The pain found her quickly. Thumping boots and shouts found her soon after. Someone grabbed her arm and yanked her to a stop. He spun her around, and she was face-to-face with the man who’d executed her parents.
Orlov stared at her, his face impassive. Two others stood nearby, also in long black jackets, but the one who’d thrown her to the stable floor wasn’t there. That was some consolation. She’d rather die than suffer that type of treatment again.
He released her arm. “You are Nadia Ilyinichna Linskaya, are you not? I still have a warrant for your death.”
She considered lying but didn’t think it would help. He’d recognized her. She’d run. This was only a test to see if she would confess. “That was once my name.”
“I’ve been looking for you for a year.” He rested a hand on his hip. “That’s not all I’ve been doing, of course. You’re not that important.”
“If I’m not important, will you let me go? I’ll leave Russia. I won’t work against your revolution.” Her husband might, and all his friends, but she wouldn’t. She just wanted to find Filip and go to Czechoslovakia with him. She’d given up on Russia. The Bolsheviks could have it if they’d just let her and her husband go in peace.
He shoved her toward one of his men. “See that she doesn’t get away.” He and the other man marched off toward the station, leaving her with the one remaining guard.
She looked at him more closely and recognized Jakub Zeman.
“Looks like you married the wrong Czech.” He looked her over. “I offered to help once. For the right bribe, I might offer again.”
She held out her bag of food. “I have dried meat. And enough rubles for a train ticket.” If he took her money, she wasn’t sure how she’d get to Filip, but she’d worry about that later. Maybe she could trade her clothes. She still had one extra coat. She wore it now, but she could get by with a single coat, especially if the weather cooperated.
He scoffed. “I don’t want peasant food. And Kerensky rubles are easy to forge. It’s probably worthless.”
“My coat?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t have anything else.”
“A woman like you?” His eyes looked her over again, lingering on the skin of her neck. “You always have something to offer.”
Her stomach roiled as she grasped his meaning. Her beauty was her only asset. Illness and dirt had diminished her allure, but Jakub Zeman still found her desirable. Or maybe it was more a wish to have what he’d once been denied. The bandits had already made her their plaything. Would it be so wrong to trade a bit of time with a man she didn’t love in exchange for her freedom? What was more important: virtue or survival?
He leered at her, a smile of anticipation pulling at his mouth. “You’d better decide soon, or Orlov will be back, and it will be too late. He’s incorruptible. Wouldn’t dare release a prisoner who might come back to hurt the revolution. But I can see right through you. You’re no threat. Say you’ll cooperate, and I’ll help you escape.”
What would Filip tell her to do? She was never going to see him again, she knew that now. She could bribe Zeman, but even if he kept his word and helped her slip past the Bolsheviks, there were bandits to avoid. She’d found kind peasants once, but she was just as likely to run into cruel ones. Or she’d freeze to death. The only men she could trust were the legionnaires, and she had no idea where they were.
Orlov returned. She waited for him to pull out his revolver and point it at her. A quick shot while she stood, like what had killed her parents and aunt. Or perhaps he would tell her to remove all usable clothing so it wouldn’t become blood-splattered, and then he’d kill her.
Instead, he pushed her toward the train station. She followed his directions, relieved and horrified at the same time. She’d come close to accepting Zeman’s offer.
Orlov stopped at the edge of the depot and faced her. “I’ve seen enough death, so I’m commuting your sentence. Fifteen years hard labor. That will atone for your life as an aristocrat. There’s a group leaving now. You’ll join them.”
Fifteen years. Fifteen winters in Siberia. It was better than death—or was it? Hard labor might have the same result. It would just take longer. And if she survived, how could she hope to find Filip again after so long? She had to let him know what had happened. “May I write a letter?”
“That will depend entirely upon the leader of your labor battalion.” Orlov nodded at one of his men—not Zeman—and he led her to the group of downtrodden prisoners.
She’d escaped the bandits only to be captured by the Bolsheviks.
***
Nadia assumed she would be transferred to a concentration camp, where enemies of the revolution were gathered so they couldn’t infect the rest of the population with their heretical views.