“That is quite unlikely. You could go to the soup lines.”
“I did. Two soldiers pulled me out of line and took me into the rubble. I did not go back.”
Igor reacted with a grunt of revulsion. “Very well, I’ll give you something to eat and have a car take you home.”
“I have no home. Your soldiers took it.”
“Parents?”
“They were both killed in an air raid by the Amis three months ago.”
“Friends? Relatives?”
“My relatives all live in Dresden. Friends are all scattered. It is not easy to get around these days. We stay off the streets. I don’t know where most of them are.”
Suddenly she toppled in a dead faint. Igor caught her, swooped her into his arms, and walked toward the house. The questioning eyes of Ivan Orlov met him at the front door. “Are you going to bring her in here?”
“What do you propose, Orlov?” He shoved past the captain harshly, then turned. “You have time enough to run to Azov and report this. As for now, have my orderly prepare something warm to eat and see if there is woman’s clothing in any of the closets.”
Feodor was waiting before the colonel’s door. “I am so ashamed,” he whispered.
Igor spat at the young officer’s feet, entered his bedroom, and laid the girl down. He wiped the back of her neck with a damp cloth, applied smelling salts, and as she came to, made her sit on the edge of the bed and put her head between her legs.
“Come along, child. You are all right.”
The girl’s hand trembled so badly Igor had to feed her at first. He made her sip slowly from the hot cabbage borsch filled with chunks of meat. Her shrunken stomach rebelled at the sudden onslaught of food.
“Don’t eat so quickly or you’ll throw it all up.”
She nodded, then ate until she thought she would burst. She pushed the dark rich bread around in the bottom of the bowl.
“What is your name, girl?”
“Lotte. Lotte Böhm.”
“How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“Well ... how do you feel now?”
“Better.”
Igor had his orderly clear the room. The soldier said he had found some woman’s clothing. Igor told him to unlock the adjoining bedroom and not disturb him further.
When the soldier left he considered the situation. The girl seemed to have recovered her senses and appeared none the worse for wear ... a few minor bruises. However, she might be too weak to go on out alone. Out to what, of course, was conjecture. All that appeared to wait for her, if her story could be believed, was another rapist. Naturally, he felt no obligation to protect her; nevertheless, one would have afforded the same courtesy to a beaten dog.
“Your story had better be completely true,” he said. “I intend to check it.”
“I wish it were not true. I wish I had a home and parents.”
He came to a sudden decision. “I shall allow you to sleep in the next bedroom tonight. You will not be disturbed. Help yourself to whatever clothing is in there. Tomorrow I will see what can be done about arranging a safe place for you.”
“You are very kind,” she said and began to cry.
Igor wanted to say that not all Russians were like those in the streets now ... even after a war that had taken his only child and his beloved Natasha. Yes, even after Natasha, mortal enemies must have some humanity left. He opened the door to the next bedroom.
Lotte Böhm wiped her tears. “Do you have water?” she blurted.
“Water?”
“To wash.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I have not washed decently in a month.”
“Well, help yourself.”
“Could ... could I ... bathe?”
She knocked timidly at the half-opened door. Igor turned from his desk. “Well now, let’s take a look at you. You look quite decent with your face scrubbed.”
Her youth had made possible a revival of body and spirit. She breathed deeply and happily and bounced about her bedroom pinning up her hair in long graceful rolls. She wore an oversized night coat, making her appear very tiny. “I was thinking about how nice you are all the time I was bathing. You must be someone very important.”
“Just a soldier.” He pointed to the bed. She slipped between the covers, stretched and purred with joy and felt the pillows and the satin spread as though she were in a wonderland. “I’ll die if I wake up and find this is a dream. I’ll die if I wake up in the cellar.”
Igor sat on the edge of the bed and smiled indulgently. She was so small and helpless. So like ... Natasha. Unconsciously, his hand reached out and touched her cheek, startling her. He drew his hand away quickly.
“I did not mean to frighten you.”
“You do not frighten me.” She rolled away so that her back was to him. “I have been living in a cellar alone for six months. I have been half starved all the time. The Amis came with their bombers every day and the British every night. And since the Russians ...”
“I know.”
“I am more grateful to you than I can say.”
“We are just people ...”
“I must show you how grateful I am. I want to please you.”
“It is not a condition for being human to one another.”
“But I want to thank you. I have no other way. The others took what they wanted from me. Once I was left for dead in the gutters when three of them had finished with me. At least let me give it once, willingly.”
“Go to sleep and shut up.”
“When I was out there, struggling on the ground, I ... I heard a voice singing ...”
He leaned over, bussed her cheek, touched her hair. “Good night, Natasha.”
“It was your voice, wasn’t it?”
He flicked off the light and walked to the door.
“Please don’t make the room dark,” she called out.
“I will be working at my desk in the next room. I will leave the door open.”
Igor usually liked the hours of night to work. In the complete quiet of night one’s thoughts could be immaculately clear, but ghosts of the day followed him into this night. Things ran together. Drab statistics and engineering problems were invaded by the haunting smile of Peter Egorov and the sharp voice of Hirsch—and now Natasha was with him!
From time to time he heard the girl thrash restlessly and heard moans of what seemed to be a continuous nightmare. He found himself standing in the doorway looking at her as though drawn by an uncontrollable force. The light from his room fell across her body. What a magnificent little creature! She is young ... I was young once. Where did it all go?
And, as though Lotte had been awaiting him, she awakened from her sleep and saw him. They looked at each other for a long time without movement or speech. She did not blink and barely breathed as she drew him toward the bed, slowly. He sat down on the edge.
Her little hand reached out, took his powerful hand, and led it beneath the comforter and placed it on her throbbing breast, and then she drew the covers aside for him.
Her body was deliciously young and firm and warm.
Softly, he kept repeating to himself, softly. Be very gentle with her. Handle her with delicacy and make up to her for all of those miserable brutes. Be tender and make her want me as Natasha wanted me.
He worked her up slowly until the nerve ends leaped from her skin. They taunted and teased each other, but the girl was being driven mad. She groaned with the joy and tried to draw him in and devour him. And then came a time when control and judgment fled and they burst into convulsions ... and now, at last, Lotte slept a deep, quiet, peaceful sleep.
Igor Karlovy remained awake. He lay on his back, the girl’s body curled up against him. His eyes were wide open.
... Now I am no better than the rest of them ... but then, have I ever been? Have I ever really been?
Chapter Seven