Steve Berry - The Romanov Prophecy

Two of the men had already passed out drunk. Two more jumped from the bed and disappeared into the darkness. Maks feigned drunkenness and remained still in the bed. He watched as the driver trudged back to the railway booth and banged on the door. A lamp flickered inside and the door opened. Maks could hear the driver telling the watchman they needed water. There was more arguing and Maks heard the guardsmen, who'd moved off into the night, call out that they had located lumber.

It would have to be now.

He crawled toward the tarp and slowly peeled it back. A coppery stench turned his stomach. He rolled the tsarina's sheeted body over and grasped the bundle with the tsarevich.

"It is I, Little One. Be still and quiet."

The boy murmured something Maks could not understand.

He carried the bundle from the bed and deposited it in the woods a few meters off the road.

"Do not move," he whispered.

He quickly scampered back and cupped the bundle holding Anastasia. He gently laid her on the ground and replaced the tarp. He cradled her in his arms and deposited her in the woods beside her brother. He loosened the wrap around each child and checked the girl's pulse. Faint, but there.

Alexie looked at him.

"I know this is horrible. But you must stay here. Watch over your sister. Do not move. I will come back. When, I don't know. Understand?"

The boy nodded.

"You remember me, don't you?"

Alexie nodded again.

"Then trust me, Little One."

The boy hugged him with a desperate grasp that tugged at his heart.

"Sleep, for now. I will return."

Maks hustled back to the truck and climbed into the bed, taking up his prone position beside the other two men still passed out. He heard footsteps approaching through the darkness. He moaned and started to sit up.

"Get up, Kolya. We need your help," one of the men said as they approached. "We found lumber at the watch station."

He jumped down and helped the other two as they started laying boards across the muddy road. The driver returned with a pail of water for the engine.

Yurovsky appeared a few minutes later. "Ermakov's people are just ahead."

The truck recranked with some effort and the boards provided the traction needed. Less than half a mile later they encountered a group of men waiting with torches. From their shouts it was obvious most were drunk. Maks recognized Peter Ermakov standing in the headlight beam. Yurovsky had only been ordered to carry out the sentence. The body disposal was Comrade Ermakov's responsibility. He was a worker at the Upper Isetsk plant who loved to kill so much that everyone called him Comrade Mauser.

Somebody yelled, "Why didn't you bring them to us alive?"

Maks knew what Ermakov had probably promised the men. Be good Soviets and do as you are told and I will let you have your way with the women while Papa Tsar watches. The possibility of carnal lust on four virgins was surely enough of an incentive to get them to make the necessary preparations.

A crowd gathered at the rear of the truck facing the tarpaulin, torches crackling in the night. One of them yanked the cover away.

"Shit, that stinks," somebody hollered.

"The stench of royalty," another said.

"Move the bodies off into the carts," Yurovsky ordered.

Somebody grumbled about not wanting to touch the filthy things, and Ermakov hopped onto the bed. "Get these damn corpses off the truck. We have only a couple of hours until dawn and there is much to do."

Maks realized that Ermakov was not a man to challenge. The men started hauling bloodied bundles and dropping them into droshkies. There were only four of the wooden carts and he hoped no one counted corpses. Only Yurovsky would know the exact number, but his commander moved off with Ermakov ahead of the truck. The rest of the men who'd come from the Ipatiev house were too drunk or too tired to care about whether there were nine or eleven bodies.

The sheets were removed as each corpse was tossed into a droshkie. Maks watched as some of the men started going through the pockets in the bloodied clothing. One of the men from the execution squad told the crowd about the finds made earlier.

Yurovsky appeared and a shot rang out. "There'll be none of that. We will strip them at the burial site. But anything found is to be handed over or you will be shot on the spot."

No one argued.

With only four carts, the decision was made that the truck should drive as far as it could with the remaining bodies, with the carts following. Maks sat on the edge of the truck bed and watched the carts roll behind as the vehicle inched forward. He knew they would have to stop at some point, leave the road, and hike into the woods. He'd heard earlier that a burial site in one of the abandoned mine shafts had been chosen. The Four Brothers, somebody called the location.

Twenty minutes passed as the truck rocked forward. Then the tires slid to a stop and Yurovsky leaped out of the cab. He walked back to where Ermakov was leading a cart. The commandant grabbed Ermakov and jammed a pistol into the man's neck.

"This is fucking shit," Yurovsky said. "The man in the truck says he can't locate the trail back to the mine. You were all just here yesterday. Now, no memory? You're hoping I'll tire and leave you with the bodies so they can be robbed. That will not happen. Either find the trail or I'll kill you. The Ural Committee will support me, I assure you."

Two from the execution squad sprang to their feet and the bolts of their rifles cocked in the night. Maks followed suit.

"All right, Comrade," Ermakov calmly said. "There is no need for violence. I will personally lead the way."

Lord saw tears in Vassily Maks's eyes. He wondered how many times the events had played out in the old man's mind.

"My father served in Nicholas' guard. He was assigned to Tsarskoe Selo, the Alexander Palace where the imperial family lived. The children knew his face. Especially Alexie."

"How did he come to be in Yekaterinburg?" Akilina asked.

"He was approached by Felix Yussoupov. Men were needed to infiltrate Yekaterinburg. Palace guards were favored by the Bolsheviks. They were showpieces the propagandists used to legitimatize the revolution-how Nicholas's most trusted men turned on him. Many did turn, weak souls scared for their hides, but a few were recruited as spies, like my father. He knew many of the revolution leaders, and they were glad to have him as part of the movement. It was simply luck he arrived at Yekaterinburg in time. Even more luck that Yurovsky selected him as part of the execution squad."

They were sitting at the kitchen table, having finished their lunch.

"Your father sounds like a brave man," Lord said.

"Enormously so. He took an oath to the tsar and lived that oath until the end."

Lord wanted to know about Alexie and Anastasia. "Did they survive?" he asked. "What happened?"

The old man's lips curled into a thin smile. "Something wonderful. But first, something awful."

The convoy moved on into the forest. The road was little more than a rough trail cut through mud, the going slow. When the truck became stuck between two trees, Yurovsky decided to abandon the vehicle and proceed on to the mine using the droshkies. The remaining bodies from the truck were loaded onto stretchers fashioned from the tarpaulin. The Four Brothers mine was no more than a hundred paces away and Maks helped carry the stretcher containing the corpse of the tsar.

"Lay them out on the ground," Yurovsky ordered when they arrived at the clearing.

"I thought I was in charge," Ermakov said.

"You were," the commandant made clear.

A fire was started. Each corpse was undressed, the clothing burned. With thirty or so drunken men, the scene was chaotic. But Maks was grateful for the confusion since it helped mask the loss of two victims.