The Romanov Conspiracy (66 page)

“The
komendant
thinks it’ll be quicker that way.”

Yakov’s gaze swept round the half circle of men, meeting each of their stares in turn. “Let me make something perfectly clear. There’s to be no stealing from the corpses. Any jewelry or personal items you find are to be left untouched and the
komendant
notified. If anyone
disobeys, or the corpses are defiled in any way, I’ll shoot the culprit personally. Understood?”

Heads nodded.

Yakov said, “You’ll assemble here again once the truck arrives at midnight. Then the
komendant
will press the electric bell to summon the Romanovs from their quarters. They’ll be told to gather downstairs in the basement room.”

Yakov barely paused. “The
komendant
will inform the Romanovs that there are doubts about their safety, because the enemy is near the city, and they’re to have their photograph taken to prove that they’re alive and well. They’ll be left alone to await the photographer. Explain your strategy, Komendant.”

Yurovsky grinned. “There’ll be no photographer. It’s a ploy to put them at their ease. There are eleven of us, and eleven of them. I’ll assign each of you a victim. Once we enter the room, I’ll read out the execution order and immediately shoot Nicholai Romanov. Each of you will execute your chosen victim. Aim for the heart, so there’ll be less blood.”

The room fell as still as a grave.

Yakov could almost
feel
the silence. “Any more questions?”

No one answered.

Yakov checked his pocket watch and snapped it shut.

“Until our task begins, you’re all dismissed. But remain in the house.”

The men filed out of the room. Only the
komendant
remained and said to Yakov, “You’ll stay?”

“No, I’ll be back around midnight. I’ll need to witness the disposal of the bodies before I return to Moscow with my report. Meantime, I have work to finish.”

“Finding the enemy agents?”

Yakov nodded, his face solemn, and then he moved to the door and was gone.

103

Lydia opened the chapel door.

It creaked as she closed it again and then the chapel fell still.

Beeswax candles flickered, and she was aware of being enveloped by an immense calm, like being plunged into warm water.

She knelt beside one of benches, in front of an icon of the Virgin and child.

She lost any sense of time until she heard the patter of feet on the flagstones. Sister Agnes came toward her, her habit rustling.

The nun genuflected toward the altar, making a sign of the cross. “There you are. Forgive me for interrupting your prayers.” She observed Lydia keenly. “You look troubled. Are you worried that your friend won’t make it back?”

“Does it show?”

“I’m worried, too. But with you, it seems personal. Do you love him, my child?”

“He’s the first man I’ve cared deeply about in a long time.”

“And this troubles you?”

Lydia glanced up at the Virgin and child. “It’s always a question of the human heart, isn’t it? How do we live? What do we do? How do we know what’s right or wrong? I came here to pray for guidance, I suppose. I feel a little lost, and maybe more than a little afraid.”

The nun faced the altar. “For me, there is the simple joy of being here, in this place, that soothes me. Here, I’m always utterly aware of my human faults and weaknesses, and how imperfect I am in God’s presence. Yet I’m aware of his infinite compassion and love.”

Sister Agnes looked back at her. “Do you know what most people don’t grasp? That God has already forgiven us our sins before we even
commit them.” She reached out, gently took Lydia’s hands in hers. “I recognize anguish when I see it. Whatever’s troubling you, don’t be afraid to unburden yourself.”

It all came out in a torrent as Lydia struggled to hold back her emotion.

Sister Agnes said gently, “It hasn’t been easy, has it? Losing your child, and your fiancé, and now all this.” The nun made the sign of the cross. “I’ll pray for your friend, and for the soul of his child.”

“Uri’s an honorable man. I think he feels caught between duty to his son’s mother and whatever he might feel for me.”

“I understand.”

Lydia put her hand on her stomach. “No, you don’t, Sister. He and I, we … we’ve been close. Perhaps in my heart I wanted it to happen, wanted another chance to create life. I’m sure that sounds foolish. None of us knows if we’ll come out of this alive. But people often act irrationally in wartime, don’t they? We’re driven by our most primitive instincts to survive.”

“Whatever wrong you may have done, I’m sure God forgives you already, my child.”

“But do love and emotion always have to be so complex?”

The nun rose. “What happens in the heart, simply happens. But sometimes real love calls us to a higher duty. We have to do what’s right, and not always what we desire.”

Sister Agnes’s face was a study in pious strength as she looked down at Lydia. “It’s the eternal question, isn’t it? That’s what you really asked. How should I live? By my own way, or the right way? Yet the answer is simple. In our hearts we know what’s the right thing. We always do.”

She laid a hand gently on Lydia’s shoulder. “And now, we really have to go. Time’s running out.”

104

The abandoned grain warehouse had long ago been let go to wrack and ruin. The roof was caved in, the plaster walls crumbling and overgrown.

Yakov halted the Fiat at the entrance, lit a cigarette, and strode down to the ramshackle wooden boardwalk overlooking the lake. The moon shimmered on the water, the light good enough to see by.

He could just make out the white outline of the Ipatiev House farther along the shore, pale as a ghostly apparition. He felt in turmoil as he stood there, smoking furiously, one foot propped on an uprooted tree stump.

“You came alone?”

He spun round as Andrev stepped out from the ruins of the abandoned warehouse. He clutched a Nagant in his hand.

Yakov tossed away his cigarette. It cartwheeled into the water, vanishing with a tiny hiss. “Yes. We need to talk, Uri.”

Andrev stepped closer. His eyes were wild and he looked desolate, his face grimmer than Yakov had ever seen.

Without a word he lashed out with the revolver and struck Yakov a blow across the head. Yakov reeled, clapping a hand to his skull as he fell against the uprooted tree.

“I ought to kill you here and now.” Andrev spat the words.

Yakov stumbled to his feet. “Nothing I did would have made a difference.
Nothing
. You have to believe that, Uri.”

Andrev’s tone was savage. “My son had a chance to live if he’d remained in Moscow. You took that chance away.”

“No, Uri, nothing could have saved him. My medic did his best but Sergey was past help, believe me.”

Andrev let out an anguished cry. He stifled it, put his sleeve to his mouth.

Yakov said, “The truth is, Trotsky ordered me to transport Nina and your son to a prison camp. I disobeyed the order. I took them from Moscow to try to save them. How, I wasn’t sure, but I knew I had to get them away.”

“How can I ever believe you?”

“Because I know now that you didn’t kill Stanislas. I was wrong. I had my reasons, selfish and foolish ones. Now, I accept your word, just as I ask you to accept mine.”

Andrev struggled to compose himself. He looked lost, devastated. “How is Nina taking it?”

“She’s broken. Disconsolate. She needs you. Whatever your differences, I’m not sure she’s ever truly stopped loving you.”

Andrev’s mouth tightened. “Where is she?”

“On board my train at Ekaterinburg station. Zoba’s taking care of her.”

“If she’s been harmed …”

“She hasn’t. I care too much for her. Can I tell you something? All those years ago, when we first met, I think I fell in love with her.”

Andrev frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that, Uri. It was something pure. I was a street urchin from the Black Quarter. I’d never seen such beauty. To me, Nina was something rare and exotic. I’ll admit there were times when just to be able to think about her helped keep me sane in the grimness all around me. Does that make sense? I’d never deliberately harm her. You have to accept that.”

Andrev took the envelope from his pocket, held it up. “So, she told you everything?”

Yakov nodded. “A man loses a wife, a woman loses a husband; they find comfort in each other’s company. That’s what happened to our parents. A simple story; they did nothing wrong. In truth, only good came of it. I found a brother.”

“Did Nina tell you why they kept their secret?”

Yakov said, “Having a relationship with a female patient was bad
enough. Having a child by her would have destroyed your father if it became public.”

“You’re not bitter?”

“I’ve no reason. Your father was an honorable man. He cared for us, he did his duty. You know, there’s something he once said to me. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now. He said that whenever we’re offered love, we should accept it. Wherever we encounter tenderness, we should embrace it. I know now what he meant. Just as I know now that you could never have harmed our own brother. I only hope that Mersk went screaming to his death.”

Andrev looked as if a terrible weight still pressed down on him, and he said, “There were times when I wanted to tell you the truth. Times after my father died when I felt I should break my promise to him. You see, he never wanted their secret to hurt you. But they both should have told us, I realize that now.”

Yakov put a hand on his shoulder. “That was then, this is now.
We
know, and that’s enough.”

“You never told me what happened to my men after I escaped.”

“I did what I could. No one walked, no one perished.”

There seemed a timelessness to everything. The moon on the still water, the dim outline of the Ipatiev House in the far distance. The only sound was their own breathing until finally Yakov said, “I know it looks hopeless. But maybe there’s a way out of this for all of us.”

“How?”

“You leave, tonight, with Nina. Just go. You and your friends. You can take the train I seized. Leave the city and don’t come back.”

“And the tsar and his family?”

Yakov shook his head. “That’s out of my hands, Uri. It’s bigger than both of us. I can’t change their fate, even if I wanted to. I don’t care a whit for Nicholai Romanov or his wife. The children I can feel for, but their parents dug their own grave.”

“Yet you’d bury the children in it, too?”

“It’s Lenin’s wish, not mine. I’m a soldier. I obey orders, just like you.”

“And what happens to you and Katerina if you let us go?”

“That’s my worry.”

“How will you explain Nina’s disappearance?”

“This isn’t a city short of bodies. Who’s to say if she lived or died?”

Andrev considered. “Your train’s at the station?”

“In a siding next to platform three.”

“What about your men?”

“They’re billeted in nearby hotels, but Zoba’s on board with Nina and my medic. Zoba will follow my orders and have the train ready for you. The driver’s been told to keep the boiler stoked. What do you say?”

Andrev fell silent. His mouth was set tightly, as if he was struggling with his conscience, then his hand went down and the Nagant came up again. He leveled it at Yakov. “You can come out now.”

There was a rustle of bushes and Boyle stepped out of the shadows, carrying a Colt and clutching a coarse sack and some rope.

Yakov said angrily, “I said to come alone, Uri.”

“I didn’t know if I could trust you. I’m sorry, but it has to be this way.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m not one to break my word, but in war, all’s fair.” He jerked his head at Boyle. “Take his weapon. Make sure he doesn’t have more than one.”

Boyle removed Yakov’s firearm and patted down his body.

Andrev said, “We intend to finish the job we came to do.” He nodded to Boyle. “Put the sack over his head and lead him to the truck.”

“Where are you taking me?” Yakov demanded.