Tatiana and Alexander

  Indifferently, Karolich shook his head. “He’d look worse dead, don’t you agree?” He lit a cigarette.

  “Captain, would you like something for the pain?”

  “Yes, thank you,” said Alexander.

  “Before or after you eat?”

  “After.”

  He turned onto his back and she fed him. He ate quickly, and then groaned, rolling back on his side. “My head hurts. Maybe something for the pain now?”

  “I’m going to give you a little morphine to help you.”

  Alexander continued to lie on his side. He opened his eyes and glanced at Tatiana without blinking. His hands were in front of him, his back was to Karolich, and in his hands, he held the Model 1911.

  “So, how long have you been working for the Red Army, Lieutenant?” Tatiana asked Karolich, opening her nurse’s bag and taking out three syrettes—small, toothpaste-type tubes each filled with a half-grain of morphine solution.

  “Twelve years,” he said. “How long have you been a nurse?”

  “Just a few,” she replied, fumbling with the needle and safety seal. Her hands were useless. Usually she could do this in her sleep. “I worked with German POWs in New York.” She needed to get all three syrettes ready, and she couldn’t even break the safety seal on one.

  “Oh, yeah? Any escapees?”

  “Not really. Oh, yes. One. Knocked out one of the doctors and took a ferry across the water.”

  “What happened to him? Ever catch him?”

  “Yes,” she said, walking between Alexander and Karolich and kneeling down. The three syrettes were in her right hand. “He was caught six months later living in New Jersey.” She laughed. Her laugh sounded fake. “He wanted to escape to New Jersey.”

  “What is this New Jersey? And why are you using so many tubes on him? One is not enough?”

  “He is too big a man,” she said. “He needs an extra dose.”

  “Last thing we need around here is a morphine addict. Although, do you think it will make him pliant?”

  At that moment, there was a loud thump from the corridor as if something heavy had fallen. Karolich turned his head toward the cell door and immediately reached for his machine gun.

  “Now!” said Alexander.

  Tatiana, without another breath, pushed the machine gun off Karolich’s lap with her left hand and plunged the three syringes into his thigh with her right, puncturing his pants and his skin, squeezing the morphine through all the needles. He opened his mouth in a gasp, and struck out, hitting Tatiana with his forearm square across the jaw, and with his other arm grabbing for his falling machine gun. But Alexander was already up behind Tatiana, pushing her aside. He kicked the machine gun against the wall and struck Karolich violently on the head with the butt of the Colt. Karolich’s head opened up like a dropped watermelon. It had all taken maybe four seconds.

  “I’ll show you fucking pliant,” said Alexander, kicking a convulsing Karolich with his bare foot.

  “Take his clothes, Shura, quick, before he bleeds all over them.”

  Karolich was bleeding copiously.

  Alexander ripped the lieutenant’s uniform off Karolich’s body and quickly undressed. Tatiana, a little wobbly from the blow, peered out of the doorway. Perdov had fallen off the chair and was unconscious on the floor.

  Alexander threw his bloodied white shirt and brown slacks on Karolich and shackled the man’s wrists and ankles. Then he put on the lieutenant’s boots, his cap, took his Shpagin, and in Karolich’s uniform appeared in the corridor. “He is just the right size,” he said to Tatiana. “A little shorter and bigger, the fat fucking bastard.”

  Walking over to Perdov, he lifted him and sat him back in the chair. Perdov kept falling. Finally they got him to sit straight, his head bent all the way forward.

  “That did not take twenty minutes,” Alexander said.

  “I know. I decided to give him a little, hmm, larger dose.”

  “Good. How much morphine did you give Karolich?” Alexander asked.

  “One and a half grains, but I think it’s going to be his open skull that will keep him quiet.”

  Alexander hoisted the machine gun over his shoulder. The cocked Colt was in his hand. “Where is the truck?”

  “Fifty yards in front of you, as you walk out the door. When we get to the truck, look up at the sentry on the gatehouse and salute them. That’s what he always does when we pass. He opens the gate himself with his master key. He’s left-handed, though. You might…”

  Alexander switched the jangling key from his right hand to his left. “Okay. Better for me. I shoot with my right. Are you ready? Does he walk in front of you or behind you?”

  “Next to me. And he doesn’t open any doors for me. He just salutes them and gets in the truck.”

  “Who drives?”

  “I do.”

  Before she opened the door, he put the hand that held the pistol on her. “Listen,” he said very quietly. “Get in the truck as fast as you can and start the engine. If something goes wrong, I will shoot the guards but I need you to be ready to drive.”

  She nodded.

  “And Tania…”

  “Yes?”

  “I know you like to do as you please, but there can only be one person in charge—me. If we’re both in charge, we both die. Understood?”

  “Understood. You’re in charge.”

  He pulled open the door. They were outside. It was dark and cool. Alexander walked quickly in long strides across the illuminated courtyard; Tatiana could barely keep up. As the sentries looked down and watched him, Alexander walked over to the gate, the one that said, “Work Makes You Free,” unlocked it, pushed it open and walked back to the truck. Tatiana was already inside with the ignition on. In fact, the truck lurched before Alexander had a chance to get in.

  He looked up at the sentries, smiled, and saluted them. They saluted him back.

  He got in, and Tatiana drove him out of Sachsenhausen, down the leafy forested road to the commandant’s house. In the dark of the trees, halfway between the gatehouse and the commandant’s house, she stopped the jeep. They got out, ran to the back doors. Tatiana opened them, climbed in and raised the hatch to the long compartment. Suddenly seeing Alexander next to her, she wondered if he would fit. She had forgotten how tall he was.

  He himself seemed to wonder that, because he looked at the narrow space, looked at her and said, “It’s a good thing I haven’t eaten in six months.”

  “Yes,” she breathed out, taking out the bags with the weapons. “Get in, quick. When we’re on the road a little while, I’ll give a knock and you do something.”

  “Tania, I don’t forget. You don’t have to repeat it. Are those your two packs?”

  She nodded. “Plus my backpack over there.”

  “Weapons? Ammunition? Knife, rope?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “A flashlight?”

  “Below in the compartment.”

  He grabbed it.

  “In.”

  He squeezed in sideways, and she slammed the hatch shut. “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” came his muffled voice. He opened the hatch from inside. “But knock loudly so I can hear above the noise of the jeep. What time is it?”

  “Seven forty.”

  “Get them in as soon as possible and start driving.”

  “Right now.”

  Before she climbed into the jeep, Tatiana ran to the side of the path and threw up.

  “I don’t know what the hurry is,” said Penny plaintively. “I’m tired, I had some wine, why can’t we just go to sleep and drive back tomorrow?”

  “Because we have to be back here tomorrow,” said Tatiana, pushing her to the jeep. “Dr. Flanagan, are you coming?”

  “Yes, I’m coming, I’m coming. I just want to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.”

  “We’ll be back tomorrow, even if you did.”

  “That’s true. Should we say goodbye to the commandant?”

>   “I don’t think that’s necessary,” said Tatiana as casually as she could. She wanted to scream. “I already made our goodbyes to him. Besides, we’ll see him tomorrow.”

  They walked outside, dropped their bags in the back.

  “Where are your bags, Tania?” Penny asked.

  She pointed to them.

  “You have so many bags,” Martin said. “More and more, it seems like.”

  “You’re never sure what you’re going to need on a trip like this. Would you like me to drive? My head is clear. I’ve had no wine.”

  “Yes, why don’t you?” said Martin, sliding in past the wheel. “But do you know the way in the dark?”

  “I mapped out our route earlier to make it easier for us. We go down to Oranienburg and make a left.”

  “I guess.” Martin closed his eyes. “Let’s go.”

  Tatiana drove away from the commandant’s house and made her way slowly in the darkness, and then faster and faster. It impressed on her that she wanted to be as far away as soon as possible from Special Camp Number 7.

  At 7:55, Nikolai Ouspensky opened his eyes and screamed. He jumped out of bed and ran waving like a madman to the guard by the door of the barracks.

  “I must see the commandant!” he yelled. “I must see him now! It’s a matter of great urgency, believe me, great urgency!”

  “Easy now,” the guard said calmly, pushing him away. “What’s so urgent all of a sudden?”

  “One of their prisoners is about to escape! Tell Commandant Brestov that Captain Alexander Belov is about to escape!”

  “What are you talking about? Belov? The one who is shackled in isolation until the trains come?”

  “I’m telling you, one of the Red Cross nurses is not an American. She is his Russian wife, and she is about to help him escape!”

  Tatiana drove for a minute, two, three. Time and distance suddenly stood still. She could not drive fast enough, nor get enough time to pass before they needed to make their move. She couldn’t remember if there was a checkpoint at Oranienburg, and didn’t know if she should chance it. Could Special Camp communicate with the checkpoint? Was there a phone? What if someone came into the cell block? What if Karolich came to and started screaming? What if Perdov fell off his chair and became revived by the fall? What if, what if, what if.

  “Tania, we’re talking to you, did you hear us?” Martin said.

  “No, sorry, what?”

  They reached Oranienburg and made a left onto a paved road. As soon as the dim lights of the small town were behind them, Tatiana rapped her knuckles twice on the cabin. Penny and Martin were talking and didn’t notice.

  Ouspensky was brought before Brestov at 8:15.

  “What is this all about?” Brestov said, inebriated and smiling. “Who did you say is escaping?”

  “Alexander Belov, sir. The Red Cross nurse is his wife.”

  “What Red Cross nurse?”

  “The black-haired one.”

  “I thought they both had…dark hair.”

  Ouspensky through his teeth said, “The small one.”

  “They were both small.”

  “The thin one! She was a Russian nurse by the name of Tatiana Metanova, and she escaped from the Soviet Union some years back.”

  “And you’re saying she came back for him?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did she know he was here?”

  “I don’t know that, but sir…”

  Brestov laughed and shrugged. “Where is Karolich?” he said to the guard at the door of his quarters. “Ask him to join us, will you?”

  “I haven’t seen him, sir.”

  “Well, find him.”

  “Why don’t you talk to the nurse?” said Ouspensky. “She’s his wife, why don’t you talk to her?”

  “I’ll have to do that tomorrow, prisoner.”

  “Tomorrow will be too late!” Ouspensky nearly screeched.

  “Well, tonight is not possible. They’ve left.”

  He gasped. “Left where?”

  “Back to Berlin. Ran out of supplies. They’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll talk to her then.”

  Ouspensky took one step back. “Sir, she won’t be coming back tomorrow.”

  “Of course she will.”

  “Yes. But though I am not a betting man, I will bet that Alexander Belov is no longer in your custody.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brestov said, rubbing his head. “Belov is in the camp brig. We’ll wait for Karolich and then look into it.”

  “Call the next checkpoint on the road,” said Ouspensky. “Have them at least stop the truck until you know Belov is still here.”

  “I’m not doing anything until my lieutenant gets here.” When Brestov tried to get up, he sloppily knocked a number of papers off his table. “Besides, I liked that nurse. I don’t think she is capable of what you say.”

  “Just check on your prisoner,” said Ouspensky. “But if I am right, perhaps the commandant could do me a small service and speak to Moscow on my behalf? I’m supposed to be getting shipped out tomorrow. Perhaps a commutation of some sort?” He smiled thinly and beseechingly.

  “Let’s stop counting the eggs until they’ve hatched, shall we?”

  They waited for Karolich.

  There was the sound of doors banging hard against the sides of the truck and then a loud thump as if something fell or was run over.

  “Geez, what was that?” exclaimed Penny. “Tania, oh my, did you run over a dog?”

  They stopped the jeep and all got out onto the empty road and hurried to the back. The doors of the jeep were swinging open. They stared at them mutely.

  “What in heaven’s name happened here?” Penny asked.

  “I think I must have forgotten to lock them all the way,” replied Tatiana. She looked deeper inside the truck. Her backpack was gone.

  “Yes, but what did you run over?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then what was that noise?”

  She turned around. A bulky form was lying some twenty meters back. She ran to it.

  It was her backpack.

  “Your backpack fell out?”

  “We must have hit a nasty bump in the road. Look, everything is all right.”

  “Well, let’s get back in,” said Martin. “No use standing idly on a dark highway.”

  “No, you’re right,” said Tatiana, and then she rushed over to the side of the road and retched, pretending to throw up. They gave her a flask of water to clean her mouth, and stood solicitously by her side. She said, “I’m sorry, I guess I’m not feeling as well as I thought. Martin, would you mind driving the rest of the way? I think I’ll lie down in the back.”

  “Of course, of course.”

  They helped her in. Before Martin closed the doors, Tatiana looked at them fondly. “Thank you both. For everything.”

  “Not to worry,” said Penny.

  Martin, being most careful, locked the doors from the outside. Before he was in the driver’s seat, Tatiana opened the hatch to the litter compartment. Alexander was looking at her. The truck pulled away from the roadside.

  Martin was driving cautiously—at some thirty kilometers per hour. She knew he wasn’t comfortable driving on foreign roads in the dark.

  Tatiana heard the muffled talking in the cabin through the small pane of glass. Alexander got out of the compartment and pulled out Karolich’s sub-machine gun.

  “You should have left the backpack on the road,” he whispered, nearly inaudibly. “Now we’ll have to throw it and it will be harder to find.”

  “We’ll find it.”

  “We should leave it.”

  “All our things are in it. We also have to take this.” She pointed to the smaller canvas bag and the ruck.

  “No. We will have to make do with one backpack.”

  “This one has pistols, grenades, a revolver, and rounds for all your weapons.”

  “Ah.”

  He stood on his tiptoes, re
aching for the latch that kept closed the hatch in the roof.

  “Let me get out first,” he whispered, “you’ll hand me our things, I’ll throw them down, and then I’ll pull you up.”

  Once he threw down the backpack, her nurse’s bag, the weapons, and pulled her up onto the roof of a moving vehicle from which they were going to jump down a black slope, Tatiana nearly reconsidered. The slope looked like a bottomless pit, but in less than seventy minutes of comfortable driving they could be in the French sector.

  The wind was ripping through her hair and she could hardly hear him, but she heard him well enough. “We have to jump, Tania. Push off as hard as you can, land in the grass. I go first.”

  Alexander didn’t even take a breath or count or look back. He just sprang off from a crouching position and jumped, the bag of ammo on his back. He was down the slope and she couldn’t see him.

  Holding her breath and tensing her body, she crouched and jumped. She fell awkwardly and hard. But she fell onto the grassy slope, into bushes, and rolled down underbrush, not concrete. Because it had rained, the ground was soft and muddy. Clambering up to the side of the road, she saw that the truck had not stopped. It continued moving down the highway. Something hurt. She didn’t have time to think what it was or where. She began to run back, every once in a while stopping and whispering, “Alexander? Alexander?”

  It was 8:30. Karolich was nowhere to be found. The guard who reported this was unconcerned, and so was Brestov. He asked that Ouspensky be taken back to his barracks. “We’ll check this out tomorrow morning, Comrade Ouspensky.”

  “Couldn’t you just check Belov’s cell, Commandant? Just to make sure. It will take two minutes. We can check the jail as you’re walking me back to barracks.”

  Brestov shrugged. “Go ahead, Corporal, walk by the jail, if you want.”

  Ouspensky and the guard walked back to the gatehouse.

  “Have they seen Karolich?” asked Ouspensky, motioning to the sentries.

  “Yes, they said they saw him and a Red Cross nurse get into the jeep and head for the commandant’s house about forty-five minutes ago.”