Tatiana and Alexander: A Novel(112)

After putting the penlight away, his eyes made out the commander's tent not five meters away in the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

clearing. He saw the mines lying flat on the ground. They hadn't even bothered to bury them in their haste. If only his men hadn't stepped on them in theirs.

He saw a flicker of a flashlight and a shadow in front of the tent. A man cleared his throat and said, "Captain? Are you awake, sir?"

Alexander heard a man's voice say something in German, then in Russian. In Russian, the captain asked the soldier to bring him something to drink and then not to step a meter away from the tent. "The mines have already killed two of them. But more will come, Borov. I'm well hidden, but we cannot take any chances."

That was helpful, Alexander thought, putting the knife between his teeth and getting out his grenade. He knew he had to be stealthy and very exact. He could not miss the tent.

The soldier came out of the tent and before he closed the flaps, he saluted the man. Alexander was about to pull the pin out of the grenade. The adjutant said, "I'll be right back, Captain Metanov--"

Alexander fell noiselessly to the ground. He dropped his grenade, and the adjutant went away.

Did he just sayMetanov ?

His tortured mind was playing tricks on him. With trembling hands, he picked up his grenade. But he couldn't throw it.

He was so close. He could have killed the commander and his assistant so easily. Now what?

If he had imagined the name, well, so much the worse for him, so much the f*cking worse for the ceaselessly restless him. A little more forgetting, a little less lament and he wouldn't be within three strides of the German commander's tent imagining he had heard the nameMetanov .

Alexander took one-two-three steps to the tent. He suspected the enemy captain wouldn't bury a mine within such proximity to his sleeping area and he was right. Reaching out, he touched the canvas with his fingers. Inside the tent a small flashlight shone. Alexander heard the rustling of paper. He couldn't even hear his own breath. It wasn't because he was quiet. It was because he wasn't breathing.

Silently he untied one of the ropes holding the tent to the stake. Crawling around, he untied another. Then another. Then the fourth. He took a deep breath, took out his sidearm--though couldn't cock it because it would make too much noise--gripped his knife, counted to three and jumped on top of the tent, pinning the commander inside the canvas. The man could not move. Alexander's body was on him and the barrel of his now-cocked Tokarev was pressed to the man's head. "Don't move," Alexander whispered in Russian. He felt for the man's hands, pinning them with his knees. With one hand, he reached under the loose straps of the tent and felt around the ground for the commander's gun. He found the gun and the knife, lying by what used to be the bed and the blanket. Feeling him stir slightly, Alexander said, "Can you understand me, or should I speak German?" He didn't trust the man to lie quietly. Alexander punched him hard, knocking him out. Then he pushed away the canvas and shined his penlight into the man's face. He was young, once dark-haired, completely shaven. He had a deep scar running down from his eye to his jaw; he had blood on his head; blood on his neck; he had only barely healed wounds; he was thin; he was pale in the white light of the flash; he was unconscious; he was either Russian or German. He was nothing, everything. Alexander gleaned no answers from this man's face.

Alexander pulled the commander out of the tent, flung him on his back and before the adjutant had a Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

chance to return with water, walked with him down the slope through the forest back to his own camp.

Ouspensky nearly fell down and lost breath in his only lung when he saw Alexander carrying the enemy commander. He jumped up but before he could say a word, Alexander cut him off with a hand motion. "Stop talking. Get me some rope."

Alexander and Ouspensky tied the man to a tree in the back of the tent.

For the rest of the night, Alexander sat in front of the captured officer. At last he saw the man's eyes open and watch him angrily and questioningly. Moving closer, Alexander untied the bandana from his mouth.

"You bastard," were the man's first Russian words. "All you had to do was shoot me. No, you had me leave my men in the middle of battle."

Alexander still said nothing.

"What the f*ck are you looking at?" the commander said loudly. "Are you figuring out how I'd like to die? Slowly, all right? And painfully. I don't give a shit."

Alexander opened his mouth. Before he spoke, he brought a flask of hot coffee to the man's mouth and let him have a few sips. "What is your name?" he said.

"Kolonchak," said the man.

"What is your real name?"

"That is my real name."

"What is your family name?"

"Andrei Kolonchak."

Alexander took his rifle into his hands. "Understand," he said, "if that's your real name, I'll have to kill you so your men make neither a hero nor a martyr out of you."

The man laughed. "What do you think? I'm afraid of death? Shoot away, comrade. I'm ready."

"Are the men you left behind ready for their death, too?"

"Certainly. We're all ready." The man sat straight up against the oak and stared unflinchingly at Alexander.