Enemy of the Tzar: A Murderess in One Country, A Tycoon in Another - Lester S. Taube

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glad that you are staying.”

      They had reached the edge of the village, and Hershel stopped. “Let’s go back. It’s almost time for lunch.” After a moment or two of silence, he said, “Can you think of any way we can make her job easier?”

      Jakob’s brow furrowed. It had never occurred to him to consider such an action. Each one in life is destined to bear whatever confronts him. Motlie had died. Due to circumstances, all quite normal in the scheme of things, Hanna had been called upon to shoulder an additional burden. It is the Lord’s work, and Israel’s accident, Motlie’s demise, and Hanna’s burden are as much a part of His work as the sun shining or the stars sparkling or the crops of grain growing alongside the road.

      “I don’t quite know how I can help.”

      “I’ve thought of paying her a little more each week.”

      “She won’t take it,” said Jakob at once.

      Hershel nodded his head in agreement. “I guess you are right. But I could pay Gitel and Reba to take care of my room, and Zelek to watch over my horse.”

      Jakob grinned with pleasure. “That Zelek. He is a wonderful boy.”

      Hershel smiled with him. “He certainly has his fixations about the Cossacks.” He looked over at the Hasid, almost ten centimeters taller and twenty kilos lighter than himself. “Do you really think he will kill his Cossack?”

      “He will,” said Jakob simply.

      Hershel placed a restraining hand on Jakob’s arm and drew him to a halt. “Tell me, Jakob, why are you always so sure of things?”

      Jakob stared steadily into the eyes of his companion, seeing deep inside an intelligence that belied Hershel’s casualness. Had he an older brother, he would have prayed for him to be Hershel. “I don’t know. Words come to my lips, often without me first weighing the content. It has been like that since I was a boy–of Zelek’s age. Frequently what I say comes about.”

      “Doesn’t it awe you to have that strange ability?”

      Jakob turned and started walking again, Hershel keeping in step with extra long strides. “No. Actually, I don’t think about it. It is only when someone mentions that what I’ve told him in the past has happened that I take notice.”

      “What do you see for Hanna?”

      Jakob walked on in silence for a number of steps. “Sorrow,” he finally said.

      And there was sadness in his own face at the comment.

       CHAPTER 11

      Hershel hitched his horse to the post in front of the library in Kaunas a week later. It was time again for their meeting, and he spied Katrine at once seated at a reading table. She got up quickly and met him at the door.

      “You are on time for a change,” she commented with a grin.

      “I have such a ferocious hard-on that I almost came here last night.”

      “But I wasn’t here last night,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

      “That would have made no difference. Just knowing you were coming would have done the trick.”

      “Want to go to the flat to try out the various ways of satisfying hard-ons?”

      “Does a fish need water?”

      Her eyes were still twinkling. “That’s one of your Jewish traits, I believe. Responding to a question with a question.”

      “What else?” he quipped. He took her by the arm and started leading her out to the street. “I love you desperately,” he murmured out of the side of his mouth.

      She drew his arm against her breast. “I’ve missed you terribly.”

      “Where is cousin Teddy, these days?”

      She gave her full voiced laugh. “Would you believe that he is in the United States of America? He met an American heiress, from Texas, who, as he put it, drew out every single sperm from his testicles that was scheduled to be made over the next two months. He is opting for four months.”

      Hershel chuckled as he tipped the horse watcher and began leading the animal towards Teddy’s apartment. Once out of hearing range, he asked, “Did all go well?”

      “Of course. Everything went beautifully. Everything you do goes beautifully.”

      “Did you go on to Moscow as I suggested?”

      “Yes. But I was bored to death. The opera is closed until the fall. Ditto all concerts except in the parks. Everyone is escaping the heat by going to St. Petersburg. Most of all, you weren’t there to sleep with me.”

      In the apartment, Hershel soaked in the huge tub for a long quarter hour, Katrine coming in to deliver a glass of cold, sparkling Moselle wine, scrub his back, then dry him with a large, heavily piled bath towel.

      In short order, they were again in Teddy’s oversized bed, locked in each other’s arms. Afterwards, they lay quietly in full contentment, his heavy breathing slowly returning to normal.

      Katrine kissed his cheek. “Hey, you. Are you falling asleep?”

      “Shush. You’re waking the household.”

      She lowered her voice. “Don’t disturb the children, but straighten up. I want to see who you are.”

      “I’m a stranger. From Siberia.”

      “Good. I like icy penises. They stay stiffer longer.”

      Hershel guffawed with delight. He kissed her lips. “I love you, Katrine,” he whispered. “More than you really know.”

      Her eyes grew soft. “I pray every day that I can hold your love,” she answered quietly.

      For a while he did not respond. This is it, he said to himself. This is what it is all about–the living, the hoping, the dreaming. He had taken on the dangers of his work in the secret service because his life was not full enough, and matching wits against the enemy’s was one way of putting zest into the hours between rising and lying down. But now there was a more fulfilling reason of being, a greater excitement than even the risk of death, a more desirable reward than the success of a difficult mission.

      Katrine was lying still in his arms. But underneath he could feel her tenseness, her need for a sign. To kiss her, or to say he loved her, would suffice, for she was under no false perceptions about their relationship. Then deep inside, he felt the laughter well up. Good Lord, he exclaimed to himself; it should be me begging for her, not her wishing for the few moments we can share together.

      He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. “Hey, you,” he said softly.

      She looked up at the subtle change in his voice. “Yes,” she said.

      “How would you like to get married?”

      Her eyes suddenly grew tender, and he felt her heart beat more heavily under his hand on her breast. “You mean that, don’t you?” she said, in a husky voice. “White lace and all that.”

      He nodded. “That will do for a start.” He kissed the top of her head again. “Then there’s the ring thing, and going to bed on the honeymoon, and maybe half a dozen children.”

      She buried her face in his shoulder.

      “This will be the last mission,” said Hershel. “Then I plan to take a long vacation.” Her face turned at his comments; her eyes gleaming with joy. “Since a vacation alone is a waste of bedroom activities, I thought we might meet at Innsbruck, figure out how to do this marriage thing, then honeymoon in Italy.” He drew her closer, and the banter went out of his words. “I don’t think we can have the white lace ceremony and reception and all that.”

      “It’s

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