Fighting with himself for control, Alexander came around on Dimitri’s side of the desk, bent down to him, and said through his teeth, “And I told you then the same thing I am telling you now. Over and over then. Over and over now. Go! Leave. Go ahead. I will give you half of my money. You know how to get to Helsinki and Stockholm like the back of your hand. Why don’t you just go?”

Dimitri pulled away on his chair from Alexander. “You know very well I can’t go on my own. I don’t speak a word of English.”

“You don’t need to speak English! Just get to Stockholm and claim refugee status. They’ll take you, Dimitri, even without English,” Alexander said coldly, backing slightly away.

“And now with my leg—”

“Forget your leg. Drag it behind you if you have to. I’ll give you half of the money—”

“Give me half of the money? What the fuck are you talking about? We are supposed to be going together, remember? That was our plan, right. Together?” Dimitri paused. “I’m not going alone!”

“If you’re not going alone,” Alexander hissed, “then you will wait until I say the time is right.” He unclenched his fists. “The time is not right. In the spring it will be—”

“I’m not waiting till the fucking spring!”

“What choice do you have? Do you want to succeed, or do you want to fail in a hurry? You know the NKVD border troops shoot deserters on the spot.”

“I’ll be dead by the spring,” said Dimitri, getting up from the chair and attempting to square off against Alexander. “You’ll be dead by the spring. What’s the matter with you? What the fuck has gotten into you? Do you not want to run anymore? What would you rather do — die?”

Keeping the torment out of his eyes, Alexander did not reply.

Dimitri glared at him. “Five years ago, when you were nobody, had nobody, when you needed me, I did you a favor, Captain of the Red Army.”

Alexander took one stride and stood so close to Dimitri that Dimitri not only backed off but fell into his chair, glancing up at Alexander with anxiety.

“Yes, you did,” Alexander said. “And I have never forgotten it.”

“All right, all right,” Dimitri said. “Don’t get all—”

“Have I made myself clear? We will wait for the right time.”

“But the border at Lisiy Nos is unprotected now!” Dimitri exclaimed. “What the fuck are we waiting for? Now is an ideal time to go. Later the Soviets will bring more troops in, the Finns will bring more troops in, the war will continue there. Now it’s a stalemate. I say let’s go now — before the battle for Leningrad kills you.”

“Who’s stopping you?” said Alexander. “Go!”

“Alexander,” said Dimitri, “for the last time, I’m not going without you.”

“Dimitri,” said Alexander, “for the last time, I’m not going now.”

“When then?”

“I will tell you when. First we will break the blockade. Yes, it will take all we have, but we will do it, and then in the spring—”

Dimitri chuckled. “Maybe we should just send Tania to do it.”

For a moment Alexander thought he had misheard.

Did Dimitri just mention Tatiana?

“What did you just say?” he asked quietly and slowly.

“I said, maybe we should just send Tania. She is quite the little blockade runner.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That girl,” Dimitri said with admiration, “I am convinced, could get to Australia by herself if she wanted to!” Howling, he threw his head back. “Before we know it, she’ll be making regular food runs between Molotov and Leningrad.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m telling you, Alexander,” Dimitri continued, “instead of wasting two hundred thousand of our men, including you and me, we should have Tatiana Metanova break the blockade.”

Stubbing out his cigarette, Alexander said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Hoping Dimitri wouldn’t notice, he clenched his hands around the chair posts.

“I said to her, I said, ‘Tania, you ought to enlist. You’ll be a general in no time.’ And she said she actually was thinking of joining—”

“What do you mean—” Alexander interrupted, finding it hard to continue. “What do you mean, you said to her?”

“A week ago. She made me dinner on Fifth Soviet. They finally had their pipes fixed. The apartment, well, some complete strangers are living there, but . . .” Dimitri smiled. “She is getting to be quite the little cook.”

It took most of what Alexander had to remain impassive.

“Are you all right?” Dimitri said with an amused look on his face.

“I’m fine. But what are you talking about, Dima? Is this another one of your little white lies? Tatiana is not in Leningrad.”

“Alexander, believe me, I’d know Tania anywhere.” He smiled. “She looks good. She told me she was seeing a doctor.” He laughed. “Can you believe it? Our little Tanechka. Who would have thought that she would be the only one left standing?”

Alexander would have liked to say stop it, but he did not trust his voice. He said nothing, his hands remaining on the posts of the chair.

He had just gotten a letter from her yesterday. A letter!

“Tania came looking for me at the barracks. Made me dinner. She said she’d been in Leningrad since the middle of October. No, and how she got there, too!” Dimitri laughed. “Literally walking through the Volkhov front, as if Manstein and his thousand-kilo bombs did not exist.” Dimitri shook his head. “When I get into the good fight, I want her with me.”

Keeping himself under barest control, Alexander said, “And when is it, Dimitri, that you think you’ll be going into the good fight?”

“Very clever—”

“Dimitri, I don’t give a shit. This doesn’t matter. But I just realized I’m late. I have a meeting with General Govorov in a few minutes. You will have to excuse me.”

After Dimitri left, Alexander became so upset in his tent that in his stricken fury he broke apart the wooden chair he had been sitting on.

Now he knew what was wrong with her letters. Alexander was weak from anger, and he didn’t have enough time to calm down before his meeting with Govorov, or after. Anger continued to cloud his judgment. After his meeting he went to Colonel Stepanov.

“Oh, no,” said Stepanov, coming from around his desk. “I see that look in your eyes, Captain Belov.” He smiled.

With his hat in his hands, Alexander nodded and said, “Sir, you have been very kind to me. I haven’t had a day off since I came back in July.”

“But, Belov, you had over five weeks off in July!”

“All I’m asking for is a few days, sir. If you like, I can drive a supply truck into Leningrad. That way it will be partly for army business, too.”

“What’s going on, Alexander?” Stepanov said, coming closer and lowering his voice.

Alexander gave a small shake of his head. “Everything is fine.”

Stepanov studied him. “Does it have anything to do with the money you’re sending out of here to Molotov every month?”

“You’re right, sir, maybe we should stop the money transfers to Molotov.”

Stepanov lowered his voice another notch. “Does it have anything to do with the stamp from a registry office in Molotov that I saw in your passport when I was signing you in?”

Alexander kept silent. “Sir, I am urgently needed in Leningrad.” He paused, trying to collect himself. “It’s just for a few days.”

Stepanov sighed. “If you don’t come back by ten o’clock roll call on Sunday . . .”

“Sir, I will be here. It’s more than enough time. Thank you. I’ve never let you down. I won’t forget this.”

As Alexander was leaving, Stepanov said, “Take care of your personal business, son. Forget the supplies. You won’t have another chance for personal business until we break the blockade.”


4


Tatiana was dragging her feet. She was hanging around her last patients even though it was long past her sign-out time. She was a little hungry, but cooking for herself was such a displeasure, she wished she could nourish her body intravenously, like some of the wounded. Working with critically injured men and women was preferable to being in her room by herself.

Finally she left and, not lifting her head, slowly walked home down Grechesky in the dark.

She walked through the communal apartment. Inga was sitting on the couch in the hallway and casually drinking tea. Why was she in Tatiana’s home? It was so incongruous that she and Stan should remain. “Hello, Inga,” said Tatiana tiredly as she took off her coat.

“Hmm. Someone was here for you.”

She squared her shoulders. “Did you do as I asked and not let anyone in?”

“Yes, I did as you asked,” Inga replied shortly. “He wasn’t too pleased, though. Another soldier—”

“What soldier?”

“I don’t know.”

Coming up to Inga and lowering her voice, Tatiana whispered, “Who was it? It wasn’t the same soldier, was it—”

“No. Different. Tall.”

Tatiana’s heart jumped. Tall!

“Where—” she stammered. “Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. I told him he couldn’t come in. He didn’t want to hear anything after that. You have quite a contingent of soldiers following you around, don’t you?”

Without even grabbing her coat, Tatiana swirled around the small hallway, swung open the door, and there in front of her stood Alexander.

“Oh,” she gasped, her knees buckling. “Oh, God.” Seeing the expression in his darkened eyes, she knew what he was feeling. She didn’t care. Her eyes filling with tears, she leaned her head into his coat.

He didn’t even put his arms around her. “Come on,” he said coldly, taking her by the arm. “Let’s go inside.”

Inga said, “Tania told me not to let anyone in, Captain — Tania, aren’t you going to introduce us?” She had put down her cup.

“No,” said Alexander, pushing Tatiana into the room and kicking the door shut behind him. She came to him instantly, her shaking arms open, her face overflowing. She could barely get his name out of her emotional mouth. “Shura . . .”

He put his palms out. “Don’t come near me.”

Not listening, Tatiana came to him, and said, “Shura, I am so happy to see you. How are your hands?”

He pushed her hard away, saying loudly, “No, Tatiana! Stay away from me.”

He walked through the room to the window. It was cold by the window. Tatiana followed him. Her need to lay her hands on him and to have him touch her was so desperate that she forgot the pain left by Dimitri’s visit, by the missing five thousand dollars, by her own twisted feelings. “Shura,” Tatiana said, her voice breaking. “Why are you pushing me?”

“What have you done?” Alexander’s eyes were bitter and angry. “Why are you here?”

“You know why I’m here,” Tatiana said to him. “You needed me. I came.”

“I don’t need you here!” he yelled. Tatiana flinched but did not move away. “I don’t need you here,” he repeated. “I need you safe!”

“I know,” she said. “Please let me touch you.”

“Stay away from me.”

“Shura, I told you, I cannot be away from you. I didn’t think you could feel me all the way in Lazarevo. You need me close to you.”

“Close to me? Not close to me, Tatiana,” he said nastily, standing against the windowsill. It was dark in the room, the only light coming from the street. Alexander’s face was dark, his eyes were dark.

“What are you talking about?” Her voice was trembling in supplication. “Of course, close to you. Close to who?”

“What the fuck were you thinking,” he yelled, “going to the barracks and asking for Dimitri?”

“I didn’t ask for Dimitri!” she exclaimed faintly. “I went to find you. I didn’t know what happened to you. You stopped writing to me.”

“You didn’t write to me for six months!” he said loudly. “You could have waited two weeks, no?”

“It was over a month, and I couldn’t have, no,” she said. “Shura, I’m here for you.” Tatiana came a step closer. “For you. You told me never to look away from you. Here I am. Look into my eyes and tell me what I feel.” Pleadingly she opened her hands to him. “What do I feel, Shura?” she whispered.

Alexander blinked, his teeth grinding. “Look into my eyes and tell me what I feel, Tatiana.”

She clasped her hands together.

“You promised me!” Alexander said. “You promised me. You gave me your word!”

Tatiana remembered. She looked into his face. She was so weak and wanted him so much. And she could see that he needed her, if anything, even more. He just couldn’t see past his anger. Like always. “Alexander, husband, it’s me. It’s your Tania.” She almost cried as she opened her palms to him. “Shura, please . . .”

When he didn’t reply, Tatiana took off her shoes and came to stand in front of him at the window. She felt more vulnerable than ever, standing in her white uniform in front of him, with his black hair, black boots, and black trench coat looming over her, so emotional, so upset. “Please, let’s not fight. I am so happy to see you. I just want . . .” She would not lower her eyes from him, would not. “Shura,” she said, her body trembling, “don’t . . . push me away.”