“Even if they hadn’t,” I said, “you still would have sent Osip. We just would have had to work the plan differently. But this makes it cleaner. I’m assuming you informed the Kremlin that I intend to return in three days, on the fourteenth?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Then that is when you will tell them how sick my boy has become. That is when you will tell them that I am unwilling to return without my entire family. They will balk at that and then you will offer to execute us.”
“Yes,” he said. “They love for me to execute people, especially ones who make impossible demands, and in your case, especially someone who they’ve already used up. I mean, I’m certain they would love to squeeze some more out of you, but once they know you are serious about demanding your family’s release, they’ll give me the go-ahead to put all four of you in the graves.”
“I’m assuming you will be informing your briefcase man, Dieter, that I’ve been executed.”
“He will come to know this soon enough. Yes.”
“I’m also guessing that Lovett Fort-Whiteman is here now,” I said. “He was due to be transferred in early May.”
Zorin stuck out his lower lip and then cracked a bit of an evil-looking smile.
“Not everything the Kremlin has been telling you is true,” he said. “When they told you that they’d tracked your comrade down in Magadan, and that he was alive, they lied. He was sent to the Kolyma gold mines right after you left back in November. But he only lasted a little over a month. He died on January 13th of this year. According to his official death certificate, he had apparently starved to death and was found frozen with no teeth. But… I have no more details other than those I’m afraid.”
Learning that Lovett was dead came as a massive slug to my gut. But I sat up straight and glared back at him. I just swallowed deep and didn’t allow myself to feel anything yet. I had to stay present and focused and strong. I couldn’t let him see an ounce of weakness. He was trying to hurt me one last time, his constant smile signaling how much he was delighting in this news.
“So, you see, Interpreter,” he said, putting his hands together at his chin and tapping his fingers together, “your good comrade has been dead the entire time you’ve been in Berlin. He was only alive in your mind.”
He looked at Roman and Osip, and they all half smiled.
“Let’s just hope,” I said, “that your lovely mother stays alive… both in your mind and in reality.”
He paused. I could sense him trying to figure out one last possible way of getting out of this trap I had him in. But in talking to his mother, I’d been able to sense how much he loved her. All of these men like Zorin and Stalin exhibited no feelings when it came to murdering people, unless, of course, it was their own family members.
“I want you to know,” he said, “that both Osip and Roman will be with you the entire time and will have guns on them. You and your family will be searched and have no way of defending yourselves during the trip.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “I brought my suitcase and have my suits, but did you have the fine clothes made for my family like I asked for in the letter?”
“Yes. When you arrive at the hotel in Riga and check into a room, only then are you to phone your men. And Osip will be listening. What hotel will it be?”
“That part you don’t get to know. That’s part of the deal. Your men get to pick a room and check in under a name I won’t be privy to, but I get to select the hotel.”
Three days later, at around 10:00 p.m., my family stood near a freshly dug pit. It was the latest in a long line of others that had been covered up already, thousands of dead zeks having been buried underneath them. This pit was large enough for several people. All four of us stood there knowing what the plan was. Zorin was going to be the man who shot each of us. He would do so while two guards and another high-ranking officer bore witness. The only other witnesses would be Osip and Roman, and they were also the only two people besides Zorin and my family who knew that Zorin would be using blank cartridges.
We had been driven to the massive graveyard in the white Ford Coupe, Osip behind the wheel. Roman had driven an identical beige Coupe behind us, while Zorin and his witnesses had been in a black sedan leading the way. The graveyard was situated about a mile from the main camp. More zeks than we could even begin to imagine had been driven out here and executed by Zorin on far too many occasions. We could smell death all around us.
I had been able to be with Loretta and the children the entire time since I’d arrived from Berlin. Zorin had put us all in a private room. The emotions had been overwhelming to say the least. They looked terrible, their spirits completely broken, their bodies even more withered—Loretta and Ginger’s hair having grown back only a bit. And they had barely said a word, too tired and broken to even imagine that my plan might work. We must have spent that entire first day together just holding one another and crying and resting, particularly James, whose breathing issue wouldn’t relent.
It was in this private room that I’d explained to them what the escape plan was. I had reiterated how important it was for them to drop to the dirt as soon as the gun was fired. I’d even demonstrated how they needed to fall. “Don’t jerk backward,” I’d said. “Just fall straight to the ground and come to rest wherever your body’s natural movement stops. If you’re still on your knees and slumped over, fine… just stay there.”
“I will have no problem falling, Daddy,” Ginger had said. “I’ve been wanting to drop to my knees and rest for almost two years.”
The feeling of guilt I felt for not having kept my daughter safe was uncontrollable. She and James were sixteen now, she as tall as her mother, and James only an inch shorter than I. They were all grown up, but with real-life educations that were far too advanced.
Our rehearsal had gone well, but I also knew that the darkness would aid in our dangerous skit, making it difficult for Zorin’s witnesses to see details. I spent most of my time telling Loretta and the children not to scream or react when Zorin fired his gun. “He’s going to shoot at me first,” I’d said. “Just stand there and wait for your turn, as if you’ve completely accepted your fates. Trust me! This is our only chance!”
I’d also made it very clear to Zorin that his family would be killed on May 21st if I didn’t confirm our release with Xavier sometime between now and then. And I’d gotten the sense that the colonel knew I wasn’t bluffing. Still, as Zorin raised the gun and pointed it at me, I couldn’t help but fear that he had decided to use real bullets.
We were lined up almost shoulder-to-shoulder, me to our far right next to Loretta, James on the far left next to Ginger, the only light emanating from the white Ford Coupe’s headlights that had been left on in the distance. Zorin pulled the trigger and bang! Then another bang! I dropped to the dirt like a sack of potatoes and lay there on my left side about five feet in front of the pit, relieved that the bastard had actually kept his word. I was alive and well.
I listened to the next two shots ring out and then felt Loretta’s arm slap against my shoulder. And as the next four blanks were fired, we listed to our babies fall to the ground, doing everything in their power to act out the scene like seasoned thespians. God bless them!
“PROSHCHAY!” yelled Zorin, which meant, “Good-bye, Americans!”
“PROSHCHAY AMERIKANTSEV!” yelled the other men.