Iris Johansen - Deadlock

July 5, 1918

I think the Tsar is planning his escape. He is being very cooperative with all of his captors and is even planning on visiting the new Peo¬ple's Museum that was built across the street from the residence. He must be trying to avert suspicion for he loathes those Communists who hold his life in their hands.

July 13, 1918

I gave the Tsar the hammer tonight. How I hated to let it out of my hands. The bastard would not even tell me where he intended to hide the hammer until they escaped the country. Never mind. I will find it. Sometimes I feel as if the hammer knows me, calls to me.

The amulets on the necks of the grand duchesses are a more diffi¬cult matter. How to get them away from them? How to do it…

July 17, 1918

It is so simple.

I have been working on influencing Yurovsky, the head of the Tsar's captors, and it will happen tonight. I will not let the Tsar see my face until the last minute. He must know who is responsible after all the annoyance he has caused me.

July 18, 1918

They are dead. The Tsar and all his family shot to death and blud¬geoned in the cellar of Ipatiev House. I convinced Yurovsky they all had to die. He was only going to kill the Tsar and his son. I stayed in the background as I planned and only steppedforward as they were killing the Tsar. But I had to help with the killing of the grand duchesses. No matter how many bullets we sprayed them with, they would not die. I found out why once we stripped them down. They had sewn diamonds into their corsets, and the bullets were bouncing off! I started to laugh, but then I realized everyone was grabbing at the amulets as well as the diamonds. No! They were mine.

They tossed all the jewels into a sack and onto the wagon with the bodies. I had to go with them. It was most annoying. I was going to slip away, but I have to get my hands on those amulets.

They threw the bodies down into a mineshaft, but I had no op¬portunity to grab the sack with the amulets. Some bastard had al¬ready taken it. I willfind them. I must find them.

"Had enough?" Garrett asked.

Emily looked up and saw that Garrett was studying her face. "I'll finish it and tell you about it," he said. "You look as if you're about to throw up."

She did feel sick. It was as if all of Zelov's evil was reaching out to her, smothering her. She smiled faintly. "You're being protective again."

"Yeah. I guess I am."

"He reminds me of Staunton." She moistened her lips. "Did you get to the part where he laughed because the diamonds in the corsets were deflecting the bullets?"

"Yes."

"Those poor young girls. What a nightmare for them. What a horror he was. Like Staunton." She added, "But now at least we know why that map was with the amulets. The Tsar had to have a particular map that he could fashion to work with the scroll on the amulets. It's not as if you could place the amulets over just any map and expect it to lead anywhere."

"You didn't answer me. Do you want me to finish it and tell you the rest? I'll make it brief."

She shook her head. "I just needed a break for a few moments. There doesn't seem to be much more. And it can't be any more terri¬ble than-"

Garrett's cell phone rang. He glanced down at it. "Ferguson." He answered it. "What's the story?" He listened for a few moments, then said, "Let me know."

As he hung up, he said, "Nicholas Zelov was not at his house in Connecticut. The servants don't know where he is. He drove off about noon to go to his tailor, then to a cocktail party in Manhattan. He was a little drunk, but they said he was always at least a little drunk."

"Then he could have had an accident," Emily said. She wished she could believe that was true. But she had read about too much blood and murder tonight.

"Yes, Ferguson is checking to see if he can get the state police to try to spot his car. It shouldn't be difficult. It's a red Lamborghini."

WHAT A SHAME TO DESTROY a sweet car like that, Borg thought. It was almost a crime.

Borg smiled at the thought as he watched the tail end of the Lam¬borghini slowly sink into the marsh. Actually, the crime was not the killing of the car. With any luck, Zelov would not be found for a very long time.

And Borg felt lucky. Everything had been going off very well. He dialed Staunton. "I've earned my bonus. What next?" "Come to Moscow. It's time we finished the job." "Garrett and Hudson?" "Not Hudson. Emily Hudson is mine."

July 17, 1918

I have three of the amulets. I found out which of the peasants who had been at the mine had taken the sack and waited until they took the jewels to the flea market and sold them. The stupid oafs got a pittance for the diamonds, but they only wanted to get rid of them. I followed behind them, and when the amulets were sold, I bought them back.

But dammit, there are only three. Where is the hammer that has the fourth? It is the most important of all of them, for it has the en¬graved directions beneath the painting. I went back to Ipatiev House, but I couldn't find it. Maybe the Tsar persuaded his wife to wear the amulet after all. No, the Tsarina had been stripped and robbed like the girls.

But a worthless amulet might not have been noticed. It could have still been around her neck when she was thrown into the mine. Worthless? The fools. The stupid, careless fools. I'll have to go back to the mine tonight.

July 17, 1918 11:40 p.m.

I went back to the mine, but it was guarded. Yurovsky does not want anyone to know where the bodies were thrown. I had to wait until later to kill the guard and go down into the mine. The water was icy cold and the bodies starting to stink. There was no amulet around that royal bitch's neck. It has to be in the hammer.

I climbed out of the mine, and my anger was so hot I did not feel the cold. Think, I told myself. Where had the Tsar hidden the ham¬mer? If it wasn't at the house, where could he have-

Then it came to me. The People's Museum. What better place to hide the hammer? Across the street from Ipatiev House and easy to re¬trieve. He had visited the museum to pay his respects the day after I gave him the hammer. I had thought he was trying to pacify his cap¬tors and save his neck. It had even amused me.

It did not amuse me now. It filled me with exhilaration.

I tried to break into the museum that night, but there were guards all over the street. The next day I went into the museum with a crowd ofpeasants who wanted to gawk at the few exhibits the new government had set up to glorify themselves.

The hammer is there! I saw it.

But I cannot touch it! I can tell they suspect me of the murder of the guard at the mine. And someone might have seen me at the flea market when I bought the amulets. I'm sure I was followed today.

I must not panic. I must control myself. I cannot stay here any longer. My position is too dangerous. And too many people may re¬member I was at court with the royal family. This country is in tur¬moil, and I will not let myself be swept away in the bloodbath. I will go to America as I planned. But I will not go as a pauper. I do not have all the keys to the Tsar's fortune, but I can come back for the hammer later. I can still be a king.

I will go to Nartova. The political situation may be just what I need to pressure him. The Bolsheviks are howling for blood, but it will not be mine.

Emily thought it was the last entry, but she flipped the pages and found two more. Both were decades from the time of the massacre.

July 25, 1932

It is no use. I've gone back many times, but I cannot Jind a way to get that hammer out of the museum. I've tried everything from bribery to hiring thugs to help me attack the guards who watch over the mu¬seum. No one will take my bribes, and it's ridiculous how heavily the museum is guarded. I've been foiled twice when I made the attempt to kill them and get into the exhibition hall. It's just a poor, unim¬portant historical museum. Why should it be so well guarded? I sus¬pect Nartova. He is clever enough to find ways to manipulate the government even if he has little power. He is standing guard over the hammer like a giant gargoyle.