The Winter Thief Read Online Free PDF Page B

no one followed me.”
    Gabriel grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “We have to leave right now,” he said through gritted teeth. “Now. Now.”
    She threw on her coat and grabbed the small leather satchel that contained their money, travel papers, and the manuscript.
    “Are we coming back? What about the suitcase?”
    “No.” He took the satchel from her hand and pushed her toward the door.
    She pulled away from him and in the dim light of the stove began to throw her few things into the suitcase. He pulled it out of her hands and flung it across the room.
    “I’m taking my things,” she shouted, sobbing, retrieving it. “You don’t care about me at all. Why did you marry me? Just as a convenient cover?”
    “Shut up, Vera. You’re being stupid.” He glanced nervously at the door.
    Vera placed the suitcase next to the chair and sat, arms folded tightly across her chest. “I won’t be spoken to like that. Go ahead. I’m staying.”
    “You’ll get us both killed.” After a moment, Gabriel pulled himself together. “All right,” he said. “I’ll go to the hostler on the corner and rent a carriage to carry my lady away. Is that acceptable?” He made a formal bow, but his smile was forced.
    Vera wiped her eyes with the edge of her scarf. “Thank you. I’m sorry I made such a fuss.”
    “It won’t take more than five minutes. Take your suitcase and whatever else you want to pack and wait for me at the back door to the alley. Five minutes,” he warned. “Be very quiet. If you see anyone, run into the alley and hide.” He reached into the satchel and handed her a small booklet, her Russian passport. “Put this in your pocket, in case we get separated.”
    “I’ll be ready.” She jumped up and retrieved her suitcase from across the room. Hearing his shoes clatter down the back stairs, she worried that he was not wearing boots.
     
     
    I T TOOK more than half an hour to find a hostler so late at night, agree to terms, and harness the horse. Gabriel would have to find a way to return the carriage tomorrow so as not to arouse further suspicion. Tonight of all nights, with the gold safely hidden, he had wanted to celebrate by making love to Vera. He wished he still had his driver, Abel, and the carriage, but after the robbery they had driven to the pasha’s stables in Bebek to stash the gold, and then Abel had dropped Gabriel off and gone home.
    Gabriel wiped the snow from his eyes and slapped the horse’s rump with the reins. It was senseless to rail at Vera for her naïve enthusiasm, which had made her forget the basic rule of any mission—make sure you’re not detected. But he could no longer risk staying here. It was crucial that he not be arrested. The entire project, years of preparation, would be destroyed. New Concord commune needed the weapons and the gold to survive. Vera didn’t know about the robbery and the guns or their link to New Concord, so how could he expect her to understand what was at stake?
    Over the past eight months, fifty pioneers of the socialist International from Europe, Russia, and the United States had made their way to the Choruh Valley in the Kachkar Mountains to begin a grand experiment Gabriel had conceived and spent the last ten years bringing to life—the first truly socialist community in the world. This was his dream and the dream of dozens of comrades who were risking their lives to realize it.
    Last year, he and three associates had traveled by ship down the Danube past Budapest and Belgrade to Trabzon on the Black Sea. From there they rode through the mountains and followed the rapids of the Choruh River to the village of Karakaya, where in the name of the New Concord Foundation, the commune had bought a parcel of land, an orchard, and a ruined monastery that it planned to restore. The valley was a paradise of alternating rain and brilliant sunshine, with stands of poplar and neat orchards of olive, pomegranate, and fig trees. The streams were