Steve Berry: The Romanov Prophecy

She almost expected the animal to answer back, but he simply rested on his hindquarters and caught his breath.

"Find. Move."

The dog ran off.

They headed in pursuit.

A shot exploded in the distance.

Lord arched the rock into the air just as Hayes turned. He felt something tear in his shoulder, then a blinding pain reverberated down his spine. He'd torn open the flesh wound again.

He saw the rock slam into Hayes's chest and heard the gun fire. He leapt from his position, crashing into his employer. The two men collapsed to the ground, electrified pain surging through his right shoulder.

He ignored the pain and slammed his fist into Hayes's face, but Hayes used his legs and thighs to send Lord up and over, onto his back. Sharp stones wedged into Lord's spine and added more agony.

In the next instant, Hayes was on him.

Akilina started to run. Thorn did, too. Both in the direction of the gunshot. The ground began to harden and she noticed rocks all around. Ahead, she could hear heavy breathing and bodies rolling.

The forest ended.

Before them Taylor Hayes and Miles Lord were fighting.

She halted beside Thorn. The borzoi stopped, too, watching the battle thirty feet away.

"End it," she said to Thorn.

But the lawyer did not use his weapon.

Lord watched Hayes spring to his feet and pounce. Amazingly, he still possessed some strength and managed to swing with his left fist, catching Hayes square on the jaw. The blow momentarily stunned his attacker. He needed to find the gun he'd seen. It had fallen from Hayes's grip when the rock had made contact.

He kicked with his right knee and forced Hayes up. He rolled once before regaining his balance and crouching to his knees. He was tired of rocks grinding his already sore body. His shoulder was definitely bleeding. But he was not about to be cowed at this point. The sonovabitch had to be stopped here and now.

He searched the blackened earth for the gun, but could not distinguish its outline. He thought he sensed two forms beyond the outcroppings, toward the trees, but it was hard to focus. Probably Orleg and Droopy, watching the fight with amusement, able to decide the winner with a single shot.

He tackled Hayes around the waist. They slammed into a pile of granite and he felt something in the other man give way, perhaps a rib. Hayes cried out, but managed to wedge two thumbs deep into Lord's neck and twist, the pressure affecting his windpipe. He struggled for breath and, in the instant his grip relaxed, Hayes brought a knee into his midsection, then punched hard, sending Lord reeling toward the cliff's edge.

He readied himself for the next volley as Hayes leapt forward, pivoting himself off the ground and kicking hard. But Hayes had somehow sensed the move and stopped his advance.

So his feet found only air.

Akilina watched as Lord rolled once after a missed kick, coming to his knees and turning toward Hayes.

Thorn knelt down in front of the borzoi. She knelt, too. The animal growled low in his throat, his eyes never leaving the shadowy scene before them. The jaws snapped a couple of times and she spied sharp fangs.

"He's deciding," Thorn said. "He can see much better than we can."

"Use the gun," she said.

Thorn's gaze leveled on her. "We must see the prophecy through."

"Don't be foolish. Stop it now."

The borzoi took a step forward.

"Use the gun, or I'll use the rifle," she said.

The lawyer gently placed a hand on her arm. "Have faith." His voice and manner exuded something that was not easily explained.

She said nothing.

Thorn turned back to the dog.

"Easy, Alexie. Easy."

Lord managed to scramble to his feet and move away from the cliff's edge. Hayes had stopped his attack, seemingly trying to regain his breath.

He stared at his boss.

"Come on, Miles," Hayes said. "We've got to finish this. Just you and me. No way out of here, except through me."

They circled around each other like cats, Lord moving right toward the trees, Hayes coming left toward the edge.

Then Lord saw it. The gun. Lying on the rocks not six feet away. But Hayes seemed to spot it, too, pouncing and grasping the stock before he could muster the strength.

In an instant the barrel was palmed, Hayes's finger on the trigger, the barrel aimed directly at him.

Akilina watched as the borzoi rushed forward. No command was given by Thorn. The animal simply moved on his own, somehow knowing this was the moment and likewise knowing exactly where to strike. Perhaps the dog was able to distinguish the scents and was familiar with Lord's from the blood. Perhaps he was being influenced by the spirit of Rasputin. Who knew? Hayes never saw the animal until the moment before they made contact, the rushing weight of the borzoi enough to stagger him backward.

Lord seized the moment and lunged forward, pushing Hayes and the dog over the edge. A scream pierced the night, slowly fading as the two bodies dissolved into blackness. A second later he heard a distant thud as flesh met stone, accompanied by a yelp that made his heart ache. He could not see the chasm's bottom.

But there was no need to.

Footsteps came from behind.

He whirled, expecting to see Droopy and Orleg, but instead Akilina appeared, followed by Thorn.

She hugged him hard.

"Easy," he said, reacting to the pain in his shoulder.

She relaxed her grip.

Thorn stood at the edge and stared down.

"A shame about the dog," Lord said.

"I loved that animal." Thorn turned toward him. "But it's over now. The choice has been made."

And in that moment, illuminated in the glow of a quarter moon, within a hardened face and unblinking eyes, Miles Lord saw the future of Russia.

MOSCOW SUNDAY, APRIL 10 11:00 AM

The interior of the Cathedral of the Dormition glowed with radiance from hundreds of lights and candles. The vast interior had been specially illuminated to accommodate the television cameras that were transmitting the ceremony live to the world. Lord stood near the altar, in a place of prominence, Akilina beside him. Above them four tiers of icons dotted with jewels twinkled in the glow, signaling that all was well.

Two coronation chairs sat at the front of the cathedral. One was the throne of the second Romanov tsar, Alexie. Nearly nine thousand diamonds were embedded in it, along with rubies and pearls. It was 350 years old, a museum curiosity for the last 100. Yesterday the chair had been transported from the Kremlin Armory, and Michael Thorn now sat upright in it.

Beside him, in the Ivory Throne, sat his wife, Margaret. Her chair had been brought to Russia by Ivan the Great's Byzantine bride, Sophia, in 1472. It had been Ivan who had proclaimed, Two Romes have fallen, but the third now stands, and a fourth there will not be. Yet today, on a glorious April morning, a fourth Rome was about to be born. A merger of the secular and sacred in one entity-the tsar.

Russia once again ruled by Romanovs.

Thoughts of Taylor Hayes flashed through Lord's mind. Even now, six months after Hayes's death, the full extent of the conspiracy was still unknown. There was talk that the patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church, Adrian, had himself been a party. But he'd steadfastly denied any involvement, and nothing had yet materialized to the contrary. The only for-certain accomplice was Maxim Zubarev, the man who'd tortured Lord in San Francisco. But before authorities could question him, his body had been found in a shallow grave outside Moscow, two bullet holes in the skull. The government suspected a widespread conspiracy, one even involving the mafiya, but as yet no witnesses had been found to substantiate anything.

The threat these unknowns posed to the emerging monarchy was real, and Lord was worried about Michael Thorn. But the lawyer from North Carolina had shown remarkable courage. He'd charmed the Russian people with a sincerity they found compelling, even his American ancestry was seen as a positive factor, world leaders expressing relief that a nuclear superpower would be ruled by somebody with an international outlook. Yet Thorn had made clear he was a Romanov-Russian blood coursed through his veins-and he intended to reassert Romanov control over a nation his family had once ruled for three hundred years.