The general personally volunteered to escort the prisoner to a closed front-line zone for execution. His stated reason was that he wanted to make sure the sentence was carried out without delay. That was the official story in the documents.
In reality, the staff car would take them to a prearranged crossing point. That point had already been coordinated by radio with their own command. Under cover of darkness, Anna would cross the line. Dmitry would return to headquarters with a report stating that the sentence had been carried out.
They left the city deep in the night at the beginning of February. It was brutally cold, around minus twenty. Snow squeaked under the tires, and the wind moaned against the windows.
The driver was a trusted corporal, one of the few men Dmitry trusted with his life. He knew he was not transporting a condemned woman but a valuable operative going home. He kept his mouth shut.
The first two checkpoints were easy. Von Riedel’s rank opened barriers without trouble. Guards saluted and waved them through without even looking into the back seat.
At the second checkpoint, an officer asked to see the prisoner’s papers. Dmitry handed over the folder. The officer skimmed it by flashlight, nodded, and sent them on.
The third checkpoint was the dangerous one. Beyond it lay the mined no-man’s-land. Here they were held longer.
The duty officer, an older captain with a tired face, studied their papers under weak light. Then he looked up at Dmitry. “Late hour for an execution, General,” he said.
Dmitry answered in a flat, icy tone. “Direct order from higher command. It cannot wait.” The captain shrugged. Arguing with a general was not his job. “Proceed.”
The car rolled on into the dark. Anna sat in the back in handcuffs. They were there for appearances only; the locks had not been secured.
She stared out the frosted window at the dark woods and thought that in a few minutes her old life would end forever. Or perhaps begin again.
At last they stopped at a remote clearing about half a mile from the front. They could go no farther by car. The rest had to be done on foot through the snow.
Dmitry got out first and checked the area. Then he opened the rear door and helped Anna out. With a quick motion he removed the cuffs completely.
The corporal stayed in the idling car. His orders were simple: wait one hour, and if the general did not return, drive back alone. Dmitry led Anna into the winter woods.
He went first, breaking trail through snow that reached nearly to his waist. Anna stepped where he stepped, trying not to lose footing. They did not speak. There was nothing left to say.
After about twenty minutes they reached a deep ravine. This was the crossing point. Somewhere on the far side, hidden in the dark, their own scouts were waiting.
Dmitry stopped at the edge and turned to her. “This is where you go on alone,” he said quietly. “Down into the ravine, then up the other side. Our people will be there.”
Anna stood looking at his face in the pale moonlight. She wanted to say a hundred things, but none of them would come. Finally she managed, “Will I see you after the war?”
