Ted Bell - Warlord

Hawke shook his hand warmly and said, "I warn you now, Halter, I may never leave. It is too glorious for words."

"It is rather pretty, isn't it. Look at the two tallest mountains over there beyond the lake. That's the Eiger to the left, and beyond that the Jungfrau. You've come on the perfect day. Cool and clear. We've been besieged with snow all month. Shall we be off? Don't tell me that's all the luggage you've brought?"

Hawke slung his black nylon duffel bag over his shoulder and said, "I assume you don't dress for dinner up here, do you? I'm afraid I didn't bring a dinner jacket."

Halter laughed and said, "Follow me, Alex, your carriage awaits. My God, it's good to see you. You look marvelous by the way. I heard you went through a rough patch out in Bermuda."

Hawke ignored that and said, "Would you mind terribly if we stopped at a Realtor's office en route to your chalet? I should very much like to buy a house. Before sundown if possible."

"Not at all. Brought your checkbook?"

"As a matter of fact, I did."

They started off, walking through the streets of the picturesque hamlet.

"Ah, here we are," Halter said, as the two men rounded the back of a small gasthaus where diners sat on an upper deck enjoying the amazing views, the sunshine, and great glass steins of beer.

"This is yours?" Hawke said, looking at the lovely red sleigh behind two sturdy Swiss dray horses that very closely resembled palominos.

"Only way to get around up here. I cannot abide those horrid snowmobiles, and thank heaven there are few of them about up at the summit."

Hawke climbed inside after tossing his duffel behind the bench seat. Halter flicked the reins and they were off. The horses were beautifully tacked with a surfeit of gleaming silver sleigh bells that tinkled merrily as they made their way through the snowy wood.

"Do your comrades at the Kremlin know about this place?"

"Alex, you are the first and only person I have even told about this house, much less invited for a visit."

Twenty minutes later Halter reined in the horses, stopping just below a small but exquisite Swiss chalet. It had bright red shutters with decorative cutouts on every window, a steep pitched roof, and lots of carved Swiss imagery under the eave of the top floor.

"It's perfect, Stefan."

"With all due modesty, I must agree. Let's hurry inside and get you some food and drink, shall we?"

Once inside, sitting before a roaring fire in an ancient stone hearth, Halter took a sip of lager and looked carefully at his old friend.

"Alex, what I'm about to tell you will most certainly be a shock to you. I was shocked myself and that's a difficult thing to do. But I want you to hear me out before you respond. And I want you to know beforehand that what I tell you may well turn out to be pure fabrication. Misinformation designed by the KGB for purely political reasons. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Hawke said, his heart suddenly trip-hammering inside his rib cage. "Tell me."

"Anastasia may still be alive."

"What?" Hawke felt as if he'd been struck in the heart by a giant wielding a sledgehammer.

"She may not have died in the airship explosion in Sweden."

"But that's-"

"I know, impossible. We both saw her loaded aboard on the stretcher minutes before the explosion. At least, we saw someone carried on board. The body was concealed beneath a fur blanket."

"Yes, but we saw her arm slip down. The white ermine jacket she'd worn to the Nobel-"

"I know, I know. But apparently it may not have been her. I'm told the housekeeper at the summer house, for whatever reason, donned the ermine jacket, covered herself with the blanket, and had herself-Alex? Are you all right?"

Hawke had gone as still as death and as pale as wax. He covered his eyes with his trembling hands and, his voice breaking, said, "This cannot be true, Stefan. It simply cannot! I saw what I saw. I saw what I saw."

"Let me get you something. Brandy? Schnapps?"

"Brandy, please. I can't, I really just cannot deal with this, you know. After all this time. All this grief. All this goddamn pain I've been carrying around for-for-what? And now I'm finally-what? What am I, Stefan?"

"Drink this. Let's not talk for a few minutes. Do you want to walk around in the snow for a bit? Take some deep breaths of cold air? Might help."

"No. I want to hear it all. I'm all right."

"You're in shock, Alex. Perhaps we should speak after dinner and-"

"No! I want to hear it all! Right now. Every damn bit of it."

"All right. I'll tell you all I've heard. The KGB went to Sweden immediately after the tsar's death. Went to his house. Searched it. They claim they found Anastasia hiding in the cellar. Barely alive. She'd attempted suicide. Rat poison. But they got her to the clinic on the mainland in time."

"And then?"

"Returned her to Moscow. Lubyanka Prison. She was there for a year. They…coerced a confession from her. Treason against the state. She was tried and condemned to death by hanging."

"God. Oh, my God."

"You remember General Kuragin?"

"Of course. The little town in Sweden. The man who cut off his own left hand to avert suspicion. Betrayed the tsar. Gave us the code to the Beta machine."

"Yes. At the last minute, Kuragin interceded in her behalf. Saved her life. If I had to guess, I'd say Putin was behind it in some way."

"Putin?"

"Yes. After the tsar's death he was one of many political prisoners freed from Energetika Prison. He's been restored to power as you well know. Saving Anastasia could have been Putin's way of retaliating against those who'd betrayed him in favor of Count Korsakov. I really don't know the details, but she was released into General Kuragin's custody."

"Where is she now?"

"The KGB took possession of the tsar's country estate. You've been there, Jasna Polana. They use it for winter military training exercises, high-level meetings, entertaining visiting dignitaries, whatever. General Kuragin has retired. He lives there now, running the place, so to speak. So does she. Under lock and key. Constant guard. The place has become an armed fortress."

Hawke stood up, went to the hearth, and put both hands on the mantelpiece, facing away from Halter. Tears were coursing down his cheeks. His breathing was very shallow, and he was shaking badly as he tried to compose himself.

Halter waited silently for the question he knew was coming. It was some time before Hawke gained sufficient control of his emotions to ask it.

"And what about-what about my son?"

"Alive. He was born in Lubyanka Prison. He is now with his mother at Jasna Polana."

"He would be-how old now?"

"Almost two, Alex."

Hawke's heart was in his throat as he said, "One last question, Stefan."

"Anything."

"Who told you all of this?"

"General Kuragin."

"Kuragin. I was afraid you'd say that."

"Why?"

"Because, Stefan, you and I are the only two men on earth who know that General Kuragin betrayed his tsar and his country for fifty million dollars in a Swiss bank."

"And now he wants both witnesses to his treason eliminated."

"It's a possibility we must consider."

Hawke turned and faced his friend.

"I-I don't know what to say, Stefan. I don't know whether to believe this or not. I'm terrified of believing it. And terrified of not believing it."

"I've felt the very same way ever since learning about this. There were times when I thought I'd never be able to tell you all this."

"I killed Korsakov, Russia's beloved tsar. I'm sure the Kremlin wants me dead. I'm still amazed they never came after me in Bermuda. I was expecting a bullet to the head every single day."

"Yes. This could well be a very elaborate KGB ruse. Ordered by Kuragin. A trap, with Anastasia and her child as the perfect bait. A way to bring you to them while exacting a horrible emotional punishment upon you before he silences the voice that can bring him down. They are certainly capable of concocting such a monstrous assassination."