Snow Wolf by Glenn Meade Read Free Book Online Page A

up and walking by tomorrow." He hesitated, then studied her face
again, the gray eyes gentle but probing, his voice suddenly soft.
    "Why did you shoot the two guards on
the bridge?"
    She saw the man was watching her eyes
intently.
    "To escape."
    "Escape what exactly?"
    "From the Gulag."
    "Where?"
    "Near Ukhta."
    "D( you know the name of the
camp?"
    "Nicochka."
    "The Soviet Embassy in Helsinki say
you murdered an officer at the camp, Is that true?"
    She hesitated, then nodded.
    "Why did you kill the man,
Anna?"
    She had answered the question before when
the Finns had interrogated her, but she could sense the American was going to
be even more thorough. She went to open her mouth to speak but somehow, the
words wouldn't come. Massey looked at her.
    "Anna, I think I had better be
completely honest and tell you the situation. I work for the American Embassy.
Your people are making all kinds of diplomatic noises to have you sent back to
face a trial, There's no extradition agreement between Finland and Russia, but
if your authorities put pressure on the Finns then they may have to agree to
return you. The only way they can avoid that is to hand you over to the
American Embassy. Once the Finns say you requested political asylum in America,
the matter is out of their hands. They want to do that. They want to help you.
Russia is not exactly their best friend. That's why I'm here. I was asked to
talk with you and help decide if my embassy can be of help. I'm assuming you
don't want to go back to Russia and that you would like to request asylum in
America. However, I think you ought to know that under the terms of the
Soviet-Finnish Treaty, there are grounds sufficient for your return to Russia
on a charge of murder."
    Massey paused. He must have seen the look
of raw fear in her eyes because he shook his head quickly and said, "Anna,
that's not something we want to happen, but it partly depends on you."
    "How?"
    "On how cooperative you are. The
people who interrogated you think you haven't told them everything. You see, at
least if I know the full story of your background my embassy can best judge if
you're a suitable case for political asylum. You understand what I'm
saying?"
    She nodded. Massey leaned forward in his
chair. "So, you'll help me?"
    "What is it you want to know?"
Massey said gently, "Everything you can tell me. About your background.
Your parents. Your life. How you ended up at the border crossing. Why you
killed the officer at the camp. Anything that you can remember that might be
important."
    Suddenly it felt like a terrible grief
flooded her mind, as if to remember was too painful. She closed her eyes and
turned away, unaware that the man noticed the bruises on her neck, the pink
patches of skin that showed through her tightly cropped hair. He said softly,
"Take your time, Anna. Just start at the beginning."
    When the German Army panzers under Field
Marshal von Leeb's command swept into the Baltic States in the summer of 1941,
there were many inhabitants who were pleased to see them.
    On Stalin's orders only a year before the
Red Army had swiftly and brutally annexed each of the tiny independent Baltic
countries of Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. Thousands were tortured, executed,
or shipped off to labor camps by the invading Russians. And so the German
troops arriving in the summer of 1941 were seen as an army of liberation by
many of the citizens of the occupied states. People lined the streets to
welcome the crack Wehrmacht soldiers. Women threw garlands of flowers at their
feet@ while every road north and east was clogged with a defeated Soviet army
retreating from the mighty German blitzkrieg.
    But not all Soviet commanders chose to
flee the might of the Third Reich. Some chose to stay behind, fighting a fierce
rearguard action that was to give the Germans a bloody foretaste of what was to
lie ahead for them on the frozen steppes of Russia.
    One of these Russian officers was
Brigadier Yegor Grenko.
    At forty-two,