The Romanov Prophecy

NINE

12:30 PM

Lord entered the Volkhov's conference room. The windowless rectangle was filled with three dozen men and women, all dressed in conservative attire. Waiters were just finishing serving drinks. The warm air, like the rest of the hotel, carried the scent of an ashtray. Ilya Zivon waited outside, just beyond the double doors leading to the hotel lobby. Lord felt better knowing the burly Russian was nearby.

The faces before him were etched with concern. He knew their predicament. They'd been encouraged to invest in the reemerging Russia by an anxious Washington, and the lure of fresh markets had been too tempting to resist. But nearly constant political instability, a daily threat from the mafiya, and protection payments that were sapping away profits had turned a rosy investment opportunity into a nightmare. The ones here were the major American players in the new Russia: transportation, construction, soft drinks, mining, oil, communications, computers, fast food, heavy equipment, and banking. Pridgen amp; Woodworth had been hired to look after their collective interests, each relying on Taylor Hayes's reputation as a hard-nosed negotiator with the right contacts within the emerging Russia. This was Lord's first meeting with the group as a whole, though he knew many on an individual basis.

Hayes followed him inside and lightly patted him on the shoulder. "Okay, Miles, do your thing."

He stepped to the front of the brightly lit room. "Good afternoon. I'm Miles Lord." A quiet came over the gathering. "Some of you I've already met. To those I haven't, nice to have you here. Taylor Hayes thought a briefing might help answer your questions. Things are going to start happening fast and we might not have time to talk during the days ahead-"

"You're goddamn right we have questions," a stout blond woman yelled with a New England twang. Lord knew her to be the head of Pepsico's Eastern European operations. "I want to know what's going on. My board is nervous as shit about all this."

As they should be, Lord thought. But he kept his face tight. "You don't give me a chance to even get started, do you?"

"We don't need speeches. We need information."

"I can give you the raw data. Current national industrial output is down forty percent. The inflation rate is approaching one hundred fifty percent. Unemployment is low, about two percent, but underemployment is the real problem-"

"We've heard all that," another CEO said. Lord didn't know the man. "Chemists are baking bread, engineers manning assembly lines. The Moscow newspapers are full of that crap."

"But things aren't so bad that they can't get worse," Lord said. "There's a popular joke. Yeltsin and the governments that followed him managed in two decades to do what the Soviets failed to accomplish in seventy-five years: make the people long for communism." A few snickers came. "The communists still have a solid grassroots organization. Revolution Day every November is marked by impressive demonstrations. They preach nostalgia. No crime, minimal poverty, social guarantees. That message has a certain appeal to a nation deep in despair." He paused. "But the emergence of a fascist fanatical leader-neither a communist nor a democrat, but a demagogue-is the most dangerous scenario. That's particularly true given Russia's considerable nuclear capability."

A few heads nodded. At least they were listening.

"How did all this happen?" a wiry little man asked. Lord vaguely recalled that he was in computers. "I've never been able to understand how we got to this point."

Lord stepped back toward the front wall. "Russians have always been big on the concept of a national idea. The Russian national character has never been based on individuality or market activity. It's much more spiritual, much deeper."

"Be a whole lot easier if we could Westernize the whole place," one of the men said.

He always bristled at the notion of Westernizing Russia. The nation would never be fully associated with the West, nor exclusively with the East. Instead it was, and always had been, a unique mixture. He believed the smart investor would be the one who understood Russian pride. He explained what he thought, then returned to answering the question.

"The Russian government finally realized it needed something that stood above politics. Something that could be a rallying point for the people. Maybe even a concept they could use to govern. Eighteen months ago, when the Duma put out a call for a national idea along that line, it was surprised with what the Institute of Public Opinion and Market Research brought back. God, Tsar, and Country. In other words, bring back the monarchy. Radical? Certainly. But when the issue was put to a national vote, the people overwhelmingly said yes."

"Why do you think?" one of the men asked.

"I can only give you my opinion. First, there's a real fear of a resurgence of communism. We saw it years ago when Zyuganov challenged Yeltsin and nearly won. But a majority of Russians do not want a return to totalitarianism, and every poll says that. Still, that wouldn't stop a populist from preying on difficult times and sweeping into office with false promises.

"The second reason is more deeply set. The people simply believe the current form of government is incapable of solving the country's problems. And quite frankly, I think they're right. Look at crime. Each one of you, I'm sure, pays protection money to one or more mafiya. You have no choice. Either that or end up going home in a body bag."

He thought again of what happened yesterday, but he said nothing. Hayes had advised him to keep that to himself. The people in this room, he'd warned, were nervous enough without wondering whether their lawyers were now a target.

"There is a pervasive belief that if you're not stealing, you're cheating yourself. Less than twenty percent of the population even bothers to pay taxes. There's almost a total internal breakdown. It's easy to see why people would believe anything is better than the current situation. But there's also a certain nostalgia with regard to the tsar."

"It's nuts," one of the men voiced. "A damn king."

He understood how Americans viewed autocracy. But the combination of Tatar and Slav that melded into a modern Russian seemed to yearn for autocratic leadership, and it was that battle for supremacy that had kept Russian society sharp through the centuries.

"The nostalgia is easy to understand," he said. "Only in the past decade has the real story about Nicholas II and his family been told. All across Russia there's a sentiment that what happened in July 1918 was wrong. Russians feel cheated by Soviet ideology, which passed the tsar off as the embodiment of evil."

"Okay, the tsar's coming back-," one of the men started.

"Not exactly," Lord said. "That's a misconception the press doesn't fully understand. That's why Taylor thought this session would be beneficial." He could see he had their full attention. "The concept of the tsar is coming back, but there are two questions that need to be answered. Who is to be tsar? And what is the extent of his power?"

"Or her," one of the women said.

He shook his head. "No. Only he. Of that we're sure. Since 1797 Russian law has decreed lineage would pass only through the male line. We assume that law will be maintained."

"Okay," said another man, "answer the two questions."

"The first one is easy. The tsar will be whomever the seventeen representatives of the commission choose. Russians are keen on commissions. Most in the past have been nothing more than rubber stamps for the Soviet Central Committee, but this one will work entirely outside of the government, which isn't all that hard at the moment since there's barely any government left.

"Candidates will be presented and their claims evaluated. The strongest contender at the moment is our candidate, Stefan Baklanov. He has a distinct Western philosophy, but his Romanov bloodline is direct. You're paying us to make sure his claim is the one the commission eventually recognizes. Taylor is lobbying hard to make that happen. I've spent the past weeks in the Russian archives making sure there's nothing that could affect that claim."

"Amazing they let you near anything," a voice said.

"Not really," Lord said. "We're not actually involved with the Tsarist Commission, though we have credentials that imply that. We're here to look after your interests and to make sure Stefan Baklanov is selected. Just like back home, lobbying is an art form here, too."

A man in the back row stood. "Mr. Lord, we all have careers on the line. You understand the gravity of this? We're talking about a possible reversion from a semi-democracy to an autocracy. That has got to have a spillover effect on our investments."

He was ready with an answer. "We have no idea at this point how much authority the new tsar will have. As yet, we don't know whether the tsar will be a figurehead or the ruler of all Russia."

"Get real, Lord," one of the men said. "These idiots aren't going to turn complete political power over to a single man."

"The consensus is that's exactly what they will do."

"This can't be happening," another said.

"It may not be all that bad," Lord quickly said. "Russia is broke. It needs foreign investment. You might find an autocrat easier to deal with than the mafiya."

A few muttered their assent, but one man asked, "And that problem is going to go away?"

"We can only hope."

"What do you think, Taylor?" another man asked.

Hayes stood from his place at a back table and stepped to the front of the room. "I think what Miles told you is absolutely correct. We are about to witness the restoration of the Tsar of All Russia. The recreation of an absolute monarchy. Pretty amazing, if you ask me."

"Pretty damn scary," one of the men said.

Hayes smiled. "Don't worry. You're paying us big bucks to look after your interests. The commission has opened for business. We'll be there doing what you hired us to do. All you have to do is trust us."