“And if I fail?”
“We’ll try again,” Dimitrov chortled, “with or without you.” He shrugged. “But let’s not look on the dark side. Succeed and I’ll keep my part of the bargain. You must trust me, Miller.”
To trust this ruthless NKVD General was, he knew, ridiculous. These people were not to be trusted. But, he calculated, there was always the chance that, if he did survive this assignment, he might find his way out. Hadn’t he done so before? As always, he would trust to luck. Perhaps in another life, he had been a cat with nine lives. He chuckled at the thought.
Still he had the sensation of living in a parallel universe. In that other universe, the mysterious and profound yearning was like an incurable affliction. This strange longing nagged at him. He felt shackled, trapped, caught in a vice. She was not a Jewess, no way, couldn’t be. His denial expanded in his mind. He needed to divorce her from the profound hatred he held for the people whose attachment she claimed.
“All right then, General,” Miller said, stifling, as best he could, this other self.
At this stage, he needed to focus his concentration, absorb the details. This mission might be his ticket to freedom after all, his gateway to another life. Forcing his concentration, he pressed Dimitrov for more and more specifics. Dimitrov obliged.
They had been walking for more than an hour when Dimitrov reversed direction, and they both headed back toward where they had entered. The pain was unbearable. He fingered the aspirin bottle in his pocket, knew he needed more, but did not want to reveal his affliction to Dimitrov.
“Have you the picture now?” Dimitrov asked. “As you can see, a lot will depend on your own planning and ingenuity.”
Miller nodded. At this point, it was still very tentative. He needed to focus on method and strategy. As for the target itself, he harbored enough hatred and contempt for the man to reject any sentimentality. To detest one’s target, especially this fat fool and poseur, was especially motivating.
Then another idea entered his mind. He had been waylaid into believing that his life might change direction, and he would reject his prime motivation. Whatever happened, whatever rewards he had and would garner, the essence of the mission was the glory of the deed itself.
As these thoughts tumbled in Miller’s mind, Dimitrov spoke again, “Here is something more for you to chew on, comrade. Your target is a Jew-loving Zionist. He believes in a Jewish homeland. He wanted to save the Jews from the wrath of your darling Führer. Now there is something to prod you forward.”
The barb had, indeed, found its mark. Despite the cynical transparency of the comment, it helped seal the bargain.
How far he had traveled from the idea that gave his life meaning! Churchill, this fat, Jew-loving mountain of flesh, was, with his sniveling, fancy words of hate for Germany and the Führer, the ultimate enemy, Satan with a cigar. To kill this monster would be the most sublime moment of his life.
They reached the spot in Georgetown where they had entered on the footpath.
“Well, comrade,” Dimitrov said, holding out his hand. “I assume nothing less than success.” He grasped Miller’s right shoulder. “Please, no brazen gestures.”
Miller leaned over and put his mouth to Dimitrov’s ear.
“Heil Hitler!”
Dimitrov smiled and shot him a look of mockery.
“That war is over, comrade.”
“We shall see.”
He stood for a long time watching Dimitrov’s fading figure as it headed east on M Street. When he was out of sight, he upended the aspirin bottle in his mouth.
Miller saw the vapor trail from his mouth as he waited near the entrance to the hospital, hoping for Stephanie to emerge. He was well aware that he was caught between a rock and a hard place. Yet he needed to resolve this situation. Never before in his life had he been confronted with such a debilitating compulsion.
The unseasonal cold snap seemed a metaphor for his situation. It had come upon them suddenly, a condition for which he was totally unprepared. He ascribed the increasing pain in his leg to the cold.
He recalled Dimitrov’s sudden reappearance in his life. It was both unwanted and unexpected, and it ricocheted through his mind like a wild bullet determined to find its target.
He saw her emerge from the hospital, wearing her nurse’s uniform under her coat, and move to the corner of Twenty-Third Street in anticipation of crossing. He felt rooted to the spot. The night had been agony. No matter how he tried, how he forced his concentration on both the realities and the glory of his mission, he could not eliminate Stephanie from his thoughts.
Dubbing this effort a reasonable compromise, and since he was leaving at first light for Missouri, he could not see the harm in a brief farewell. The car was loaded and ready. He had retrieved the weapons from the storage locker, and they were locked in the trunk of his car along with the envelope of cash.
He followed her to where she stood waiting for the light to change and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned, alarmed at first, then bewildered. His own reaction to being this close to her again was confusing, and he was astonished at its effect on him. His lips trembled as he spoke.
“I came to say good-bye,” he whispered.
“Good-bye?”
Her eyes probed his and became moist.
“I… I’m going away,” he stammered.
“Where?”
He shrugged but could not bring himself to answer. Then, moved by some inchoate, overwhelming wave of emotion, he said, “Can we talk?”
She nodded.
“I have my car,” he said, pointing with his chin.
Without another word, they moved to the car and got in. He started the motor and drove around the circle to Twenty-Third Street. Surprising himself, he noted that it was their usual route to Virginia, around the Lincoln Memorial, to the bridge over the Potomac. Her presence so close to him seemed to paralyze his tongue.
“So where are you going, Frank?” she asked, her hand touching his arm.
He sucked in a deep breath.
“I told you I was just passing through.”
He saw her nod and swallow and then felt her fingers tighten on his arm.
“These last few weeks have been a nightmare, Frank. It was as if some piece of me was missing.” There was a long silence.
“And you, Frank? Have you written me off?”
“I missed you,” he confessed reluctantly, surprising himself. “Of course, I missed you.”
“I love you, Frank. When you sent me away… my world collapsed. I never expected this to happen. Never. Believe me, Frank, I….”
She could not continue. Suddenly, he reached for her hand and brought it up to his lips.
“Oh God, Frank, this is so unfair. I’ve been so stupid, locked into these old-fashioned ways of my parents. I need to be with you, Frank. I don’t care anymore for those old ways. My heart is telling me the truth. Please, Frank, let me obey my heart.”
He was confused, his mind ablaze with contrary images and wild thoughts. Was there such a thing as a heart to be obeyed? He felt his inner discipline crumble. Why hadn’t he found the will to overpower this feeling?
They drove across the bridge, and he found himself on Lee Highway heading south. He felt torn, confused, utterly baffled, lost in his own skin. He turned the car into a country lane and stopped the car. They reached for each other and the power of their embrace astonished him.
“I love you, Frank. I love you.”
He listened to her voice but could not find any responding voice within himself, although his feelings for her were profound.
“Take me with you, Frank. Please, darling, take me with you.”
The possibility had lain dormant in his mind, now it exploded, the incentive both mysterious and powerful. Again, he could not bring himself to speak.