Moscow, Lubyanka Square, NKVD Headquarters
August 11, 1944, 0950 hours

Vladimir adjusted the plain drab uniform that he had been given to replace the battered and worn peasant clothing he had worn during his exodus from German territory. He was glad for the change, but he would have been happier if he had been able to bathe before putting on his new clothes. He could still smell the faint odor of fish even though it had been weeks since he had been on Sasha's trawler … and knew that others could smell it as well. Well, if Tovarish Beria is so anxious to see me that he cannot wait for me to bathe, he will just have to put up with the odor.

As he finished climbing the stairs and started walking down the third floor hallway, he thought back to the fear he had felt the last time he entered this building. At that time, Marya had accompanied him and assured him that everything would be fine. Even so, he still had been terrified that he would be sent away for allowing himself to become a prisoner of the Germans. His fears had not been realized, and in fact, he had been rewarded for all he had done for his country. He couldn't help wondering … what was in store for him this time?

True – he had done a good job on his Rastenburg assignment, and the fact that they all had to leave had not been of his doing. He had also been a part of rescuing Marya from Gestapo hands and even had been able to warn Michael in Berlin of the dangers he faced. But the fact that he had been recalled to Moscow just to talk about the events in Rastenburg worried him. Could they find a way to blame him for the destruction of the Rastenburg operation? He shook his head. Of course they can. They always can find a way to blame someone for anything. But there is nothing that I can do about that … I just have to make the best of whatever happens. He had reached the office and took a deep breath before entering.

The secretary looked up at the sound of the door. "Minsky?" she asked gruffly. When he nodded confirmation, she motioned towards the door behind her. "He awaits you," she said, and turned her attention back to the papers on her desk.

Vladimir walked calmly past her to the door. He took another deep breath to settle his nerves and entered the private office of Laverenty Beria, chief of the NKVD – Soviet Security. He walked in and clicked his heels as he stiffened to attention. "Vladimir Ivanovich Minsky, reporting as ordered!" he said.

Beria chuckled as he rose from behind his desk and walked around to greet Vladimir. "Vladimir Ivanovich," he said, extending his hand in greeting. "You must be tired after your long journey. Sit down and relax while we talk."

Vladimir shook his hand. "Spasibo, Tovarish Beria," he replied as he sat in the large chair by the desk. "It has been a long and …" he tugged at his clothes and wrinkled his nose, "somewhat smelly endeavor."

Beria laughed. "You cannot mask the smell of the sea," he said lightly. "But that is no matter. You will have plenty of time to clean up and rest at home."

Vladimir felt his eyes widen at the statement. "Home, sir?" he asked eagerly.

Beria nodded as he leaned against his desk. "Da, you will get a chance to see your family before you are questioned about the events in Rastenburg," he replied.

"Questioned?" Vladimir asked. "Am I in trouble, Tovarish?"

"Nyet, on the contrary," Beria assured him. "You performed a great service in this mess. Because of your close contact with the man who attempted the assassination, we were able to warn our man in Berlin and get him safely away."

Vladimir felt relief. He had not heard anything about Michael since the day Stauffen was killed and was not sure if he was safe. "Michael is safe?" he asked.

Beria nodded. "I understand that there was some excitement in his escape, but Svetlana Viktorovna assures me that all of the relevant persons in Berlin made it to safety because of your information," he replied. "You can ask her about it yourself when she arrives here in Moscow."

"Marya is returning to Moscow?" he asked. "When does she arrive?"

"Sometime in the upcoming days," Beria replied. "As you are aware, it is hard to predict the timing on these journeys." Vladimir nodded. "Until she arrives, we will allow you to rest with your family."

That was the second time Beria had mentioned Vladimir's family, and the impatience to see them was growing inside of Vladimir. "How long …" he started, "I mean, what will my assignment be when I am through in Moscow?" he asked.

Beria looked at him. There was a slight sparkle of amusement in the man's eyes. "You will not be leaving Moscow," he said.

Vladimir's heart skipped a beat. He did not know how to interpret that statement. It had not been said with any hostility, but Vladimir knew that did not mean there wasn't hostility behind it. "Not be leaving?" he asked tentatively.

Beria smiled broadly. "It has been decided that since you are now known to the German intelligence as a man associated with the failed assassination attempt, it would be best if you remain here to help coordinate the activities of our agents remaining in the field," he said.

Vladimir was speechless. He opened his mouth but could not force any words to come out.

"Congratulations, Vladimir Ivanovich," Beria said. "You can inform your family that you will remain here in Moscow for the rest of the war."

"Spasibo, Tovarish Beria," Vladimir gasped. "I cannot believe it could be true."

Beria's smile continued. "The decision came from Iosif Vissarionovich himself," he replied. "Would you question his decision?"

"Never!" Vladimir said forcefully. "I serve wherever he thinks is best." He began to smile. "Home … Wait until Natalya hears this."

"Speaking of your family," Beria said, bringing Vladimir's attention back to the issues at hand. "They have been moved again since you were last here." He bent over his desk and scribbled on a scrap of paper. "Here is your new address," he said, handing Vladimir the paper.

"A new flat as well?" he asked, looking at the paper.

Beria laughed. "Go!" he ordered. "Spend time with your family. We will send for you when Svetlana Viktorovna returns."

Vladimir rose and stiffened to attention once more. "Spasibo," he said, clicking his heels slightly. He was so happy that as he left the room, Vladimir was sure that his feet never touched the ground.

- - - - -

Vladimir walked up the steps to the building that was his new home. His knees were weak with anticipation. I am home again … this time for good. He could hardly believe his good fortune. When he first saw the address written on the paper, he thought it was a mistake. This flat was in a very good area of the city – close to Lubyanka Square. It was not the type of neighborhood that a lowly tailor could expect to live.

He stopped in the hallway outside the door to his flat. He could hear muffled conversation coming from inside. He felt himself smile as he reached his hand up to knock on the door. He would soon be part of those conversations … and never have to go away again! The talking stopped at the sound of his knock, and he could hear footsteps heading for the door. It opened slowly and Vladimir found himself smiling at the surprised face of his wife Natasha.

"Vovochka! You are home again!" she shrieked as she leapt into his arms hugging him tightly. Vladimir could hear the shouts of welcome from the rest of the family and a shrill "Papa! Papa! Papa!" before he was knocked to the floor by what he thought was a small tank.

Vladimir found himself flat on his back with his son, Sasha, bouncing on his chest. "Papa doma! Papa doma!" Sasha shouted.

Vladimir's mother appeared and lifted Sasha from his chest. "Yes Sashenka, your Papa is home. Now let him up off the floor," she admonished. When Vladimir rose, he kissed his mother and accepted welcome from the rest of the family. He noticed an additional family member that wasn't present on his last visit home – Ivan, his sister's husband, was back from the front. Vladimir gave him a sympathetic handshake as he noticed the left sleeve of his shirt hanging empty by his side.

"Vovochka, come see our new flat!" Natasha said, dragging him inside. "We have the entire floor – can you believe it? There are three bedrooms, our own kitchen and even our own bath!"

Vladimir looked around at the spacious flat. It was unbelievable that they would be given something this grand. "It is very nice," he said. "I think I am going to be spoiled living here."

"How long are you going to be visiting this time, Vovochka?" his father asked.

Vladimir smiled and looked at Natasha. "I will be staying here in Moscow," he said. He watched his wife's eyes grow wide in disbelief. "They are not sending me back into Germany. I am to stay here and help coordinate the people that are still there." Natasha's eyes were growing moist.

"Is it really true?" she asked. "You are home to stay?" Vladimir nodded as Natasha rushed to him and hugged him tightly again.

As Vladimir hugged his wife, he looked at the happy faces of the rest of his family. "It is good to finally be home," he said softly.

- - - - -

Vladimir snuggled closer to his wife as they lay in the bed, their bodies sleek with sweat. They were quiet as their breathing returned to normal. The small bed in the room was empty – Vladimir's mother had suggested that Sasha sleep in their room that night so that they, as she put it, could talk about a new brother for Sasha. Vladimir chuckled at the recollection.

"What are you laughing at?" Natasha asked, wrapping her arm tighter around him.

"I was just remembering what Sashenka said when Mama told him he was sleeping with them tonight," he replied. "Imagine … he wanted to help us talk about a new brother for him."

Natasha laughed. "You seemed to have no trouble talking for yourself," she said.

Vladimir hugged her tighter. "And in a few minutes, I will be in the mood for some more talking," he replied.

"I am so glad you are home," she whispered. When Vladimir did not respond, she asked, "What is the matter?"

"I almost never made it," he said quietly.

She shifted and raised herself up on her elbow to face him. "What do you mean?"

Vladimir took a deep breath and then slowly told her everything that had happened to him since he was home last. He did not leave any detail out – including how close he came to being killed after Stauffen had tried to kill Hitler and how he had killed a man with his bare hands.

Natasha was silent, listening to the entire story. When he finished, she leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek. "You are safe now," she said. "But what of the others? Did your warning come in time for them to escape Berlin?"

"I think so," he replied. "I was told today that everyone made it out safely – even Marya."

"Svetlana?" Natasha asked, remembering Marya's real name. "Have you seen her since you helped rescue her from that nasty German?"

"Nyet," he replied. "But she is due here in Moscow soon and I will see her then."

"I am glad she is safe," Natasha said. "When she is here, you must invite her to visit."

Vladimir pulled Natasha to him. "I will do that," he said. "But enough talk about that. I wish to talk more about a brother for Sashenka."

They talked long into the night … though very few words were spoken.