“Da! Made in this very region. Only Siberia makes it better than here, my friends. Why do you think nothing grows in Russia? All the grasses die when you spill your Samogon!” he laughed like a proud maniac.
Across from the tall flames Nina could see Bern. He merely gazed into the fire as if he watched a tale play out inside it. His icy blue eyes could almost extinguish the blaze in front of him and she felt a twinge of sympathy for the attractive commandant. He was off duty now, one of the other leaders taking reign for this night. Nobody spoke to him and he was fine with that. At his boots was his empty plate and he scooped it up just before one of the ridgeback dogs got to his scraps. It was then that his eyes met Nina’s.
She wanted to look away, but she could not. He wanted to erase her memory of the threats he made to her when he lost his cool, but he knew he would never be able to. Unbeknown to Bern, Nina found the threat of being “fucked raw” by such a strong and handsome German not altogether repulsive, but she could never let him know that.
From the incessant hollering and babbling, music faded in. Just as Nina had expected, the music was typically Russian in melody with its upbeat tempo that made her envisage a group of Cossacks hopping out from nowhere in a line to form a circle. She could not deny that the atmosphere here was wonderful, safe and merry, although she definitely could not imagine that a few hours before. After Bern spoke to them in the main office, the three were sent to have hot showers, they were given clean clothing (more in keeping with the local flavor), and they were allowed a meal and one night’s rest before their departure.
In the meantime Alexandr would be treated as a fundamental level member of the Brigade Apostate until his friends should provoke the management to believe their application was a charade. Then he and the Strenkov couple would be summarily executed.
Bern stared at Nina with an odd longing that made her uncomfortable. Next to her Sam was talking to Alexandr about the layout of the area all the way up to Novosibirsk, to make sure they navigated the country correctly. She heard Sam’s voice, but the mesmerizing look of the commander made her body flush with immense desire she could not explain. Finally he rose from his seat, plate in hand, and went to what the men affectionately called the galley.
Feeling compelled to speak to him in a private capacity, Nina excused herself and followed Bern. She descended the steps to the short offshoot corridor where the kitchen was and, as she entered, he was coming out. Her plate slammed against his body and shattered on the ground.
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” she said, and collected the pieces.
“Not a problem, Dr. Gould.” He sank down next to the small beauty, helping her, but his eyes never left her face. She could feel his stare and felt that familiar heat rush through her. When they had gathered all the big shards, they stepped into the galley to dispose of the broken plate.
“I have to ask,” she said in an uncharacteristically self-conscious way.
“Yes?” he waited, as he brushed the excess chunks of soupy bread from his shirt.
Nina sank her face in embarrassment at the mess, but he only smiled.
“I have to know something… personal,” she hesitated.
“Absolutely. Whatever you wish,” he replied courteously.
“Really?” she accidentally spilled her thoughts again. “Um, okay. I might be mistaken on this, captain, but you have been leering at me a bit too much. Am I just imagining it?”
Nina could not believe her eyes. The man blushed. It made her feel even more like an asshole to put him on the spot like that.
But then again, he did tell you in no uncertain terms that he would copulate with you as punishment, so don’t feel too bad for him, her inner voice dictated.
“It’s just that… you…” he struggled to reveal any vulnerability, so talking about the things the historian asked of him was nearly impossible. “You remind me of my late wife, Dr. Gould.”
Okay, now you can feel like a right asshole.
Before she could say anything more, he continued, “She looked almost exactly like you. Only her hair was down to the small of her back and her eyebrows were not as… as… groomed, as yours,” he explained. “She even behaved like you.”
“I’m so sorry, captain. I feel shitty for asking.”
“Call me Ludwig, please, Nina. I don’t want to get to know you, but we are beyond formalities and I believe those who have exchanged threats should at least be afforded the grace of first names, yes?” he smiled modestly.
“I agree fully, Ludwig,” Nina chuckled. “Ludwig. That is the last name I would have associated with you.”
“What can I say? My mother had a thing for Beethoven. Thank God she didn’t enjoy Engelbert Humperdinck!” he shrugged, pouring their drinks.
Nina squealed with laughter, imagining the stern commander of the meanest brutes this side of the Caspian Sea with a name like Engelbert.
“I have to concede! Ludwig is at least classical and legendary,” she sniggered.
“Come, let’s go back out. I don’t want Mr. Cleave to think I am moving in on his turf,” he told Nina, and placed his hand gently on her back to usher her out of the kitchen.
Chapter 9
It was freezing over the Altay Mountains. Only the guards were still mumbling under their breath, sharing cigarette lighters, and whispering about all kinds of local lore, the new visitors and their agenda, and some even wagered on the validity of Alexandr’s claim about Renata.
But none of them discussed Bern’s affection for the historian.
Some of his longer friendships, men who defected with him years before, knew what his wife looked like and they found it almost creepy how this Scottish lass resembled Vera Bern. It was, in their opinion, not a good thing for their commandant to have encountered the likeness of his late wife, because he had become more melancholy. Even when the strangers and newer members could not tell, some could clearly distinguish the difference.
Just seven hours before, Sam Cleave and the striking Nina Gould were escorted to the nearest town to begin their quest, while the hourglass was upturned to time the fate of Alexandr Arichenkov and Katya and Sergei Strenkov.
With them gone the Brigade Apostate waited in anticipation during the next month. Surely the abduction of Renata would be a feat of note, but once it was accomplished the brigade would have something to look forward to. The delivery of the leader of the Black Sun would certainly be a historical moment for them. In fact, it would be the most progress their organization had ever made since their inception. And with her in their keep, they had all the power to finally sink the Nazi begotten swine globally.
The wind had turned nasty just before 1 a.m. and most of the men had turned in. Under the cover of the nearing rain another scourge awaited the brigade’s stronghold, but the men were completely oblivious to the impending strike. From the direction of Ulangom a fleet of vehicles approached, steadily making its way through the dense fog brought on by the high altitude of the escarpment where the clouds came to settle before falling over its edge and weeping onto the land.
The road was bad and the weather worse, but the fleet persisted toward the mountain range, determined to make it up the difficult trail and remaining there until its mission was fulfilled. The trek would lead first to the Mengu-Timur monastery from where an emissary would continue up to Mönkh Saridag to locate the nest of the Brigade Apostate, for reasons unknown to the rest of the company.
When the thunder began to claim the sky Ludwig Bern settled into his bed. He had checked his duty roster and would have the next two days free of his role as first head of the members. As he doused the light he listened to the rain and felt an incredible loneliness overtake him. He knew Nina Gould was bad news, but that was not her fault. Losing his beloved had nothing to do with her and he had to orient himself to let it go. Instead he thought of his son, lost to him years before, but never far from his daily thoughts. Bern thought he would be better off thinking about his son than his wife. It was a different kind of love, the one easier to handle than the other. He had to leave the women behind, because the reminiscence of them both only brought him more sorrow, not to mention how soft they made him. Losing his edge would evacuate his capacity for harsh decisions and the occasional cruel treatment and these were the very things that helped him survive and command.