Brian Garfield - The Romanov succession

She was the most exquisitely beautiful woman he had ever known.

She said, “Is there some particular part of my face that fascinates you?”

“All of it.”

“You’re still a devastatingly attractive man yourself. You’ve improved with age. Those sprigs of grey around the ears- tres distingue. And you’ve never looked so fit.”

“It must be a product of the spartan life.”

“Now you’re being silly.” She had a rakish look-mischievous. “That American woman was quite right. You put one in mind of Gary Cooper.”

It startled him and she laughed at him. “In one of your letters to Prince Leon. He repeated it to me with great amusement.”

“How is he?”

“I think the leg bothers him more than it used to. He’s not young you know-he’s sixty-four, a year older than the Grand Duke. He hasn’t spoken your name in my presence. He’s taken it for granted you and I didn’t want to be reminded of each other.”

He let it slip by because he wasn’t ready to confront it quite yet. He finished the entree, hardly having tasted it; he took a breath. “And Vassily? I suppose I should ask.”

She said, “I haven’t seen Vassily in several years. Not since the last time you saw us together.”

He was amazed and did not try to hide it.

Irina said, “Vassily wants a passionate peasant woman-he wants devotion, not questions. I’m far to abrasive for him, I don’t fit his conception of what a soldier’s woman should be.”

She pushed her plate aside. “It wasn’t very good, was it? The stroganoff. I did warn you. The coffee’s still warm-would you like a cup?”

He waited until she had poured; they took their cups back to the stuffed chairs at the coffee table. Then he said, “It’s time you came to the point. You’ve implied you’re acting as an emissary from Vassily and now you tell me you haven’t seen him in years. It’s time you sorted it out.”

“I suppose it is. They want you to come back. They need you-they need your skills. As a soldier.”

“What the devil for?”

“They’re planning a war.”

Finally he said, “You’d better tell me about it.”

“I can’t.” She spread her hands. The half-smile was directed against herself. “I’m only a messenger. They don’t let women into their councils.”

“Then why send you if you can’t explain it to me?”

“I’m only here to ask you to come back to Spain and talk to them-listen to them.”

“They could have asked me that in a letter.”

“Would you have gone?”

“I’m a soldier, Irina. I can’t just pick up and leave my duty post.”

“There, you see? That’s why they sent me. To seduce you into trailing along with me back to Spain. Baron Oleg-you know him well enough. Something convinced him that I need only drop a handkerchief and any man in sight will become my adoring slave.”

“You haven’t dropped a handkerchief, really. Have you?”

“No.”

“Did you tell Oleg you would?”

“I suppose I was evasive. I didn’t promise anything-but he drew his own conclusions when I agreed to come.”

“Why did you?”

“I wanted to see you.” She finished her coffee and put the cup down in the saucer. “Don’t stiffen up. That’s not a handkerchief. I’m being as honest as I’m able. I’m trying not to mislead you.”

“I’m puzzled, Irina. Who is it you’re betraying-Oleg or me?”

“Neither. I’ve brought you his message. I urge you to go to Spain.”

He said, “Oleg’s always tended to be more devious than necessary. He’s been infatuated with you for years.”

“I know.” She said it indifferently. “I’m afraid I don’t feel it puts me under an obligation to him. I’m not responsible for Oleg’s emotional foolishness.”

“But you came.”

“To see you.”

“What’s Vassily’s place in this?”

“They’ve coalesced-the factions. Oleg’s Socialists, the old-line liberal aristocracy, the reactionaries, even the partisans of each of the Pretenders. They’ve formed a consortium. It’s the first time they’ve ever worked together. Even during the Civil War they were always at loggerheads-Prince Leon insists that’s why we lost Russia to the Bolsheviks.”

“What’s that got to do with Vassily?”

“They’re planning something military. Vassily’s been selected to command it.”

“Command what? There’s no White Russian army-only a scattered pack of old-time exiles.”

“I can’t say, Alex. I do know that Vassily’s at the center of it.”

“Whatever their scheme is-is it his idea?”

“No; they brought him into it recently. He’s been in England you know-he’s still got a commission with the Free Poles.”

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know. He’s in hiding. There’ve been threats on his life-someone’s tried to kill him.”

His belly churned. After a moment he said. “Why?”

“We’re not sure. Apparently Vassily wants to believe it’s someone from the past-someone with a grudge. It’s plausible, isn’t it? His arrogance must have made him a good many enemies.”

“But you don’t believe it’s that.”

“I’m not certain-Prince Leon thinks it must be someone who’s trying to stop them by assassinating Vassily. He’s the key to it all-he’s the leader they’ve chosen to command it. Without Vassily the rest of them might not know how to proceed.”

He thought of Prince Leon, kindly and craggy, the best of the lot of them.

“Will you come with me?”

“I’ve got orders. I’m not a free agent.”

“It’s been arranged for you.”

He shot her a sharp glance. “You just keep chucking stones in the pond, don’t you? How do you mean that?”

“With your War Department. Don’t look so dubious, Alex. There’s an American colonel at Fort McNair who will arrange everything for you.”

He was working at the puzzle in his mind. “Is it their idea to throw in with Germany against the Bolsheviks?”

“No.”

“You said that very fast.”

Her eyes flickered. “Would Prince Leon have anything to do with the Hitler gang? Would Oleg? Alex, I’ve told you all I can. What have you to lose? I’ve made no conditions.”

Her eyes glinted in the lamplight. She reached for the Du Mauriers on the coffee table and leaned forward to accept a light from his match. She held his glance; he felt ripples of flame. “You’ll come, won’t you?”

But he made no immediate answer. He watched her throw her head back to sigh smoke toward the ceiling: he watched the long curve of her throat. She said, “It’s Vassily of course. You don’t want to have to work with him. What happened between you in Finland?”

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“No. I only know it cost him his command. He said it was between the two of you. It’s turned him bitter, you know.”

“It was his own fault.”

“What was it?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you-when we trust each other more than we do now.”

“What a sad thing to say.” She squinted in the curling smoke. “We used to trust each other with everything.”

“Yes.”

She sat back; it was a gesture of regretful withdrawal. They had been on the point of intimacy but it was gone. She said, “You’d be under Vassily’s command but you wouldn’t be working closely with him. You’d be continents apart. Does that make a difference?”

“Not particularly. It would still be his orders.”

“You hate him that much.”

“No. But I think they’ve picked the wrong commander.”

“No matter what the scheme is?”

“He’ll make a mistake-the kind you can’t patch up.”

“The others don’t feel that way, Alex. Are you that much wiser than the rest of them?”