“My grandmother left them for me. I gave them to a friend yesterday so he could examine them.” Her voice began to quiver, but she had to let him know. “He was in an accident last night and the cards were stolen. He…” She couldn’t go on.
Theo blanched at the news. He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. The simple gesture was so thoughtful it made her cry more.
“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “Should I go to the police?”
Theo seemed to be measuring his words. “I’m afraid these people are beyond the police.”
“Who?” A heady rush of fear hit her. “Who are they?”
Theo walked to the metal attaché case on the table. He unlocked both electronic locks, scanning his fingerprint on a built-in thumb-pad. The case clicked open and he took out a folder and handed it to her. “I’ll order up lunch and coffee while you read. The table is cleared for you in the den.”
He had prepared the table for her, which meant he had already planned to bring her up here. What else had Theo Bossard been planning?
Semele felt as though she were being whiplashed, unsure of anything except that she had to read the pages. Without a word she went into the den and shut the door.
Her eyes stung from exhaustion and she couldn’t fathom the idea of having to decipher more Greek, but sleep wasn’t an option. She ducked into the bathroom to wash her hands so she could handle the parchment. Then she sat down on the couch and opened the folder.
Touching the leaves of the original manuscript again revived her and helped to bring her thoughts into focus. She hadn’t read from the actual pages since she was in Switzerland.
Ionna’s handwriting leaped from the page; every brushstroke was a living memory in motion. Semele traced her finger over the symbols with a feather-light touch and imagined Ionna at her desk, writing this to her—because Semele knew that Ionna had written this to her. And why Theo felt these pages had to be protected above all else was a mystery she was about to solve.
She opened her father’s copy to the same page. He had translated Ionna’s story word for word, and she could feel him with her. She wasn’t sure she would have had the courage to know what happened to Nettie without him.
From Leningrad Nettie went to Gorky by train with other prisoners. She had special papers tagged to her coat like a package. Her final destination paralyzed her with fear. She heard murmurs among the officers that Germany had broken their treaty and invaded Russia. Gorky was the country’s military center. Why were they sending her there?
On the journey no one offered her food or water or a word of explanation. The other prisoners were too afraid to speak. There was a silent consensus among them: if everyone followed orders, this misunderstanding would be rectified and life could return to normal, because none of them deserved to be arrested.
At the train station in Gorky, a cluster of KGB and military personnel waited to take the prisoners that had been assigned to them. A KGB officer looked at Nettie’s papers and gave her a sharp appraisal. She moved to fall in line with the others, but he put a hand on her shoulder.
“Not you,” he said and led her to an army truck. He ordered her to climb into the back.
As the truck drove away, she could only see through a small slit of canvas. They crossed the Volga and headed down the riverbank through the open countryside. Nettie watched the sun set. The trip felt like an eternity, although they must have been driving less than two hours. They passed through a stone entryway with castlelike towers at the corners and into an enormous inner courtyard where the truck parked.
A soldier banged on the side of the car. “Out!”
Nettie parted the canvas and climbed down to find herself surrounded by clusters of old church buildings illuminated by industrial lighting. Soldiers scurried past in a den of activity. This old monastery had been converted into some kind of military complex. She saw rows of medical trucks parked next to a makeshift armory.
The driver led her to the nearest building. Rowdy songs and lewd jokes were coming from one of the rooms.
“Delivery.” The driver stood in the doorway.
Inside a group of officers was eating dinner. Bottles of vodka littered the table. Nettie hovered behind the driver, trying not to be seen.
“Oh, look, the dessert has come,” a drunken officer said, his glassy eyes fixed on her.
The driver waved the papers. “One of Evanoff’s. She’s off-limits.”
The officer gave Nettie a cool assessment. “Pity.” He turned to the most junior officer in the room. “You take her.”
The young man got up from the table and took the papers from the driver.
“Come on.” He led Nettie down an endless hallway and unlocked the last door, then motioned her inside.
Nettie stepped into the cell-like room. The door locked shut behind her. Inside it was nearly pitch black. Only a sliver of moonlight illuminated the shadows.
After a minute her eyes adjusted and she saw children sleeping on an assortment of old mattresses. There was no food or water, only a bucket in the far corner that seemed like it was being used as a toilet.
She made her way to the corner farthest from the door and curled into a ball on the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest and tried not to think of her family, of her life that was forever gone.
For years she had prepared for this day, ever since her first vision. She had replayed what she saw over and over in her mind so she could withstand the reality of it when the time came. Now here she was, living it out.
A girl’s voice whispered in the dark. “You can share my mattress.”
Nettie squinted. She saw a figure sitting up two mattresses over and felt her way toward her in the dark. She found the girl and lay down beside her, relieved to be near someone who meant her no harm.
“Thank you,” she whispered back.
“I cried my first month here. There’s no shame,” the girl said.
Even so, Nettie vowed tonight would be the only time she would give in to her grief. She promised herself she would do what her grandmother said. Whatever happened, she must survive.
“My name’s Liliya. What’s yours?” the girl asked.
“Nettie,” she said in a hushed voice.
“Why have they brought you here?”
Nettie hesitated, unsure how to explain and too numb to try. “I’ve no idea,” she said instead. “Where are we?”
“Makaryev Monastery, but it’s not a monastery anymore. After they kicked the nuns out, this place became an orphanage for a few years. I came here then.”
“Why did they keep you here and not send you to another orphanage?”
“The experiments” was all Liliya said. “You’ll find out soon enough. We should sleep.” Before Liliya closed her eyes, she added, “Impress them and they’ll let you live.”
Nettie tried to sleep, but her mind couldn’t rest. She was already trying to feel her way into the future. She would have to give up her secrets, to expose her gift in order to stay alive.
She had already seen Dr. Evanoff many times in her visions. He would stand before her tomorrow, giving her sweets to gain her trust. Soon he would take a keen and singular interest in her.