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Chapter Title: In the Shadow of Suspicion
"Andrei, cooperate fully with the investigation conducted by our comrades from the Second Directorate," Kozhedub said with a forced smile. Despite holding the rank of major, he understood the true power the KGB wielded. Without hesitation, he relinquished his office for the interrogation.
"Commander Kozhedub, please step out," Major Serov said flatly. "I'd like to speak with Captain Andrei alone."
Kozhedub's smile vanished instantly, replaced by a sour expression. He had hoped to stay and perhaps steer the conversation, but now he was being dismissed like an errand boy.
"Very well," he muttered, then quietly left the room, shutting the door behind him.
Serov remained seated, his face unreadable. "Captain Andrei, we've reviewed your report, as well as Commander Kozhedub's statement and your flight logs. Something doesn't sit right. Your immediate flight path upon takeoff… it was as if you knew Belenko was headed to Hokkaido. Almost like you anticipated his defection."
The accusation hung in the air like smoke.
Andrei's pulse quickened. The KGB had the instincts of a bloodhound. It didn't take them long to pick up on anomalies. His decision to fly east had been fueled by urgency, not certainty, but to someone like Serov, it raised red flags.
"I had suspicions," Andrei replied calmly. "Belenko often voiced his frustration—about the base, the system, everything. At the time, I didn't think much of it. But while recovering from my injury, I found a map in our dormitory. It had several Japanese airbases marked on it."
Serov didn't respond, only stared.
"By the time I reached the control tower," Andrei continued, "I heard his plane had disappeared from radar. Based on what I saw, I believed he was trying to defect."
His explanation was straightforward. The map still lay in the dorm; the KGB could confirm that. But Andrei's gut twisted. What if they suspected him of being an accomplice? Just because he shared a room with Belenko?
He had shot the man down with his own hands—what more proof of loyalty did they want?
"Anything else you'd like to add?" Serov asked, eyes fixed like a scalpel.
Andrei hesitated. Then, an image flickered in his mind.
"Yes. Before the defection, Belenko got involved with a woman named Anne. She claimed to be a geography student from the University of Berlin. Their relationship was… sudden. It felt staged. I didn't trust her."
He paused. "If you're looking for the real instigator, I'd start with her."
Serov raised an eyebrow, then reached into a folder and pulled out a photograph.
"Is this the woman you're referring to?"
Andrei's eyes widened. The girl in the photo was unmistakably Anne—wearing the same white camisole and blue jeans as when he had seen her last with Ekaterina. But now, her clothes were soaked in blood. Her face was barely recognizable. The background appeared to be Vladivostok railway station.
"Yes. That's her," Andrei said, stunned. "What… happened?"
"She was murdered," Serov replied coolly. "At approximately 1500 hours, just an hour after your return to base. She and several others were preparing to board a train bound for Berlin when someone shot her with a suppressed pistol. The killer escaped in the ensuing chaos."
Andrei stared at the image. Murdered? So soon after Belenko's defection failed?
The CIA had burned her.
It was the oldest trick in the book. When an asset fails, tie up the loose ends. Anne had been expendable. But the look in Serov's eyes told him something else—he was now being sized up as a suspect.
"I had nothing to do with that," Andrei said, more sharply than he intended. "If I had to guess, the CIA cleaned up after themselves. Belenko failed. Anne's mission failed. She was eliminated."
"Convenient answer," Serov said. "You say it's the Americans. The Americans will say it's a Soviet internal affair. In the end, no one's guilty—except the dead woman."
His tone shifted.
"Comrade Andrei, not long ago, you were paraded as a national hero. But now, troubling patterns are emerging. Patterns that suggest you may not be as loyal as you appear."
Andrei straightened in his chair, anger tightening his jaw.
"Comrade Serov," he said coldly, "if you're accusing me of treason, then present evidence. Otherwise, even the KGB has no right to level charges without proof."
The words came out sharper than intended, but Andrei didn't care. He had risked his life for the country—again and again. And now they had the gall to question his loyalty?
Serov leaned forward, voice low and deliberate.
"We found out that your first meeting with Anne wasn't just through Belenko. You met her together. And then, the day before yesterday, right before you left the hospital, you met her again. Then, yesterday, Belenko defected. Coincidence?"
He narrowed his eyes.
"Anne wasn't just seducing Belenko. She was sent to turn both of you. Defect together. That was the plan."
Andrei snapped.
"If that were true, why would I shoot him down? If I were planning to defect, why would I sabotage it myself?"
He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The KGB's logic was spiraling. It wasn't about truth anymore—it was about narrative, about finding a scapegoat.
Major Serov gave no response, but his silence was more dangerous than words.
Andrei could feel it now—this wasn't just about Belenko or Anne.
It was about control.
And he was now standing on a razor's edge.
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