He began to laugh again.

The contagious laughter of the man called Baron moved to his guide, who also began to laugh, and then it took hold of Tak, who laughed for the first time on Earth.

“Tak, since you are without a guide,” Baron then told her, “perhaps you will permit me to allow you to use mine and let him accompany us both to the surface?”

“Thank you, yes.”

After visiting two more chambers, Tak followed them back up to the surface, where Baron gave his private guide a handsome tip.

Up on the surface, with better lighting, Baron looked at her curiously, attempting to evaluate just who she could be. She was an extraordinarily attractive woman, perhaps in her twenties, with thick, red hair; a super build; strong bone structure; and had been wandering around over three hundred feet below ground in a salt mine. A runaway? But she looked clean and fresh. Perhaps escaping from a volatile husband or lover? One of those women who claimed abuse by a husband or lover? A fugitive? But she was so attractive that he wanted to believe the best about her.

An enormous, white car approached. “There’s my driver,” Baron said.

A sprinkle of rain drops began, and it looked very much like it would soon rain. Tak was all that much more vulnerable, as she found herself outside with no shelter she could go to. She noticed that Baron’s approaching car was significantly different from the others she had seen so far. The car was six feet tall, white, and had a very long, high hood. Two enormous chrome headlights, each a foot in diameter, proudly stood attached to the sides of a huge radiator. Two long claxons protruded, one under each light. The front fenders tapered back into running boards under the doors as a step into the car for passengers. Atop the huge radiator was a silver figurine, a lady with wings.

Wondering whether or not he might be inviting trouble, Baron decided that at least he could offer the attractive woman a lift. “It is going to rain. Have you transportation?”

“No, I don’t”

“Where are you staying? Perhaps I might offer you a lift.”

“I just arrived and do not yet have a place to stay.”

This was indeed curious, he thought. But given her beauty, and he being one who was always interested in women, he decided to dive into whatever trouble might be following her. “I recommend my hotel. It is the Forum, situated above the bank of the Vistula River in Krakow, and it is certainly the best. Would you like to follow me there?”

She wondered if this was an offer in exchange for something she was to provide, which it most likely must be. But here she was, in a very strange land, where English was not the native language.

She acquiesced. “Okay.”

The driver stopped the car and opened a rear door. “Lachhiman, to the Forum,” Baron said.

Tak stepped into the back and sat on the plush leather seat, upholstered much like a posh leather couch, where the rich odor of leather consumed her. Other tourists took pictures of them in the car with little cameras. She concluded that they were interested in the fancy car.

A lovely spring rain began to pour down as the car went toward Krakow. Music, as well as fresh air, came from the deck behind the rear seat, and Tak felt comfortable with her host.

Baron leaned forward to the center-dividing window, which was open, and asked of his olive-skinned driver, “Lachhiman, were you able to find out if the mushrooms are in season?”

Lachhiman turned. “Yes, sir, they are indeed.”

Baron looked at Tak. “They have a very special mushroom that grows here. It makes a delicious soup. You haven’t tried it?”

“I only arrived today. What’s a mushroom?”

He looked puzzled and answered her question with one of his own. “Would you like to join me this evening to try it?”

“Oh yes, thank you.”

“Will you be in Poland long?”

She realized that there was much more to the question than just a simple answer, and that he, obviously seasoned at language, could detect much from the nuances of how she answered. She must be careful. But, on the other hand, this very kind person was helping her, and she had known that she would have to take chances on her mission. He was the best choice--in fact, the only choice, at the moment. She decided on an answer. “I’m traveling and am flexible.”

Baron chuckled. “Ah yes,
flexible
.”

Tak looked around inside the beautifully appointed car interior. “This is a very nice car. Is it a popular model?”

He looked at her, again puzzled. “No, it is not what you would call a
popular
model
.
It is a 1936 Rolls Royce Phantom III with a Parkward Razor Edge body. Only six were ever made. I had it modernized mechanically, so it would be reliable, and added comforts like air conditioning and things not available when it was made. I keep it here in Europe.”

The majestic car continued through the green fields of the countryside, the lovely spring rain pounding down against the music, an ambiance she would always remember.

Baron pointed ahead. “There’s the Vistula River and the hotel.”

The picturesque hotel was situated on the river bank. Two uniformed hotel doormen came to the car, one on either side.

Lachhiman came around to stand near Baron. “Sir, will you be going out for the mushroom soup this evening?”

“Why, yes.”

“What time, sir?”

Baron looked at Tak, who did not respond. “Let’s make it eight,” he said. “Check with the concierge on where the best place is just now and how to get there. We’ll go relax and freshen up.”

“Very good, sir.”

Baron led Tak into the lobby. The concierge, recognizing the wealthy guest from previous stays, came out at once to greet him with old world manners. He bowed to Baron. “Good afternoon, Baron. It’s so delightful to have you back and to have nobility in residence once again. It distinguishes our hotel. Have you any immediate requests?”

“I’d like to arrange an additional room for my guest, adjoining. Then we would like you to make reservations for two at eight at the absolutely best place for the mushroom soup. Please tell my driver how to get there.”

“It would be my honor, Baron.”

Baron and Tak followed the concierge to the greeting counter. The concierge summoned a female clerk with a wave of his hand, but he stayed on the outside of the counter to better serve his royal guest.

After a few words with the clerk, he turned back to Baron. “Baron, the rooms on either side of your suite are taken, but one of the guests has not yet arrived. We are putting that guest elsewhere so you can have the adjoining suite. Could we have the name of the guest?”

“Just put the room in my name,” Baron said.

“Yes, of course.” The concierge filled out the card as just “Baron von Limbach,” and then filled out a second card for his guest as “Baron Von Limbach, Second Room.” But he was obligated to put down the responsible person for the second room, just in case Baron was not going to pay for it. The concierge turned to the woman. “Madam, how would you be paying for the room?”

Tak looked at Baron. “If you would be kind enough to lend me some money, I have something in exchange that you might take.”

His eyebrows rose. He turned to the concierge and said magnanimously, “Put her room, and whatever she wants, on my bill.”

“Very good, sir.” The clerk made magnetic entry cards for them, which the concierge handed to Baron and the woman.

Tak looked at it curiously.

Baron’s bags had been collected outside from the back of the car, brought inside, and on put on a brass trolley.

The concierge then looked at Tak. “Is your luggage here, madam?”

She raised the shoulder strap on the satchel she had slung over her shoulder. “I only have this one.”

Discrete as the best concierges must be, he simply wrote on the registration card, gave the bellman the number of Baron’s room, and said, “Second room, no bags.” He turned back to Baron. “Very good, sir, I’ll see to it that your chauffeur has the usual accommodations and whatever he needs. He can place your car in the special, secured, and monitored spot in our garage as usual. Will there be anything else at this moment?”

“Only the reservations for us at eight at the place that has the absolute best mushroom soup.”

“Of course, sir. It’s in season. I know just where to send you. I’ll make reservations for two and tell your driver how to get there.”

“Excellent.”

The concierge snapped his fingers at the bellman and off they went to the rooms. The bellman took the cargo elevator, and Baron and Tak the regular one, intended for guests.

In the room, Tak went right to the balcony overlooking the fabulous view of Vistula River with a castle just across in a beautiful sunset.

Baron followed her in. “Will this do?”

“Oh, yes, thank you, Baron. This is wonderful!”

‘‘I’m glad you like it. It’s the best in Krakow.” He tipped the bellman, who then left in the tradition of old world Poland, by backing out of the room.

“I’ll be just next door if you want anything,” Baron then said to Tak. “If I don’t hear from you sooner, let’s meet at eight in the lobby. Is there anything you need?”

“Yes. I do not have any of the local currency.”

“That’s all right. Just charge anything you want to the room.”

“Thank you, but I can pay for myself. I understand the need for money and brought something to trade.”