Isoroku closed his eyes for a moment, sadness etched on his lined face, making him look much older than his fifty-seven years. Clearing his throat, he met her gaze once again, sorrow remaining in his dark brown eyes. "Sumimasen. I am sorry, Little Bird. Your mother was a good woman and helped me when I first came to the Yamamoto family. Where is your brother?"
She shrugged. "I have no idea. He left home when I was thirteen, and no one has heard from him since. My father believed he went to Moscow to attend university, but Momma didn't. She thought he returned to Japan. He'd always talked about it. I fear the worst."
"What does your heart tell you?"
Staring at the woven reed floor beneath her slippered feet, she exhaled. "I believe he is still alive. I just wish I knew where he was and if he is well. I miss his teasing but would never admit that to him."
He nodded. "Good. Now, the reason for your visit. I sense you are here for something more than just seeing an old family friend."
"You are my cousin, Isoroku-san, and always will be, but there is another reason for my visit. I'm not able to go into detail, but my superiors have sent me to convince you to turn away from a war with Russia and concentrate on the Allies. I know Japan has infiltrated China, specifically Manchuria, with plans on taking over the entire country. The emperor, more importantly, Prime Minister Fumimaro Konoe, is pressing for an agreement with the German führer, Adolph Hitler. He has conquered most of Europe and, as we speak, is preparing for war against Russia. If the Prime Minister achieves a pact with Hitler, Japan's military and economic resources will be stretched too thin, trying to fight on three separate fronts against the Allies, China, and Russia."
She wrapped her blanket tighter around her body as the house's chill seeped into her bones and fought the shivers threatening to begin. Growing up in Russia, she was used to cold weather, but sitting in the cool house with the added stress of the almost impossible job of convincing this dedicated naval commander to agree to her radical plan was causing chaos with her nervous system. "I know listening to me, a woman, is unprecedented, but would you consider turning Emperor Hirohito's focus from Russia and attack the Allies moving into the Pacific?"
Isoroku stared at her, his dark gaze seeming to penetrate her very being, but she forced her body to remain still, completely unmoving as he contemplated her recommendation. He blinked then sat back in his chair and propped his elbows on the wooden armrests, resting his chin on the back of his clasped fingers. "What you say has merit, Little Bird, and is something I have already considered. A great warrior knows a strong offensive is never divided on too many fronts."
"So, the emperor will not fight against Stalin?"
"No, Little Bird. If I have my way, the Japanese will not go to battle against your leader. Our time will come to battle your Russian leader, but that time is not yet here." His thin face turned hard, a determined gleam in his dark brown gaze. "Now, we must focus on China and the Americans. I have spent many years building our naval capabilities and am proud of the improvements we have made to our naval aviation, including two new bombers and a long-range fighter plane, the A6M Zero. We have also reorganized the carrier fleet. It is my plan to attack Pearl Harbor, effectively ending America's battle in the Pacific before it can even begin. What you have proposed only backs up my beliefs."
Aleksandra breathed a silent sigh of relief, and her stomach settled. Again, she had achieved her goal and hoped Freyja would be content with the results. She knew initiating war against America was risky, but Russia needed the United States to enter the fight. Part of her couldn't believe Freyja had sent her back in time. She studied Isoroku's familiar face, happy she'd been able to see him one last time. With her death in 1943, she would never talk to her cousin again. That thought made her heart ache. Turning the tide of war on Russia's eastern front against Japan ensured more than anything else could that America would enter the fight as allies with Britain against Hitler and give her home country a chance of defeating the German Wehrmacht.
With a strong sense of foreboding, she rose. Isoroku did the same and walked her to the front door, waiting patiently while she took off the slippers. Stepping into her boots, she set the slippers in their place by the wall. She turned and bowed her head, afraid the great man standing in front of her would see the tears pooling in her eyes as uncharacteristic and a weakness.
Now that her mission was complete and before she disappeared like she had with Jakob, she needed to leave. "O-genki de, Isoroku-san." She prayed her whispered words to stay safe would do just that in the coming months. Stepping through the door, she hurried away without glancing back and turned the corner as the now-familiar tingling sensation crawled over her and the peaceful beauty of Japan faded from her sight.
6
Mid-August, 1943
Eastern Front
Jakob
It had been a couple of weeks since Aleksandra disappeared, but Jakob continued to dwell over what he'd seen as he trudged through the mountains toward Minsk. On two separate occasions that morning, he'd managed to catch a ride most of the way with two different partisan groups heading into Lithuania. To stay off the German radar once he was on foot, he'd kept to the outskirts of villages and larger towns. It gave him time to think things through.
How had she disappeared? Replaying the event in his head many times, he could only come to one conclusion. One minute she was there and the next, she was gone. Shaking his head as he walked, he reached the edge of the forest, broken into two parts by a small river. Ignoring the sweat rolling down his back and face, he checked his surroundings. He stood in silence, letting the variety of sounds flood his senses, but he couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary. Hopefully, that only meant he was alone with no hidden Nazis close by.
He stepped out from the trees, almost cringing as he waited for a bullet to find him, but nothing happened, so he moved toward the stream. He stared into the clear water, watching the small eddies as the water flowed around the rocks scattered across the riverbed. What he wouldn't give for a bath. He'd be happy with just a quick dunk in a deeper body of water.
Squatting near the water's edge, he cupped his hands and scooped up the icy water and drank. He did this several times then rinsed and refilled his canteen and slid it back inside his supply pack. Shrugging it over his shoulder, he held onto his rifle and stepped into the river. He tried to cross over to the other side using the tallest rocks. He was almost across without getting his boots and socks wet when he slipped off the last rock and landed in the water with a loud splash.
"Making noise around here could get a person killed."
His head flew up as he pulled the rifle from his shoulder and slid it into firing position. Only then did he recognize Mikhail's voice as his friend stepped out from the trees a few feet from the river. "And doing that could get you shot." Jakob stomped over the dry grass and passed his friend with a low muttered, "Idiot."
Mikhail only laughed and fell into step beside him. "For now, we should be relatively safe here. A local farmer gave us the use of his barn, so we have shelter for a couple of nights at least. Our men scoured the entire area but didn't find any Nazis on this side of Minsk. German sympathizers are another story. There are about a hundred such men setting up a permanent camp about five miles from here."
Jakob followed Mikhail, the sounds of the forest calming his ragged nerves. Even the slight rustle of leaves as the wind blew through the trees seemed to soothe his ragged soul. With a quick sideways glance at the tall Russian, he decided to take a chance and tell him what he'd seen the day before. Deep down, though, he braced himself for Mikhail's laughter at his expense. After all, what he basically would be describing was monsters and magic.
"Something happened when I was at Kursk. Something I can't explain—at least, not very well." He inhaled then let his breath out slowly. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone either."
"When it comes to strange experiences, believe me when I tell you I understand and will tell no one.
"
Jakob listened closely to his friend's tone but heard no deceit, only truth. "I'd settled in on a hill overlooking the battle near Kursk. It was a good strategic spot—one where I could pick off anyone I wanted. Before I took my first shot, someone else shot and killed my target. After a second German officer went down, I scanned the area through my scope and found the other sniper. About the same time, three Nazi soldiers appeared. One attacked the sniper while the other two watched, but from their eager expressions, they wanted in on the action."
He stepped over a fallen log and resumed the tale. "The attacker was a large man, a mountain compared to the size of the sniper. I killed the two waiting for their chance then watched to see if the sniper could fight the other man off. Unfortunately, the sniper didn't have the ability or strength to best him, so I waited for the right moment and shot the German between the eyes. When the sniper fell, too, I packed up my stuff and headed over to the other hilltop."
He glanced at Mikhail and scowled. "The sniper was a girl! A Russian girl..." His voice trailed off at the wonder of it all, and he stepped over another log.
"Russian women are just as good with a weapon as the men. There are several female snipers who outshoot their compatriots with complete accuracy. This is not surprising to me."
"She was the best I have ever come up against."
"So, what else happened because I do not believe seeing a woman sniper is something you cannot explain, my friend. You mentioned being unable to find the words to tell me, yet you just did so without a hint of difficulty."
"Wipe the smirk from your face. It isn't becoming. You're correct, though, because that wasn't the unbelievable part. Two things happened, one right after the other. I've never seen anything so terrifying."
They walked up to a dilapidated wooden fence and climbed over one of the fallen rungs as they made their way toward an unpainted barn. Jakob stopped next to an ancient-looking tractor rusting in the middle of the yard. "We were making our way across the valley, heading for my hilltop, when I saw a boot print. I knew someone was hiding up there, so we continued through the forest. There were—beasts, for lack of a better word to describe them—making their way toward the German line. We'd surprised them. The one in front was the largest of the three and, like the Nazis who'd attacked Aleksandra, the other two stayed behind him."
"Her name was Aleksandra...and she was Russian?" Mikhail asked, a slight frown pulling at his brows.
"Yes. Why?"
Mikhail shook his head. "Nothing, really. One of the women in Natalya's three-plane group had the same name."
Jakob thought it was unusual that Mikhail didn't ask more about the monsters, but in the back of his mind, he reasoned it was because he didn't believe him. "Anyway, before I could even raise my rifle, Aleksandra had hers up and aimed at the leader. Just as he leaped at us, she shot him dead center between the eyes and had the guts to threaten the other three, telling them to leave. One didn't listen and charged, but she killed him, too. Of the two left, one creature ran away and the other swung the two bodies over his shoulders, as if they weighed nothing, and loped away through the forest. The strength it had was incredible."
"These beasts—they were large and, like you said, very strong. Standing upright on their hind legs and looked like deformed wolves?" Mikhail asked in a hushed tone.
Jakob's eyes widened. "You've seen them before? You believe me?"
Mikhail nodded. "About nine months ago, Natalya and I stumbled upon the camp where they are being created. Let's just say if we hadn't received help from a very powerful friend, I would be just like them...or dead."
Pulling off his cap, Jakob thrust his fingers through his tousled hair, which promptly fell back down over his forehead. "Damn...why didn't you say anything?"
Wry amusement glittered in Mikhail's silvery gray gaze. "Would you have believed me? I don't think so. It's best few people know about these creatures. As soon as my wife returns, we plan on going back and destroying the camp and everyone in it."
A fellow resistance fighter appeared in the barn's open doorway, and Jakob bit back his next question. The soldier gave them a quick salute then disappeared back inside the dark interior. "What are they? How are they created?"
"They were once men like you and me. From what we were told, they are soldiers taken from battle and used as guinea pigs as, we assume Himmler, searches for a way to create the perfect soldier. They are werewolves—just like the myths we're told as children. After I was imprisoned, Natalya saw Himmler and assumed he was the camp's leader. We found out later another man named Uralt Betrüger runs the camp and controls everything while Himmler reports the results back to Hitler."
"Dear God," Jakob exhaled. "I knew the führer was radical, maybe even a bit crazy, but I didn't peg him for being psychotic."
"You know all too well the atrocities this man and his followers have done. Your parents, like mine, were imprisoned. They fight death with every breath they take. We must stop the Third Reich in its tracks, my friend, or the world as we know it will disappear."
Mikhail turned, taking a step toward the barn, but Jakob grabbed his arm and stopped him. "There's one more thing I need to tell you. The female, Aleksandra, disappeared."
Mikhail faced him with a frown. "Disappeared how? Did she run away?"
Jakob shook his head. "No. After the werewolves ran off, I figured we would come back here, but before I could make the suggestion, she faded away." He shrugged, raising his hands in mute disbelief. "One minute she was there and the next, gone."
Mikhail clapped one hand over his shoulder. "She will return, and you will definitely see her again. There are many forces at play in this war, Jakob. Some fight on the side of evil, while others align with us and the rightful chain of events to protect our world."
"I don't understand anything you just said," Jakob muttered, reluctantly following Mikhail into the barn where they were greeted by Bernard and several other partisan soldiers.
Mimicking Mikhail's previous action, Bernard clapped him on the same shoulder. "'Bout time the two of you showed up. I almost sent out a search party and would have been furious if something had happened to either one of you. You're the two best men I have."
"Hey, Sarge, that's uncalled-for!" one of the men shouted from the group sitting around the small fire.
"That's enough, Baker," Bernard said over his shoulder, but Jakob caught the momentary grin before it disappeared. Bernard pulled them away from the others, walking them to the barn's corner, his nose wrinkling at the pungent odor hovering in the air near the stalls. "I'm so tired of caves and their dark dankness, but I think I like them a lot more than the stench in barns. Now, report." Using the toe of his boot, he scraped a pile of dirty hay out of his way then turned his brown gaze on Jakob.
"Don't have much to report." Jakob glanced at Mikhail, who gave him a slight frown and subtle shake of his head. Resigned, Jakob continued. "A Russian sniper took out my targets. I figured I'd best get out of there before any Germans came looking for me and returned as fast as I could. Met up with two Resistance convoys in stolen German vehicles. They planned on infiltrating and causing as much mayhem as possible. I know one group plans on blowing up several railroads along the Russian-Ukraine border. The other group will begin liberating camps. When they couldn't drive me any closer, I walked the rest of the way. I never saw a single enemy soldier."
Bernard nodded. "Good. That's good. At least something's going right today. Not much else has. Botched instructions, misfiring weapons, and Krauts who don't know when to call it quits." He angled his neck until several loud pops could be heard, then repeated it on the other side. "I could do with a good massage. Anyway, I just received orders to find out if information we have about possible escape routes from Germany are fact or fiction. If they're fact, we've been ordered to destroy them.”
Bernard rested his arm on top of the stall wall. "I need you two to return to Belarus. A member of the White Russian partisans has requested a meeti
ng outside of Bubruysk. His name is Ilya Novik. He said to meet him at the church on Kombinat Street, near the river. From there, he will take you to a secured home. The couple who own the place have offered to feed you supper and put you up for the night—but only one night. It's too dangerous with the number of Nazis in the town. It will be a death sentence for them if you are seen."
Jakob nodded. "Understood." His gaze narrowed as he studied Bernard, who looked exhausted as his fingers brushed through his disheveled blond hair. Jakob would follow this man to hell and back—and had since the war began. More importantly, Bernard was his friend, and he didn't have many friends.
After leaving Germany and joining the Resistance, he and Bernard had formed a tight unit along with Mikhail, whenever the man wasn't running off to his woman, who seemed to always get into trouble. Jakob didn't need any more help in that respect, so finding himself a partner was out of the question. At least until after he found and rescued his family from the Sachsenhausen camp back in Germany.
"Have you had any word from our men near Lwów, in Poland? I told Adela and Julek I would check on their friends. They love living with Natalya's sister, Lilyann, but they get lonely when she's gone doing whatever it is she does,” Mikhail asked.
"The only thing I've heard is that people are still being shipped to the Belzac extermination camp. We evidently have a friend inside the town. A sewer inspector by the name of Leopold Socha, who's hiding as many Jews as he can in the sewers. There was a brief mention of a group of kids who refused to listen to him, but other than that, I haven't heard much. From the way the Nazis have performed in past camp liquidations, I give them another two, maybe three months. Our boys are preparing to help anyone they can...if they can."
Bernard leaned his hip against the stall's gate and gently pushed the horse's head away as the animal tried to nibble on his hair. "We need to pay special attention to Heydrich though."
Aleksandra Page 7
