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ultimate trump card—provided he
had been kidnapped by Russians. If these two weren’t citizens of the USSR, he
didn’t know what he was going to do.
    “Where is it?” the
bald man said. So far skeleton-man had not spoken.
    Aleksander had no
choice but to answer now. He hoped he wouldn’t puke on the men, but they were
standing perilously close. He swallowed hard. “Where is what?” he croaked. He
hadn’t realized how thirsty he was until just now.
    “Do not play games
with us. Doing so will only cause you pain,” the bald man said, and
skeleton-man drew back his foot and kicked Aleksander in the shin, hard, with
his steel-toed boot. The pain exploded, racing up and down Aleksander’s leg
like an electrical current.
    He screamed in
agony and fell forward, desperate to cover up, to protect his injured shin, but
could barely move with his wrists shackled to the chair behind his back. He
hadn’t heard anything crack but couldn’t believe the bone hadn’t shattered.
    “Where is it?” the
bald man repeated, his voice slashing like a knife.
    “I don’t know,”
Aleksander gasped. “I passed it along just as I was instructed to do. Where he
went with it after he left the club I have no idea.”
    “You know him,”
the man said. It was not a question. “You have done business with him in the
past.”
    “No, never. I
swear. I’ve never seen him before.”
    “You were laughing
and joking like old friends, Comrade Petrovka. Do not insult our intelligence.”
    “I was just doing
what I was told to do by my contact, to blend in, that’s all. I’ve haven’t been
to East Germany since I was a teen, I swear. You can check my travel records if
you don’t believe me.”
    “Oh, we will,
don’t worry about that. Next question: What was the item you delivered?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “I don’t believe
you, traitor.”
    “Traitor?”
Aleksander looked up at his tormentors, sweat dripping into his eyes. His shin
throbbed with every beat of his heart. He knew now was the time to play his
trump card. It might be his only chance. “No,” he said, “I am not a traitor. I
was doing exactly as ordered by General Secretary Gorbachev. I am here on
official state business.”
    “Official state
business?” the man said, his voice mocking and cruel. He turned to his partner.
“Did you hear that, Vasily? He is here on official state business, representing
Secretary Gorbachev himself.”
    The man turned his
attention back to Aleksander. “Well, I have news for you, Comrade Aleksander
Petrovka of Ivanteyevka. Mikhail Gorbachev is just as much a traitor to his
homeland as you are. We care nothing for Mikhail Gorbachev’s orders. If Gorbachev’s
reckless stupidity is not checked, he will be the downfall of the Soviet
Empire, and Vasily and I are just two of many who refuse to see that happen.
    “Betraying your
country under the orders of a fellow traitor is no excuse, Comrade Petrovka. So
I ask you again, for the last time: what was the item you delivered to your
contact?”
    Terror flooded
through Aleksander’s body. The terror overwhelmed the pain so his throbbing
shin did not even exist. The terror overwhelmed his queasy stomach so he no
longer felt he was about to puke. The terror was everything.
    These men were Russians,
but it did not matter. They were Russians, but the word of Mikhail Gorbachev
meant nothing to them. They were accusing him of treason, but they were
traitors. The irony struck him like another kick to the shin. Aleksander
realized he was breathing heavily, forcing air in and out through his mouth
like a panting dog. He was hyperventilating but could not stop himself.
    This was bad. This
was worse than bad. This was a nightmare come to life.
    “WHAT WAS THE ITEM
YOU DELIVERED TO YOUR CONTACT?”the bald man screamed in Aleksander’s
face. Spittle sprayed out of the man’s mouth as if from a fire hose. A fat gob
of saliva splattered the side of Aleksander’s nose and dripped slowly into