Iris Johansen - Deadlock

I can do it. I can do anything. As long as I'm able to control that idiot Rasputin.

"Not exactly a sterling character," Garrett said. "Let's see, he had it in for the monarchy, the Tsar, the Tsarina, the Church, and Rasputin. Have I left out anyone?"

"Not in this passage. You should read the rest. He's quite a piece of work. He did go back to Jerusalem, and I don't know if he arranged to give one of those pretty daughters of the Tsar to Rasputin for sex, but he was trying to choose which one was safest for seduction." "Shades of Anastasia," Garrett murmured.

"No, she was too young. She might talk," Emily said. "Olga was in contention, but he was leaning toward Maria." She shook her head. "It nearly made me sick. All that evil. All that corruption. And those royal children caught in the middle of it."

"It's clear he truly believed he had psychic powers." Garrett said. "Maybe he did."

"Why do you say that?"

"This was written years before the Tsar's death, but that was how he died. He and his entire family were shot, then bludgeoned with ri¬fle butts."

"Coincidence."

"Maybe." He gazed down at the transcript. "Zelov said he was near getting what he wanted from the Tsar. What did he want?"

She shrugged. "The throne? Money? Influence?"

"He was practical. He'd know that a throne would be out of the question for a peasant."

"But power wouldn't be impossible. The revolution was right around the corner. Maybe he was a Communist?"

"If he was, then it was an ideology of convenience. And he had in¬fluence through Rasputin. No, it had to be money."

"And judging by that castle he built in Connecticut, he must have gotten all he needed. How?"

"The Tsarina and her daughters were vulnerable. I've seen photos of their jewels. They're fantastic. More opulent than the crown jewels of England."

"But he specified something from the Tsar. The Tsarina and her daughters were merely an annoyance he had to tolerate. Does he men¬tion anything specific later?"

"No. He talks a lot about Rasputin. He gets pretty vicious toward the end of this ledger. Evidently Rasputin could be charming, if a lit¬tle mad. Zelov resented that side of him. I suppose he wanted him un¬der his thumb. He goes off on diatribes about the Church and how he was going to usurp its power. The venom got worse as the Church in¬creasingly turned on Rasputin and tried to influence the Tsarina to forbid him to come to court."

"And at what point does the ledger end?"

"A few months before Zelov left for America. He makes some kind of enigmatic comment that the time had come for his words to be put forth surrounded by the light cast by his Book of Living. So he must have continued his ledger in the book itself."

"The Book of Living again. No threats toward Rasputin? No dire plans of murder?"

She shook her head. "Just the same contempt he always felt for him. No change at all."

"What about any of the other letters? Any connection?"

"He seems to have cut the ties to Russia entirely once he left."

"Yet he built a Russian castle and wanted his children to speak Russian."

"Arrogance. He was always right, remember? Including his lan¬guage."

"And we're back to the question of where he got the money to build that castle." He gathered the pages and put them back in the en¬velope. "If you don't mind, I'll take a look at these."

"I don't mind. But you're not going to find anything."

"Probably not. But, like you, I want to get a handle on Zelov. For instance, he hated the Russian Orthodox Church. Why?"

"They had too much influence on the royal family."

"Enough for him to try to bring them down? It seems a little ex¬treme."

"He was extreme."

"You've got that right." He smiled. "And maybe it had something to do with his belief that he was supremely holy because of his psychic powers. Didn't you say he belonged to the Khlysty sect when he first met Rasputin?"

"Yes. That's where Rasputin read Zelov's book. We need that book. We didn't find out nearly enough from these transcripts."

"We knew we wouldn't. Don't be unreasonable."

"Shut up. I feel like being unreasonable."

"Then by all means continue." He looked out the window. "We should be arriving in Moscow soon."

"I suppose you've got a way to get into that country, too, that avoids their version of Homeland Security?"

"Yes, I wouldn't favor one country over another. It should please you that other countries are also vulnerable."

"It doesn't please me," she said wearily. "I wish there was no need for security anywhere."

"I do believe you're an idealist."

"There's nothing wrong with that. I hate war. I've spent a good portion of my life trying to save beauty from the beasts. I saw how those monsters can savage what should be treasured."

"So have I," he said quietly, his gaze on her face. "And that's why we're going after Staunton."

She couldn't look away from him. She tried to smile. "I'm no na¬tional treasure."

"No." His hand closed around her own. "But a treasure all the same."

She stared down at their joined hands. She should move away. She was aware of an intimacy that was not intense, just warm, and com¬fortable. Yet it was probably a more dangerous closeness than a more sensual connection.

She didn't move away.

Instead, she glanced away and out the window at the clouds. "Where are we going to stay after we land?"

"Dardon has arranged for us to stay in a farmhouse outside Moscow."

"Why Moscow?"

"We don't know where we're going to have to go until Pauley tells us. It's as good a place as any," he said. "And it's a hub."

"I've never been to Moscow. I've been to other places in Russia and the Republic of Georgia on the job. Maybe I'll see the church that Zelov's house was built to resemble."

"We're not sightseeing." His hand tightened on hers. "But if you want to see anything in the whole damn world, I'll show it to you."

Intimacy, again.

She didn't care. She needed comfort and a feeling that she was in touch with something besides hatred and ugliness. She'd take this in¬timacy now and draw back later.

If she could.

THE LARGE STONE FARMHOUSE that Dardon had chosen was surrounded by flat barren fields that seemed to stretch on forever. It was all on one level, with a thatched roof and a rock-paved driveway leading up to the front door. "The farmer who owns it left to work in the city," Dardon said. "A lot of farmers don't think the work is worth the income these days." He jumped out of the car and ran up to the window box beside the front door. "The key should be here. " "Pretty obvious," Garrett said.

"There's not much to steal out here in the boondocks." Dardon unlocked the door and turned to Emily. "It should be comfortable if not elegant."

"That's all that matters." Emily entered the spacious kitchen-living room. Dark oak beams arched across the ceiling, and a huge stone fire¬place was centered between the two rooms. "It's cozy. We stayed in a farmhouse like this in Georgia, and Joel said he felt like he'd gone back in-" She broke off. That memory had popped up out of nowhere. So many of her memories were connected with Joel. She saw Garrett look¬ing at her, and quickly said, "It's very nice, Dardon."

"Tell him that after we find out if this place has a coffeemaker," Pauley said as he headed across the room toward the cabinets. "This stove looks like it's vintage 1930." He was looking through the cabinets. "I don't see-for heaven's sake, a samovar." He took out the elaborate tea service. "Very fancy but it's not a coffeepot."

"Stop complaining." Dardon was going through the cabinets, too. He triumphantly pulled out an old-fashioned coffeepot. "And there should be supplies, including coffee, in here somewhere."