Steve Berry - The Romanov Prophecy

"That may have been intentional. In fact, it is our belief that is precisely the case." Pashenko paused. "Now that you have agreed, I can tell you more of the information passed down to me. My great-uncle and uncle both harbored their portion of the secret until death. It is the words that must be uttered to the next person in the chain, which I now believe is Kolya Maks, or his successor. He that endureth to the end shall be saved."

Lord thought immediately of his father. "From the gospel of Matthew."

Pashenko nodded. "Those words should gain access to the second part of the journey."

"You realize that this all could be a wild goose chase," Lord declared.

"I no longer think so. Both Alexandra and Lenin mentioned the same information. Alexandra penned her letter in 1916, describing the incident with Rasputin that the Originator independently passed to us. Lenin, six years later, wrote what was learned from a tortured White Guardsman. He specifically noted Maks's name. No. There is something in Starodug. Something Lenin could not discover. After his stroke in 1922, Lenin more or less retired and lost his zeal. By 1924 he was dead. Four years later Stalin sealed everything, and it stayed sealed until 1991. The Romanov business, Stalin called it. He forbade anyone to even speak of the imperial family. So no one ever followed Yussoupov's trail, if anyone even realized there was a trail to follow."

"As I recall," Lord said, "Lenin didn't necessarily consider the tsar a rallying point for opposition. By 1918 the Romanovs were discredited. 'Nicholas the Bloody' and all that. The disinformation campaign the communists waged against the imperials was quite successful."

Pashenko nodded. "Some of the tsar and tsarina's writings were first published then. All Lenin's idea. That way the people could read firsthand how indifferent their royal family had become. Of course, the published material was selective and heavily edited. It was also designed to send a message abroad. Lenin hoped the kaiser might want Alexandra back. He thought perhaps dangling her fate might ensure German compliance with the peace treaty, or perhaps a way to bargain a return of Russian prisoners of war. But the Germans possessed an extensive spy network throughout Russia, particularly in the Ural region, so I imagine they knew that the entire imperial family was murdered in July 1918. Lenin was, in essence, bargaining with corpses."

"What of all the stories about the tsarina and her daughters surviving?"

"More disinformation put out by the Soviets. Lenin was unsure how the world would view the murdering of women and children. Moscow tried hard to paint what happened as a valid execution carried out in heroic fashion. So the communists invented a story that the female Romanovs were taken off and died later in a White Army battle. Lenin thought disinformation would keep the Germans guessing. Once he saw that no one cared for any Romanov, regardless of sex or age, the pretense was dropped."

"Yet the disinformation remained."

Pashenko grinned. "Some of that our Holy Band must take credit for. My predecessors did an excellent job of misdirection. Part of the Originator's plan was to keep the Soviets guessing and the world wondering. Though I am not certain, I believe the entire Anna Anderson affair was a Yussoupov creation. He sent her to perpetuate a hoax, which the world readily accepted."

"Until DNA testing came along and proved her a fraud."

"But that was only recently. My guess is, Yussoupov taught her all the details she would need. The rest was her own magnificent performance."

"That was all part of this?"

"And much more, Mr. Lord. Yussoupov lived until 1967 and personally assured that his plan worked. The misinformation was not only to keep the Soviets off guard, but also to keep the surviving Romanovs in line. They could never be sure if a direct heir survived, so no one faction ever had complete control over the family. Anna Anderson played her role so well that even a lot of the Romanovs swore under oath she was Anastasia. Yussoupov was brilliant in what he conceived. After a while, pretenders emerged everywhere. There were books, movies, court fights. The deception took on a life of its own."

"All to guard the real secret."

"Correct. Since Yussoupov's death the responsibility has fallen to others, myself included, but because of Soviet travel restrictions it was difficult to assure success. Maybe God shines upon us with your appearance." Pashenko stared hard. "I am glad you decided to do this, Mr. Lord. This nation needs your service."

"I'm not sure how much service I'll be."

The older man looked at Akilina. "And you, too, my dear." Pashenko sat back in the chair. "Now, a few more details. Rasputin's prophecy foretells that beasts will be involved-how, I could not begin to say. And that God will provide a way to ensure the righteousness of the claim. This could be a reference to DNA testing. It can surely be used here to verify the authenticity of any person you locate. This is not Lenin's or Yussoupov's day. Science can help."

The apartment's serenity had calmed his nerves, and Lord was becoming too tired to think. Also, the aroma of cabbage and potatoes was inviting. "Professor, I'm starved."

"Of course. The men who brought you are preparing everything." Pashenko turned toward Akilina. "While we eat, I will send them to your apartment to retrieve what you might need. I would recommend securing your passport, because there is no indication where this quest might lead. Also, we have contacts within the organization that owns the circus. I will arrange a leave that will not jeopardize your career. If this turns out to be nothing, at least your job will be waiting."

"Thank you."

"What about your things, Mr. Lord?"

"I'll give the men my hotel key. They can bring my suitcase. I also need to get a message to my boss, Taylor Hayes."

"I would not recommend that. The prophecy speaks of secrecy and I believe we should respect that."

"But Taylor might be able to help."

"You require no help."

He was too tired to argue. Besides, Pashenko was probably right. The fewer who knew his destination, the better. He could always call Hayes later.

"You can sleep here tonight in safety," Pashenko said, "and start your quest tomorrow."

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 16 4:45 PM

Lord drove the battered Lada down a stretch of two- lane highway. Pashenko had provided the vehicle along with a full tank of gas and five thousand U.S. dollars. Lord had asked for American currency rather than rubles since Pashenko had been right last night-there was no telling where this journey would lead. He still thought the entire venture a waste of time, but he felt 1,000 percent better now that he was five hours south of Moscow, motoring through the wooded terrain of southwestern Russia.

He was dressed in jeans and a sweater, Pashenko's men having retrieved his suitcase from the Volkhov without a problem. He was rested, and a hot shower and shave had done wonders. Akilina looked refreshed as well. Pashenko's men had obtained her clothes along with her passport and exit visa. To facilitate their extensive travel schedule, all of the circus performers were issued visas with no expiration date.

She'd sat quiet for most of the trip. She wore an olive mock turtleneck shirt, jeans, and suede pea coat-an outfit, she explained, bought in Munich the year before. Dark colors and a conservative tone fit her well. High lapels accented her thin shoulders and threw off an Annie Hall look that Lord liked.

Through the windshield he saw fields and forests. The soil was black, nothing like the red clay of northern Georgia. Potatoes were the region's claim to fame. He recalled with amusement the tale of Peter the Great, who'd decreed that the strange plant be grown by peasants of the area. Apples of the earth, Peter had called them. But potatoes were foreign to Russia and the tsar failed to say which part of the plant needed to be harvested. When, in desperation, they tried to eat every part except the root, the peasants became ill. Angry and disappointed, they burned the entire crop. It was only when someone tasted the charred inside of the root that the plant acquired a home.