Their rooms were adjacent at the end of the corridor. Mia had planned to slip across the way into Alexia’s room, but Alexia arrived first. She glided across the room to sit next to Mia on the bed and, without a word, took hold of her head and kissed her on the lips.

It was a simple, straightforward kiss, hard and full on her mouth, and though passive, Mia was quickly excited. Finally she broke the kiss and spoke softly into Alexia’s ear. “They may have bugged this room as well. We must whisper everything.”

“What should I whisper? That I’ve waited almost a year for you to kiss me again?”

With half-closed eyes, Mia brushed her lips over Alexia’s cheeks, which smelled deliciously of the embassy’s Ivory soap and reminded her of home. “I’ve waited, too. I even came back to Medved when the ambulance was destroyed, because of you. And finally we’re together. Alone and safe.”

“Yes, alone and safe,” Alexia repeated. “So now what are you going to do to me?” She punctuated her question with another fillip of her tongue at the corner of Mia’s mouth.

Mia responded with little half kisses, lingering only a second. “What would you like me to do?”

Alexia’s hand crept up into Mia’s hair, caressing her head, drawing her forward. “All those things you hinted at in that trench at Pskov, which made my heart pound so that I fired too soon.”

Mia drew back. “It was you who fired first?”

“Yes, but I lost my concentration and missed him. Then the German fired toward the flash and hit you. It was my fault you were shot. I’m so sorry.”

“But it was my fault for talking all that nonsense about kissing when we were supposed to be taking aim. And you left your post because of me, too.”

“There was so much blood that I had to get you out of there. I didn’t even mind so much being put under arrest for that, except they wouldn’t tell me if you were dead or alive.”

“I was frantic, too. I knew the penalty.”

“Don’t talk about it.” Alexia’s voice softened. “We’re safe now, and I want you to live up to those promises.”

“Promises? I don’t recall making any promises.”

“Oh, but you did. All that about ‘I have better kisses.’ Tender ones and searching ones. I want them all.”

“And you shall have them.” Mia’s lips began exploring Alexia’s face while she groped for the straining button on Alexia’s shirt and undid it. Then the next one and the next until the young breasts emerged uncovered. She slid her palm across them, caressing their warmth, their innocence. She traced a line with her lips down Alexia’s throat to kiss where her hand had lain and felt Alexia shiver with pleasure.

Alexia held Mia’s head in her arms like an infant and murmured into her hair. “Do you remember your last words before the shooting started? You said, ‘Feel me,’ and I did. I truly did. And after they took me away, the memory kept me going through months on the penal battalion. If I’d fallen on the field, I’d have died as your lover.”

“You were my lover. You are.” Mia snickered softly. “Unfortunately those tender words got me a smashed shoulder, so I don’t know if I can do it. I mean make love to you the way I want.”

Alexia drew her back up next to her. “I’ve imagined for a year how you’d do it. Here. Let me help you.” She unbuttoned Mia’s shirt, exposing the gauze bandage that covered her shoulder, upper arm, and half her chest. Unperturbed, she knelt and kissed softly downward from throat to cleavage and finally over Mia’s exposed breast.

The sensation was electric, and Mia realized that no lips had visited that breast for over a year, and none had ever visited it so lovingly. She held Alexia to her with her good arm, floating in the waves of pleasure that radiated down to swell her sex. But she didn’t want to be the passive one. Not this time.

“Stand up,” she commanded softly, urging Alexia up with her free arm until the pale young Russian stood between her knees. She opened the final button on the borrowed skirt, letting it fall to the floor. White skin, from breast to vulva, marked here and there by bruises, gave off the mixed aromas of arousal and Ivory soap.

She bent forward to kiss Alexia’s belly, then let her lips trail down to the tangle of dark blond hair below.

“Is this what you mean?” she asked.

Chapter Twenty-four

October 1944


Some time just before dawn and without fully wakening, Mia sensed Alexia slip away. She murmured something inane and fell back into unconsciousness. Two hours later, the sound of someone passing in the corridor awakened her again. She sat up and peered through the one intact window not covered with plywood, and the bright overhead sun told her it was past eight. She had missed breakfast.

She dressed quickly and rushed down to the dining room. It was empty. Only the cook was present, collecting dishes and silverware.

“Oh, it’s you, Miss Kramer. The ambassador said to tell you to stop by his office as soon as you were up.”

Embarrassed, Mia nodded her thanks and hurried to the office on the floor above. She was doubly chagrined to discover the ambassador in conversation with Alexia, who had obviously been there some time. She wore her uniform again—torn, threadbare, and with all signs of rank removed… but clean.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mia said, wincing. “I tried to hurry, but I can’t dress very fast with this shoulder.” She patted her upper arm, in case they had forgotten, then realized how pathetic the excuse sounded.

Harriman dismissed her apology with a light wave. “I’ve been thinking of how to manage what we discussed recently.” He began with appropriate vagueness, for the benefit of their Soviet listeners. “We still have regular transports of Lend-Lease material to depots close to the front lines, but now most start from airfields farther west. A few fly overhead, carrying raw materials to Chelyabinsk and the factories beyond the Urals. Very few go out from Moscow except for ones we engage for diplomatic purposes. Which is to say, it’s a system that’s hard to modify.”

Mia nodded slowly. He was saying it would not be easy and would be diplomatically costly. “But in view of the circumstances, could you make a case for special arrangements?”

“Possibly, in light of the fact that you were here representing the White House and now must return home. Besides—”

“Excuse me, Mr. Ambassador.” Another young corporal, of which there seemed to be half a dozen, stepped into the dining room. “There’s a call for you, from the Kremlin. Will you take it? It’s Stalin.”

“What? Of course.” The ambassador’s phone buzzed and he picked up the handset. “Good morning, Marshal Stalin.”

Mia glanced at Alexia, then back at Harriman, trying to make out the subject of the conversation. But the ambassador said little beyond an occasional “Ah, I see,” or “That’s good news, then,” and “I’m glad to hear it.” But the deep frown that formed suggested it was not good news at all.

Finally he said, “Thank you for calling. I’ll be happy to tell her. Good-bye, then.” And when he hung up he rubbed his face.

“What’s wrong? What did he say?” Mia asked.

Harriman gave a long exhalation. “Marshal Stalin called to thank you for your excellent work in identifying the thief of millions of rubles of American Lend-Lease goods. He promised to see that the culprit, Leonid Nazarov, and the factory foremen who worked under him would be appropriately punished for this act of treason.”

Mia grimaced. “Molotov has found a scapegoat.”

“Worse than that. He’s taken half of the credit, saying he worked closely with you to discover the thieves. He’s Stalin’s new best friend. The marshal’s last words before he hung up were, ‘You see how important it is to have good men around you, to help you ferret out the bad ones.’”

“That means—” Mia tried to formulate their precarious new situation.

“That means,” Harriman said abruptly, “that we must go for a walk in the garden.”

“The garden. Yes, of course. I’ll get a sweater.”

She returned in a few moments wearing one and carrying Alexia’s padded jacket, and the three of them filed outside.

As soon as they were ten feet away from the door, Mia summarized. “So, I assume that call from Stalin means Molotov has effectively eradicated any culpability he might have had.”

“Exactly. You can bet that Nazarov and anyone else involved is already in isolation, with no one to talk to until execution. So you’ll get no more concessions from Molotov for anything.”

Alexia spoke up. “We’re both in danger now, aren’t we?”

Harriman shook his head. “He won’t touch either of you while you’re here at the embassy. Especially not with Churchill arriving in a few days.”

Mia halted. “Winston Churchill’s coming? That could offer us a chance to get out of Russia by air, couldn’t it? When does he arrive?” She realized she’d asked three questions in a row, but only one needed answering.

“In four days. He’ll be staying at the British Embassy across from the Kremlin, but we’ll meet with him, of course. As for its being an opportunity, I don’t know. I’m sure the prime minister would be happy to give you a lift back to England, but he might balk at taking a deserter. On the other hand, he hates communism, and I think he’d consider it a coup if he could get just one communist to defect. We won’t know that until he answers our cable.”

Mia had already done an about-face. “Let’s send it, then.”

“Fine. I’ll call my code clerk to put it into code. You’ll need to reduce the message to its basics.”

“I can do that right now. ‘Harry Hopkins assistant here with dodgy companion. Need quick exit. Can they hitch back to GB with you?’ How does that sound?”