The Romanov Conspiracy (23 page)

“I take it you didn’t ask me here just to talk about religion, Madame Volkov. Or Chekhov’s writing, for that matter, though I’m sure you’re familiar with it.”

“You know who I am?”

“I once saw you onstage and recognized your face from the newspapers. But I’m mystified as to why St. Petersburg’s most famous actress would want to meet me.”

“You have a good memory, Mr. Andrev. But the truth is my husband was murdered on Lenin’s orders after the Reds seized power and I haven’t stepped onto a stage since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Murdered for what reason?”

“Because Lenin’s a bloodthirsty killer. My husband opposed him and paid with his life. That’s the way it is in Russia these days. Dissent is crushed.”

She stared into Andrev’s eyes. “They told me that something bad happened to you before you fled Russia, Mr. Andrev. That you had some kind of confrontation with the secret police and that you were forced to abandon your wife and child. Would you care to tell me what happened?”

“That’s not your business.”

“You’re right, but it may have a bearing on an offer I’m about to make to you.”

“What offer?”

“A very interesting one. Please answer.”

Andrev’s face tightened, his eyes caverns of pain. “I was hunted by the Cheka soon after I escaped from a camp. I managed to reach St. Petersburg and make contact with my wife and son. We didn’t have
much time together, a few minutes, no more, because our home was being watched.”

He faltered. “I had to leave quickly so as not to endanger them. That’s when I encountered the Cheka commissar hunting me. There was a confrontation. I shot a couple of his men and barely managed to flee.”

“Do you still care for your wife and son?”

“My wife divorced me. But of course I care. And how could I forget my son?”

“Why did your wife’s feelings change toward you?”

Andrev betrayed a heart-wrenching look. “War changes us all. It changed Nina more than most. Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

Hanna stood. “There’s a small restaurant not far from here that serves a half-decent borscht. If you’ve no objection, I’d like to buy you lunch. The people I represent have an interesting proposition to put to you.”

“What people?”

“That will be explained in time. We’d like you to return to Russia. It would be highly dangerous. But we can offer you something in return.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“How would you like to bring Nina and your son to London?”

25

MOSCOW

Two thousand miles away it was blustery and threatening rain that same afternoon as the olive green Fiat truck pulled up outside a shabby tenement building at the southern end of Kolinsky Prospect.

Built a century previous, it housed twelve families in sixteen rooms, with no electricity and dilapidated, stinking communal toilets on the ground floor.

Yakov climbed out of the Fiat, carrying a bulky brown-wrapped parcel tied with string. He wore his leather jacket, cap, and high boots, his holstered Nagant pistol by his side. “Wait here and keep an eye on the truck. I want to speak with Andrev’s wife alone.”

In the driver’s seat, Zoba smiled, the Georgian’s dark eyes slanting at the corners. “You really think they’d steal a truck belonging to the Cheka around here?”

“In desperate times like these, people will do anything.”

When Yakov knocked, she came to the door.

She carried an armful of washing and looked strained, wearing a frayed dress, stitched in places, her blond hair down around her shoulders.

“Hello, Nina. May I come in?”

Beyond the door Yakov saw a shabby room sparsely furnished with a rickety table and a pair of wicker chairs, the peeling wallpaper speckled with mold patches. In one corner was a woodstove, some blackened pots on top. An ancient wrought-iron bed was pushed against one wall and she’d obviously done her best to decorate the room, the rotting sash windows draped with blue curtains, a handful of white lilies in an old vase.

She appeared tired and ran a hand anxiously through her hair. “Sergey’s asleep. I’d ask you to be quiet.”

Yakov saw the boy sleeping in the bed, covered in old coats and blankets, his blond curls damp on his forehead. He was a handsome child who bore a strong resemblance to his father. He gave a hacking cough and turned over in his sleep. Yakov saw he had a sickly pallor. A bottle of medicine and a teaspoon were near the bed, next to a kerosene lamp.

“How have you been, Nina? How’s the boy?”

“Sergey’s been ill. His chest has always been weak, ever since he was born. But the damp here doesn’t help matters.”

“What does the doctor say?”

She pushed a strand of hair from her face. “What doctor? The best ones have fled the country, and you Reds have conscripted most of the others. For the last six months I’ve had to deal with a quack who barely knows what he’s doing and charges a fortune.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Nina plucked a frayed child’s sweater from the washing and laid the rest by the back window.

It overlooked a communal rear garden, a patchy grassed courtyard filled with rows of clotheslines flapping in the breeze. She sat at the table clutching the sweater, beside her a darning needle stuck in a roll of wool.

Yakov removed his hat and laid the bulky parcel on the table. “Some food and condensed milk for you and the child. And some clothing for him. I know it’s a struggle.”

She fixed him with a resolute look. “I told you before, I want nothing from you, Leonid.”

“Can’t you forget your stupid pride? If not for you, then take it for the boy.”

“Nothing,” she replied fiercely. “I’ll take nothing from you and your kind, not while my parents are rotting in prison. They did no wrong yet they’re accused of being enemies of the people. What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yakov saw the bitter resentment in her face and said, “I told you I’m working on it. These things take time. But that’s not why I came.”

“No doubt it has to do with Uri. I told you all I know. The last time I saw him for only a few minutes before he had to leave. You and your men were watching the house. You know the rest. Uri escaped. I have no idea where he went. And if I did I wouldn’t tell you—surely you must know that?”

Yakov considered her reply and looked over at the child, then back at her. She noticed the look in his eyes. “Accept my word and don’t even think about asking Sergey; he has enough to deal with, missing his father. It’s difficult. He used to talk about Uri a lot; now he just cries if his name is mentioned.”

Yakov stood and peered out into the street as the rain started. “A revolution is difficult for everyone. It can’t be won without sacrifice and suffering.”

“And what’s yours, Leonid? You seem to thrive on all this drama.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, and then he said, “No one escapes this war’s hardships unless they’re clever enough to flee.”

“What does that mean?”

Yakov joined her at the table. “Uri’s gone. Escaped to France or Britain, most likely. Somewhere White émigrés can find a shoulder to cry on, or murderers escape their punishment.”

“How do you know this?”

“Deduction. If he were still here he would have contacted you by now. But I know Uri. He’s not the kind of man who’s going to leave you and your son alone in squalor. Whatever your differences, at some point he’ll try to rescue you from this, if only for Sergey’s sake. And once he does, this time he won’t escape, I promise you that.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe that Uri committed the crime you accuse him of.”

“That’s your opinion. War changes people. It changed you; it changed him. What he did to Stanislas I wouldn’t have done to a dog. Besides, there was a witness.”

“Uri loved Stanislas like a brother. He wouldn’t have harmed him. Not ever.”

“Do you know the horror I carry around in my mind day and
night? Of Stanislas, his broken, bloodied body lying in the snow. He was sixteen, for pity’s sake, still a child.”

“For heaven’s sake stop it, Leonid. Let things rest in peace and end this madness before it destroys you.”

A savage expression lit Yakov’s face and he got to his feet, scraping back the chair, hatred erupting in him like a storm. “Never. That won’t happen, not while I have a breath in my body.”

The child shifted in the bed, cried out before he fell back to sleep.

Nina rose from the table. “You won’t listen to me, will you? I’m wasting my time. If you have nothing else to say I’d ask you to leave before you wake my son.”

Yakov picked up his cap. “Do you still love Uri?”

“What I feel for Uri is none of your business. No more than our differences are. He and I were once man and wife, now we’re not, that’s all there is to it.”

Rain lashed the window. Yakov studied the shabby room before he looked at her. Something close to pity stirred in him.

Nina didn’t speak as he stepped toward her, cupped her face in his hand, and said, “Don’t look at me as if you despise me.”

Nina stared back at him. “I’ve never despised you. I’ve always liked you, Leonid. But you’re not the person I once knew. That Leonid was decent and had a good heart. This one is bitter and merciless. What’s changed you? It’s not just Stanislas’s death. It’s more than that, isn’t it?”

He looked into her eyes but didn’t reply.

She went to turn away but he pulled her toward him, his lips moving hungrily on hers. She fought him, pushed him away, and slapped him across the face, blood appearing on his lips. “No, Leonid … !”

Yakov wiped the streak of crimson from his mouth, stared at it. He glared back at her with a kind of tortured smile. “It only proves what I’ve always known. The poor can’t possess beautiful things.”

“I was never beautiful, Leonid, if that’s what you mean.”

“You sell yourself short. Sometimes at night I used to close my eyes tightly and imagine what it might be like being married to you. To love you and be loved by you in return. But of course, I had no hope.
Someone like me could never dream of possessing someone like you. I was too poor and ugly to ever hope for that.”

“Leonid … you mustn’t speak that way.”

“Why not? The first time I saw you the night Stanislas was born, I could have curled up at your feet like a puppy. A childish love, an infatuation, of course, but to me it was love nonetheless. Do you know what’s sad? I’ve never felt that way about another woman. Not even my daughter’s mother.”

Nina flushed.

Yakov dabbed his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand. “This revolution will change everything. People like you and your kind won’t be safe. Life will be harsh for you. Cruel even. But someone like me can be your protector. I can make sure you and your child come to no harm.”

The child stirred again in his sleep and coughed. Nina picked up his parcel, thrust it at his chest. “Please, leave now.”

“Take it, for the child’s sake.”

“I want nothing from you, Leonid.
Nothing
.”

He regarded the shabby room. “It doesn’t have to be like this. It doesn’t have to be grim and hopeless. I could have you assigned better living quarters, proper food. But most of all I can give you something you desperately want.”

“What?”

“Your life back. Just tell me the moment Uri contacts you again.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’m certain Lenin will exile you and your child to a Siberian prison camp.”