Firebird (33 page)

Alexandra stared at her sister’s portrait.  Evangeline, astride Lady Falcon.  Unsmiling, hatless with her bright hair blowing across sculptured cheekbones, Eve looked off, beyond the flowing emerald hills at something only she could see.  Alexandra felt as if her sister was reaching out to her.  What are you trying to tell me, Eve? she wondered.

She studied the painting, searching for her sister’s secret.  Eve had come here, to Foxwood, the night she died.  Who – or what – had she trusted to keep her secrets?   Something her sister had said stirred on the edge of her brain.  What was it?  Her sister’s face, bright sky, the hills, the horse... 

The mare
, she realized suddenly.  Her sister’s message, in her letter to Juliet.
There’s a birthday surprise for you in Lady Falcon’s stall.

A phone on the oak desk buzzed and her brother-in-law answered.  “Rhodes.  Now?  Yes, I’ll be right there.”  He turned to his two guests.  “There is a small matter that needs my attention.”

Anthony quietly closed the door behind him.  With a tap of his cane, the senator stepped closer and raised his crystal snifter toward the portrait.  “To Eve, a true life force. I keep thinking I’ll see her gallop toward us on Lady Falcon any minute now,” he murmured.  “I’ve admired your sister for years.”

She turned to gaze at him.  The man smiling down at her was, Alexandra thought, the original thin man, tall and slender as a pencil, with his fox-narrow nose and chin, and thinning silver hair swept back from a high brow.  She could see the strength in his shoulders.  The blue eyes behind his half-glasses burned with intelligence.

Are you the one? she asked him silently.  Are you Ivan?  She took a breath.  “Were you a close friend of my sister’s?” she asked. 

“We met at a political fundraiser.  She wanted to photograph me.”  He looked down at his silver-topped cane and chuckled.  “
America’s most unlikely hero
, she called me.  I had to explain that, unfortunately for me, one man’s hero is another man’s traitor.”

She set her cognac down on a table next to a glowing marble bust.  “And yet here you are, on the eve of becoming our country’s next Vice President.”

“More like the bridegroom at the wedding.”  He smiled down at her.  “Stay out of the way, be on time, keep my mouth shut.”

“And after the wedding guests have gone home, Senator?”

His smile dropped away.  “Then the fight for our future begins, Dr. Marik.  And the stakes have never been higher.”

“But surely worth the fight for you,” she said softly.

“
Freedom
is worth the fight,” he said quietly.  “My Russian immigrant grandparents passed through Ellis Island.  Now their homeland is in a frightening state of upheaval and decay.  Russian mothers wait in long lines to get milk for their babies.  Old people are freezing in over-crowded rooms, miners have no boots, farmers no crops.  How can we turn our backs on them?”

“No man is an island?  No argument, Senator, as long as we take care of the same problems right here at home.  Shouldn’t politics be about protecting our weak, sheltering our poor, feeding our hungry –
wherever
they may be?”

He smiled.  “A rare thing in Washington – a genuine stand on principle.  Yes, of course we have a responsibility to take care of our own citizens.  Nevertheless, we’ll have bigger problems at home if Russia collapses, I promise you.  And make no mistake, Dr. Marik, alarm bells are ringing more loudly every day.”

“And you are listening.”

“Of course.  History calls,” he said cryptically.  He stepped closer.  “Off the record, Dr. Marik?”

“What record?”

He smiled with appreciation.  “Part of my heart will always belong to Russia.  But between our two countries there is enough firepower to blow all of us to kingdom come.  Deep fault lines have been exposed.  We are dangerously apart on core issues - Iran’s nuclear program, Pakistan and China, Nato’s eastward expansion, Strategic Arms.  We must find a way to put aside decades of suspicion.  Because I will tell you this.  Dealing with each other
still matters
.  When Russia and the U.S. do not get along, we should all be very afraid.”

“So you want to placate?  Appease?  Play ball?” interrupted Rhodes, striding back into the room.  “Face it, David.  Russia has become a time bomb comprised of aging nuclear subs, power stations and chemical factories.  There is a growing crackdown on intellectuals and activists.  An emerging Sino-Russian partnership, suspicious shipments of weapons and nuclear materials to Iran and Syria.  Why should we trust them?”

“Do we want a strong, friendly Russia or a strong,
unfriendly
Russia?” asked Rossinski.  “Because she will be strong, no matter what!”

“Maybe stronger.  The Soviet national anthem has been restored!” Rhodes shook his head in disbelief.  “Russia has never fully repudiated her communist past.  The men behind the failed hardliner coup in ‘91 are alive and well.  And they’re not sitting around in prison listening to Swan Lake, damn it.  They’re loose cannons.”

The Senator’s eyes were bright with passion as he lifted his brandy.  “Exactly!  Can’t you feel it in the air, Anthony?  Dr. Marik?  It’s the unmistakable chill of the Cold War.  Echoes of mistrust, the flex of military muscle, the Soviet revival.  Is this the final act of the Cold War?”

“If this is the curtain call, David, we’d damn well better protect ourselves!”

“Americans
need
Russia now,” said Rossinski softly.  “We need her as an
ally
to fight for good, not sell nuclear weapons to the fanatics.  We need to re-set our relationship
now
, before it is too late.”

Alexandra stepped forward.  “Another reason why this election is so important.  We need honorable men and women to lead us.  But I wonder. 
Can
there be honor in politics?”

The Senator turned to look down at her over the tops of his glasses.  “Ah, can we square a circle?  You are too young to be so cynical,” he said gently.  “But I believe that politics is the art of the possible.  Taking care of people is a privilege and an honor, Dr. Marik.  We will find honorable leaders to sit on the Supreme Court, to run Defense and National Security, to question whether wars should be fought.  Certainly we will need -” the Senator flashed a conspiratorial wink at Anthony Rhodes -  “a strong new Secretary of State.”

“Premature, my old friend,” smiled Rhodes, “Rumors, pipe dreams and jealousies, to paraphrase Shakespeare.”

“Rumor is the life-blood of this town, Anthony.  And you just
murdered
Shakespeare, by the way.”

“David,” chided Rhodes, “climb down off your podium for two minutes and go charm the British Ambassador’s wife.”  He winked at Alexandra and pushed the fiery Senator toward the library door.

“As long as I don’t have to dance with the old curmudgeon.”  The Senator lifted his cane in salute.  “Doctor Marik, perhaps we can find a quiet place later this evening to continue our conversation?”

“I’ll look forward to it, Senator.”

Alexandra slowly followed the Senator back to the ballroom.  Near the terrace doors, several guests and members of the ‘Club’ were gathered in a shadowed corner, deep in conversation.   Senator Rossinski joined Rens Karpasian, Zee Zacarias, and Yuri Belankov.

It was time
.

* * * *

The voices were a blur of conversation and laughter.

“You heard what happened to the New Russian Hockey Team?  They drowned in Spring Training.  Ha.”

“...skiing in Davos is amazing.”

“I prefer the Green Mountains in Vermont - Sugarbush, Stratton, Killington -”

“Have you tried West Virginia’s mountains?  Icy, but only a four hour drive from the White House.”

“A dozen Inaugural Balls will keep all of us off the slopes in January...”

Alexandra moved deeper into the group.  Now or never
,
she thought
.

“You’ve all been asking about my sister tonight,” she said quietly.  The small group of men and women turned to her with a low chorus of sympathy.

Here we go.   “I saw Eve in New York,” lied Alexandra, “just before she died.”

Startled faces stared at her in silence and waited.

Tell the next lie.  Set the trap
.

“We stayed up talking, far into the night.  Some of you may be interested in what she told me.”  She waited a heartbeat.  “She asked me to take care of some business for her.”  She sensed, rather than saw, Anthony Rhodes stiffen beside her.  “I was hoping one of you could help me.”

“Your servant,” said Senator Rossinski, who moved to stand at her elbow.

Now
.

“I want to keep a promise I made to my sister.  Eve left a brooch with me.  It’s a beautiful piece, museum quality, really.  Rubies and diamonds.  From St. Petersburg during the time of the czars.”  Her gaze found Yuri Belankov, noted his shocked expression.  “The brooch is in a safe place in New York, but I’d like to return it to its rightful owner.  All of you knew my sister.  If anyone can -”

She felt her brother-in-law’s hand tighten on her arm.  “Enough,” he said quietly.  Anger shimmered in his tone.  Raising his voice, he said, “I will help my sister-in-law find the rightful owner of the brooch.  Now, please, enjoy the champagne.  My wife chose the vintage weeks ago, especially for tonight.”

Alexandra turned to Anthony.  “Let go of my arm,” she said in a voice only he could hear.  He stepped away from her.  “I need air,” she told him, rubbing her forearm.  “If anyone is looking for me, I’ll be in the garden.”

“I’ll come with you, Alexandra,” he said.  “We need to talk.  What’s this nonsense about a brooch?” 

“No,” she told him deliberately.  “Not now.  I need to be alone.”  She slipped Eve’s shawl over her shoulders, turned and headed toward the terrace doors.  

“Alexandra, wait.  My surprise has finally arrived.” 

She hesitated at the French doors, aware of something in Rhodes’ tone.  She saw his eyes shift to the entrance above the curving grand staircase. 

Suddenly the lights dipped, the music changed, became a trumpet fanfare.  A single spotlight lit the high curtained doorway as a slender, graceful figure appeared at the head of the stairs, her face in shadow.  Dressed boldly in scarlet, with a bared midriff, she lifted a brimming flute of champagne in her gloved hand.

Alexandra felt her heart clutch. 
Eve?

Then the musicians began to play a rousing ‘Happy Birthday,’ and Alexandra felt her world stop spinning as the figure stepped into the light.  All eyes turned to the young girl with the bared-midriff and striped orange hair who seemed to float down the red-carpeted stairs.  The ring piercing her naval flashed silver in the light.

“She’s - dazzling,” murmured Belankov behind her.

“Puts a whole new spin on Sweet Sixteen, doesn’t it?” said Alexandra.  “She knows how to make an entrance, just like her mother.  That exotic, stunning creature is my niece, Juliet Marik.  Eve’s daughter.”

CHAPTER 34

“This wild solitary girl...”

W. H. Hudson

“Let go of my arm!  There’s no need to go
postal
, Aunt Zan!”

Alexandra had pulled her niece out onto the terrace and now they stood glaring at one another in the flickering light.  Juliet’s voice was high and edgy.  She waved her still-full champagne flute in front of Alexandra’s face, sloshing a few crystal drops across her aunt’s gown.

In one swift motion Alexandra closed her fingers around the glass and tossed it into a terra-cotta pot.

“Hey, it’s my sixteenth birthday!” cried Juliet.  “Why are you freaking out?”

“
Sixteen
being the operative word!  Good grief, Juliet, you are drinking illegally in front of the Director of the FBI, a Supreme Court Justice and most probably the next Vice President of the United States!”

A classic adolescent roll of eyes.  “It was just one sip!  What are they going to do?  Send Anthony’s poor motherless step-daughter up the river?”  The girl shook her head back and forth.  “I’m not going to get drunk like my – ” 

“Jules!”  Alexandra turned to a passing waiter.  “Find Ambassador Rhodes for me immediately.”

“Sheesh,” muttered Juliet.  “Chill, Auntie Dearest!  It’s my
birthday
.  Why can’t you be on my side, just once?”  Bright tears threatened behind the blue-glittered lids.  “No one ever fights for me.”

Could anything else go wrong tonight?  Alexandra grasped her niece’s arm and moved her into the shadows.  “I
am
on your side, Jules.  But you shouldn’t be here.  Not tonight.”

Juliet leaned forward, as if to share a secret.  Alexandra steeled herself, knowing what was coming.

“The nuns know where I am this time, Aunt Zan.  Anthony arranged all of it.  He even sent a driver for me!”  The girl’s voice was quivering.   “Mom
promised
me I could come.”

Anthony!  So much for Garcia’s security.  “Oh, darling.  So much has changed –”

Juliet leaned closer.  “What did you do to your hair?  You don’t look like
you
, you look like a boy in that skinny… hey!”  Juliet tilted forward.  “That’s my
mother’s
dress!” she cried, her tone hurt and accusatory.  “Take it off!”  She lunged forward, pulling hard at the narrow shoulder strap.

“Jules!”

“Why are you wearing my mother’s dress?  How could you?  You’re supposed to be finding out what happened to my mom!  Not….” 

Sweet Mother of God.   “I am, Jules.  I
will
.”

“You promised me answers!”

“And you’ll get them!  I won’t let you down, Jules.  But you’ve got to trust me.”

Her niece’s eyes darkened.  “Seriously?  Let me down?  That’s almost funny.  I learned to live with that a long time ago.”

“We’ll talk tonight.  I’ll explain everything.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.  It’s a waste of time.  It’s my freakin’
birthday
!  And you’re
so
not who I want to be with right now.”