Nuryev looked uncertain. Buying weapons or war materiel with what must be the Motherland’s priceless, historic jewelry seemed utterly absurd, even for the Bolsheviks. “But what could that be?”
The General rose and went to the serving table, poured two glasses of vodka and brought the bottle back with him. He sat down heavily and downed a considerable portion from his glass and sighed deeply. “Consider for a moment, Anton,” he said frowning and rubbing his hand back through his hair. “What if ... what if we had not prevailed?” He paused to let his younger friend think about that as he poured more vodka into their glasses. “What if you are in Comrade Stalin’s position ... in nineteen forty-two ... and for some reason you believe the war cannot be won?”
It was far too much for Nuryev to sort out with a simple answer but he did his best. “What if, what if it was to protect them? To keep them from the Nazis? Maybe Comrade Stalin believed both Leningrad and Moscow would fall ... these would be lost? You are suggesting this? I would ... I would formulate a plan. Yes. That would have been wise,” he noted but then shook his head in confusion as he realized something. “But Hitler had turned away ... to Stalingrad.”
Kovpak nodded slightly as he asked himself, was what Krylov had told them about something that would advance the Allied invasion possibly just an inducement ... just another lie? He took another gulp of vodka then leaned forward, resting his chin in one hand. “Stalin may have been even more cunning than I believed.”
He turned to his friend as the depth of the danger they could be in continued to creep in on him and he soon came to a grave conclusion. “No matter ... for us, ‘why’ no longer matters, Anton ... we have much to do,” he said as he stood up and grasped a file and another cylinder, “including making arrangements for your wedding.”
- # -
The wedding of Major Anton Nuryev and Helena Ulanova took place on December 2nd, 1946, in Moscow, attended by over a dozen Red Air Force officers and a handful of wives as well as a small number of friends and Helena’s only living relatives. General Kovpak hosted a party for them at a dacha which then became their own private residence for three wonderful, luxuriant but all-too-short days.
For the new bride, the return to her cousin’s tiny room in the shared apartment was depressing; Anton’s departure for Berlin had been bad enough but the uncertainty of not knowing how long before she could join her husband gnawed at her. He had done his best to assure her it was now a matter of weeks, not months, but as the first days apart passed slowly, even her work at the hospital became drudgery and the apartment seemed even more prison-like.
Only a week before Christmas, as she walked in the falling snow from the trolley station to her building, she saw a car on the street and recognized it as a military vehicle. Her pulse picked up as she thought of why it might be there and she practically ran up the stairs and flung open the entrance door.
To her surprise, instead of Anton, a young Lieutenant rose from the bench in the tiny, decrepit lobby and asked, “Comrade Nuryev?”
Her heart leapt to her throat; something has happened. “Yes,” she managed to eke out fearfully then quickly added, “I am,” without being able to continue.
“My orders are to escort you to ensure your safe departure,” the officer said almost mechanically. After making his formal announcement his demeanor relaxed slightly. “Comrade Nuryev indicated you are prepared to leave at any moment, but we have plenty of time to get to the aerodrome. I have a car outside. Please, take your time, Comrade.”
Still stunned and flustered with the news, she took a deep breath and sighed in relief. “Thank you Comrade Lieutenant ... I thought it was bad news ... how silly of me,” she said almost laughing at herself. “I will not be more than a few minutes,” she added as she turned and moved briskly up the stairs.
When she began packing what little she owned into a single battered suitcase her joy was suddenly overcome by the fact she wouldn’t be able to say good-bye to her only remaining family; they would not be home for well over an hour. She hurriedly wrote a letter, gathered her documents and with sadness and excitement wrestling in her heart, hurried down the stairs for the last time.
“Where did you say you are you taking me?”
“To the aerodrome,” the officer said quietly, glancing around as if to ensure no one in the open space above them might overhear. “There is a transport leaving for Berlin at first light. General Kovpak has issued orders for you to be on it.”
Having never been on a plane her look of concern was hard to hide, but she managed to say, “Thank you ... thank you for finding me.”
“You are welcome, Comrade. Now please,” he gestured, “this way?”
- # -
Just before the DC-3 landed the third and last time, Helena awoke and overheard someone mention Berlin which made her realize she had dozed or slept through most of her first flying experience. As the plane taxied into position she tried to see out one of the small windows but could not catch a glimpse of anyone other than a few approaching ground crewmen.
With the single piece of luggage containing everything she owned in her hand, she climbed down the short flight of steps and was quickly and joyously swept into the arms of her husband.
The two made an incongruous pair, locked in an embrace as others moved away from the plane but he managed to get her moving toward his car. Once inside, with tears of joy still marking her face and the relief of having the experience behind her beginning to settle her nerves, she listened as he drove and tried to prepare her for what their life was going to be like.
Her overwhelming joy did not last; not long after their joyous first supper in their apartment she was numbed with alarm as Anton explained what was going to happen to them in the coming weeks.
CHAPTER 25
Calder Ranch, Texas, Memorial Day Weekend, 1997
A moment after explaining why finding the General was so important Margaret Calder looked Kirkland squarely in the eye. “We had to hide, Michael. Your father shouldn’t,” she said authoritatively. “A man with his experiences should be writing a book.”
As Kirkland seemed to acknowledge the advice Alex said, “I know a lot of guys who own warbirds ... you get your dad near a P‑51 and just watch what happens.”
Elanore asked the more practical question, “Do they travel?”
“Uh huh ... constantly. They shuttle. Winter in the south, summer in the north.”
“Snowbirds,” Catherine offered.
Alex sounded determined. “You let me know when he’s near Florida and we’ll get him strapped into a dual-control Mustang.”
Kirkland looked at Alex in genuine surprise. “That sounds like an offer I don’t believe even he could refuse,” he said then turned to Catherine and added, “There are also some people I want to meet in Florida.”
Elanore saw Catherine’s eyes light up and she tried to not let her mind wander too far into the future – a future with her closest friend living somewhere far away.
- # -
With their guests and family gone or otherwise engaged and the dark swimming pool to themselves, Alex and Elanore laid back on the steps in the water enjoying the privacy and the chance to relax.
The overcast had finally thinned enough to reveal a canopy of stars and they both watched aircraft strobe lights tracking across it in familiar paths into and out of Houston’s recently-renamed Bush Intercontinental Airport. The barely audible rumble of jet engines climbing some two or three miles above them was erratically accompanied by an infrequent crescendo and diminuendo of cicadas in the distance; the only other sound came from the occasional disturbance of the pool’s surface as the automatic pool cleaner climbed to the edge then turned around and submerged.
As she slid behind him and began to massage her husband’s neck and shoulders she decided to remind her husband of something he may have forgotten with everything else going on. “You have to be up early ... you have that formation rehearsal.”
�
�Yea ... but we’re doing it out of Hooks this year instead of Ellington.” After another moment he added, “I think I’ll ask the Captain to come along.”
She nodded, recognizing her husband’s interest in getting experienced pilots involved in the warbird movement. “That’s a good idea ... I just wondered ...”
When she didn’t continue he prodded, “About what?”
“He doesn’t look very Japanese.”
Alex considered that oddity for a few seconds before responding, “You’re right ... and he’s too tall.”
“Well, I’m not gonna ask ... that would be rude, wouldn’t it?” She didn’t wait for an answer and continued. “His wife and their two little girls are coming in tomorrow afternoon.”
“I think Dana told me,” Alex said of the woman who often prepared weekend and evening meals for the family. Realizing he had forgotten that bit of information provided him with yet another example of how much could be going on without his being involved. With a note of apology in his voice he offered, “I’ve been a bit preoccupied, haven’t I?”
“Oh just a bit.”
He moved his hands down to the step and let his body float toward the surface. “All of this on top of the holiday,” he said then quoted, “‘Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, for thee and for myself no quiet find’.”
He lowered his feet then maneuvered behind her and took her shoulders in his hands. “Your turn,” he said.
She wanted to put her mind on less worrisome things as her husband kneaded her neck and shoulders but an even more ominous thought wouldn’t dissipate. “Is he going to take her away from us?”
Alex thought carefully before answering the not-so-delicately loaded question. “I don’t know ... but I think she hopes so.” From behind her in the darkness he saw his wife’s hand rise up and wipe something away from her eyes. “It’s happening pretty fast, isn’t it?” he asked gently.
She didn’t say anything and he felt the muscles in her shoulders start to quiver slightly. All he could do was move around her and pull her off the step with him, moving into some deeper water where he could stand and wrap her in his arms as he tried to think of something to say. A few moments later he felt the gentle sobs and then heard her inhale and sigh deeply as she tried to fend them off.
In an unfamiliar voice forced through the tightness in her throat she finally said, “I think I’m getting what I wished for.” After some deep breaths she pulled away slightly and rinsed her face with pool water then turned and looked toward him in the darkness. She sniffled and said miserably, “She looks so damn happy.”
Alex tipped his head down and tried to catch her eye. “And the problem with that is?”
The last of the tears rolled down her cheeks and dripped into the pool as she shuddered, sighed again and looked toward the sky above the tree line. She bit her lower lip while looking down then said almost inaudibly, “You know this is your fault.”
He couldn’t help but grin and take her into his arms again. “What? Her being happy? I plead guilty. Willingly. Absolutely. Without question. Unequivocally—”
She pushed water at him and hissed, “Stop!”
“I’m just trying to take credit for the good part while I still can,” he pleaded. “If this works out for her you’ll blame me for it forever.” After several moments he asked familiarly, “Over it?”
She reached out for him and he pushed forward through the water and pinned her against the steps then whispered teasingly into her ear, “I’ve seen how you look at him ... you’re just insanely jealous.”
She half-struggled for a few seconds then giggled and accused him of being a dirty old man as she moved against him.
- # -
At about 5:00 p.m. on Memorial Day, after showering and changing quickly, Alex Calder knocked on the Yamaguchi’s guestroom door and called out, “Just follow the barbeque smoke Captain – I’ve gotta go play host.”
He heard an affirmative something from behind the door then left the house and began moving toward the tents on the expanses of grass to the east. In minutes he was working his way through the still-growing crowd of guests, moving in the general direction of one of the bar tents and intent on a cold beer. After greeting and speaking with several of his employees and friends along the way, he spotted and waved to Elanore and pointed in the direction he was headed. When they met up he asked, “How are we doing?”
“It’s déjà vu all over again ... lots of applause on the missing-man.”
“Did we get it right?” he asked seriously.
“Danny pegged it ... right at the last measure,” she said about the trailing pilot’s timing to match the bag-piper’s final bars of Amazing Grace.
Alex nodded, pleased the show had gone as planned. “It looked like the parking area was pretty full,” he noted then asked the bartender for a Shiner Bock. “Thanks,” he said to the young woman and slid it into one of the ‘Calder Ranch – 1997’ foam bottle holders then turned and looked around. Before someone could get close enough to interrupt or overhear he asked, “How’s our guest?”
Elanore shook her head slightly. “Marty’s been checking on him – and you can tell he’s a guy.”
After a few seconds of trying to decipher the comment he took the bait. “How’s that?”
“The satellite dish never stops moving.”
“Ah ... so where’s the Professor?”
“Cath is showing him off like a—I was going to say prize bull ... that wouldn’t be very ladylike now would it?”
Alex laughed. “Speak for yourself – I have no way of knowing,” he admonished.
Elanore glowered at him and tried not to grin. “She’s so pleased with herself she can hardly stand it.”
While it was warm, the high-overcast was keeping the direct sun from scorching the crowd and there was a fairly consistent breeze coming across the fields from the southeast. Alex took a long drink then sighed contentedly and decided to not explore the subject that was distressing his wife. “Well, I’m getting hungry – shall we?”
- # -
Kirkland stood in the shade of one of the crawfish-boil tents talking with Catherine and a couple she had introduced him to when he suddenly saw one of the men he had met in the parking ramp in Houston – the bulky driver of the Lincoln. Without revealing any concern he squeezed Catherine’s hand gently and asked, “I need something cold ... can I get you something?” The look he gave her seemed to indicate he wanted her to say yes and she nodded and asked for a virgin strawberry daiquiri, frozen.
Kirkland’s dubious look resulted in a helpful suggestion from one of Catherine’s friends. “There’s a bar tent on the other side of the dance hall. They have the real stuff, too.”
“Your wish is my command,” he offered then turned and walked off. Once reasonably out of sight he took out his cell phone and called Ben Yamaguchi. “The Russians are here,” he said calmly.
Stepping away from Terri and several people chatting with her near the edge of the pool Ben replied, “We should have expected that. Did they make you?”
“I don’t think so. But he will. He’s Silayev’s driver – that means Silayev has to be here.”
“Where are you now?”
Kirkland answered as if he almost couldn’t believe what he was saying, “Getting a strawberry frozen virgin something-or-other ... something-berry daiquiri.”
“You? You’re getting a—?”
“East of the music tent.”
“—virgin strawberry daiquiri ... did I hear that right?”
Kirkland heard the needling disdain in the question. “Frozen ... for Catherine,” he corrected.
“Wow, you had me worried there ... what does the Russian look like?”
“Lyle Alzado, literally.”
“That big? Ben asked as he moved closer to the fence to scan the area from the slightly higher vantage point.
“No, but same hair and beard. Maybe two fifty, six two.”
“I’m heade
d that way,” Ben said. “Wait up.”
Kirkland’s question sounded confused, “Why? I’m just getting a drink.”
“I want to see the look on the bartender’s face when you order it.”
- # -
After watching the big man for a few moments Ben said quietly, “He’s not carrying.”
Kirkland nodded and raised the very pink drink the bartender had just handed him. “I’d better get this to where it belongs before someone sees me with it.”
“Yea ... you do look really weird holding that.”
Kirkland ignored the comment then walked back to Catherine and her friends and delivered the concoction with a smile. Just then the final round of applause and cheers went up in response to Alex Calder’s welcoming announcement from the stage. Over the noise he leaned to Catherine and said, “Don’t be obvious, but tell me if you see Silayev.”
Catherine scowled slightly in confusion. “Why?”
“I didn’t realize we’d run into them here.”
Catherine gave him a look as if he should have known better. “They were invited.”
Kirkland thought about that for several seconds and relaxed somewhat. “Ah ... my bad ... actually I don’t think it’s a problem.”
“Matt will probably be with them,” She said then dialed her boss’ cell number. An odd look appeared on her face during the ensuing conversation and after disconnecting she looked up at Kirkland. “Matt’s almost here ... he’s bringing Dr. Kurtz but he doesn’t know if Silayev is coming.”
“His driver is here,” Kirkland said casually as his phone buzzed. After nodding at what he heard he replied, “Coming your way,” then looked around again. “Let’s see who just joined up with his driver.”
When they met Ben in a tent near one of the large cooling fans both Kirkland and Catherine began watching the man now accompanying the driver.
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