The Undaunted (Book 2 of The Undesirables)

Chapter 49: The Cellist

Petr leaned against the wall of the trench that snaked around Pavlov's house. It had been excavated from the soil of the apartment's former garden, and the crumbling dirt was reinforced with planks of wood and shards of brick scavenged from Stalingrad's wreckage. Petr stood in a relaxed stance, his left foot raised and resting atop an overturned bucket, his right shoulder supporting his weight against the trench wall. Only the crown of his head and his icy eyes, dark from the brim of his steel helmet, protruded over the lip of the defensive works. It was a stance he'd perfected after months of sentry duty and one he could hold for hours without moving.

Karen sat behind him, her back against the trench's rear wall, snug and protected by mother earth. She looked up at Petr and watched his breath slowly mist in the chill December air. He had sent for her; he wanted to talk to her privately. She wasn't sure what it was about, but obviously he was having trouble working up the courage to tell her, so it couldn't be good.

"Bobby is going back tonight," he finally said, breaking the silence.

Karen nodded. "That's what I assumed, now that the river's frozen."

"The reporter, Jillian, she's going with him. She wants to do more work on her story about the bell over Stalingrad, she wants to see the airfield for herself."

"Okay," Karen replied. She wondered if Petr knew that Jillian was a spy. He must suspect it. She wondered if she should tell him. And then she decided not to. If Petr knew, telling him would be pointless. And if he didn't know, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. So she waited quietly, instead.

"They need an armed escort," Petr continued.

"You don't think they can take care of themselves?"

"I do," Petr replied, "but Bobby's Officer in Command doesn't. Bobby's a pilot, not a soldier, and Jillian's a civilian. The XO wants to make sure they have a bodyguard in case they run into trouble."

"What kind of trouble does he expect behind our own lines?"

Petr shrugged. "He outranks me and Sergeant Pavlov, so we can't refuse."

Karen nodded, thinking she understood. "So Pavlov wants to send me and you." Pavlov always sent them on these sorts of missions since they weren't official members of his platoon. As far as Pavlov was concerned, Karen and Petr weren't exactly "expendable". He'd learned to respect and value them, but they were still "extraneous", since they weren't essential to the building's defense.

"Just you," Petr replied.

Karen raised her eyebrows in surprise. Usually Petr insisted on coming with her. He was protective like that. "All right," she conceded. "So that means I'm coming back across the ice alone?"

Petr shook his head. "You're not coming back at all."

There it was, the thing Petr had been reluctant to say.

"At least, I hope you're not," Petr qualified his original statement. "I'm hoping I can convince you to leave with them, to fly back to America, like we discussed."

"They're leaving?"

Petr nodded. "They're stealing two planes and flying to Turkey. They have friends in Turkey who will take them back to America."

"Spies, you mean."

"Spies," confirmed Petr.

Karen gathered her thoughts. "He said he wasn't here for that. He said that this time he'd stay in Russia."

"He told me something changed," Petr explained. "He didn't seem happy about it."

"You want me to go." It wasn't a question.