To Catch a Traitor

by Shuster, D. B. ;

  “Edik, I know Mendel said all of those things about my needing protection, but trust me, I’m fine. I go all over the city by myself. And have for years,” she said. “Besides, I have my pepper spray if anyone gives me trouble.”

  “I’ll walk with you,” Edik insisted and hustled to her side, completely forgetting Artur.

  No matter; Artur fell in step behind them as if he’d been invited along. He wondered when he would have the opportunity to be alone with her and make a move. He considered how he might arrange to meet her without Mendel and Edik.

  A block beyond the gathering at the synagogue, Artur noticed four youths milling on the street corner. Rangy teenagers, tall but not yet filled out, they passed a cigarette back and forth between them.

  His training kept him alert to them, but he didn’t register any threat, even when one of the boys made a shrill whistle and called out, “Look, tovarishi, here come the dirty Jews.”

  Then suddenly he realized they were talking about him.

  Chapter THIRTY-ONE

  SOFIA

  SOFIA STUMBLED AS Edik pushed her in front of him. Likely, he meant to shield her from the teenagers trailing behind them. They catcalled insults and hurled empty threats. Mischief makers, Sofia thought, the kind that talked big and pounded their chests and thought they were tough.

  “Just ignore them,” she said. She had never before encountered any trouble near the synagogue. Close to the Kitay Gorod Metro station, the area was densely populated and, though less so on a Saturday, busy with cars and buses. The buildings, older and shorter than her cement block tenement, sprang out of the wide sidewalk, and their painted facades were clean and well-maintained.

  The anti-Semitic heckling came as a small, unpleasant shock. She didn’t anticipate any real danger from these rough boys, but she was glad Kolya wasn’t with her.

  She tugged Edik along by his sleeve. Her cousin had a hopeless knack for making any touchy situation worse, despite having the best intentions.

  “Don’t make eye contact. Keep walking,” Yosef agreed, showing the street sense her cousin undoubtedly lacked. Left to his own devices, Edik would either play tough and engage the boys, or else he would show fear and invite further mischief.

  Either way, his responses would be all wrong. The most prudent course involved showing no reaction and getting away as swiftly as possible.

  “Don’t worry, Sofia. I’ll protect you,” Edik said, ignoring them both. He threw back his shoulders, puffed out his chest, and strutted forward like he had something to prove. Perhaps he felt he did, after Mendel’s tirade, but she wouldn’t ever have chosen him as a protector had she actually needed one. Slow-moving and clumsy, Edik got winded easily and would make a horrible bodyguard. For his own sake, she hoped he didn’t make a spectacle of himself.

  She stuck her hand in her pocket and wrapped her fingers around her can of pepper spray. She’d used it once before when a thief had tried to steal back his cash after she’d sold him several cartons of cigarettes. One shot had debilitated him, and she’d walked away from the incident unharmed and confident in her ability to defend herself.

  She could handle these young thugs herself. They would meet their match if they came too close and compelled her to retaliate with her spray.

  Her smug sense of safety abandoned her when six more teenagers poured out of the building ahead of them. No coincidence, she realized, and not mischief. An ambush.

  The new group was older, taller and more meaty, men rather than boys. This group cracked their knuckles and bared their fists and teeth.

  Pepper spray wouldn’t be enough to defend them if the gang attacked. They were outnumbered ten to three, assuming Edik could even hold his own.

  “This is bad.” Her cousin could always be depended upon to state the obvious.

  “What do we have here?” The leader wielded a long wrench. He slapped the metal menacingly against his palm.

  “We don’t want any trouble.” Yosef drew himself up and addressed the leader.

  “I’ll bet you don’t,” the leader said.

  “Let us pass,” Yosef said. His voice and stance threatened that the thugs would be the ones facing trouble if they didn’t move aside.

  Sofia hadn’t before appreciated what an imposing figure he cut. Taller than Edik, Yosef wasn’t a big man, but he carried himself with strength and grace. He might be a good person to have on her side in a fight, but she doubted they could best a mob intent on harming them.

  His command seemed to do the trick, though. The gang in front parted to let them pass.

  Then, as if on signal, they lined up in a gauntlet on either side of the sidewalk. The gang harassed them with taunts and shoves. Edik tried to grab her and move her out of harm’s way, but one of the thugs tripped him.

  Edik flailed and fell. He pushed her down to the ground with him and landed on top of her. His body weight crushed her flat against the hard concrete. Her hands and chin stung from the impact, likely scraped. Edik quickly recovered from the fall. He scrambled to get off of her and kneed her in the kidneys.

  Hampered by Edik’s struggle to find his footing, she’d managed to rise to her knees when one of the thugs kicked her in the side. She fell again on the concrete.

  “Don’t you touch her!” Edik hollered. He surged up toward the offender. He shoved hard at the teen who had kicked her and sent him stumbling toward the others, only to face off with another eager bully.

  “Check out this tough guy,” someone taunted. “You going to take on all of us?”

  Edik windmilled his arms. He got in two good punches and sent his opponent reeling backward.

  Then the leader swung the wrench and hit him in the gut. Edik doubled over with a groan and clutched his stomach.

  “Stop!” Yosef shouted. “Leave us alone.” His militant tone made the gang momentarily freeze, until a chorus of voices from the balcony egged them on.

  “Teach the Zhidi a lesson,” a babushka yelled from her balcony. Sofia had regained her feet, but Edik was surrounded. She couldn’t get to his side.

  “Finish what Hitler started!”

  Encouraged by the neighbors, the leader swung his wrench again and clocked Edik in the back of the head.

  “Edik!” Sofia shrieked.

  She watched him fall down hard, this time without a mew of complaint. He didn’t get back up. He didn’t move at all. Blood welled from the back of his skull.

  Was he dead?

  The leader’s lip curled into sneering smile, a terrifying mix of hatred and delight. He raised the wrench to strike Edik again while he was down.

  “No!” she yelled in horror. She couldn’t get to him, and he was defenseless.

  If he wasn’t dead already, another strike with the hefty wrench would finish the job.

  Yosef jumped in and blocked the blow. He engaged the leader and drew him away from Edik. The rest closed in and circled her and Edik like a pack of hungry sharks frenzied by the scent of blood in the water.

  Fingers trembling, she pulled the pepper spray from her coat pocket and flipped the release. She crouched protectively over Edik’s prone body and threatened their attackers with her spray can.

  “Stay back.” She waved the can at them and hoped it would be enough to deter them.

  One ventured closer. He lunged and tried to grab her. She pushed down on the nozzle and sprayed him in the eyes.

  He jumped back, cursing and rubbing at his face. One of his fellows tried to take his place. She sprayed him, too.

  A third ran at her. She pivoted toward him and took aim with her spray, but he kept his head low and shielded his eyes with his arm. He knocked into her and lifted her off of her feet. He threw her over his shoulder with a whoop.

  His fellows gathered around. She kept her finger on the nozzle, and they gave her a wide berth, until the steady stream trickled a
nd died out.

  “Let’s teach this Jewish bitch a lesson.” They swarmed her then.

  She kicked and fought, but they only laughed and handed her from one to the next, like a playground ball.

  Their rough hands were everywhere. They pinched and grabbed at her and passed her around.

  “Let’s see what she’s hiding under that big coat.” They lifted her off the ground, holding her hands and legs, and laid her on the hood of a car parked in the street. She thrashed and twisted, but four of them held her down.

  “Help! Help!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, even though she expected no help from the audience on the balconies, hungry for violence.

  She had never known fear like this. This wild gang had killed Edik, and now they were clawing at her. Did they mean to rape her here on the street?

  She lifted her head but couldn’t see Yosef. Had they taken him down, too?

  Someone tore open her overcoat and pushed the flaps aside.

  Cars went by. No one stopped to help.

  The boys laughed as she struggled and kicked.

  “Help! Someone, please help us,” she sobbed.

  One of the boys clamped his hand over her mouth. She bit him, and he smacked her hard across the cheek. The tang of blood filled her mouth.

  They ripped her blouse apart. The buttons popped and rolled. Cold air hit her naked skin.

  Chapter THIRTY-TWO

  ARTUR

  ARTUR FOCUSED ON the kid with the wrench, the only one with a weapon. He would neutralize him first.

  He expected to be the kid’s target, but the gang played dirty. They went after Edik, who lay where he had fallen, defenseless. Hopefully unconscious and not dead. Artur still needed him.

  The leader hefted the wrench and made to bash Edik’s skull. Artur blocked the blow with a swift chop to the forearm. He heard the crack of bone and the bell-like clang as the metal hit the sidewalk. The leader howled in pain and cradled his arm against his belly.

  Artur lunged for the wrench, but one of the troublemakers reached it first and came up swinging. Artur dodged the blow.

  The kid charged him, waving the wrench. He was vicious and angry, but not a trained fighter, not like Artur. Artur ducked and feinted, confusing his opponent.

  Sofia deployed her pepper spray and held her own. She diverted the pack’s attention, leaving Artur to contend with only their wounded leader and two others.

  He needed to get the wrench.

  He heard a war whoop and glanced over to Sofia. One of the boys had managed to get close and lift her off the ground. His buddies closed in around her.

  Artur’s reflexes and instinct took over. On the next swing, he grabbed the wrench with both hands and used his opponent’s momentum to throw him to the ground. The kid hit the pavement, and the impact dazed him. His grip on the wrench went slack, and Artur easily claimed the weapon, while the kid blinked at him in surprise.

  The hoodlums swung Sofia back and forth by her hands and feet. Then they threw her onto the hood of a car parked up ahead of them on the street.

  Artur caught the leader around the neck with the wrench. Cars slowed and stopped on the street to watch the drama, but no one got out. No one tried to stop what was happening.

  “Tell them to leave her alone,” he growled.

  “You tell them,” the leader said defiantly. His two friends held back, waiting it seemed for direction.

  “The militia will be here soon,” Artur warned.

  “Yeah, just see whose side they take, you worthless Jew,” the leader said, still full of piss despite the beat down Artur had delivered. “My dad’s on the force.”

  Artur could have trumped him, could have arrested him then and there himself, but he maintained his cover.

  “You killed my friend.”

  “He’s a Jew. No one cares,” the boy rasped as he struggled in Artur’s hold. “And anyway, you broke my arm,” he said as if the two crimes were equivalent.

  “Let’s see what she’s hiding under that big coat,” someone shouted, leading the charge as the gang descended on Sofia.

  Artur was going to end this. Now.

  “You’re a coward.” Artur pulled the wrench tighter against the thug’s windpipe. “Will your papa care about that? How will you explain how I beat the crap out of you when you had all your friends here for backup?”

  “Fuck you,” the kid shot back.

  “Bet he’ll be real proud. Won’t he? To see what a sissy he raised.”

  He jerked the wrench up and down and shook the hothead. “Call them off, or I’ll break your other arm before the police get here.”

  He heard fabric tearing and the excited panting of young men aroused by violence. He didn’t look in Sofia’s direction, but he could tell they had ripped away her blouse.

  He was out of time. He had to get them away from her now.

  He released the gang leader and shoved him with enough force to send him flailing. The kid stumbled and struggled for breath, face pale from the pain of his broken limb. He narrowed his eyes and threw a death glare, still not ready to concede defeat.

  “You want it the hard way. That’s your choice.” Artur adjusted his grip and brandished the wrench. The kid flinched back, not as fearless as he pretended.

  “Your knees will be next. Walk away now, or you won’t walk at all.” Artur smiled grimly and prepared to take a bone-crunching swing.

  “Militia’s coming. Let’s beat it,” the leader called to his comrades. He flipped Artur the bird and turned on his heel, but the only ones to join him were the other two who had been sparring with him. The rest remained fixed on Sofia.

  Artur gave a war cry and charged toward the car where they had her pinned. They had laid Sofia out on the car like a sacrifice, legs and arms spread wide. They had torn her blouse open, and now they groped at her breasts.

  “Hands off!” he yelled, feeling like a caveman with a club. Sofia was his prey, his prize, and he wouldn’t share her with these idiot street thugs. He reached the two holding her legs, swung twice, and clubbed them each in the face. Bone crunched. Blood spattered. They released Sofia, cupped their hands over their noses, and howled in pain.

  “Who’s next?”

  The gang swiveled their heads from him back to their freshly wounded comrades. He stalked toward the pimply-faced punks still holding her arms.

  “Let’s get out of here. He’s crazy,” one said, and his partners in crime agreed. They released her and scurried after their leader.

  Sofia dismounted from the car. She was breathing hard, shaking. Her frightened gaze met his, and he felt a jarring jolt of connection, same as he had that first night they’d met.

  He opened his arms, expecting she would throw herself at him now that he had saved her, savoring in advance the way she would feel when he held her close and she showed her gratitude. He imagined it would be so easy to seduce her now, and his gaze dropped to the skin exposed by her torn shirt.

  She pulled the sides of her coat closed to cover herself. She turned from him abruptly and rushed to Edik. She knelt beside her cousin and touched his neck to feel for a pulse.

  In the excitement of the last few moments, Artur had spared no thought for Edik, who lay motionless on the sidewalk.

  He slumped his shoulders, feeling not the glory he’d anticipated, the victory of his strategies and prowess in bringing him to this new point where his targets would undoubtedly trust him and invite him into their confidences.

  Instead, he suffered a cold lick of shame.

  Chapter THIRTY-THREE

  SOFIA

  EDIK LAY SPRAWLED on the sidewalk where he’d first fallen. Face down on the ground, he hadn’t moved since he’d been hit in the head. Dark blood matted his hair. Was he dead?

  Buses and cars drove down the street. Some of the drivers slowed to
gawk at them, but no one stopped. No one got out to help. People walking on the street crossed to the other side or stepped around them.

  Their blatant apathy scared her almost as much as the gang’s violence.

  She lived in a city that hated her, full of people who, if they didn’t wish to inflict harm themselves, would nonetheless stand by while others did.

  Sofia knelt beside Edik. Her hands shook with rage and fear, and she couldn’t find his pulse.

  She hated feeling so damn powerless.

  She had never thought this neighborhood unsafe, never been concerned about walking here. She hadn’t known the violent hatred staring out at her from behind the closed windows. The neighbors had been screaming for blood from the balcony. They saw Jews as less than human, not worthy of basic respect and dignity. Those boys had been stripping her on top of a car, possibly intending to rape her right there in the middle of the street, and people had cheered. Drivers had stopped to watch.

  She positioned her fingers a little higher up on Edik’s neck and felt a sluggish beat under her fingertips. “Sla va Bogu!” Thank God.

  “Edik, wake up. Come on, Edik,” she urged, but she couldn’t rouse him from unconsciousness. They needed help.

  Yosef had scared off the gang. For now. Any moment, more trouble could come their way.

  She felt Edik over for injuries with her palms. She wasn’t a doctor like her mother, but she didn’t think she felt any broken bones. “We need to move him,” she told Yosef. “We have to get out of here and get him to the hospital.”

  Before the authorities arrive, she added silently. The authorities had no love for Jews either. If they didn’t attack with fists and weapons, they attacked with legal falsehoods. Given the chance, they might charge Yosef and her with “attacking innocent Russian children,” or maybe with hooliganism because they’d stopped traffic, or public indecency because her breasts had been exposed. The KGB could make any charge stick, no matter how untrue.

  Sirens blared, her fears being realized. What could she do? She couldn’t leave Edik, and she couldn’t move him fast enough to get away.