The Romanov Prophecy

FORTY-EIGHT

After leaving the downed deputy, Lord quickly abandoned the main highway and steered east on a county road. A few miles later he turned north, following directions to the land Thorn's family had owned for close to a hundred years.

The mile-long dirt road wound through foothills and across two rock-strewn streams. The cabin was a one-story rectangle, built of pine logs bound together with thick mortar in colonial style. The front porch held three rockers with a rope hammock suspended from one end. Cedar shingles on the gabled roof looked new. A flagstone chimney rose from one end.

Thorn explained this was where Alexie and Anastasia first lived after arriving in North Carolina in late 1919. Yussoupov had the cabin built on two hundred acres of old-growth forest, with a mountain, that a century before had been christened Windsong Ridge. The idea was to provide a place of solitude for the heirs, far away from anyone who might associate them with the Russian royal family. The hills of Appalachia offered the perfect setting, while providing a climate and scenery not unlike home.

Now, sitting inside the cabin, Lord could almost feel their presence. The sun had set and the air had turned cold. Thorn had started a fire using some of the split logs abutting one of the exterior walls. The interior was about fifteen hundred square feet filled with thick quilts, varnished wood, and a lingering scent of hickory and pine. The kitchen was stocked with canned food and they'd suppered on chili with beans washed down with Cokes from the refrigerator.

Thorn had suggested the cabin. If the police thought he was being held against his will, they would never look on his own property. Most likely, the roads all the way into Tennessee were being watched and a bulletin had been issued on the Jeep Cherokee, which was all the more reason to get off the highway.

"Nobody lives within miles," Thorn said. "Back in the twenties it was a great hiding place."

Lord noticed that nothing in the decor pointed to the cabin's unique heritage. But it was certainly the dwelling of a nature lover-framed prints of skyward birds and grazing deer decorated the walls. No mounted trophies, though.

"I don't hunt," Thorn said. "Except with a camera."

Lord pointed to the framed oil of a black bear that dominated one wall.

"My grandmother painted that," Thorn said. "And the rest, too. She loved to paint. She lived here until the end of her life. Alexie died in the bedroom over there. My father was born in the same bed."

They were gathered before a fire, two lamps illuminating the great room. Akilina sat on the plank floor, a wool quilt around her. Lord and Thorn filled two leather chairs. The dog was curled up in the corner, beyond the heat of the open hearth.

"I have a close friend in the North Carolina Attorney General's office," Thorn said. "We'll call him tomorrow. He can help. I trust him." Thorn sat silent a moment. "My wife must be a wreck. I wish I could call her."

"I wouldn't advise it," Lord said.

"Couldn't if I wanted to. I never put a phone here. I have a mobile that I bring when we stay the night. Electricity was only added in the past decade. The company charged me a bunch to run the line out here. I decided phones could wait."

"You and your wife come here often?" Akilina asked.

"Many times. I really feel a connection with my past here. Margaret never fully understood, only that this place seemed to calm me. My spot of solitude, she called it. If she only knew."

"She will soon," he said.

The borzoi suddenly alerted and a soft growl rumbled from his throat.

Lord's eyes locked on the dog.

A knock came at the front door. He sprang to his feet. None of them said a word.

Another knock.

"Miles. It's Taylor. Open the door."

He hustled across the room and glanced out one of the windows. In the dark he could see nothing except the form of a man standing before the door. He moved toward the locked entrance.

"Taylor?"

"It isn't the tooth fairy. Open the damn door."

"You alone?"

"Who else would be with me?"

He reached for the hasp and released the lock. Taylor Hayes stood in the doorway, dressed in a pair of khaki pants and a thick jacket.

"Man, am I glad to see you," Lord said.

"Not half as glad as I am to see you." Hayes stepped into the cabin. They shook hands.

"How did you find me?" Lord asked, after closing and relocking the front door.

"When I got to town, I learned about the shooting. Seems two Russians are here-"

"Two of the men who have been chasing me."

"That much I gathered."

Lord noticed the quizzical look on Akilina's face. "Her English isn't the best, Taylor. Speak Russian."

Hayes faced Akilina. "And who are you?" he asked in Russian.

Akilina introduced herself.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I understand my associate has been dragging you across the globe."

"We have had quite a journey," she said.

Hayes looked at Thorn. "And you must be the object of that journey."

"Apparently so."

Lord introduced the two, then said, "Maybe now we can get something done. Taylor, the local police think I killed a deputy."

"They're quite intent on that."

"Did you speak with the sheriff?"

"I decided to find you first."

For the next forty-five minutes, they talked. Lord related everything that had happened in detail. He even showed Hayes the shattered egg and gold-leaf messages brought inside from the Jeep. He explained about the gold bars and where they were stored, and all about Semyon Pashenko and the Holy Band that had kept Felix Yussoupov's secret safe.

"Then you are Romanov?" Hayes asked Thorn.

"You never explained how you found us," Thorn said.

Lord noticed the suspicion in the lawyer's voice. Hayes seemed unfazed by the abruptness.

"Your secretary gave me the idea. She and your wife were at the sheriff's department. I knew that Miles hadn't kidnapped you, so I figured a hiding place would have to be found. Who would ever look here? No kidnapper would use the victim's own house. So I took a chance and drove up."

"How is my wife?"

"Upset."

"Why didn't you tell the sheriff the truth?" Thorn asked.

"This is a delicate situation. International relations are involved. Literally, the future of Russia. If indeed you are a direct descendant of Nicholas II, the throne of Russia would belong to you. Needless to say, your reemergence will create a shock. I don't want to trust all that to the sheriff of Dillsboro County, North Carolina. No offense to the area."

"None taken," Thorn said, his voice still carrying an edge. "What do you suggest we do?"

Hayes stood and moved toward windows that fronted the house. "That's a good question." He peered out past the curtains.

The borzoi came alert again.

Hayes opened the front door.

Feliks Orleg and Droopy walked inside. Both men cradled rifles. The dog came to his feet and started to growl.

Akilina let out a gasp.

Hayes said, "Mr. Thorn, your animal is quite beautiful. I've always been partial to borzois. I would hate to order one of these gentlemen to shoot it. So would you direct the dog to leave through the front door, please?"

"I sensed something about you," Thorn said.

"I could tell." Hayes motioned at the still-growling dog. "Do I shoot it?"

"Alexie. Gone." Thorn pointed to the door and the dog bolted out into the night.

Hayes closed the door. "Alexie. Interesting name."

Lord was in shock. "It was you all along?"

Hayes motioned to his two associates who fanned across the room. Orleg took up a position at the door leading to the kitchen, Droopy at the bedroom door.

"Miles, I have some associates in Moscow who became quite upset with you. Hell, I sent you into the archives to find out if Baklanov had any problems, and you come out with the heir to the Russian throne. What did you expect?"

"You sonovabitch. I trusted you." He rushed toward Hayes. Orleg stopped his advance with a leveling of his rifle.

"Trust is such a relative term, Miles. Especially in Russia. I'll give you credit, though. You're a tough man to kill. Lucky as hell, too." Hayes reached under his jacket and withdrew a pistol. "Sit down, Miles."

"Fuck you, Taylor."

Hayes fired the gun. The bullet ripped across Lord's right shoulder. Akilina screamed and lunged toward him as he fell back in the chair.

"I told you to sit," Hayes said. "I don't like to repeat myself."

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Lord saw the concern in her face. But he was okay. The bullet had only grazed him, enough to draw blood and hurt like hell. "I'm all right."

"Miss Petrovna, sit down," Hayes said.

"Do it," Lord urged.

She retreated to a chair.

Hayes moved close to the hearth. "If I wanted to kill you, Miles, I would have. Lucky for you I'm a good shot."

Lord's hand clamped onto the wound and he used his shirt to stem the bleeding. His gaze drifted to Michael Thorn. The lawyer sat perfectly still. He'd said nothing and had not reacted when Hayes fired the gun.

"I think you are Russian," Hayes said to Thorn. "The look in your eye. I've seen it many times over there. Heartless, every damn one of you."

"I am no Stefan Baklanov." The words came in a near whisper.

Hayes chuckled. "I should say not. I think you might actually be able to govern those idiots. It'll take somebody with nerve. The best tsars all had it. So I'm sure you understand why you cannot leave here alive."

"My father said there would be men like you. He warned me. And I thought him paranoid."

"Who would have thought the Soviet empire so fragile?" Hayes asked. "And who would have ever guessed the Russians would want their tsar back?"

"Felix Yussoupov," Thorn said.

"Point taken. But all that is meaningless now. Orleg." Hayes motioned to the inspector, then to the front door. "Take our dear heir and this woman out and do what you do best."

Orleg smiled and stepped forward, grabbing Akilina. Lord started to rise, but Hayes rammed the pistol into his throat.

"Sit down," Hayes said.

Droopy yanked Thorn up from the chair and placed the tip of his rifle to the lawyer's head. Akilina started to resist. Orleg wrapped his right forearm around her neck and clamped hard, yanking her off the ground. She struggled for a second, then her eyes rolled skyward as her breath was blocked.

"Stop," Lord screamed. Hayes jammed the pistol deeper into his neck. "Tell him to stop, Taylor."

"Tell her to be a good girl," Hayes said.

He wondered how he was supposed to tell her to calmly walk outside and be killed. "Stop," he said to her.

She ceased struggling.

"Not here, Orleg," Hayes said.

The Russian relaxed his grip and Akilina went weak-kneed to the floor, gasping for breath. Lord wanted to rush to her, but couldn't. Orleg grabbed her by the hair and brought her to her feet. The pain seemed to wrench her back to life.

"Get up," Orleg said in Russian.

She staggered to her feet and Orleg shoved her toward the front door. Thorn was already there and exited first, followed by Droopy.

The door closed behind them.

"I do believe you like that woman," Hayes said, switching to English.

The gun was still pressed to his throat. "What do you care?"

"I don't."

The gun moved away and Hayes stepped back. Lord slumped into a chair. The pain in his shoulder amplified, yet the rage surging through him was keeping his reflexes ready. "Did you have the Makses killed in Starodug?"

"You left us no choice. Loose ends and all that."

"And Baklanov really is a pawn?"

"Russia is like a virgin, Miles. So many sweet pleasures that none have tasted. But to survive you have to play by their rules, and they are some of the toughest anywhere. I adapted. Murder, for them, is an accepted means of achieving an end. In fact, it seems the preferable means."

"What happened to you, Taylor?"

Hayes sat, gun leveled. "Don't give me any of that crap. I did what had to be done. Nobody at the firm ever complained about the fees rolling in. Sometimes risks have to be taken to achieve great things. Controlling the tsar of Russia seemed worth it. Actually, the whole thing was nearly perfect. Who would have ever guessed a direct heir was still alive?"

Lord wanted to lunge at him and Hayes seemed to sense the hatred. "Not going to happen, Miles. I'll shoot you dead before you leave that chair."

"I hope it's worth it."

"Beats the shit out of practicing law."

He thought he'd try to stall. "How do you plan to contain this? Thorn's got a family. More heirs. They all know, too."

Hayes smiled. "Nice try. Thorn's wife and children know zero. My containment problem is right here." Hayes motioned with the gun. "Look, you've got nobody to blame but yourself. If you'd left this alone, done just what I told you, there'd be no problem. Instead you had to traipse off to St. Petersburg and California and involve yourself in a whole lot of things that simply don't concern you."

He asked what he really wanted to know. "You going to kill me, Taylor?" Not a hint of fear entered his voice. He was surprised at himself.

"Nope. But those two out there are. Made me promise not to harm a hair on your head. They don't like you. And I certainly can't disappoint the hired help."

"You're not the man I knew."

"How the shit would you know me? You're a damn associate. We're not blood brothers. Hell, we're barely friends. But, if you have to know, I've got clients depending on me and I aim to deliver. Along with providing a retirement fund for myself."

He glanced beyond Hayes, toward outside.

"You worried about your little Russian darling?"

He said nothing. What was there to say?

"I'm sure Orleg's enjoying her… right about now."