Page 39 of Beehive
I raised my hands and let the Luger slip from my grasp and clatter to the ground.
Commands were shouted.
Voices were sharp and venomous.
I dropped to my knees and clasped my hands behind my head, my breaths coming in ragged gasps.
One of the men stepped forward, his pistol trained on me as he barked something in Russian. Two more men assumed positions to my right and left, one pointing a rifle, the other a handgun.
They thought they’d won. They’d finally cornered me, the man who dared to defy Stalin himself. They didn’t know where I’d hidden my prize, a bane that would shatter the illusion Stalin painted on the world stage.
I might die, but they wouldnotwin.
As they closed in, I bit down hard.
The cyanide capsule hidden in my molar released its lethal contents.
Pain seared through my body, a white-hot agony that quickly gave way to darkness.
My last vision as the world faded into nothingness was of an aged Jewish rabbi and his wizened face—and a world filled with irony.
14
Thomas
Present Day
The briefing took hours.
Throughout our time in London, then Paris, Will and I had continued to hone our language skills. The French resistance was rich with those who’d been forced to learn other tongues, and we rarely lacked partners with which to practice. My Russian was decent, and both our German was solid enough to pass as locals, at least to Russian invaders who didn’t truly know the difference.
Around two in the morning, Manakin released a yawn that rivaled a lion’s roar.
“I believe we are done for the night,” he said. “Let’s resume at nine o’clock, hopefully with coffee and a bite of breakfast. Don’t keep your reunion going too late. Tomorrow will come sooner than any of us would like.”
Loon barely glanced in our direction as she stood and followed Manakin up the stairs.
“She’s a frigid one,” Will muttered.
“Shh,” Arty hissed. “She probably heard that.”
Will shrugged. “Someone needs to tell her. She could give an icicle a run for its money.”
I chuckled, enjoying the sight of Will and his dearest friend bantering like days of old. The war had stolen so much from the world, so much from each of us, and now the Soviets posed a rising threat to the world’s fragile peace. Why nations and their leaders couldn’t simply focus on their own people, their own welfare, and let everyone else simply be was beyond me.
I tried to watch Will and Arty tease and cajole, to simply enjoy the beauty of their reunion, but the mission before us chilled whatever warmth tried to bloom in my heart. The coming days—or however long we’d remain within Stalin’s portion of Berlin—would be fraught with dangers we’d only begun to discuss.
Will and I had survived the city one time before, but we’d been under the cover of an internationally recognized group with an entourage of prominent dignitaries. The Nazis, no doubt, wondered if each of us was who we claimed. Spies were almost as prevalent as soldiers back then. As harrowing as those days had been, our fear of the Nazis was straightforward. They wanted to shoot their way into dominance. They didn’t hide behind cloaks or shadows. They rolled their tanks across borders and brazenly pointed guns.
The Soviets? Sure, they’d fought their share of battles, but most of those were under the pretense of helping the rest of the world beat back the tyrannical threats of Hitler and his Axis posse. It was only after the threat of the Nazis was quelled that Stalin’s true aims of a broader Soviet reach came to light.
We might’ve walked into the lion’s den before, but that was no preparation for wrestling with the Soviet bear. I wanted to be confident, to show Will and everyone else that we could take on the world and win, no matter what; but the success of our coming mission was far from certain.
The Soviet state was brutal in its efficiency, at least where spies and perceived enemies were concerned. If they caught us sneaking about, we’d receive bullets for our troubles, and there would be nothing Washington or anyone else could do about it.
God, I needed another drink. Or sleep. Or both.
Will laughed at something Arty had said. I’d been too lost in thought to hear it. The pair of them was practically doubled over, and Will had a tear trickling down one cheek.
