Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) (27 page)

“Sergei?” he prompted, satisfied the knot would pass muster at court and reached out for a diamond stick pin to secure the end.

“We found him, eventually. Or he found us, I suppose.” He took a sip of coffee, his gaze flicking around the bedroom. “Shit that man is huge, Nate, and angry looking. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Nate picked up his morning jacket and shrugged the fabric over his shoulders. “Cara left early, so stop expecting her to walk through the bathroom door. She is determined to feed as many children as possible while here.”

Loki gave an earthy laugh and returned his attention to the coffee. “I found a delightful pair of energetic sisters last night, who have worn the edge off. So your wife is safe, for today.”

Nate growled. Loki would get his hands on Cara over his dead body and the sooner he realised it the better. “Sergei is always angry when in town; he only relaxes out in the wilderness. More importantly, is he coming?”

“Yes. He’ll meet us at the Hellcat day after tomorrow to check out your tea blend. Plus, he wants a ride home.” Loki rose and followed Nate out to the main room of the luxurious suite.

“Good, I have to go play politics and follow a lead at court. Keep Miguel out of trouble.”

Loki shrugged and gave a lazy smile. “That will be easy; he is sleeping off one hell of a hangover.”

Alexander held court in St. George’s Hall. Seated upon a gilded chair, the imperial eagle curled its claws around the high back of the throne and spread wide wings behind the tsar’s head. Another eagle the size of a man and worked entirely in gold thread, encompassed the red velvet canopy of state, hanging behind the throne. Under the protection of his emblems, the tsar heard submissions from various ambassadors. Their droning voices became the buzzing of fat, lazy bees in the overheated atmosphere, despite the rapidly approaching threat of snow outside the palace walls.

Nate and Nikolai stood to one side, watching the body language of the ambassadors, reading the unspoken cues that hinted at hidden alliances. The Russian court drew nobles from across Europe and Britain, and the politics played out in her glittering corridors were a continuous game of high stakes chess. Each country sought to capture the other side’s king or queen, knocking aside pawns and lesser pieces.

Today, Nate didn’t play for intelligence for his monarch to advance a British rook another square. Today, he looked for clues to recover his knight before it was permanently removed from the game.

Natalie and Cara discovered Nolton’s hidden interest in China, which knitted with his suspicions that the Chinese agent had talked about the contents of the tea chest. Now Nate and Nikolai needed to dig deeper to unearth Nolton’s plan and to figure out how to use it against him.

Nate followed possible threads in his mind as he watched the interplay of diplomats and aristocrats. The end of the Opium Wars saw China, England, France, and Russia settle the Treaty of Peking. The treaty gave the other nations a permanent diplomatic presence in China and allowed Christians to hold property. Nolton could legitimately have a presence in China, so why keep his estate secret? Why seek to divert attention now with his false treason charges and whispers to Victoria about the dragon egg? At least the agent kept silent on how many eggs he smuggled out of the Forbidden City.

An itch at the back of Nate’s brain told him there was more on the chess board, something much bigger than poppy fields, the lucrative opium market, and the lure of a mythical beast on a leash.

Movement caught his eye, and he looked up as a grey livered servant appeared between two marble columns. An invisible line held him back, his status too lowly to allow him to cross into the imperial presence. With cap in his hands, he sought out his master. Nate recognised the uniform with the silver line on the pants and jacket and the silver emblem over the wearer’s heart. He nudged Nikolai.

The count’s gaze alighted on the man, whose head made a jerking motion. He muttered an excuse to Nate, and crossed the room. Taking the servant by the arm, he led him away from watching eyes and beyond the pillars.

Minutes passed in solitary boredom. Nate pulled at the tight cravat and feigned interest in news of the latest child born to a long line of minor royalty.

When Nikolai returned, he bent his head close to Nate’s. “We have trouble, my friend. The British airship Aurora has arrived, carrying over a hundred soldiers. A rather bombastic Duke Nolton is outside in the courtyard, demanding an audience with Alexander.”

Nate raised an eyebrow. “Then the entertainment is about to start for the afternoon. Let us see what Nolton plans.”

The two men waited. The account from the Chinese ambassador about the state of the tea crop became a lilting melody like a small songbird singing for its supper. Raised voices and the clash of weapons from the hall beyond halted the recital. Heads swung to face the wall of marble columns and the approaching mass of soldiers.

Like some exotic bird, an inner swell of scarlet was ringed by black as the tsar’s personal guard surrounded the small retinue of British soldiers. An assortment of electric pikes, rifles, and sabres were waved to keep the intruders hustling in the appropriate direction. The encircled troops kept their hands away from their weapons, aware they were vastly outnumbered, but egos itched to play the odds and show the legendary British fighting superiority.

As the spectacle spilled into St. George’s Hall, Alexander rose from his throne. His back rigid, he stood on the top step of the dais and loomed over the interlopers. “What is the meaning of this interruption?” His strong voice echoed around the high ceilinged room, silencing all chatter.

The group halted and one man detached himself. He brushed aside a charged pike like a willow twig, despite the base sizzling with coiled electricity. Tall and lean with an angular face and lush blond hair, some would label him handsome in a pale consumptive way. His black clothing made him appear more undertaker than aristocrat, the somber attire relieved only by a deep purple waistcoat―the royal colour―and a crisp white cravat. He gave a perfunctory bow, the barest inclination of his upper body. A titter ran through the crowd at the slight to the tsar.

“I am Duke Nolton, here on Her Majesty Queen Victoria’s instruction.” His gaze swung around the assembled nobles and diplomats. He stretched out an arm, terminated by an accusing finger, and pointed directly at Nate. “That man is a traitor to England, who has escaped from the Tower of London. I am tasked with returning him to face his execution.”

Alexander flicked his gaze over Nate and then to Nikolai, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. The tsar returned his attention to the noble before him.

“Viscount Lyons is a friend of this court. Why would I hand him over to you?” Once more in control of the room, he returned to his ornate throne. He rested his chin on curled fingers stroking the side of his mutton chop moustache, waiting to be convinced.

Nolton blinked as though unused to being questioned. “Queen Victoria demands―”

Alexander held up his hand, silencing the intruder. “Your queen thinks to make demands of me? Despite Victoria extending the boundaries of her British Empire, I believe I am still tsar here.”

Laughter rolled through the crowd. Nolton turned, looking for a friend, an anchor to secure him while he launched his attack. The Chinese ambassador looked away and started examining the overhead chandelier. His actions so nonchalant and disinterested, they clashed with the rabid curiosity of the other ambassadors and nobles crammed into the royal chamber.

Ah. They reveal by trying to conceal,
Nate thought as he watched the interaction, or lack thereof, between the two men.

Deep red crept up from under Nolton’s cravat and stole over his face. “I have orders. He is to be surrendered to my custody.” His finger jabbed at the air. A vein pulsed up the side of his forehead.

The tsar’s bodyguards shifted their weight on their feet. Too well trained to move out of formation, they swayed, balanced on the knife edge of readiness in case the interloper moved any closer toward their monarch.

“If I may make a suggestion, sire?” Nikolai stepped forward.

Alexander turned to his spy master, curiosity written on his face at the unusual interruption. “Yes, Count Dukov?”

“Perhaps we should allow the gentlemen to settle this matter between them in a more courtly manner?”

Alexander laughed, catching Nikolai’s meaning. “Excellent suggestion. Bring me two swords,” he shouted. “Duke Nolton, if you can best Viscount Lyons with a blade, you can have him.”

Nolton’s eyes narrowed, his gaze flitting from the tsar to Nate. “I am here on a mission for the queen of the British Empire. I do not need to best this
criminal
to reinforce my position; he is unworthy of staining my blade.”

“Ouch,” Nate murmured, placing a hand over his heart.

“You are beneath my contempt.” Nolton’s volume escalated with his temper.

“And yet, you travelled all this way just to fetch me back.” The other man’s temper tantrum was insufficient to crack Nate’s cool façade. He held his control while the other noble raged like a thwarted child.

“Enough!” Alexander silenced the combatants. “Either draw your sword and demonstrate your claim of superiority, or leave my presence.”

A low reptilian hiss escaped from between the duke’s ground teeth, his gaze locking with Nate’s. “This is not over.”

With the scantest regard to protocol, he spun on his heel and strode from the audience chamber. British soldiers disengaged from the tsar’s bodyguard, and scrambled to keep pace with their lord.

The Chinese ambassador turned from his survey of the light fittings and stared at the departing retinue. One fine eyebrow arched as Nolton passed. Nate caught the almost imperceptible movement. The brief exchange of minute facial expressions completed in a matter of mere seconds.

“Alexander is dragging the court to Peterhof tomorrow on a wolf hunt. The ambassadors will have to follow.” Nikolai also saw the tiny exchange. “China will be required to attend as will his wife, who I understand is rather timid on the field. It would be unfortunate if she found herself over horsed. I bet she would appreciate another woman or two looking out for her.”

Nate slapped his friend on the back. “I like a good chase, don’t you?”

utumn’s cold winds marched in time with the soldiers, brushing at heels, sending boots scuffing along the paving like fallen leaves. The enormous courtyard before Buckingham Palace teemed with thousands of soldiers, shivering in their thin wool uniforms, constant movement the most effective method to fend off the chill. From up high, black clad bodies crawled over one another like ants, obscuring the surface they trod as they followed an unseen trail. Impossible to distinguish individual features, they became one mass with one common purpose―their queen’s purpose.