Read Online Kursed by Lindsay Smith - Free Book Online Page B

moment, I think it’s another vision, pressing up against me like a soap bubble ready to burst. But it’s gone as quickly as it came. Andrei hoists himself to his feet and holds out a hand to me. “Tomorrow, we’ll have to find another way to Berlin. Is this still what you want to do?” he asks.
    â€œHerr Trammel said the Americans were waiting for him there.”
    Andrei nods. “He showed Rostov the place they were to meet, and I saw it, too.” Andrei reaches for my hand; he cradles it between both of his, running his fingers against my palm like he’s divining the future.
    â€œWe’ll find them, then,” I say, lacing my fingers in his. “The Americans found a way in; Trammel isn’t the first scientist they’ve smuggled out. They must know a way out of Germany. Safely.”
    â€œYou’re a bold woman, Antonina Vasilievna.” Andrei smiles. “If it’s a way out you want, then I’ll find it with you. If this is what you want, then I’ll follow you. I trust you.”
    I let the warmth of his skin spread across mine, just for a few moments’ time. If a man like him can put his trust in me, then maybe it’s time I tried trusting me, too.

Chapter Five
    I wake to the sound of voices—distant ones, muffled by hisses and pops and a metronomic click. The shortwave radio. Olga and Andrei are huddled around a sheet of paper, jotting down the numbers that the Russian voice is reading out in steady doses. The numbers station Rostov had told us about. The NKVD broadcasts orders to its agents all over the world, encrypted with numbers, and only the agents who know the code can decipher the message.
    â€œNo, no, that was a nine,” Olga mutters, jamming her finger toward where Andrei’s writing. He scratches it out and rewrites the number.
    In the gaps between each sequence of numbers, a Russian orchestra surges forth, blaring “The Internationale.” Subconsciously, I find myself humming along, the chorus bubbling into my head: This is our final and decisive battle—with “The Internationale,” humanity will rise up.
    The transmission completes, and “The Internationale” fills the airwave, drumming its catchy beat right into our heads. I spot Olga and Andrei swaying back and forth, humming along, then realize I’m doing it, too. We hum along through the next verse, then stop and shake our heads as the transmission dissolves into scratchy silence.
    â€œSorry.” Andrei’s pencil glides quickly over the scratch paper as Olga helps him along. “Let’s see what our message is…”
    Olga leans over his shoulder. “All agents … report to Berlin. Extraction imminent … 0800 April Five. Fifth. Berlin will fall.”
    â€œApril fifth. That’s tomorrow morning, right?” I ask. “So we have a day to get there and … do what we need to do … before Rostov expects to find us there.”
    Olga scoots her chair back and twists so she’s facing me. “Antonina Vasilievna.” She scratches at the stump of her leg. “I know your standing at the university. Everyone knows you. The model Party member in training, the tireless researcher for the good of the State.”
    My jaw clamps up like I’m bracing for a blow. “It’s really not like that. I’m only doing—”
    â€œWhat you’re told. Yeah, I know.” Olga rolls her eyes. “Why the change of heart? Why should we trust your newfound wish to leave your cushy Party life behind?”
    Progress—isn’t it the guiding tenet of every good Party apparatchik ? Onward toward progress, toward advancement, experimentation. It’s time for a new approach. I square my shoulders and look at Olga and Andrei head-on.
    â€œI don’t want to be a part of Rostov’s plans anymore. Of Stalin’s. I’ve done everything they’ve asked, and