“It’s hers now?”
Zhenia nodded. “Likely, yes. But we’re also getting replacement fighters soon. They might give her one of those, but I suspect not since she worked on yours and knows it better than any.”
The news didn’t surprise me. I’d figured Gridnev would do such a thing. In another time, another life, I’d have been jealous. Now, I only wanted to be sure she’d live through the war when clearly I wouldn’t. I would’ve liked one last kiss with her as well, but if wishes were horses. “Is she ready?”
“She’s too afraid to pull G’s,” Zhenia replied. “She thinks she’ll blackout and crash, which is bad in a dogfight. But she’s a natural at anticipating her opponent’s maneuvers. I’d hate to be in her sights once she gets over her fears.”
I laughed. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Well this should then. The Luftwaffe have almost disappeared over Stalingrad.”
Shock hit me harder than Petrov had hit my cheek. “Why?”
“We’re not sure,” she said. “The British and Americans have made big gains in North Africa. We think the bulk of the Luftwaffe in the area have been reassigned to help that front.”
“It’s about damn time our allies drew them away,” I said. “I have half a mind to think they waited this long on purpose.”
Zhenia snorted. “You’re far from alone on that thought. Regardless, despite Hitler’s early advances, with so many countries pushing against him now, his industry will never keep up. Mark my words, the Luftwaffe will stay overstretched until his country is in ruin. With luck, Klara will have good experience by the time she encounters her first real dogfight.”
“I hope so.”
“One last thing,” she said. “I want you to know none of the other girls believe anything Petrov said about you.”
I smiled. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”
The door opened again, and this time it was Gridnev who entered. Where Zhenia had come to me with concern on her face, he came with irritation and weariness. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind that Zhenia was in the box with me. Perhaps he’d given her clearance before, something I’d considered likely, given that the guard had let her in. “See to your duties, Zhenia,” he said, throwing her a glance. “Nadya and I have matters to discuss.”
When she left and shut the door, I decided to get right to the heart of things. There was only one reason why he was here. “When’s my trial?”
“The twenty-fourth of December. You get to sit here for a month.”
My eyebrows arched. This was the second bit of news I hadn’t expected whatsoever. “You mean rot. Why so long?”
“Things are… happening on the front,” he replied. “Oddly enough, we can’t spare the time or manpower for a trial since the brass wants upper officers not connected to any of this to preside.” He sighed and shook his head. “And then there’s the absurdity of the entire situation. A respected pilot and a decorated commissar get into a fight and one ends up dead. That doesn’t look good no matter how the pieces fall. Brass wants this dealt with neatly, quietly, if that’s even possible. I dare say they don’t know what to do.”
I seized the moment like a starving dog being tossed a scrap of chicken. “I shot in self-defense. He would have killed me if I hadn’t.”
“I believe you, but the only other person there was Klara, and she says it all happened too fast for her to make sense of it,” he said. His face turned grave. “And then there’s the burnt syrette. I know you said he planted it, but the brass is sending an interrogator to see how truthful you are and to test your loyalty. I presented your side as best I could, but they weren’t convinced of your innocence. I think my words are the only reason you’re still alive.”
My throat tightened, and I could feel the strength in my legs wane. At least it seemed Klara had kept quiet about the syrette. I guessed she was hoping that it was an old one, and it was, but from her point of view, I knew she couldn’t be certain. God, that had to be eating her alive, trying to decide whether to stay true to me or her country. All of that, however, was secondary to my feelings about an interrogation. “I’d rather be dead.”
“For your sake, so would I,” he said. “However, that doesn’t change anything.”
I slumped against the wall. “What will become of me?”
“It depends on your questioning,” he replied. “I doubt anything good. If there’s anything I can do for you in the meantime, I will.”
At first, I didn’t give much thought to his comment as I considered it a passing politeness and nothing he could make good on. When the current state of the war popped into mind, I thought I’d take a shot at something, even if it seemed impossible. “You could let me fly one last time. I’d like to go up with Klara if I could so she could see who I really am, before my wings are clipped forever—before I’m beaten and killed. I don’t want to die with her thinking I’m a drug addict and a thief.”
Gridnev chuckled. There was even a touch of life in his eyes. “I don’t either, but I don’t think that will be possible. Innocence will only come from your interrogation.”
Refusing to be dissuaded, I pressed the idea. “Something big is going on, yes? Surely you need every pilot and plane available.”
Gridnev folded his arms and drummed his fingers. I thought for a moment he wasn’t going to say anything on the matter but was proven wrong when he replied. “There’s a counter offensive about to be launched and details are on a need-to-know basis, but yes, we need everyone for it, which is why your trial has been pushed so far back.”
“Let me fight,” I begged. “Let me fly one last time. Let me prove to those who would judge my character who I am.”
“Putting you in a plane given the severity of your charges is begging for trouble for both of us,” he said. “Whatever they have in store for you would be visited upon me and my family tenfold if you took the opportunity to escape.”
“I won’t,” I said, repulsed at the idea. “Order Klara to shoot me down if I try.”
Gridnev cracked a half smile. “We both know she never would.”
“It won’t come to that,” I said, feeling the opportunity slip away. “I’m a single kill away from becoming an ace. Can you imagine the pressure they’d be under to side with me if I came back with my fifth victory?”
Gridnev rubbed his chin. “You make a point. Public opinion alone could save you. I suspect Marina would fight for you tooth and nail.”
“Then get me cleared for one last mission. What’s the worst that could I happen? I’d die and this would all be over.” When I could still see the reluctance in his face, I played my last card. “You owe me. I saved your life.”
“That you did. That you did,” he replied. He paced slowly around the room, mulling his options under his breath. “Okay, Nadya. I’ll see what I can do. No promises. We strike in three days. You’ll know by then one way or the other.”
I lost my composure and grabbed him in a tight hug. “Thank you!”
Gently, he pushed himself free. “No promises,” he reiterated while holding up his finger. “And not a word of this to anyone.”
On the third day after Gridnev left, my stomach was queasy with anticipation of his return. Despite the cold, my aching arm, and constant nightmares of Alexandra’s death, hope sprang in my soul that I’d be set free to fly once more. God, it would feel so good to see Klara again, not to mention fly alongside her. It was as if I had an angel behind me, whispering words of comfort and joy even though a bleak future loomed. The day wore on and my spirits fell, and those angelic words of comfort seemed to be more and more demonic words of torment.