“Good,” said Wayne. “Do you know what will happen between these two armies here? I mean, I know which side won the war, of course, but what about right here? Do you know anything about that?”
“I have no details.”
“None at all?”
“I only know that the Germans will lose this battle outside Moscow,” said Ishihara. “They do not take the city, despite what Leutnant Mohr said about it. This is the first Soviet victory of the war.”
“Well, let’s figure out our story. We want to have it before anyone gets here.”
Hunter walked through the dark, nearly deserted streets with his team, pausing to hide in shadows or around corners on the few occasions when they saw a vehicle. They saw no other pedestrians. At the same time, Hunter monitored the radio transmissions in Moscow from the NKVD. The transmissions made reference to a couple of other public buildings that were being used to house displaced citizens.
None of the messages mentioned an exact address. However, Hunter heard references to neighborhoods and streets that helped him choose the team’s direction. After nearly an hour of walking through the cold, he approached another warehouse, from which a small amount of light escaped around the edges of a blacked-out window.
“That must be the place,” said Hunter. “I can hear the sleeping breaths of many people inside, as Jane suggested earlier.”
“What’s our story?” Steve moved up next to Hunter, moving slowly with weariness from all the walking. “Won’t they want to know what we’ve been doing out at this hour?”
“As you have occasionally recommended, I shall improvise.” Hunter knocked firmly on the front door. “The story we used when we first arrived, without you, should be sufficient.”
“What was it?” Steve asked.
Before Hunter could answer, the door opened slightly. A stout, scowling man glared at him. “Yeah, what is it?”
“We are displaced citizens from a farm west of Moscow,” said Hunter. “We have fled the Germans and seek shelter for the night.”
“The Germans have been at our gates for weeks. Where have you been since then?” The man eyed Steve suspiciously. “Where’s he from? He’s no Russian.”
12
Steve stepped back.
My friend is a Mongol who originally came from south of here, down by the Black Sea,” Hunter said calmly. “Recently, he worked on the collective farm with us. Here are my sister and my cousin.”
“You are a fine, big, strapping fellow,” the guard said. “Why aren’t you out in the front lines? We have need for men like you.”
Hunter patted his left leg. “I can’t keep up on the march. Bad leg.”
“Oh? And you’re out in the cold all night?” The man started to say something else when another man’s voice from inside stopped him.
“Let them in, Yevgeny! So you can close the door! You’re letting all the cold air inside!”
The first man frowned even more, but he stepped back, holding the door open.
Hunter entered first, judging that more potential danger to his team lay in the uncertainties inside than in the empty street outside. However, this warehouse was little different from the last one. In the weak light from a lamp on the front table, he could see that the warehouse floor was covered with the sleeping people he had first heard a few moments before.
“We have no more blankets.” Their host folded his arms across his chest and stared at Hunter. “And we have very little space left.”
“It will be fine,” Hunter said casually. “Thank you.” He led the team down one wall, carefully stepping around or over the people in the way.
As in the other warehouse, people had clustered near the heating vents and had avoided the external walls as much as possible. That once again left some space for the team in one of the back corners. The corner was not exactly warm, but it was much warmer than the streets.
Hunter turned to look at his team members in the shadows and spoke in a whisper. “Is everyone okay?” He glanced past them to see that no one else was listening.
“Yes,” whispered Judy. “Good job.”
“I’m fine,” said Jane.
“Let’s get some rest,” said Steve.
“Your sleep schedules do not match the time to which we have come,” said Hunter. “You will probably not sleep. But we must remain quiet so that we attract no more attention. Your bodies will begin to adjust.”
“It’s like jet lag,” said Steve, with a shrug.
Wayne was shivering uncontrollably out on the steppe by the time headlights appeared in the distance to the east. The lights quivered and jumped as the vehicle rumbled across the frozen steppe toward them. Ishihara waited patiently.
A Soviet armored car finally roared to a stop in front of them. It was designed in a slightly different way from the one Leutnant Mohr had driven, but essentially accomplished the same purpose. The moment it stopped, however, a squad of Soviet soldiers leaped out of the back and fanned out to surround them, aiming their rifles at Wayne and Ishihara. One of them shouted in Russian.
Ishihara raised his hands over his head. Wayne imitated him. Neither of them spoke.
The squad leader shouted again. Two of the soldiers slung their rifles over their shoulders and jogged forward. They frisked Wayne and Ishihara, then stepped back.
The squad leader spoke sharply once more, jerking his head toward the back of the armored car.
“Follow me.” Ishihara walked toward it, glancing back at Wayne.
The instruction was unnecessary. Wayne was going to do whatever Ishihara did. They climbed into the back of the armored car, followed by the rest of the squad.
The armored car rumbled forward in a wide turn and drove back in the direction from which it had come. These soldiers were much more alert than the exhausted Germans had been. They kept their weapons trained on the prisoners during the entire ride, and never looked away from them.
Since Ishihara said nothing, Wayne remained silent as well. These Soviet soldiers seemed more dangerous, at least so far, than the Germans ever had. He could only hope that their superiors, like the Germans, would be open to hearing their story. As the icy wind whipped past them, he concentrated on keeping his balance and not making any sudden moves.
The journey did not take very long. The searchlights over Moscow were closer than ever. With the Soviet lines blacked out, however, Wayne suddenly realized that they were coming right up on the lines without any warning. Moscow itself was still some distance away.
The armored car drove through the lines to the rear. When it pulled up in front of a large tent, the squad leader shouted in Russian again. Ishihara jumped to the ground, so Wayne followed him.
Ishihara felt stress under the First Law imperatives. He had to keep Wayne safe or else somehow reach inside his torso cavity quickly and take them both to the safety of another time. His promise to Wayne not to do so unnecessarily, however, prevented him from acting too hastily.