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All over Germany, both local citizens and local police detachments began forcing Roma into municipal camps. Later, these camps evolved into forced-labor camps for Roma. Marzahn and the gypsy camps (Zigeunerlager) set up by the Nazis in other cities between 1935 and 1938 were a preliminary stage on the road to genocide. The men from Marzahn, for example, were sent to Sachsenhausen in 1938 and their families were deported to Auschwitz in 1943. Romani individuals were also arrested as "asocials" or "habitual criminals" and sent to concentration camps. Nearly every concentration camp in Germany had Romani prisoners. In the camps, all prisoners wore markings of various shapes and colors, which identified them by category of prisoner. Roma wore black triangular patches, the symbol for "asocials," or green ones, the symbol for "professional" criminals. —
Holocaust Encyclopedia, “Persecution of Roma (Gypsies) in Pre-War Germany, 1933-1936”
March 31, 1938 – December 31, 1938
Late spring brought green shoots and flowers to the black earth surrounding the barracks of Anastasia’s gypsy operation. Moscow Center had wisely given Anastasia a leadership position and a medal for her service. With her blessing, the gypsies had reverted to gaily painted wagons surrounding their wooden building. Horses grazed in the nearby fields. A herd of goats gamboled across the lawn. The three toddlers crawled and played in the sunshine while their mothers Simza and Jaelle sewed or knitted and talked with Anastasia about the current dismal state of affairs in Europe. Eventually, they asked for news of their husbands, who, like all the male gypsies under Anastasia’s control, were performing secret missions throughout Europe under temporary local control.
“Milosh is now in Poland. He’s doing well. His mission should end by late July. If he’s not immediately assigned to a new mission, he’ll return here to rest for thirty days. In his last message, he asked about you and the twins. I told him all was well here.”
“Thank you, Anastasia,” Jaelle said with a smile of resignation. “Poland’s difficult, but it’s not as bad as Germany. It’s not safe for a gypsy to be traveling in Germany anymore. All gypsies are supposed to be in the camps.”
“What about Walther?” Simza asked brightly. She was sewing a spring blouse. Her pregnancy meant that all her clothing had to be retailored.
“Walther’s in the Balkans. He’s doing fine. I assured him your pregnancy is going well, and your baby will come in the early winter.”
“Do you know where Tobor is right now?” Jaelle asked.
“He went to Spain, then Portugal. He was supposed to go to France after that. Today I guess he’s somewhere south of Paris. He keeps asking about Drina.” Anastasia had a far off look in her eyes as if she were trying to unravel a mystery.
“What did you tell him about her?” Simza interjected.
“Drina is on another dangerous mission in Hungary. If she survives, she’s likely to be sent on another dangerous mission right after that. Moscow Center is bent on using assassinations during this time of purges. Everyone’s afraid because the USSR and Germany are becoming friendly. This is happening while tens of thousands of Communists and sympathizers are in their camps.”
Anastasia’s expression was disdainful. She hated Germans for what they had done to her gypsy people. She also hated Drina because she was beautiful and Tobor loved her. Her blood boiled at the thought of Tobor embracing Drina. Her heart fluttered with jealousy at the thought of the two together. Only by removing Drina could Anastasia have Tobor for herself. She resolved long ago to assure that Drina would die on a difficult mission.
The trouble was that Drina accomplished her “impossible” missions flawlessly and escaped each time. The female gypsy assassin cheerfully accepted each subsequent mission, even though she knew they were increasingly difficult. Tobor was concerned about the dangers, but he thought Moscow Center had made the assignments. He did not know Anastasia was calling the shots or the jealousy she harbored against Drina.
“Are Drina’s brothers still working together in France?” Jaella asked.
“Yes. Nicu, Pali, and Pesha are naturally concerned for Drina’s welfare. I wish they’d focus on their own safety instead. They’re taking incredible risks to do their jobs.” Excepting Drina, Anastasia had high regard for the whole Mettbach family. She reflected that if she were not smitten by Tobor, she would gladly seek a relationship with any of Drina’s brothers. They were tall, handsome, dark and strong men. All were single and without prospects for wives. Anastasia knew that in the near future they must have women. She planned to import gypsy women for them as soon as possible.
“Anastasia,” Jaelle asked, “Moscow Center has given you great responsibilities. Are you safe from the purges?”
Anastasia frowned while she considered this. Then she said, “No one is secure. Moscow Center is sending one of the gray men to assist me. He’ll be here any day now.”
“That sounds ominous,” Jaelle observed.
“I’ll handle Gregor Orlovski. He’ll be my subordinate. He’ll not report directly to Moscow Center, but only through me.” Anastasia’s voice sounded confident, but Jaelle noted a flicker of doubt in the woman’s expression.
Gregor arrived that evening. He was a huge man, with distinctively Slavic features. His black hair was combed straight back over his head. He was not handsome, but he exuded animal magnetism. Anastasia was clearly attracted to him in spite of her determination to be professional. Over the communal evening meal, Gregor impressed her with his knowledge of intrigue at Moscow Center.
Almost defiantly, Gregor asserted, “Stalin is in absolute control of everything. Beria is his creature. Together they make the lists for the purges. I’m sure I was posted here to keep me out of harm’s way. I’m at your service. What can I do to help you?”
“Gregor, we have a smooth-running operation. Moscow Center has given missions to our gypsy spies, except for these two women, who are raising their young children.” She gestured towards Simza and Jaelle.
“Is this a good time to bring children into the world?” Gregor asked cynically.
“We’re building world socialism. How can any time be better or worse than another? Simza’s pregnant with her third child, so she’ll be staying here until mid-winter. Jaelle may receive orders any day now. In her absence, Simza will take care of the children.”
“Where are your agents deployed right now?”
“Four are in France, one in the Balkans, one in Hungary, two in Spain, one in Italy, one in Belgium and one in Austria.”
“All in the field are men except for the one woman?”
“That’s right. Drina, the woman, is in Hungary.”
“Is everyone reliable?”
“Yes. Otherwise, they would have been terminated.” Anastasia said this coldly without glancing at Simza and Jaelle.
“You are part gypsy? You speak Romani like a native.”
“My mother was a gypsy. My father was not.” Anastasia knew that Gregor had been briefed thoroughly about her lineage and background. She resolved she would gain nothing by denying the facts.
“My father was a gypsy,” Gregor confessed. “I’m not as fluent in Romani as you, but I can make myself understood.”
Anastasia was comforted by the fact she and Gregor had common roots, yet she remained on her guard. She wanted to dominate the situation. Sentimentality had no place in her cosmos.
“You’ll get your chance soon.”
“I look forward to that. I want to get to know each of your operatives. If anything should happen to you, I would want to be able to fulfill your role perfectly.” This alarmed Anastasia, but she was a professional. She hid her fear and nodded sagely at the prudence of her new assistant.
Understanding now that Gregor was a threat, she decided to seduce the man to discover why Moscow Center had really sent him. Anastasia went to Gregor’s bed that night and made such wild, passionate love to him that he thought he had died and gone to heaven. At breakfast the next day, it was clear to Simza and Jaelle that the pair was acting more like a man and his wife than a boss and her underling.
Later Simza told Jaelle, “If they’re not in love, they’ve at least become good sex partners. Did you notice how flush her color was? We both know what that means.”
During the next week, the relationship between Gregor and Anastasia developed into something like domesticity. Then Moscow Center dropped a bombshell in their midst.
They ordered Anastasia to proceed to Paris immediately to meet her four-man team on urgent business. She was to leave Gregor in charge at the barracks in her absence. When she confronted Gregor about the orders, he shrugged and told her he could do nothing about them. Anastasia was torn between her desire to see Tobor again and her desire to remain in control of the clandestine gypsy operations. She had never traveled to France or built a resistance force.
Convinced that Gregor had known about Moscow Center’s plans for her before he left Moscow, the Hero of the Soviet Union seethed with rage at his betrayal of her. Still, Anastasia was wise to remain visibly unperturbed by the devastating news.
The night before her departure, she was especially nice to Gregor because she needed his support while she was in the field. She brought him up to speed on the status of all the other missions. By the time she left, he had picked up the threads of her correspondence with Moscow Center. By the authoritative way he bid Anastasia farewell, Simza and Jaelle thought he had taken charge of the gypsy operations permanently.
Only Anastasia knew the real reason for her mission. It had been delivered to her in an encrypted message that she alone could decrypt with her own one-time pad. She was personally to assassinate Moscow Center’s control in France. The order was signed by Beria.
As she burned the message and the code sheet, she reflected on the irony of her situation; I’ve been ordered to assassinate a man appointed by Moscow Center by the second most powerful person in the state. I’ve been asked to turn over my gypsy operations to a man I didn’t know ten days ago. I’m going to meet my beloved Tobor, who loves someone else. I’m going to risk my life to do a job for which I may be purged at any time on a whim. I might be amused at how twisted everything has become, yet I cannot become worn down or frustrated. Action is the answer. I’ll use my mission to keep my spirits high and do things that will make Tobor love me.
While Gregor settled into the quiet camp life with Simza and Jaelle, Anastasia proceeded westward through approved channels until she arrived at the appointed location south of Paris. There Tobor met her and escorted her to a farmhouse where his associates were hiding.
“Men, I have orders to assassinate one man. I will need your help. The target, Francois Bouffant, is devoted to having his fortune told. I’ll take the place of the man’s reader advisor, tell his fortune and kill him by any means that will assure his death.”
“Is the fortune teller a gypsy?” Tobor asked.
“I don’t know yet. It won’t matter since she’ll be allowed to live. You’ll abduct the fortune teller and keep her in hiding here until the assassination has been accomplished. Since Bouffant always travels with at least one of his bodyguards nearby, you must kill whoever accompanies Bouffant to the fortune teller’s dwelling.”
“We’ll have to conduct surveillance of both the target and the fortune teller,” Tobor advised.
“Yes, but we’ve only two days to do our preparations. On the third day, I must kill the target.”
Tobor and the brothers divided the surveillance work. Anastasia meanwhile waited at the farm. When the men returned the next night, the fortune teller was with them.
Tobor told Anastasia, “The woman is a gypsy named Kizzy, short for Qetsiyah. She’ll comply with your wishes. She won’t be a security risk as long as she’s guarded by one of us here while the others accomplish the mission. I volunteer to remain here with her.”
Anastasia had her doubts about leaving Tobor with the fortune teller, but she talked with Kizzy before making any decisions.
“Tell me about yourself, Qetsiyah. That means cinnamon, I think.”
“Yes, it does, but call me Kizzy. My livelihood depends on imparting intelligence by reading palms.”
“When are you scheduled to receive Francois Bouffant?”
“We have an appointment at my apartment on the afternoon of the day after tomorrow, at two o’clock.”
“How do you feel about your client?” Anastasia asked with an insinuating edge in her voice.
“He’s my client and nothing more than that. He’s uncultured and unclean. I don’t like him, but he pays well.” Kizzy raised her right eyebrow.
Anastasia felt relieved that the woman would cooperate for money. “We’ll pay you better than he does for one day’s work. What’s your plan for the session with your client?”
Kizzy said, “I’m primed to tell Monsieur Bouffant that he’s in danger of imminent assassination.”
Anastasia laughed out loud and told her, “You are a good fortune teller. There’ll be no problem. I’ll give him your message.”
Tobor told Anastasia exactly how the brothers were going to eliminate Bouffant’s security. She approved his plan. The three brothers did walk-throughs until they understood their roles. When they were ready, Anastasia collected the key to Kizzy’s apartment. She and the brothers rode into Paris in an ancient Packard automobile while Tobor remained with Kizzy at the farm.
“Kizzy, what have you heard about the Germans’ plans for France?” Tobor asked her.
“Everyone’s afraid, but the French military thinks the line of defense will hold them back.”
“Is that what you tell them when you read their palms?”
“People like to hear what they’re already thinking.”
“So you tell them what they want to hear?” Tobor laughed at the irony of her situation.
“Yes. I get large tips if I guess right. If I guess wrong, I get only the agreed fee.” That made sense to him.
“Are you afraid of what’s coming in the future?” Now Tobor was not laughing.
“I can’t afford to be afraid. I’ve got nowhere else to go. The way I see it, fortunes must be told. I have a steady income. I get referrals. It’s a living. Why do you want to kill Francois Bouffant?” She had jumped right to the crux of the mission.
“We have orders. We don’t ask questions.”
The way he said this made her uneasy. “Maybe you should ask questions,” Kizzy said with her brows knit.
“Maybe you should have a plan for when the Germans march into Paris.” He was flabbergasted that France was so vulnerable and unprepared.
“Touché, Monsieur. Your name is Tobor? I know the name Tobar, but not Tobor. Is that your real name?”
“Yes, Kizzy, it is.”
“Give me your right palm.”
Tobor extended his right palm. She began to read it aloud.
“You have a strong lifeline. You are not married, but you will be. Your love is far away. She’s in danger.”
“Can you tell me more about that?”
“I might for money.” She smiled and looked him in the eyes. When she saw his anguish, she turned her head away. She relented and continued without a commitment for money.
“All I can tell you is that she’s in danger for her life. She’s surrounded by unscrupulous people, including her masters, who want her dead.”
“I’ll believe you if you’ll tell me where she is right now.”
“That’s hard to say with precision. She’s in Hungary. That’s the best I can do. Is her name Rina?”
“It’s Drina. You’re quite remarkable, Kizzy.”
“Thank you. Have you noticed the way Anastasia looks at you?” She asked this bluntly and paused to gauge his response.
“What do you mean?” Tobor was struck with amazement. He had never considered what Anastasia thought of him.
“She’s smitten with you. It’s apparent in everything she does. Yet you haven’t had a relationship except for business. She’s recently had an active sex life. She’s disappointed, though.”
“Why is she disappointed?”
“She thinks her superiors have sent her here to die. She’d rather be back where she came from, but there’s a problem with that now. She’s been replaced by a man she’s made love to.”
Tobor thought about this for a few minutes. What the fortune teller said made uncanny sense. He wondered why he had not seen the signs for himself. He was also becoming fascinated by Kizzy.
“Kizzy, tell me about yourself.”
That night, Kizzy told Tobor her history. In return, he told her about his background and his love for Drina. He urged Kizzy to think of coming with him to the USSR rather than staying in Paris. She refused to think about that.
She told him, “I’ve built a business in Paris and don’t want to leave it.”
“Kizzy, with your skills you could start up a business anywhere.”
“When it’s time for me to leave Paris, I’ll know it. Then perhaps I’ll go with you.”
The next day Tobor and Kizzy walked around the farm while they talked. Tobor explained how they would reach the gypsy outpost in the USSR. He told her what his life and work were like.
“So you’re originally a German, but now you and your friends work against Germany all over Europe through the Soviets.” Kizzy wanted to be sure she understood his situation.
“Yes. Our work is secret.”
“Even so, you told me about it.”
“You could have guessed everything I’ve told you.”
“Now I am a security risk for you and your people. I’ve seen your faces. I know what you do. I know who you work for.” She was sounding frightened at her own deductions.
“All you say is true.”
“So you’ll kill me when your mission has been accomplished?”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Tobor wanted to reassure her, but he also had an agenda.
“Anastasia would.” Kizzy had an acute sense of reality.
“Not if you agreed to come with us to the USSR.”
She shook her head, her eyes starting to water. “I had a dream last night. In it, Anastasia tricked you and stabbed me in the heart with her stiletto. I died in your arms.” Tears streamed down her face.
Tobor was sincerely concerned by her dream, yet he needed to distance her from its implications. “That’s troubling. I’ll think about it and let you know what we’re going to do to avoid your being killed.”
Kizzy laughed outright. “Consider who you’re talking to.”
“Do you have another key to your apartment?”
“Of course I do.” She reached down her bosom and withdrew a key.
“Are you game to go to Paris now?” he asked. She nodded, and with that, they were off.
Tobor and Kizzy walked to the main road and hitched a ride to Paris on a farm delivery vehicle. They arrived in Kizzy’s arrondissement at four o’clock. Her apartment was locked from the outside. Tobor searched it and found nothing incriminating. It looked as if no assassination had taken place. Tobor left Kizzy at her apartment and found his way back to the farm. Around midnight, Anastasia and the three brothers returned in a festive mood.
“Tobor, our operation went like a charm. The brothers killed Bouffant’s two bodyguards. They put the bodies in the trunk of the Packard. After dark, they weighted the bodies with chains and dumped them in the Seine.”
“What about the target?
“Bouffant telephoned the apartment at a quarter to two with a change of venue. I met him at his favorite restaurant, where I read his fortune right at the table. Poor man, he died of a massive coronary. I was in the ladies’ room at the time. When I came out, he was on the floor with everyone crowding around him. I left via the back door and went back to the apartment where the brothers picked me up. Oh, yes, I locked the apartment before leaving it.”
“That explains why there was no evidence of your meeting at the apartment.”
“You were there?”
“I dropped Kizzy there at four o’clock.”
“That wasn’t according to our plan.” Anastasia’s eyes bore into Tobor’s. She was most displeased, but she held her temper.
“No, but it worked out anyway.” Tobor gestured towards a bottle of wine he had opened to breathe. “We should have wine to celebrate the occasion.”
“We’re all due a celebration. Let’s have a couple of glasses of wine. Tomorrow morning, I’ll have to travel back to base.”
The brothers explained in detail how they had dispatched the two bodyguards while they drank wine. Anastasia told them how she had applied the special poison to the rim of Bouffant’s wineglass. Tobor told them what he had learned from Kizzy.
“So she wants to stay in Paris rather than come to the USSR?”
“For now, yes. I believe she’ll be a valuable asset for us in Paris. Luckily, we didn’t implicate her in the death of her client. As far as she knows, he died of a heart attack and not from our devices. It’s true she’s seen our faces, but where there’s no crime, there’s no blame. What she learned is hearsay. We’ll never use this farm again for our business.”
Anastasia was not completely satisfied with Tobor’s explanation. “To be perfectly sure, we should eliminate this woman. She knows entirely too much.”
“You’ve got to leave tomorrow. Your mission’s been accomplished. Finding and killing Kizzy would only incur additional risk where right now none exists. A more cogent concern is for the sudden, coincidental disappearance of Bouffant’s two bodyguards.”
“The fish are eating those bodies at the bottom of the river.” Anastasia was convinced that the bodies would never be found.
“Someone will wonder where those men went.” Tobor knew as well as she did the way Moscow Center thought.
“Moscow Center gave me the mission. You’re right; the mission has been accomplished. I’ll report the same. You’ll meanwhile revert to what you were doing before I arrived. It’s now time for sleep.”
“Before that, please give me the key to Kizzy’s apartment. I’ll need it for the times I’ll want to question her.”
She was most displeased. “Tobor, I don’t think you told us everything about what you discussed with Kizzy. No matter, though.” Reluctantly, she handed him the key, saying, “Here’s the key. Enjoy. We’ll leave her fate to Moscow Center.”
“Speaking of Moscow Center, can you tell me what they say about where Drina is now?”
“If she survived the critical phase of her mission, she’s about to leave Hungary by train tonight. She’ll arrive at the base camp five days from now.”
“One more question: if poison had failed, what was your backup means of assassinating Bouffant?”
“Tobor, I always do have a backup.” She lifted her dress and showed where her stiletto was sheathed next to her calf. She wiggled her calf provocatively. He admired both the knife and her leg.
“How resourceful and well prepared you are!” Tobor exclaimed, arching his right brow.
She said in a professional voice, “A stiletto right through the heart works at very close range with very little loss of blood. Poison is neater. On balance I prefer it.”
“Can you tell us anything about the new man from Moscow Center?”
This question caught Anastasia completely by surprise since she had not mentioned Gregor. She blushed beet red from embarrassment at what Tobor might have surmised. “How do you know about him?”
“I deduced that Moscow Center would not have put you into the field if a suitable replacement were not installed. The likelihood was a man replaced you—temporarily, of course. Do you like him?”
Anastasia’s face reddened and her eyes squinted. “He’s all right, I suppose. Why do you ask?”
“The last man sent from Moscow Center didn’t really work out well. It seems to me that we are back again in the same situation.” Tobor smiled broadly and winked.
“Tobor, you are much too smart for your own good. I do appreciate your advice. Gregor’s usefulness will have played itself out by the time I arrive back at our base. Before we sleep, fill me in briefly on your current activities. Don’t bore me with details. Just give an overview.”
The four men reported succinctly on their current missions. Everyone went to sleep. Anastasia and Tobor awakened just before dawn. Tobor drove her to the drop off point and waved goodbye as he disappeared over a rise. He checked his pocket for Kizzy’s key just to be sure he still had it. He drove to the farm and picked up the three brothers. They had meetings to arrange in several cities. The gypsy networks were slow to become established. Since the men had no idea when their networks would be activated for use against the Germans, they worked as fast as possible.
The interruption of the gypsies’ organization work to help with an assassination had been a refreshing break in their routine. What they could not figure out was why they were now killing a Soviet control and his men. After all, the gypsies worked for the Soviets against the Germans, not against other Soviets. Moscow Center ruled, or so they thought.
What they did not know at the time was that Beria was working independently of Moscow Center. The hit against Bouffant was his personal vendetta. When Moscow Center discovered their agent and his two bodyguards were dead, they began an inquisition into the probable causes, but they had no leads. They initially believed their man Bouffant had died of a heart attack. The disappearance of his two bodyguards at roughly the same time as his cardiac arrest suggested other possibilities they could not overlook. They could not afford a massive effort that would reveal their consternation. Instead, they shelved the matter until evidence surfaced to indicate who had been involved in the killings.
Anastasia sent an encrypted message to Beria, care of Moscow Center. Her encryption was done on one of her one-time pads. Only Beria could decrypt her message. She assured him that his target had been eliminated. She never received an acknowledgment or response to her report.
Anastasia returned to her post and resumed her work as head of gypsy operations against Germany. Her mission having been successfully completed in Hungary, Drina appeared at the base as she had planned, but Anastasia did not immediately send her out on a new assignment. No orders had come from Moscow Center for a new assassination. Therefore, Anastasia, Drina, Simza, and Jaelle enjoyed the late spring weather and the children.
Gregor was incensed because he had to revert to the position of posing as Anastasia’s assistant. She piled on duties so he had no time to plot and scheme against her. Repeatedly he tried to get her back into his bed again, but she remained aloof. She felt he had betrayed her professionally. Against her strong desire for sex, she vowed she would not be fooled again. As for Tobor’s advice about taking care of a male competitor, she was not going to be stampeded into killing another person assigned to her domain. That would raise flags of suspicion.
It surprised Anastasia that Tobor came back to base in midsummer to see Drina. He justified his presence to Anastasia by his need to report progress on the French networks he and Drina’s three brothers had created in person. The French team’s progress was prodigious, and the formal report to Moscow Center was voluminous. Anastasia received great praise for her agents’ work; however, she was not amused because Tobor spent all his time with Drina and none of it with her, except for business meetings.
“Tobor, you didn’t have to come back. Why are you here?” Drina asked him one evening.
“I came to see you. A gypsy fortune teller in France told me you were in extreme danger in Hungary. She said you were on an assignment given to cause your death. I wanted to discover the truth.”
“So you were having an affair with another woman, and she was jealous?” She looked him in the eye defiantly and leaned forward aggressively as if asking him to deny it.
“Nothing of the kind. She was the key to a mission we were conducting. I asked her about your welfare. She knew you were in Hungary. She knew the person who sent you was jealous of my affection for you. I didn’t have a physical relation with her at all.”
“And I’m to believe you?” She seemed shocked that Anastasia would be jealous of her.
Tobor knew Drina was jealous and angry. One wrong word might cost him their relationship. Yet he felt he was in the right and pressed forward accordingly, trusting that everything would go smoothly in the end.
“I frankly don’t care whether you believe me or not. Your brothers could tell you I had only one night to talk with her. I was grateful for her insights. Tell me, do you feel that Moscow Center or Anastasia or both are trying to cause your death? I have to know.”
“Tobor, everything we do in this shadow war is dangerous. You’ve told me on many occasions what you’ve been doing.”
“I know when I’m being sent on an impossible mission. I know when others are trying to waste my life.”
Drina could not argue with his logic, but she needed to know more. “All right, what if Anastasia is trying to make things difficult for me? Why would she do that?”
“She’d do it because she knows I love you. She’s jealous of you. She thinks that if you die, I’d love her instead.”
“And would you?”
“Absolutely not! She’s our boss. Until the fortune teller saw her looking at me in a particular way, I had no idea. You know I love only you. Your brothers know I do as well.”
“Oh, Tobor, what’re we to do?”
“We could be married.”
“Is that a proposal?”
“Yes, it is.” He paused and looked into her expectant eyes. “Drina, I love you. Will you marry me?”
She flushed red. Her eyes glittered with joy. “Yes, I will marry you. It surely took you a long time courting me to come to that simple question.”
“I want our marriage to last a very long time. Do you love me?”
“Yes, you fool, I do love you. I’ve waited for you to ask for a long time. When I’m on a mission, all I can think of is you.”
“So when shall we get married?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Even if we can’t muster all the families for the wedding?” he asked.
“All we need is you and me and someone to conduct the ceremony.”
Rather than inform Anastasia, the couple planned their wedding. Their planning was interrupted by urgent orders from Moscow Center.
Anastasia told Tobor he had to return to France at once to coordinate a drill of his networks. She told Drina to return to Hungary and report to the local control for another assassination.
By their surly demeanors, Anastasia realized she had intruded on the couple. She did not care; in fact, she enjoyed tormenting them. Seeing Tobor together with Drina was enough to push her over the edge. Evidently what Anastasia did in France was not at all impressive to Tobor. The man could hardly wait to get back to his beloved Drina. In view of this, Anastasia’s infatuation turned instantly to hatred. She was a woman scorned. She wanted to see him dead, the sooner, the better.
In revenge against their love, she returned to Gregor’s bed and wept while she made desperate love to him. He understood nothing of why she was crying uncontrollably. He thought she must have deep feelings that she could express in no other way. By the time Tobor and Drina departed, their two leaders were a couple as never before. Such was the power of lust and jealousy working together. Now Anastasia did not care for Tobor’s affections. She wanted both him and Drina to suffer and die.
When Tobor arrived on the outskirts of Paris, it was autumn. The leaves were turning. The whole city was active in the crisp fall weather. When it rained, the grisaille made everything gray and melancholy. He bought a bottle of red wine and went to visit Kizzy’s apartment straight away. There he found the fortune teller tidying up.
“I didn’t expect to see you for a long time.”
“I brought wine. Do you have time to talk while we drink it?” Tobor’s smile found an echo in Kizzy’s face.
“Come in, uncork the bottle and let it breathe. Sit down at my consulting table. I want you out of here by ten o’clock. I have my reputation to protect.” She laughed at this idea. He joined in her laughter while he pulled the cork and set the bottle aside. He decided to share his happiness, figuring the fortune teller would see it in his face and actions.
“I’m engaged to be married, Kizzy.”
“Congratulations. I’ll bet Anastasia isn’t delighted. I’ll also bet your Drina has been sent on another dangerous mission—probably in Hungary as before. Frankly, I’m sincerely happy for you and your beloved, but I’m concerned about Anastasia’s reaction.”
“Thank you for the congratulations. You’re right about Anastasia, but she doesn’t really know about our getting married. We haven’t told her yet. As for Drina’s mission, the coincidence of our both receiving orders just when we were planning our wedding seems suspicious. It’s as if our masters know what we’re thinking even before we think it.”
Kizzy got a grave expression. “You’re all playing dangerous games. You were right, though, about what’s going to happen to France. I have a very bad feeling that our leaders are living in a dream world. France was nearly destroyed in the World War. The Germans want to have another try at invading us, but we haven’t the heart or the numbers of soldiers to fight.”
“Do you have any intelligence about this from your clients?” Tobor asked her.
“One of my clients is in the Polish military. He visited the forest region between France and Germany. He claimed to have seen trucks exercising in the forest, with broom handles the width of tanks. After explaining what he had seen, he wanted me to foresee what the exercises meant.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Tobor, I said the Germans do everything for a purpose. Nothing is wasted. If they’re exercising to judge whether tanks could smash through the forest, then the tanks would follow in due course.”
“Did he agree with your judgment?”
Kizzy looked away when she recalled the man’s reaction. “He wept. He said it was as he’d feared. He despaired because our generals wouldn’t listen to his advice.”
“Kizzy, have any of your other clients reported similar activities?”
She thought for a moment before she answered him.
“One reported that the gypsy camps throughout Germany are full. Gypsy men are being processed to go to work camps. The families are also being processed like so much meat. Jews have disappeared. Social deviants and people with disabilities have been arrested and sent to camps. No information is available about people who vanish.” She shook her head.
“From whom are you learning these things?”
“I have a customer who works for German intelligence.”
“He told you that?” Tobor knew how secretive German intelligence operatives were. He was highly skeptical about their telling a fortune teller what they really did for a living.
“No. He’s a German officer. I know the type who work for the military intelligence organization. He told me that if I were in Germany, I would be sent to a camp. He said when Germany invaded France, the same social dregs would be gathered and processed as they were in Germany. Germany has drawn up plans for internment camps in France.”
“Did he mention a time for this to happen?” Tobor was alarmed at this intelligence.
“He smiled and said ‘very soon.’ Do you want to pour the wine now? I think it must be ready.” She licked her lips in anticipation. Vintage wine was a luxury.
Tobor poured the wine into two glasses. They both held up their glasses and admired the rich color of the blood-red wine in the light.
“To the hope the nightmare doesn’t happen here,” Tobor toasted.
“To your safety while in France and your future happiness with Drina,” Kizzy added.
They touched glasses and drank.
“Why have you returned to France?”
“I have to exercise the networks I’ve established throughout your country.”
“I see. Will your exercises be visible to the police?”
“I hope they won’t be visible except to the organizers and participants.” Tobor knew that his exercises had to remain secret from the authorities if his people were to survive.
“My German intelligence officer has asked me about the existence of organizations of people who might form a resistance movement if the Germans should invade.”
This alarmed Tobor. “What did you tell him, Kizzy?”
“I said when one country invades another, resistance is a natural outcome.”
Tobor hoped her answer was true, but he feared what the German officer would make of it. “You told him nothing about our presence?”
“I don’t know anything about it. If I told him, he wouldn’t necessarily believe me. Don’t forget that I’m in a group that is held in utter contempt—by that I mean gypsies.”
“If gypsies are not thought to be a credible threat to them, so much the better for our organization.”
“Yes, the Germans have cut themselves off from the very sources that could help them.”
“Yet one officer in German intelligence has the good sense to visit you.”
“True, but he’ll get no useful information from me.” She smiled and radiated confidence.
Tobor and Kizzy spent another hour talking and finishing the bottle of wine. It was just before ten o’clock when Tobor departed, making enough noise to let her neighbors know that he had gone. Tobor was not sure what he should do with the information the fortune teller gave him. Since Germany and the USSR had an ambiguous relationship, any intelligence might be shared. He decided to keep the information to himself.
Tobor and the three brothers executed their exercises. Their networks did well, but their reporting times needed improvement. They ran a second set of exercises, and then a third. Their activities aroused no suspicions that were reported in the newspapers. Tobor visited Kizzy a week after the third set of exercises. She told him none of her clients had mentioned anything about the exercises.
With a sigh, she said, “My fine, little Polish officer is still frustrated that no one will listen to him about the forest exercises he witnessed.”
Satisfied that his networks stood ready to be called at any time, Tobor wrote a report about his successful exercises to Moscow Center. He received a note of praise for his efforts. He also received an order to report anything he could discover about the deaths of the former Parisian control and his two bodyguards. Tobor responded that he had heard nothing about those deaths. He wrote that he would keep his eyes and ears open and make a report when he heard or saw anything about them. Tobor deduced from their questions that Moscow Center had not ordered the hit on Bouffant or the murder of the two bodyguards.
He wondered aloud to himself, “If Anastasia had not received her orders from Moscow Center, then who gave her the orders for the assassinations?” He resolved to ask her about that when he touched base again.
Meanwhile, Tobor thought about Drina’s orders. He mused to himself, “Have her orders come from Moscow Center or from Anastasia without any permission from Moscow Center?”
Tobor knew other possibilities might exist—such as a rogue issuing unauthorized orders, but he had enough knowledge to open a formal Moscow Center investigation. The trouble was, in this time of purges, any investigation would sweep him and the brothers into the net. He knew they would all be killed if he told what he knew.
His only viable recourse was to be sure that Drina was safe. He did not wait for orders. Instead, he made his way back to base to talk with Anastasia. He hoped to convince her to send him to Hungary to find Drina and bring her back safely to base. It was early winter when Tobor reached the barracks. The grounds were covered with a light first snow. Simza was in labor. Performing as her midwife, Anastasia was also visibly pregnant. Jaelle brought Tobor up to speed on events since he had departed for France.
“Things have been busy since you left, Tobor. Anastasia and Gregor have been alternating between making love and violence. The child she carries is his. Gregor won’t marry her, so she wants to abort the child to save her job. They both have a vendetta against you and Drina. Anastasia is jealous of Simza and me for being properly married with children. I don’t know everything they’ve been plotting. I do know that Drina is in grave danger in her current assignment. Anastasia doesn’t expect her to survive.”
Tobor was beside himself with rage at this insight. “Do you know where Drina is now?”
“Anastasia told me Drina’s living in a river view room at the Danubius Hotel in Budapest. There she’s waiting for orders from her local control for an assassination. Since this will be her fourth assassination in the same city in two years, she is at considerable risk of discovery. For all I know, Anastasia has informed the local authorities about her activities.”
“Could Anastasia be so vicious as to inform on one of her own agents?”
“Anastasia hasn’t been herself since she threw herself at Gregor just before you left here. She’s been erratic. Gregor’s trying to have her removed as head of operations. Of course, he wants that job himself, and his own child will give him his promotion if he plays his cards right. Becoming pregnant out of wedlock hasn’t improved Anastasia’s disposition.”
“How are the other agents faring in their missions?”
“Simza could tell you that better than I. Ask her after she gives birth. She’s gone into labor. Anastasia is helping her. I’m afraid she’s going to have a difficult delivery. It’s a breach birth.”
Tobor dropped by the birthing room Anastasia had set up. When he asked whether he could help, Anastasia told him to get lost while the birthing was in progress. She hurled curses at him and threw things. Tobor saw from Simza’s sweaty face and grimaces that things were not going well. When Tobor went to Gregor about what was happening, Gregor shrugged.
“What can mere men do in times like this?”
“Perhaps I should fetch a doctor?”
“By the time you fetched a doctor, it’d be all over. I suggest that you find a bottle of vodka and stay out of earshot. This is going to be a long night of pain for both Simza and Anastasia.” He lifted his own bottle of vodka and took a long drink from it. Tobor could see that he would need a new bottle soon.
Tobor returned to Jaelle. “Things aren’t going well with Simza. Anastasia is acting like one of the furies.”
“Why don’t you take a walk out in the snow? Enjoy the winter landscape by moonlight. Try to forget what’s happening. There’s nothing you can do. I’ve been through birthing twins. It’s a hell I’d rather not experience again. While you’re out walking, think that your woman Drina will have to undergo what Simza’s experiencing right now. It’s part of life. Deal with it. We, women, have to do that.” Jaelle’s eyes brimmed with tears. By the time Tobor reached the door, she was weeping uncontrollably.
His mind filled with the image of Simza in agony, Tobor walked to the edge of the clearing where the trees began. He looked back at the outline of the barracks where the birthing was in progress. The sight might otherwise have been idyllic. He pondered why he had returned and what he must do next. He thought of Drina’s smile when she had said yes to his proposal of marriage. In his imagination, he saw her face sweating and contorted as Simza’s was. He thought of Kizzy’s face when they were drinking wine, but his thoughts turned to Anastasia’s demented invectives as she shoved him out of the birthing space.
Tobor resolved to walk far into the woods in the direction of the moon, but then he heard the howl of a wolf that stopped him in his tracks. In the end, he walked along the perimeter of the encampment using the barracks as his compass. Gregor found him there and handed him a bottle of vodka.
“Drink vodka, Tobor. This will be a long night. See? I have a bottle. I’ll keep you company.”
“Thank you, Gregor. Will you tell me what is really going on between you and Anastasia?”
Gregor laughed ironically and spat out the words, “Whoever knows what goes on between a man and a woman?”
“She’s carrying your child.”
“That’s funny. She said she was carrying your child.” Gregor’s statement was not meant ironically but as a matter of fact.
“I can guarantee her child is not mine,” Tobor responded.
“You never made love to Anastasia?”
“I am betrothed to Drina. We were to be married when we received our recent orders.”
The way Tobor said this, Gregor believed him. He nodded. “I understand why Anastasia is suffering. She loves you. She’s jealous of Drina. She wants children, but only by you. Yet for her revenge on you, she came to me. We had wild, glorious sex. I took everything she gave, gladly. She wept while we made love. Naturally I thought she was happy to be with me. It wasn’t so. She was frustrated she couldn’t be with you.”
“Where does this leave us, Gregor?”
“If that were all of it, things would be easy. Have a drink. Since you asked, I’ll tell you all of it. We have the time.” Gregor offered Tobor another drink.
“I’m listening.” Tobor accepted another round of vodka and leaned back. “See, I’m drinking too.” He took a long draught from the bottle.
“My father was a gypsy. My mother was not a gypsy. My father left my mother when I was six years old. He came back sometimes. He’d get drunk on vodka and beat my mother. Then he’d beat me. He’d say he was going to beat the gypsy out of me. Well, maybe he did.”
“Gregor, is your story heading somewhere?” Tobor’s thoughts were still focused too much on Simza and Anastasia for him to be interested in an aimless monolog.
“Being half gypsy is not a good thing in the USSR, where everyone is supposed to be equal to everyone else. People don’t ask, but they know. My records show I am a gypsy, but so do my eyes, hair, gait, and accent. My path to advancement is cut off at a level because I’m half a gypsy. I was sent to this outpost to save me from being purged. I did my job well, but I’m part gypsy.”
“You’re telling me that prejudice sent you here?”
“That and Moscow Center’s distrust of all gypsies, particularly Anastasia, who is, as you know, half gypsy on her mother’s side. So Moscow Center did the math and reasoned that two half gypsies made one whole gypsy. Further, the two halves of us that are normal people make one whole normal person. Do you follow the logic?”
“I follow the logic up to the point that you each try to supplant the other for control of our operations.” Tobor could not help sounding cynical about the situation.
“Did she tell you this?”
“It’s plain for anyone to see. Moscow Center has a devious way of doing business. Anastasia was an outstanding manager. So they sent one man to be her overseer, and he died. They, therefore, wanted to send another. Only this time, they decided to make the helper work for her. Then they sent Anastasia on a field mission, giving you free reign over the operations. When she succeeded, you naturally resented her return.”
“You understand what happened pretty well,” Gregor admitted, looking at his shoes.
“I’m not finished yet. The two of you together decided to send Drina and me away so you could work out your differences. In the process, you produced a child, which Anastasia in her off moments says she wants to abort.” Tobor fixed his eyes on Gregor waiting for his reaction.
“She actually says that?” Gregor sounded alarmed at this prospect.
“You won’t marry her. Her pregnancy might end her career. It seems simple enough to me.” Tobor stuck out his chin. Then he took another drink.
“But now I know for sure the child is not yours, but mine.”
“Does that make a difference to you? Well, the real question is whether it makes a difference to her.” Tobor said this with conviction.
“I’ll have to think about this in a whole new way.”
“While you’re at it, Gregor, tell me why you and Anastasia want to kill Drina.” His accusation hung in the air between them for a moment before Gregor replied.
“That was Anastasia’s idea. I had nothing to do with it.” Gregor said this softly and searched Tobor’s eyes trying to gauge whether he believed it.
“I’m chilled by how deep Anastasia’s hatred runs. Is she crazy or out of control?” Tobor was letting Gregor know that he believed she was responsible for wanting Drina endangered.
Gregor shrugged. “She’s obsessed with Drina. She talks about her all the time. She finds nothing but faults even when she praises the woman’s courage and successes. I thought at first it was the mentor wanting to put pressure on the protégé. The trouble with that view was the enmity Anastasia showed whenever Drina’s name was mentioned—and particularly when you mentioned her name.”
Tobor nodded. He believed Gregor and knew the extent of the danger. He needed further clarification of the state of play.
“What’s going on in Budapest right now? Has Anastasia plotted Drina’s death?”
“She would never do that.”
“Why not?”
“It would end her career. She might be purged even though she is pregnant. A control that kills an agent under control is anathema. Of course, if a control is ordered to kill a protégé, it is otherwise.” Gregor took another deep drink of vodka. He mused about what he had just said and shook his head.
“Gregor, did Anastasia’s order to kill Bouffant in France come from Moscow Center?”
“What are you really asking me?”
“I’m being plain enough. Can you verify that the order came from Moscow Center?”
“Since you put it that way, no, I cannot. In fact, the order came in a special code that only Anastasia could break. She has a one-time pad she uses to decrypt such messages. Such a message could have come from anyone, Beria or even Stalin himself!”
“Let’s work on that thought for a moment. You came from Moscow. Presumably, you know Moscow Center is not the only controller of operations for the USSR.”
“Be careful of such thoughts, Comrade Tobor. They can get you liquidated.” Gregor’s warning was sincere. He was worried for Tobor’s welfare on account of his lack of knowledge about the apparatus of the Communist state.
“We’re drinking vodka together. The woods have no ears to hear us. Tell me. What would happen if an order from Stalin was sent to Anastasia and she executed the order?”
“Do you really think that happened?”
“Let’s say I have evidence indicating it did. What then?”
Gregor took another drink and breathed white in the frigid air. “If Stalin sent the order, he could never admit it because only Moscow Center is supposed to send the orders. The head of state would be working against the state apparatus. He could not survive if that should be discovered.”
“Would the same apply to Beria?”
“That would be roughly the same, only Beria would liquidate everyone involved just to be sure no one survived to tell tales.”
“In either case, the person following the unusual order would be at risk.”
“I know a few cases that I cannot discuss. I can say that such orders are lethal whether they are followed or not. Disobeying such an order would be just as lethal as following it.” Gregor looked directly at Tobor with intensity. Orders were clearly sacred for him.
“Even if the person who received the order was a Hero of the Soviet Union?”
Gregor paused to consider Tobor’s question seriously.
“I see where you’re heading.”
“Maybe you do. Maybe you don’t.” Tobor took a long drink from his bottle. “What’s the penalty for knowing about such an order and NOT reporting it to Moscow Center?”
Gregor laughed uncontrollably. “You must be joking, Comrade Tobor.”
“I’m afraid I’m deadly serious.” Gregor sobered for a moment.
“The penalty for withholding such information from Moscow Center would be death.”
“I think we have arrived where we began this discussion.”
“I don’t follow you.”
“You now know or strongly suspect that an order not coming from Moscow Center was executed by the woman in charge of our operations. The order existed because no one would be so stupid as to dream up an order without permission from someone in authority.”
“So Anastasia went to France and killed a man—“
“...killed three men,” Tobor corrected him.
“Okay, she went to France and killed three men with no sanction from Moscow Center.”
“There’s more. She never reported having done this to Moscow Center because that would have violated the trust of the man who sent the order.”
“If a formal investigation connected the dots for all of these matters, Anastasia would be in dire straits,” Gregor concluded this without further prompting.
“That brings us to the current situation.”
“Our walk along the perimeter?”
“No. Anastasia’s pregnancy after having sex with her subordinate—you.”
“I’ve nothing to do with any of this business.” He sounded affronted and annoyed.
“Your sexual intimacy, however, implies other things.”
“Such as?”
“Such as collusion before, during and after the fact. You never questioned her about her orders for leaving this base and going to Paris. You never questioned her using funds to pay for her transportation and lodging while in Paris. You never asked to see her mission report after she returned from Paris. I’d say that if you were sent to keep an eye on Anastasia, you’ve been most derelict. Am I dreaming, or is there a grain of truth in what I say?”
“Go on.” By Gregor’s tone, Tobor knew he was curious and becoming afraid. Tobor pressed his advantage.
“A case could be made that the person who created the order that she executed was none other than you. You had access to her one-time pad. You could have forged the message to her and signed it Stalin or Beria. Since neither the pad nor the message is extant because both were burned as a common procedure, you can’t prove or disprove that you wrote such a message.”
“This is preposterous. You’re inventing a fiction, but I can’t understand what your motive is.”
“Do I need a motive? I’m simply speculating. On lesser grounds, men have been put on a list and disappeared.” Tobor paused to let the implications become clear in Gregor’s mind.
“This is a game that could jeopardize you, Tobor, and all the other gypsies.” Gregor’s voice was now taking on a dangerous edge. His eyes narrowed.
“By extrapolation, it could be applied to every citizen of the USSR. I wholly agree with you.”
“Now I am totally confused.” Gregor wrinkled his nose and held one hand to his forehead.
“So am I.” Both men burst out into a peal of laughter.
“What should we do, besides have more vodka?”
“First, let me raise a toast to truth.”
“Truth?”
“Why not?”
They touched bottles and drank. Then Gregor placed his free hand on Tobor’s arm.
“What do you want, Tobor, to forget everything we have just discussed?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. If it is in my power, I will grant it. But in return, you must never say any of what you have told me to anyone, even under torture.”
“Recall Drina from Hungary tonight. If you can’t do that, tell her to go into hiding and dispatch me to go to Hungary to escort her to safety.”
“That’s all you want? What about money? A promotion?” He found it difficult to believe that Tobor would not want anything else. He was astounded by Tobor’s love for Drina and confused by his lack of greed and ambition.
“Don’t make me laugh, Gregor. For me, it’s all about Drina. Will you help, or not?”
“I’ll have to write to Moscow Center.”
“Yes, and you’ll have to obtain Anastasia’s permission to do that.”
Gregor sighed and rubbed his temples. He shook his head in bewilderment. “We’re stuck again. How can I do that?”
“That’s simple. Propose marriage to her.”
“Tonight?”
“As soon as she finishes helping Simza with her birth.”
“Do you think she’ll say yes?”
“I think you can convince her to do that. Think of what’s at stake for both of you.”
“You’re right, Tobor. I’ll do it.”
The two men drank the last of their vodka and walked slowly towards the barracks. They dreaded hearing the sounds of pain and anguish, but they heard nothing. They found Anastasia holding the newborn in her arms. She was weeping profusely.
“Gregor, Tobor, look at this beautiful baby girl. Simza wants to name her Anastasia.”
“Is Simza all right?” Tobor asked.
“She’s lost a lot of blood, but everything else is fine. She was courageous right to the final push. I hope I’ll be that brave.” She sounded inspired by Simza’s bravery. She looked at Gregor to find a sign of his sympathy.
“Anastasia, Gregor has something he wants to tell you. I’m going to tell Jaelle that everything’s fine. She was worried sick about the birth.” Tobor left the barracks and went to Jaelle’s wagon to tell her the news.
While Tobor was with Jaelle, Gregor was proposing marriage to Anastasia. She was overjoyed to be able to keep her baby and have the prospect of marriage. She was so happy that she agreed to send a message to Moscow Center requesting the immediate recall of Drina from Hungary. Her stated reason was an urgent need to replace Simza, who was convalescing on account of her recent, difficult birth. Moscow Center replied within the hour that the assassination for which Drina had been posted to Hungary had been postponed indefinitely. She was ordered to return at once to her base.
It was four o’clock that morning when Gregor told Tobor the good news.
“It’s done, Comrade Tobor. Drina has been recalled to base by Moscow Center. She’s acknowledged the order and is preparing to depart Budapest.”
“Thank you, Gregor. And how is it with you now?”
“I’m going to be a married man soon. My son will have a father. Anastasia’s very happy. We owe much to you.”
“Gregor, we are now even. You gave me what I wanted. To do that, I gave you what you wanted.”
“With everything that’s happened, I can’t recall what made the difference.”
“I can’t recall that either. A whole line of reasoning has vanished from my brain.”
The two men laughed so loud, Anastasia had to shut them up.
“Hush. Simza needs her sleep. So does little Anastasia. If you two want to be boisterous, take a bottle of vodka each and walk the perimeter.”
The men looked at each other and had to make great efforts not to burst out laughing again. Everyone decided to rest. It had been a strenuous day.
Five days later, Drina arrived at camp to greet the new arrival. She flew into Tobor’s arms and melted into a puddle.
“Tobor, everything seems to have changed while I was away.”
“Well, yes, little Anastasia arrived.”
“More than that. Big Anastasia has never looked so happy.”
“She and Gregor are getting married, just like us.”
“Not exactly like us. I’m not pregnant yet.”
“You have a point. I’m glad you’re back.”
“Yes, imagine my surprise when I was called off of my mission in the middle of the night and told to pack immediately. Moscow Center wrote my local control that the assassination was postponed indefinitely. He thinks some other agent will be used to do the job. I’m so relieved. The pressure of doing another job like that in the same city was enormous.”
They embraced and held each other in silence for a while.
“How was the river view from your hotel room?”
“The river was simply beautiful. How did you know where I was staying?”
“A fortune teller named Kizzy told me.”
“So you saw her again when you went to Paris. I knew you were going there for a tryst.” She turned away from him when she said this. Then she lowered her voice and asked, “How can I trust you to be faithful to me when you’re always running off to see gypsy fortune tellers?”
“You’ll have to ask her that question. I’ve invited her to attend our wedding. She’ll draw up a horoscope and tell our futures. What do you think?”
“I don’t think she can get here in time for the wedding.”
“So when will the wedding take place?”
“To be sure we wed before Moscow Center intervenes again, I say today or at the latest tomorrow.”
“We’ll look into that possibility. It may be that Big Anastasia can help.”
“When I left, she wasn’t keen on our getting married at all.” She sounded both dejected and surprised.
“Being present at a birthing can change people. Apparently, it happened to her.”
A double wedding was held at the barracks the next day. Anastasia and Gregor were married side-by-side with Drina and Tobor. The marriage feast was roast goat and potatoes with plenty of vodka. Moscow Center sent a congratulatory note to both couples on their marriage and to Simza and Walther on the birth of their daughter Anastasia.
Appended to the note from Moscow Center was a query about the status of managing the gypsy’s black operations. In her reply, Anastasia requested that the gypsy operations be jointly controlled by her and Gregor on equal footing as husband and wife. This request was approved with a commendation praising socialist competition.
“Anastasia,” Tobor said as he raised his glass of vodka in her honor, “you have done heroic work helping little Anastasia into the world. We all drink to you, your husband and your coming child. We wish you the very best of everything.”
“Oh, Tobor,” Anastasia replied, “I don’t know what you and Gregor said to each other that black winter night in the snow. Gregor says he forgot what was said. Whatever it was, I thank you for it. It changed my life forever. I am so grateful. So here’s to you, Drina and Gregor—little Anastasia, the toddler twins, Jaelle and all of us.”
They drank and feasted. They laughed and cried. When the snow began, it came in tiny flakes at first. Then the wind blew, and the clouds lowered. The snow fell in large, fluffy flakes. It fell continuously and filled the grounds and rose until it blanketed the meadow and the surrounding woods. It bound the newlyweds in their wagons, but they did not complain. The consummations had begun in earnest and would last the next three days.