Dimitri looked at Alexander with cold surprise. “Are you telling me you will not go without her?”

“Have you not been listening?”

“I see.” Dimitri paused, rubbing his hands. He leaned over, propping himself on Alexander’s bed as he spoke. “You underestimate me, Alexander. I can see you will not listen to reason. That’s too bad. Perhaps, then, what I should do is go and talk to Tania, explain the situation to her. She is much more reasonable. Once Tania sees that her husband is in grave danger, why, I am certain she herself will offer to stay behind—” Dimitri didn’t finish.

Alexander grabbed Dimitri’s arm. Dimitri yelped and threw his other hand up, but it was too late, Alexander had them both.

“Understand this,” said Alexander as his thumb and forefinger tightened in a twisting vise around Dimitri’s wrist. “I don’t give a fuck if you talk to Tania, to Stepanov, to Mekhlis, or to the whole Soviet Union. Tell them anything! I am not leaving without her. If she stays, I stay.” And with a savage thrust, Alexander ruptured the ulnar bone in Dimitri’s forearm. Even through the red of his fury Alexander heard the snap. It sounded like the ax crashing against the pliant pine in Lazarevo. Dimitri screamed. Alexander did not let go. “You underestimate me, you fucking bastard!” he said, jerking the wrist violently again and again until the broken bone tore out of Dimitri’s skin.

Dimitri continued to scream. Clenching his fist, Alexander punched Di-mitri in the face, and the uppercut blow would have driven the fractured nasal bone into Dimitri’s frontal lobe had the impact not been weakened by an orderly who had grabbed Alexander’s arm, who literally threw himself on Alexander and yelled, “Stop it! What are you doing? Let go, let go!”

Panting, Alexander shoved Dimitri away, and Dimitri slumped to the floor. “Get off me,” Alexander said loudly to the stunned and grumbling orderly. As soon as the man got off him, Alexander started wiping his hands. He had yanked the IV right out of the vein, which was now dripping blood between his fingers. So it does bleed, he thought.

“What in the world happened here?” yelled the nurse, running up. “What kind of awful situation is this? The private comes for a visit, and what do you do?”

“Next time don’t let him through,” Alexander said, throwing off his blankets and getting out of bed.

“Get back into bed! My orders are that you don’t get out of bed under any circumstances. Wait till Ina comes back. I never work the critical ward. Why does something always happen on my shift?”

After a commotion that lasted a good half hour, a bleeding and unconscious Dimitri was removed from the floor, and the orderly cleaned up the mess, complaining that he already had plenty to do without the wounded making more wounded out of perfectly healthy men.

“You call him perfectly healthy?” said Alexander. “Did you see his limp? Did you see his pulverized face? Ask around. This isn’t the first time he’s been assaulted. And I guarantee it won’t be the last.”

But Alexander knew: he had not merely assaulted Dimitri. Had he not been stopped, Alexander would have killed Dimitri with his bare hands.

Alexander slept, woke up, looked around the ward.

It was early evening. Ina was at her station by the door, chatting to three civilian men. Alexander stared at the civilian men. That didn’t take long, he thought.

Motionless and alone, he remained with the rucksack on his lap, both of his hands inside, on the white dress with red roses. Alexander finally had the answer to his question.

He knew at what price Tatiana.

It was Colonel Stepanov who came to see him later that evening, eyes sunk deep into his ashen face. Alexander saluted his commander, who sat down heavily in the chair and said quietly, “Alexander, I almost don’t know how to say this to you. I should not be here. I’m here not as your commanding officer, understand, but as someone who—”

Alexander interrupted him gently. “Sir,” he said, “your very presence is a balm to my soul. More than you know. I know why you’re here.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s true? General Govorov came to me tonight and said that Mekhlis”—Stepanov seemed to spit the word out—”approached him with a slew of information that you have previously escaped from prison as a foreign provocateur? As an American?” Stepanov laughed. “How can that be? I said it was ridiculous—”

Alexander said, “Sir, I have proudly served the Red Army for nearly six years.”

“You have been an exemplary soldier, Major,” said Stepanov. “I told them that. I told them it couldn’t possibly be true. But as you know—” Stepanov broke off. “The accusation is all. You remember Meretskov? He’s now commanding the Volkhov front, but nine months ago he was sitting in the NKVD cellars waiting for a wall to become available.”

“I know about Meretskov. How much time do you think I have?”

Stepanov was quiet. “They will come for you in the night,” he said at last. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with their operations—”

“Unfortunately, very familiar, sir,” replied Alexander, not looking at Stepanov. “It’s all about stealth and cover-up. I didn’t know they had the facilities here in Morozovo.”

“Primitive, but yes. They have them everywhere. You’re too high up, though. They’ll most likely send you across the lake to Volkhov.” He spoke in a whisper.

Across the lake. “Thank you, sir.” He managed to smile at his commanding officer. “Do you think they’ll promote me to lieutenant colonel first?”

Stepanov breathed out a choking gasp. “Of all my men I had hoped the most for you, Major.”

Alexander shook his head. “I had the least chance, sir. Please, do me a favor. If you yourself are questioned about me, understand”—he struggled for his words—”that despite your valor, there are some battles that are lost from the start.”

“Yes, Major.”

“As long as you understand that, you will not waste a second’s breath defending my honor or my army record. Distance yourself and retreat, sir.” Alexander let his gaze drop. “And take all your weapons with you.”

Stepanov stood.

The unspoken remained between them.

Alexander couldn’t think of himself, couldn’t think of Stepanov. He had to ask about the unspoken. “Do you know if there was any mention of my…” He couldn’t continue.

Stepanov understood regardless. “No,” he said quietly. “But it’s just a matter of time.”

Thank God. So Dimitri didn’t want them both. What he wanted was for them not to have each other, but he still wanted to save his own skin. He will never take all from you, Alexander. There was hope.

Alexander heard Stepanov say, “Can I do anything for her? Maybe arrange for a transfer back to a Leningrad hospital—or perhaps to a Molotov hospital? Away from here?”

After a spasm Alexander spoke, looking in the other direction. “Yes, sir, you actually could do something to help her…”

Alexander didn’t have time to think, and he didn’t have time to feel. He knew the time for that would swallow too soon what was left of him. But right now he had to act. As soon as Stepanov left, Alexander motioned for Ina and asked her to call Dr. Sayers.

“Major,” said Ina, “I don’t know if they’re allowing anyone near you after this afternoon.”

Alexander glanced at the plainclothed men. “It was a little accident, Ina, nothing to worry about. Do me a favor, though, don’t tell Nurse Metanova, all right? You know how she gets.”

“I know how she gets. You better be good from now on, or I’ll tell her.”

“I’ll be good, Ina.”

Sayers came a few minutes later, sat down cheerfully, and said, “What’s going on, Major? What’s this about some private’s arm? What happened?”