Kursed by Lindsay Smith

Author:Lindsay Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626723092
Publisher: Roaring Brook Press

Chapter Five

I wake to the sound of voices—distant ones, muffled by hisses and pops and a metronomic click. The shortwave radio. Olga and Andrei are huddled around a sheet of paper, jotting down the numbers that the Russian voice is reading out in steady doses. The numbers station Rostov had told us about. The NKVD broadcasts orders to its agents all over the world, encrypted with numbers, and only the agents who know the code can decipher the message.

“No, no, that was a nine,” Olga mutters, jamming her finger toward where Andrei’s writing. He scratches it out and rewrites the number.

In the gaps between each sequence of numbers, a Russian orchestra surges forth, blaring “The Internationale.” Subconsciously, I find myself humming along, the chorus bubbling into my head: This is our final and decisive battle—with “The Internationale,” humanity will rise up.

The transmission completes, and “The Internationale” fills the airwave, drumming its catchy beat right into our heads. I spot Olga and Andrei swaying back and forth, humming along, then realize I’m doing it, too. We hum along through the next verse, then stop and shake our heads as the transmission dissolves into scratchy silence.

“Sorry.” Andrei’s pencil glides quickly over the scratch paper as Olga helps him along. “Let’s see what our message is…”

Olga leans over his shoulder. “All agents … report to Berlin. Extraction imminent … 0800 April Five. Fifth. Berlin will fall.”

“April fifth. That’s tomorrow morning, right?” I ask. “So we have a day to get there and … do what we need to do … before Rostov expects to find us there.”

Olga scoots her chair back and twists so she’s facing me. “Antonina Vasilievna.” She scratches at the stump of her leg. “I know your standing at the university. Everyone knows you. The model Party member in training, the tireless researcher for the good of the State.”

My jaw clamps up like I’m bracing for a blow. “It’s really not like that. I’m only doing—”

“What you’re told. Yeah, I know.” Olga rolls her eyes. “Why the change of heart? Why should we trust your newfound wish to leave your cushy Party life behind?”

Progress—isn’t it the guiding tenet of every good Party apparatchik? Onward toward progress, toward advancement, experimentation. It’s time for a new approach. I square my shoulders and look at Olga and Andrei head-on.

“I don’t want to be a part of Rostov’s plans anymore. Of Stalin’s. I’ve done everything they’ve asked, and it’s kept me alive, but the cost—who knows how many lives the psychics I’ve found will endanger? When all I’m doing is giving a new platform to men like Rostov … it’s not worth the scientific advancements I’ve been able to make.”

Andrei’s mouth wavers, as if he’s fighting off something—a smile or a frown, I can’t tell. Olga arches a single eyebrow.

“If you want to find Rostov, I won’t stop you. I don’t expect you to risk your lives to join me. But I’m going to find these Americans who are supposed to meet with Herr Trammel, and I’m going to offer my services to them.

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