“Of course not. She is to blame. She must face the consequences.”

The general stares at her. The color begins to fade from his skin, the blood to return to its usual habits of circulation. He must be about fifty or so. Lyudmila knows his record. He made his name during the defense of Moscow, was transferred to Stalingrad, then led a division into Poland and then Germany as the tide turned. He’s seen more bloodshed and more human misery than any single person should witness in a hundred lifetimes.

“You realize, of course, what those consequences are. To attack a solider, to shoot him. To attempt a prison escape. These are the most serious possible offenses. Her age and sex will not protect her. Nor can you, Ivanova.”

“I understand.”

He sighs. “Do you know how she found this place?”

“According to her account, she forced the information from my deputy at Moscow Centre, then boarded a train for Riga, then stole a motorcycle, upon which she conveyed herself here.”

“Where did she learn to ride a motorcycle, at her age?”

“I’m not exactly certain.”

“My God. She has the tenacity of a tiger. What a shame. What a waste.” He shakes his head and fixes Lyudmila with his dark, sunken eyes. “It would have been far better for her if she had succeeded.”

Lyudmila holds the gaze for a moment or two. Neither of them says a word. Through the window comes the ecstatic song of birds, greeting the morning.

AFTER LYUDMILA LEAVES THE general’s office, she finds a guard to accompany her to one of the prison huts. Only one prisoner inhabits this one. There’s no cot inside his cell. He lies on the bare floor, without a blanket, either asleep or unconscious. When Lyudmila enters the cell, he lifts his head and winces. She crouches next to him and sets her hand on his big shoulder, before she realizes it has been grotesquely dislocated. She pats his other shoulder instead.

“Mr. Fox,” she says. “I have a proposition for you.”

Iris

JULY 1952

Near Riga, Latvia

The cell has no window, other than the small barred opening cut into the door, so Iris has no way of knowing what time of day it is, or how much time has passed since the doctor left. The guards stripped away her jewelry, including her watch. From the other cell, Ruth reports that she hasn’t got a watch, either.