ACT II
Rollin drove as fast as he dared on the ice. In the rear view mirror, he watched Willy turn the truck to the south at the first intersection they passed. The car was lacking heat or defrost. When the windows fogged up he cleared them with the sleeve of his brown corduroy jacket. Cinnamon soon took over, using the blanket he brought from the truck.
They drove in silence for nearly three hours, focused on reaching Brausov. Cinnamon replayed his kiss in her mind so many times it became a loop. But neither spoke of it or anything else.
At the outskirts of the village, Rollin ditched the car out of sight from the main road. At dusk, the rain was turning to sleet. Rollin took her hand as they trudged into town. Cinnamon smiled and told him, "I’m glad Madame Kurnikova was wearing sensible shoes."
It was easy to find the only bar in the village square. They were freezing by the time they reached it and took a table as close as they could get to the popular fire. Cinnamon removed the remaining bobby pins and shook her now damp hair loose from the bun. Rollin ordered borsht, bread, tea and a bottle of vodka. They sat for two hours, moving closer to the fire when the chance came, and ordering more tea. They smoked the last of Barney’s cigarettes, which Rollin had found in the coat pocket, and exchanged pleasantries in Russian.
Cinnamon’s Russian was better than Rollin’s. He knew enough to get by, and understood more than he could say. His vocabulary strengths were party politics and nuclear fission. He wished he were really fluent, as she was. Watching her hug her arms closely to her chest and stretch her toes toward the fire, he was certain he didn’t have the vocabulary to try to explain to her how beautiful and determined he thought she looked at that moment. He was wondering if the other tables were far enough away for him to whisper to her in English how he felt, and to promise her that he would get them home.
Just then a large bearded redhead entered the bar. Based on Jim’s description, he was not Valery, but he scanned the room and subtly noted Cinnamon and Rollin. He ordered vodka and walked past their table with his bottle.
"You are cold?" He stopped to inquire.
Rollin nodded.
Redbeard continued slowly and carefully, "They say the spring comes late this year, but I believe it has lost its way."
Rollin nodded, "Yes, we are looking for some sign."
"The room in the back has a much bigger fireplace." Redbeard indicated the archway behind him.
Rollin and Cinnamon’s eyes met and they rose together to follow him. Rollin brought the vodka bottle and glasses and his small parcel. Cinnamon carried the wool coat.
The back room was empty and Cinnamon soon saw why – the fireplace was immense, but there was no fire in its hearth. They sat with Redbeard far from the door.
Redbeard poured vodka into all three glasses, "I believe spring will come soon. But my cousin Valery believes we must be patient."
Rollin caught Cinnamon’s eye and she softly asked, "How patient?"
Redbeard tossed down his vodka and poured himself another, which he also quickly tossed back. "I know a place where you’ll be warmer."
Cinnamon thought promises, promises, but knew they had no other option. They followed Redbeard through the back door of the bar.
The rain had stopped, the night was cold and crisp, the streets deserted. The moon was just a sliver. Cinnamon mused that any sensible person would be inside by a fire. Redbeard made a point of staying in the shadows and going down the darkest roads as he led them away from the center. After a fifteen-minute walk he stopped at the back door of stone house with large chimneys. He motioned Cinnamon and Rollin to the side of the house, then knocked.
A stout woman in a flour-smeared apron came to the door. "Gregor, what brings you out on a night like this?"
Gregor turned his head toward the pair. "My friends need a place where they’ll be warm."
The apron lady turned and called, "Anton!" then glanced at Cinnamon and Rollin. "How long?”
But Gregor only shrugged, "I should know tomorrow."
A jovial bearded giant arrived behind her in the doorway. Gregor conversed hurriedly in hushed tones. Finally the giant beckoned everyone in. He pointed to the rustic bathroom just inside the entry and Cinnamon and Rollin traded use of the facilities. They could hear more discussion in an inner room, then silence.
The giant came out and gave them a tiny bow of introduction, "Anton," he said simply, then led them upstairs. They stopped outside a door. "Please be very quiet. The children – it is better that they not know. You must stay quiet until I come for you tomorrow." Cinnamon nodded in agreement.
Quietly the trio entered the small room in the eaves. Light from the hallway was the only illumination. Three children slept in two beds. Anton easily reached the low ceiling and slowly slid a hidden panel away from a beam, exposing a small door, which he opened. He turned to Rollin, signaling with a flick of his head to come forward and boosted him up into the hatch.
Rollin pulled his body smoothly into the tiny attic within an attic, turning around in a crouch in the small space. The roof beams were much too low for him to stand. His immediate thought was ‘Cinnamon is not going to be very happy about this.’ He braced his legs against a beam and leaned down to pull her in. She grimaced as she saw the narrow crawl space but dutifully climbed through the hatch with Rollin’s help. She slid next to him – there was no other option in the small space.
Rollin could see her shoulders lift, knowing she was tense. He watched her tentatively as she pulled her knees in close and inhaled deeply. He saw her bite her lip and lower her head onto her knees and knew he’d give anything to save her wrestling those demons again.
Rollin looked back through the hatch. Anton’s wife handed him Cinnamon’s coat, a jug of water, two candles, matches, and a blanket. Rollin placed the items around him, then lit a candle and nodded to the gentle giant who closed the door.
Rollin could hear the panel softly slide into place. He turned to Cinnamon. Her eyes were closed. He could see she was focused on her breathing and remembered that she was dabbling in meditation to see if it would help her claustrophobia. He deliberately did not touch her, but arranged their provisions to make as much space as possible around her. He took the wool coat, rolled it into a pillow and placed it behind her, doing the same with his corduroy jacket.
She sighed, slowly lifting her head and opening her eyes, having prepared as best she could for the terror she knew would claw at her neck. It came like great suction in her chest, closing her throat, pulling on her lungs. She mustered every ounce of will to force herself to take in air, to inhale, and fill her lungs, reminding herself she could triumph. She saw Rollin’s piercing blue eyes filled with care and concern as he watched her struggle.
After she took in and released a few slow breaths, he reached for her hand slowly. She grasped it in both of her hers and nodded positively. She’d be okay.
He found her brown hair disconcerting, but the candlelight sent gentle shadows across the chiseled planes of the beautiful face he knew so well. She gave him a smile that said she’d tough it out and he beamed back his best non-verbal communication of I never doubted you would. She sighed again and kicked off her shoes. She ran her fingers through her hair, then lay back against the coat pile.
She rolled onto her side, turning away from him and curling up in a near fetal position. He could see her shoulders hunch even closer to her ears. He leaned back next to her, propped on one elbow and watched her closely, wishing there was something he could do to make her more comfortable.
There was so much he wanted to tell her and so much he wanted to know. She had not only let him kiss her, finally, but she had kissed him back.
He leaned closer and whispered as softy as he could, "Cin …," hoping not to startle her. As she turned slightly, he reached for her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "Shhh – let me." He kneaded the sore muscles of her shoulder, then moved closer so that both his hands could massage her neck, shoulders and back.
Eventually he could hear her breathing slow and felt her muscles ease beneath his fingers. Unable to resist, he leaned down and kissed her long, graceful neck, needing to show her his feelings since he could not tell her. She sighed and he gently turned her chin toward him and kissed her lips. She turned in his arms, accepting his gentle ministrations. He slowly worked his way along her jaw, pushing her hair back.
Cinnamon turned beneath him to use the coat as a pillow for both of them. He propped himself up on his palms, waiting for her get comfortable. When she had settled, he lay across her and she welcomed him onto her arms. Suddenly, the floorboard flexed with such a loud squeak that they both froze. Luckily, there were no sounds from the bedroom below. Rollin eased off, meeting Cinnamon’s smile with his own. He pulled her close against him and wrapped the blanket around them both.
She thought about how wonderful it felt to have his arms around her and his warm steady breath against her neck. Why had she been fighting this? Never had she felt so safe and secure in the midst of such danger and uncertainty. She interlaced her fingers with his and pulled his arm around her in an even tighter embrace.
Cinnamon woke up feeling incredibly hot. She pushed the blanket away and Rollin stirred. Like her, he was immediately awake. Cinnamon smiled and mouthed to him, "He’s the baker." Rollin chuckled softly and inhaled the pleasant smell of baking bread. He reached behind them to the brick wall - the chimney shafts were hot. A glimmer of light was visible along the peak of the roof. Cinnamon moved the blanket aside, sitting up to fold it at their feet. Rollin also rose from the waist and pulled off the black turtleneck Barney had given him.
Within the hour, they could hear the children awake in the bedroom below. After sounds of teasing and rough housing, it went strangely quiet. Soon Anton came with a freshly baked loaf of bread and told them his children were at school. They could climb down into the children’s room, but must be prepared to get into hiding at any moment. Word was out that two dissidents – a man and a woman – were being pursued by the secret police.
The next day, Anton asked for their passports to give to Gregor, so that he could get them to Valery. Reluctantly, Rollin turned them over. Realistically, they had no other option. Another two days passed and the only news Anton relayed was that his wife had heard a house-to-house search was underway in one of the villages to the west.
A routine quickly developed – the kids would leave for school, Anton would open the hatch, bringing bread and sometimes cheese. Cinnamon and Rollin were able to briefly come downstairs, but spent the day out of sight in the kids’ room. When the kids were due back from school, they climbed back into the eaves, staying quiet through afternoon and evening. They were awakened in the early morning as Anton fired up the ovens.
Rollin was increasingly frustrated at the lack of action and realised Anton was itchy too – understandably, his family was at risk. Ironically, as the days passed, Cinnamon grew more comfortable with the tiny room, though she shared Rollin’s desire for some action.
On the fourth morning, Rollin heard the kids go down to breakfast and reached for Cinnamon’s hand. "I have a new appreciation for Anne Frank."
"I was thinking of her too. It’s helping me … cope."
"You’re doing great."
"I’d give anything to be sitting in the sun."
"I’d give anything for a cigarette."
Cinnamon shook her head. "I think I’m over that – though yesterday was tough. No – it’s the sun for me."
Rollin pulled her hand to his lips, "Soon."
"And for a salad," Cinnamon added, indicating the endless supply of bread.
He rolled her into his embrace, "Soon."
"And for a bath," she added and he could tell from her tone she was now teasing and silenced her by covering her lips with his.
When they parted, she stroked his cheek and he whispered, "Soon."
That morning Anton had better news. "Come down - you will be happy today." Rollin jumped down and helped Cinnamon after him. Anton was excited, "I will get your new papers today. Valery has arranged your departure. Gregor will come for you."
Rollin wanted more information. "What’s been arranged?"
"I have not been told. But tonight – you will leave."
Cinnamon reached for his large hand. "Anton, you and your wife have been very kind to us. You are both very brave – thank you."
"I am happy you were willing to come here to help us. It is I who should thank you."
Rollin stepped behind Cinnamon, his hands on her shoulders, "Anton, may we ask one more favor of you? Would it be possible to have a bath?"
Anton considered the request. "I must bring the buckets of hot water from the hearth without attracting attention. I can arrange one bath. You will need to be quiet. Go there now, I will tell Katya."
Rollin returned to the loft to grab his kit, then followed Cinnamon downstairs to the small room with the wooden tub. Anton brought two buckets of hot water, and promised to return soon with two more.
Rollin pulled a razor from his kit and dipped a small bowl into the tub to scoop out some of the hot water. He spoke English, whispering softly. "I think every man we’ve seen has a beard. Maybe I need to keep some of this." He tidied his five day-old beard into a crisp goatee, then turned to Cinnamon. "This seems more like an Alexei Vronsky, or whoever I’ll be tonight. What do you think?"
"Hmmm…Capulet or Montague?” It drew a laugh from Rollin. “I like it – very flattering as disguises go."
Anton returned with more water, then left with a nod.
Rollin whispered, "Speaking of disguises? I think the best way for you not to look like Anna Kurnikova is to look more like Cinnamon Carter. I can get rid of the brown if you want?"
"What do I need to do?"
"Climb in the tub, lean back and relax." She nodded and undressed. Rollin suddenly felt the room shrink as the unspoken sexual tension filled the small space. He tried to avert his eyes and to be respectful of Cinnamon’s privacy, but found he was drawn to her like a magnet.
He already knew she had a beautiful body, having seen her nude on their mission in Santa Costa, not long after they started working together. She had undressed in front of two guards to protect his cover. Having saved him, she remained in his room to put her clothes back on. He had turned his head away from her, but conveniently into a mirror that gave him a delightful view of her gorgeous figure as she rolled her stockings up her fabulous legs and pulled on the rest of her outfit. In the months since then, he had pictured her often.
He washed her hair with a dye remover from his kit. His hands were strong, but his actions loving and gentle. Cinnamon let herself sink deeper into the tub. She had a long treasured fantasy about a moment like this with a devoted lover washing her hair. In more than one recent dream, Rollin was cast in the part.
There was a sudden clang at the door. Startled by the noise outside, Cinnamon jumped and Rollin tipped the rinsing bowl over his leg as he reached for his gun. Anton called softly, "Do you need more water?"
Rollin turned to Cinnamon and met her smile. He answered in Russian "No we’re fine. Thank you." He felt foolish holding the pistol and tucked it back into the bag. He looked down at his drenched trousers, then to Cinnamon.
"Water’s still hot." Cinnamon offered.
"Yeah, that registered."
"I meant if you wanted to wash up. When you’re finished washing your pants, that is."
"Ha ha."
"Come on – take them off." It was a dare. She met his eyes with a direct stare. "They’ll dry faster."
Rollin felt he needed to accept the challenge and quickly stripped on the spot, pulling off the turtleneck, kicking off his shoes and removing his socks, trousers and shorts.
Cinnamon was seeing him naked for the first time. She felt a little brazen and did not turn her head, though she did try to maintain eye contact. "Okay,” she pronounced a long moment later, holding his eyes with hers. “Now we’re even."
He immediately caught her reference. So, she had always known he had watched her in Santa Costa. "You had a towel," he protested.
"Only until I had to get dressed again. Perhaps I should have gone back into that bathroom with the guards."
"You’re just saying that because I should have told you then how beautiful I think you are." She smiled in response. "Room for two?" he asked.
For an answer, she pulled her knees in close and turned her back to him, leaving him the nearer end of the tub. He slid in behind her, legs either side of her and gently coaxed her back into his arms. He held her, doing all he could to resist caressing her breasts, watching them float ahead of her as he watched over her shoulder. She felt him hard against her.
He bent to kiss her neck and one of his hands left her arm to caress her side. Her hand met it and held it in place. He froze, awaiting a signal from her. She spoke softly, "Rollin … sorry … I don’t want my memory of our first time together to be a memory of here."
He sighed and kissed her bare shoulder. She turned to be able to look him in the eye and continued, "Somewhere. But not here."
He rested his head against hers and sighed, "Agreed – you deserve better."
"Okay?" she asked tentatively.
She had said somewhere. "I’ll wait forever, if I have to, I just hope it doesn’t take that long."
Cinnamon smiled and kissed him, "Soon."
They washed, then dressed quickly to return to the loft to wait until Gregor arrived. Rollin lay his wet pants against the warm chimney stone. Cinnamon attempted to style her damp hair.
"I’m glad you’re blonde again. I really prefer it."
"Rollin, about … well, it’s more than the place. It’s us. I want this to be real – not part of a masquerade. I want to be me and I want you … to be you."
He leaned toward her and when she met him, kissed her softly, acknowledging his agreement. He pulled back to meet her eyes, then slide his hand under her damp hair and pulled her to him for an intense kiss that he hoped would serve as a placeholder until the time was right.
Both were breathless when Anton called from the stairs, “Hello? Please come. Gregor is ready."
Quickly they finished dressing, gathered their few belongings, and left the loft. Gregor and Anton both gave Cinnamon’s damp blonde hair a double take. Gregor passed over their passports, also handing Rollin a small wad of dollars. The redhead seemed very pleased with himself. "All is arranged – we can leave now.”
Rollin opened his passport, "Alexei Vronksy?" it had not been changed. He turned to look over Cinnamon’s shoulder and review hers.
Gregor beamed, "And your wife, Anna."
"Vronsky instead of Kurnikova," Cinnamon indicated.
Even without close scrutiny Rollin could see that her passport was an obvious forgery. "Gregor, it’s been four days! Is this the best --." He felt Cinnamon’s hand on his arm and stopped.
She gently held Rollin’s forearm and moved closer to Gregor, explaining, “These names are very close to the names the secret police may have."
But Rollin would not be restrained and pulled away. "Close! This is the SAME name. Alexei Vronsky? I never expected to use his identity beyond the guard gate at Gbrest. It’s not even – it’s not a real name, it’s a character from Anna Karenina!" He paced in the small space, recognizing he might now pay the price for his wordplay. He was furious with himself for being a smart ass and endangering Cinnamon.
Gregor shrugged, not understanding the foreign man’s ire, "I doubt the secret police will be thinking that Vronsky would keep using that name."
Rollin’s patience was tested. "Right, the old double bluff, Chief," he answered sarcastically.
Gregor was downcast. Anton tried to intercede, "Perhaps they have been economical with the forged papers. Too many changes would be more easily detected."
Rollin was vexed. "Gregor, why didn’t Valery tell us – I could have forged the papers."
Anton tried to moderate, "I am sure they have done the best possible job."
Gregor felt he had to defend his leader, "This is what Valery has decided."
Rollin’s temper got the better of him and he lashed out at Gregor. “Then let me talk to Valery."
Gregor was now equally irate. "You don’t understand. Brausov is the next village to be searched. It is very tense at the borders. There is a news blackout, but we believe there has been a major defection – a top scientist in rocket navigation. Valery - all of us - we have done the best we can do."
Rollin paused as he realized Jim had been able to get Kurnikova to turn. Cinnamon could see that their benefactors might soon feel their charges were being ungrateful. She took Rollin’s hands in hers, "Anton’s right. And Gregor, too. I think we should hear the rest of Valery’s plan.”
Her voice was calm but her eyes and hands told him she thought he was pushing too hard. He took a deep breath and lowered his head. She turned back to Gregor, "Please – what else has been arranged?"
Gregor decided to continue. "We don’t think you will need the papers until you are over the border."
"How will we get over the border?" Rollin’s question was pointed but less biting.
"On the train to Svenya - as cargo. There is only a half-hearted border check because there are no passengers. We can … influence the guards who load the train. The box is on the back of the truck. Come."
Anton checked the yard and signaled it was okay. They followed Gregor up into the covered truck bed. Gregor opened the side of a wooden crate not much larger than a double steamer trunk. Rollin turned away, unable to contain his frustration. He turned to Cinnamon and could see she was downcast, though trying to hide it.
Gregor
watched them both. "This method - it has worked before. In this box,
there is water, enough for the trip – twelve hours. In Svenya, you will be able to fly to
Rollin looked at the box, then at Cinnamon. "Gregor, Anton – please may I speak with her for a moment?"
Gregor nodded and opened the back flap to exit with Anton.
Cinnamon spoke softly in English, "It’s a way out.”
"It’s twelve hours."
"I feel like the Russian doll within a doll when the one inside just keeps getting smaller, except I’m the thing inside in the even smaller space."
He reached for her shoulders, "We could try to get out on our own."
"With Andreyev’s men searching village to village…" She shook her head no, then moved into Rollin’s arms.
Gregor opened the canvas flap. "You must decide. Now we must leave or we will not be able to get the cargo onto the train in time."
Rollin looked at Cinnamon who nodded bravely and moved into the box. Gregor climbed up quickly. Rollin glanced at his watch and saw Anton peek into the truck bed and said to him softly in Russian, "Thank you – for all you have done." Anton nodded and sighed as his two charges were closed into the wooden crate.
The twelve hours were interminable. Rollin marveled at Cinnamon’s apparent calm as she leaned against his chest and shoulder, eyes closed, but not actually sleeping. He tried to emulate her trance-like peace and they barely spoke for the duration of the journey.
It had taken an hour to load the crate. Once the train was moving, ten hours passed without any stops. When the train slowed, presumably at the border, Rollin had picked up the gun, but there was no activity or interest in their car. After two more hours had passed, he reached for the gun again, expecting their journey to end soon.
When the train stopped, they heard the rickety car door being rolled open. Moments later their box was tilted to one side and rolled out of the car and down a ramp. When it was righted, three taps were made against the top panel. Less than five minutes later the side panel was pulled away with a crowbar. Rollin held the gun at the ready, but as the panel was removed a gentle face leaned in and signaled with his head that the two stowaways should exit.
Rollin rose slowly testing his cramped legs and reached in to help Cinnamon out. She stumbled slightly and the genial stevedore reached to steady her. He spoke in broken Russian. "You are at port. Take bus number three and you are at airport in twenty minutes. Go now – gate is on right."
Cinnamon smiled, "Dosvedonya." Rollin nodded his thanks too and they followed their instructions.
It was nearly ten in the evening local time when they reached the airport.
Rollin re-set his watch as he looked at the flight board. Flights to
They spoke German at check-in, posing as tourists, explaining their luggage and passports were lost. Rollin passed the night clerk an extra bill and he looked the other way as he registered as Herr und Frau Schmidt. When they reached the tiny drab room, Rollin reached for Cinnamon and pulled her into his arms. A single bare bulb hung from the ceiling. They held each other tightly as a loud propeller plane took off overhead, shaking the glass in the dirty window.
Cinnamon stroked his unfamiliar goatee. "I just realized – our names – if Anna Karenina has been allowed to divorce Karenin and marry her true love Count Alexei Vronsky she’d have been … me - Anna Vronsky."
Rollin met her lips softly, "I thought you wanted to be you – Cinnamon."
"I do," she answered, kissing him back.
"Almost home, Frau Schmidt."
"I know."
"You were amazing in our little box." His lips moved lower to caress her neck.
She smiled enjoying the feel of his beard against her skin, "Thanks. I was highly motivated." She saw his brow knit and added, "To get out of there."
Rollin pressed against her, thrilled to finally have her in his arms. He felt her relax against him and quickly steered her to the sagging bed. He kneeled on it, lowering her ahead of him and moved his leg between hers as the ancient mattress springs squealed in protest. He stretched out across her, pinning her to the bed, burying his lips against her neck, nibbling, caressing.
Suddenly, he stopped. She had not resisted, but he had remembered his promise. "Cinnamon, this isn’t right. Come on – let’s get out of here.”
Cinnamon was confused “But to where?”
“Not here." Rollin stood and looked around the depressing room. "Cinnamon, you belong in The Ritz."
She smiled, rising up on her elbows. “Thanks for the compliment, but I was not aware that The Ritz had undergone a building initiative in this part of the world.”
"That’s why we’re going to