Read Online Snow Wolf by Glenn Meade - Free Book Online
Authors: Glenn Meade
Tags: Suspense
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sex. She had noticed the man watching her.
She knew by his leering grin that he wanted her body. She let it be known that
she was available.
The officer came to her after dark three
nights later. They met in a small woodshed at the rear of the camp. She timed
the day so the officer was off duty next morning.
She waited until he had undressed her and
when he had taken off his Coat and tunic and went to suck her breasts she drove
the six-inch metal blade deep into his back. It had taken her three weeks to
make the weapon in the hours after darkness, but only moments to use it. The
man was slow to die and tried to strangle her, but she dug the blade in again
and again until the floor was awash with blood.
Ten minutes later she had unlocked the
side gate with the man's keys and walked through into the freezing, snowy
night, wearing his bloodied uniform and coat and fur hat, carrying his pistol,
taking the narrow road through the birch forest. The sentry in the nearest
watchtower hadn't even bothered to challenge her. a Khorev had Within four
hours, frozen and exhausted, Ann finally reached the border with Finland.
She spoke with Massey for almost an hour.
He sat there listening quietly, nodding
his head in understanding when she faltered or the pain of her memories became
too much and she had to break off.
Every now and then she saw the shocked
reaction on his face as she told him her story, the look in his eyes that was
no longer detached, as if he suddenly understood the enormity of her pain and
why she had killed as she had.
When she finally finished he sat back and
looked at her with compassion, and she knew he believed she was telling him the
truth.
There would be other men who would want
to speak with her, he said. Other questions to be asked, and maybe she would
have to tell her story again, but for now she was to rest and try to build up
her strength. The following day they would move her to a private hospital in
Helsinki. He would do his best to help her.
she watched him go and then she was left
alone in the small white room. Somewhere off in the distance she could hear a
radio playing cheerful dance music and it made her think of another time and another
place, the first night Ivan Khorev had taken her dancing on the banks of the
Moscow River, and in laughing voices echo beyond the room. the corridor she
heard She felt the grief suddenly flood in on her like a tidal wave and she
tried not to cry.
It was a long way from the icy wastes of
Nicochka. A long way from the cold and despair and the pain she had lived with
for months, the aching in her breast that felt like someone had stuck a knife
in her heart and she was slowly bleeding to death.
And all the time the image in her mind
that wouldn't go away.
She and Ivan walking in Gorky Park in
summer, Ivan smiling, the look of pride and love on his face as he held Sasha
in his arms.
Berlin. December 15th The Ilyushin
transport plane with red stars on the wings bumped to a halt on the icy runway
at Schbnefeld airport in East Berlin. A thin man with sharp features-a pursed
mouth, long face, and small bright eyes--disembarked and walked quickly across
the tarmac to a waiting Zil car.
As the car drove out through the gates
and headed east away from the city, Colonel Grenady Kraskin took off his cap
and rubbed a hand along his thinning hairline. At sixty-two, he was a veteran
and senior KGB officer with over thirty years' experience. Answerable only to
Beria and Stalin, he was responsible for special interior operations, which
came under the control of 2nd Directorate, based in the seven-story KGB
Headquarters in Moscow's Dzerzhinsky Square. In this capacity Krasicin had
traveled to East Berlin for his monthly inspection tour of top-secret Soviet
research facilities, which he carried out with customary thoroughness.
After a thirty-kilometer drive, the black
Zil turned off the main Potsdam highway onto a minor road that finally led past
the sleepy German hamlet of
She knew by his leering grin that he wanted her body. She let it be known that
she was available.
The officer came to her after dark three
nights later. They met in a small woodshed at the rear of the camp. She timed
the day so the officer was off duty next morning.
She waited until he had undressed her and
when he had taken off his Coat and tunic and went to suck her breasts she drove
the six-inch metal blade deep into his back. It had taken her three weeks to
make the weapon in the hours after darkness, but only moments to use it. The
man was slow to die and tried to strangle her, but she dug the blade in again
and again until the floor was awash with blood.
Ten minutes later she had unlocked the
side gate with the man's keys and walked through into the freezing, snowy
night, wearing his bloodied uniform and coat and fur hat, carrying his pistol,
taking the narrow road through the birch forest. The sentry in the nearest
watchtower hadn't even bothered to challenge her. a Khorev had Within four
hours, frozen and exhausted, Ann finally reached the border with Finland.
She spoke with Massey for almost an hour.
He sat there listening quietly, nodding
his head in understanding when she faltered or the pain of her memories became
too much and she had to break off.
Every now and then she saw the shocked
reaction on his face as she told him her story, the look in his eyes that was
no longer detached, as if he suddenly understood the enormity of her pain and
why she had killed as she had.
When she finally finished he sat back and
looked at her with compassion, and she knew he believed she was telling him the
truth.
There would be other men who would want
to speak with her, he said. Other questions to be asked, and maybe she would
have to tell her story again, but for now she was to rest and try to build up
her strength. The following day they would move her to a private hospital in
Helsinki. He would do his best to help her.
she watched him go and then she was left
alone in the small white room. Somewhere off in the distance she could hear a
radio playing cheerful dance music and it made her think of another time and another
place, the first night Ivan Khorev had taken her dancing on the banks of the
Moscow River, and in laughing voices echo beyond the room. the corridor she
heard She felt the grief suddenly flood in on her like a tidal wave and she
tried not to cry.
It was a long way from the icy wastes of
Nicochka. A long way from the cold and despair and the pain she had lived with
for months, the aching in her breast that felt like someone had stuck a knife
in her heart and she was slowly bleeding to death.
And all the time the image in her mind
that wouldn't go away.
She and Ivan walking in Gorky Park in
summer, Ivan smiling, the look of pride and love on his face as he held Sasha
in his arms.
Berlin. December 15th The Ilyushin
transport plane with red stars on the wings bumped to a halt on the icy runway
at Schbnefeld airport in East Berlin. A thin man with sharp features-a pursed
mouth, long face, and small bright eyes--disembarked and walked quickly across
the tarmac to a waiting Zil car.
As the car drove out through the gates
and headed east away from the city, Colonel Grenady Kraskin took off his cap
and rubbed a hand along his thinning hairline. At sixty-two, he was a veteran
and senior KGB officer with over thirty years' experience. Answerable only to
Beria and Stalin, he was responsible for special interior operations, which
came under the control of 2nd Directorate, based in the seven-story KGB
Headquarters in Moscow's Dzerzhinsky Square. In this capacity Krasicin had
traveled to East Berlin for his monthly inspection tour of top-secret Soviet
research facilities, which he carried out with customary thoroughness.
After a thirty-kilometer drive, the black
Zil turned off the main Potsdam highway onto a minor road that finally led past
the sleepy German hamlet of
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