Free Freedom Bridge: A Cold War Thriller by Erika Holzer

ingrained in me, it was how to be resourceful. I learned how to ferret out one’s enemies. How to distinguish between a man’s strengths and his weaknesses. I seem to recall your early interest in medical research. Did you know that’s how I started?”
    “In research?” Kiril said, incredulous.
    “Of a special kind. Ever heard of the Index, Little Brother?”
    Kiril had heard of it, all right. A staggering collection of biographical information, infinite in scope and indiscriminate in content. Anyone of even remote interest to the KGB was targeted.
    “Aunt Sofia grasped right from the start that the Index was a perfect fit for my special talents. Over the years, I’ve made myself useful to a great many influential people,” Aleksei said with a faint smile of reminiscence.
    “You mean that over the years you’ve become a blackmailer par excellence ,” Kiril said with disgust.
    “One tramples or one is trampled on,” Aleksei said philosophically. “But our aunt was not so sanguine about your future, was she, Little Brother? Oh, you were studious enough. Uncomplaining. Obedient. Top grades. Still, you’d built a kind of wall around yourself that shut people out, especially as you got older. ‘Kiril even shuts me out, the ungrateful brat!’ Sofia told me once. What’s so funny?”
    “Our Aunt Sofia was more astute than I gave her credit for.”
    “I could have helped you professionally had you come to me,” Aleksei mused. “Why didn’t you?”
    “That’s like asking a priest why he never made a pact with the devil.”
    “You are your mother’s son,” Aleksei said with a mock sigh. “Your antisocial attitude is precisely why I’ve kept an eye on you all these years. I could have had you arrested, you know. Or confined in one of our mental institutions, like Vladimir Bukovsky and men of his ilk. But I didn’t. Maybe blood really is thicker than water,” Aleksei said magnanimously. “Or, maybe I’m a generous person when it comes to relatively harmless transgressions. Like your learning German.”
    It took Kiril a split second to realize how naïve he’d been. Of course Aleksei would have put out feelers for something like his language capabilities . . . and for god knows what else.
    “I learned German to read medical journals,” he said matter-of-factly. “I also hoped that someday I’d have an opportunity to talk to our German comrades in the East.”
    “And learning English?”
    “Same reason.”
    “You flirted with the Gulag,” Aleksei said bluntly.
    “Thanks for the warning.”
    “Take it seriously, Kiril. This is not the time to make trouble. It’s bad enough that we had to pull out of Medicine International’s Artificial Heart Symposium in West Berlin,” he said sourly.
    “You sound disappointed,” Kiril said slowly, even as his mind raced while he tried to figure out why.
    “Let’s just say I was looking forward to a friendly chat with the eminent Dr. Kurt Brenner at close range and on friendly ground—a missed opportunity.”
    “What business could the KGB possibly have with a world-class heart surgeon like Dr. Brenner?” Kiril scoffed.
    “So Brenner is a hero of yours, is he?”
    Aleksei turned toward a massive figure who stood just inside his office door. “Bring me the Dr. Kurt Brenner file, Luka.”
    “Sergeant Luka Rogov,” Aleksei said as the uniformed Mongolian returned with a bulky file tied with rough cord.
    “We’ve already met,” Kiril said drily. “Your Mr. Rogov dragged me in here, remember?”
    “I have to make a call,” Aleksei said, ignoring Kiril’s sarcasm. “A private matter I must attend to. But before I permit you to leave, I cannot resist seeing your reaction to what’s in this file.” Smiling, he handed the file to Kiril.
    Something in that smile, even more than his brother’s words, made Kiril open the Brenner file with trepidation.
    It was an odd mix. Copies of military service documents. Diplomas. Grainy newspaper articles.