The Romanov Conspiracy (53 page)

The train rattled through the night.

Yakov sat at his desk, the table lamp on as he finished writing a letter. A knock came on the door and Zoba entered. “Don’t you ever take a break?”

Yakov folded the written page, sealed it in an envelope, and tossed it on the desk. He stood, rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. “Where are we?”

“Still a long way from Ekaterinburg. I ordered the driver to halt at the next major town. We can cable Moscow to find out if there’s been any sighting of Andrev.”

Yakov undid the top buttons of his tunic, then cracked open the carriage window and a rush of cool air blew in. “Pour me a drink. Help yourself.”

Zoba went to the cabinet and poured vodka into a pair of tumblers. He handed one to Yakov and bleakly raised his own. “Here’s to a quick death. If we’re lucky, that’s what we can expect, Leonid.”

“How is she?”

“Confined in one of the carriages, as you instructed. The child’s asleep. Why do it? Why take them with us? Why risk our necks by defying Trotsky’s orders?”

Yakov nodded at the envelope on the desk. “I’ve put it in writing that my decision was mine alone. If anything goes wrong, you’re covered.”

“We will be when this is over. We’ll be six feet under.”

Yakov swallowed his drink and grimaced. “Bring Nina here.”

Andrev drove into the outskirts of a desolate-looking village, the motorcycle engine throbbing in the darkness.

The place didn’t look like much, an unpaved main road with some abandoned-looking buildings either side. The remains of a railway station were riddled with bullet holes.

“Where are we?”

Andrev halted and pulled up his goggles “It’s a village near Kovrov, almost two hundred miles from Moscow. There’s a minor rail track into the village to serve the local mines, but they’ve been closed since the war.” He slapped the gas tank and heard a hollow echo. “If we don’t find more gasoline soon we’re in trouble.”

“And you think we’ll find it
here
?”

“There’s a military depot around here somewhere, if I’m not mistaken. It used to serve the transports heading east.” He nudged the motorcycle round a corner. “That’s what we’re looking for.”

Across the street was a military garage dimly lit by the motorcycle headlight, a half-dozen trucks and private vehicles trucks parked outside. Two more trucks were inside a big workshop, the doors open wide. One truck had its wheels up on wooden blocks, half a dozen soldiers working away, the workshop lit by kerosene lamps.

Lydia said, “They’re the first troops we’ve seen for the last two hours.”

“The Red Army’s stretched a bit thin once you leave Moscow. They’re a ragged bunch. Take a look at their uniforms.”

Lydia saw that some of the soldiers wore full field-gray uniforms and carried rifles and grenades on their belts. Others wore partial uniforms mixed with scruffy civilian garb. They were a tough-looking lot, in need of a wash.

“They look like bad luck. Is this really wise, Uri?”

He loosened his holster flap. “We need more fuel. Where else are we going to get it?”

He revved the engine and drove over toward the garage forecourt, halting by a village water pump. The soldiers stopped working, all eyes suddenly on their visitors. Andrev climbed off. “Who’s in charge here, comrades?”

The men looked wary of Andrev’s leather jacket. An older man said, “How can we help?”

Andrev produced his letter. “Commissar Couris. I’m acting as a special courier for the Kremlin. I’m heading east and need fuel.”

The man shrugged. “There’s not much of that here. We barely have enough for ourselves.”

“I’d suggest you find some.” Andrev handed the man the letter.

He studied it, scratching his jaw, then turned to address the others. “It looks official, signed by Lenin himself, no less. It says that the commissar’s to be assisted in every way possible. Anyone who hinders him will be shot.”

Andrev said, “I’d appreciate it if you could find that fuel, comrade.”

“Not so fast.”

Andrev turned as a giant of a man with thick eyebrows and a bushy beard appeared behind him. His beard was flecked with food, as if he’d been interrupted eating supper. “Let me see that letter.”

Andrev handed it over.

He read the page, then regarded Lydia, before he said, “It seems to be in order, right enough. Better give the commissar the fuel he needs.”

“Thank you, comrade.” Andrev removed the gas tank cap.

One of the soldiers came forward with a gasoline can, and the man with the mustache said, “Do you need lodgings for the night, comrade?”

“No thanks, we’ll press on.”

“Who’s the woman?”

“My wife.”

He grinned, stroking his grubby beard. “Nice-looking wench, I’ll give her that.”

Andrev sensed trouble and reached for his gun but the man’s hand came up grasping a pistol. “Fingers off the gun or you’ll lose your head.”

Lydia went to reach for a Nagant on the sidecar floor, but soldiers rushed forward and grabbed her arms, dragging her from the motorcycle, wrenching the weapon from her. She kicked and fought but it was useless.

Andrev said, “You’re making a mistake interfering with a Cheka officer.”

The bearded man took his revolver. “Does it look like I give a fiddler’s curse? I spit on Lenin.”

“You’re not Red Army?”

The man sneered. “Deserters, all of us. The Reds know better than to bother us around here; they have enough on their plate.” He stepped closer to Andrev. “And you’re Captain Andrev, aren’t you?”

Andrev stared back, astounded.

“Meet an old friend of yours.”

Before Andrev could reply, a voice said, “It’s certainly a small world, captain.”

Andrev spun. The unmistakable figure of Sergeant Mersk—with his drooping mustache and wearing his grubby sheepskin hat—stepped out of a room at the back. His
nagaika
whip hung from the Ukrainian’s greasy belt and he had a malicious grin on his face, as if he’d been watching the proceedings.

Andrev’s heart sank like an anchor.

Mersk spat on the ground, then he grabbed Andrev’s letter. “If you’re a Cheka officer, then I’m a dancer with the Bolshoi. What are you up to with this, Andrev? The last I heard you were on the run.”

Andrev didn’t answer.

“I asked you a question, you scumbag.” Mersk’s fist came up and crashed into Andrev’s jaw. He slammed against the truck and slid to the floor. Mersk moved in, lashing out viciously with his boot and stamping on Andrev’s neck. “Every dog has its day. I’ll teach you to have respect when I ask you a question.”

Andrev was choking for breath.

“You and I have unfinished business, I think.” He jerked his head at the soldiers and took his boot away. “Tie his hands and watch him closely; he’s a slippery customer.”

Two soldiers manhandled Andrev. They searched him before they tied his hands together with rope.

Two others grappled with a struggling Lydia, and one of them found the black Mauser.

He tossed it to Mersk, who weighed the gun in his palm.

“Plucky, aren’t you? Let’s see if I can turn you two into a profit. What do you think might happen if I cabled the nearest Red barracks with a message for Commissar Yakov, telling him I have you?”

He slipped the Mauser into his jacket pocket and grinned at Andrev. “Business first. I’ll send the cable. Then I’m going to have some fun with this wench of yours before the Reds get their hands on her.”

79

The carriage door opened and Zoba led in Nina. She wore a shawl about her shoulders, her hair tied back. Zoba slipped out, silently closing the door. She regarded Yakov silently.

“How is Sergey?” he asked.

“He’s sleeping but his chest is worse. I’m worried his lungs might hemorrhage. It’s happened before. He needs to see a doctor.”

Yakov saw the heavy strain on her face. Tiredness mixed with anxiety and despair.

“I have a medic on board. He’s a qualified doctor. He’ll do his best for you, though our medicines are limited.”

“What’s happened to Uri?”

“He’s escaped, that’s all I’m certain of right now.”

“Why did you take us from Moscow?”

Yakov sighed. “I told you there would be consequences to your actions. I wasn’t lying. I was ordered by Lenin to put you on a train bound for a prison camp. Right now, we’re headed toward Ekaterinburg. Your situation’s quite hopeless.”

He saw the pained horror in her eyes. “What kind of man can condemn an innocent child to death for his parents’ sins? What kind of man would do that? Sergey’s done no wrong. You’ve sold your soul, Leonid. Sold it, do you hear?”

Yakov fell silent. When he spoke again, he was resolute. “Listen to me, Nina. I didn’t put you on the prison transport. I’m disobeying orders to buy time for you to reconsider. It could cost me my life, and my daughter’s.” He stared into her face. “I may be able to still save you. But do you want to be?” His voice lowered to almost a whisper. “Do
you know why Uri came back? If you think it was to save you, you’re greatly mistaken. He’s here to try to rescue the Romanovs.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s true. Half the Red Army is on the lookout for him and the woman he’s with.”

“What woman?”

“We haven’t identified her yet, but when we do, you don’t want to share their fate. You don’t want to condemn your son to death. You owe it to him to survive, Nina, not end your days in a frozen grave in some godforsaken Siberian wasteland.”

He paused. “You have to help me to find Uri, convince him of the folly of his mission, and get him to betray his fellow conspirators. It won’t save him, but it may save you and your son. This is your last chance. When we reach Ekaterinburg tomorrow you’ll be transferred by train to the prison camp and there will be nothing more I can do for you.”

For a long time Nina said nothing, simply stared at him. When she spoke, her voice was strangely distant. “Did you mean it when you said you loved me?”

“Of course.”

She slowly unbuttoned the neck of her dress, exposing the soft rise of her breasts. There was a deadness in her voice. “Is this what you want, Leonid? Is this what you desire? Well, you can have me, anything to save Sergey. But don’t ask me to betray the father he loves.”

She held his stare. Yakov saw tears fill the corners of her eyes. She broke down sobbing. He pulled her close. This time she didn’t resist, as if all the fight was gone out of her, and they stood there, both of them silent, until Nina finally pulled away, wiping her eyes.

Yakov reached out and gently buttoned her dress.

She looked up at him, her watery brown eyes meeting his.

He said, “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for a moment like this. How I’ve ached for it. But this isn’t the time.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes to save Sergey.”

“Then I’ll ask you one last time—help me.”

80

Yakov splashed water on his face in his bedchamber.

He looked at himself in the mirror and saw the desolation in his eyes.

The door opened and Zoba stepped in to join him. “I took her back to her cabin. How did it go?”

Yakov dried his face with a towel and tossed it on the bed. “She hasn’t agreed to anything yet. I’m working on it.”