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Page 17.
— ii —
Anadyr was a baited trap—but the prey never came, not to bury the love of his life, nor even to rescue me. Had my father known where to find us, things would have been different, but not necessarily any better.
As it was, he did not know I existed, and by a most cruel twist of fate, he thought she had once again abandoned him—which was never true. She did what she had to do in her tangled net of warring puppet strings.
Stalin had banished her to Anadyr, so far from Moscow, so near to U.S. territory, as bait—in hope of luring my elusive father to a terrible revenge death to be inflicted by the dictator’s goons. The man of steel was already then dying. His bow was slack. History swept past him as it does with all of us.
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