“I guess,” Adrienne Brenner said without enthusiasm. “But we’d better make it an early dinner. We have that field trip tomorrow, remember?”
“Field trip?” he responded with a touch of annoyance.
She shrugged. “Your host, Chancellor Malik, apparently thinks you could use a day off before the medical proceedings begin on Monday. We’re going for an outing to the ancient town of Waren on Lake Mueritzsee.”
As the four of them rode up in the hotel elevator, Galya said a silent prayer, pasted a smile on her face, and well before the elevator got to her floor said, “Dr. Brenner, in your rooms this champagne that I taste, I like very much. There is nearly a whole bottle left. Do you mind I have a little before I make ready for early dinner tonight?”
“Not at all.” He handed her his key. “You’re welcome to the whole bottle. Just be sure to leave the key on the bed and the door unlocked when you leave.”
Ignoring the question in Kiril’s eyes, Galya rushed to the Brenner suite as soon as the elevator let her off.
Her hand shook with anticipation—so much so that she had trouble unlocking the door.
Adrienne had been uncomfortably aware of her cape all day long to the point where she’d taken to carrying it. But still people stared, even in the “better” part of town. She felt their eyes on her suit. Her jewelry. Her leather shoulder-bag. Sensing that it wasn’t envy, she put the question to Dr. Andreyev on the way to the cocktail party.
“It’s two things,” he explained. “Fear, and a touch of resentment. Western clothes stand out because of their rich fabrics and stylish lines. And there’s no mistaking the fit—so perfect it couldn’t possibly be some hand-me-down from an aunt or an older sister.”
“I can understand the resentment,” she said, “but fear?”
“In East Germany, clothes like yours are the trademark of the privileged—Party people, their friends, their mistresses. It’s no different in the Soviet Union.”
Adrienne sighed. “I don’t know about you, but I’m in no mood for cocktails and finger food. See you at dinner?”
He grinned. “You can’t avoid me. We’re at the same table.”
Adrienne stepped into the elevator. When she got to the suite, the door slid open at her touch. Good. Galya had remembered to leave it unlocked.
She stepped inside—and stopped short in the foyer.
A black dress lay like an abandoned dust-rag on the bedroom floor. Her own clothes were spread out on the bed… all except a cream-colored gown. Galya was a vision of loveliness, the gown spilling in an unbroken line from its high virginal neckline to the floor. As she swept about the room, she was graceful elegance in motion—head held high, shoulders straight, arms slightly apart.
It’s as if Galya doesn’t quite know whether to hold in the wonder of what she’s feeling, or let it take wing.
The beginnings of a smile pulled irresistibly at the comers of Galya’s mouth. Her eyes had the luminous look of unshed tears. Gliding to a halt in front of a long mirror, she said to an imaginary figure, “Tell me, kind sir, is green gown which is best you like? This one, I think, is the most wonderful. The color is—how you say in America? This one is most sympathetic to me.”
“It really is,” Adrienne said softly, coming into the sitting room, stopping just short of the bedroom door.
Galya whirled around, fumbling frantically with the clasp at the back of her neck.
“Please don’t be embarrassed,” Adrienne said. “With your coloring and your blonde hair, the gown suits you perfectly. Would you allow me to give it to you?”
“You are too much generous,” Galya said in a voice dipped in starch. “Are all American ladies so generous as you? But I have no need for such a generosity. Quite soon I am having money to buy beautiful gown same like this one.”
Galya meant to close the bedroom door quietly.
She ended up slamming it. Her expression changed as rapidly as she changed her clothes—from embarrassment and envy to something darker.
Chapter 28
At 8:00 the next morning, the Brenners, Galya, Kiril, and Luka Rogov met for breakfast in the hotel dining room.
“If this is supposed to be a day off, why did we have to get up so early?” Brenner complained.
“Not to worry,” Kiril reassured him. “Chancellor Malik chose well for your outing. I’ve read up on Waren—a charming town on Lake Muritzsee.” He took some notes from his pocket. “There are references to the town by an ancient geographer named Claudius as early as 150 A.D. In the centuries that followed, the town was devastated by fires and suffered greatly during the Thirty Years’ War from 1618 to 1648. But in the eighteenth century, canal and railway building created economic growth, and in 1925 electricity came to Waren, followed four years later by a Roman Catholic church.”
His tone changed. “In 1931 the Nazis were the largest party in the November elections. The following year they took over some political and administrative positions.”
He saw that Adrienne Brenner, who’d been politely attentive, was now paying close attention. Since her husband didn’t seem the least bit interested, and Galya, eyes closed, had tuned out, Kiril focused only on Adrienne. “During the fascist era,” he continued, “the Nazis followed a familiar pattern. Waren’s Jews were persecuted, then expelled, and ultimately murdered. The Jewish population in the middle 1800s was roughly 150 men, women, and children. By mid-1938—even before deportations had begun in earnest—there were nine. By the end of that year, the Jewish cemetery had been desecrated and destroyed. In 1942, even the nine were gone.”
Adrienne restrained a shudder. She could picture only too well what Dr. Andreyev was describing.
“I take it that Chancellor Malik would be offended if I begged off this jaunt to Lake Muritzsee,” Kurt Brenner interjected.
“Apparently so,” Kiril said. “But the lake is especially beautiful this time of year, the weather is warm enough for boating and swimming, and the ancient town buzzes with activity. Lake Muritz is the second-largest lake in the GDR—the only one that fits entirely within its own borders.”
“Let’s get on with it then,” Brenner said, thinking that the sooner they left, the sooner they’d get back. “We’ll meet out front at the limo after we collect our stuff.”
“Let’s meet in the lobby,” Kiril suggested. “In about twenty minutes?”
Twenty minutes later, the Brenners stepped out of the elevator carrying large American beach bags. Galya had a Soviet version that Aleksei had provided, but smaller and less full. Kiril swung over his shoulder a mesh shopping bag he’d picked up at some flea market in Moscow. Luka Rogov wore his military uniform and carried nothing.
Except a 7.62 Nagant revolver.
“Follow me,” Kiril said, and led them to one of the elevators.
“We can’t get to the beach in an elevator,” Brenner said caustically.
“You’ll see,” Kiril grinned as he pushed the button for the top floor.
The elevator had more than adequate space for five adults, yet Dr. Brenner seemed agitated—but why? Kiril wondered. Brenner had begun to perspire the moment the doors closed.
“Where the hell are we going, Dr. Andreyev?”
“To the roof,” he told Brenner. “We’ll be flying to the lake in a helicopter,” he announced with a touch of pride just as they reached the top floor.
The elevator doors opened. Chivalry aside, Kiril thought drily, Dr. Brenner was the first one out.
“Look,” Brenner said with a show of calm as they climbed the stairs to the roof, “I can’t do this. I’m still jet-lagged. There’s no way I can sit for hours in a chopper.”