Tom Bradby - The White Russian

Another uniformed guard was standing outside the large wooden doors to the family’s private wing, and he ushered Ruzsky up the steps and into the hall. He took off his hat, coat, and gloves and tried unsuccessfully to prevent the snow from falling on the polished wooden floor. A footman removed them from his arm.

Colonel Shulgin strode down the corridor toward him. His face was like granite, but his eyes communicated a different message, perhaps, Ruzsky thought, comradeship or compassion. “Come this way, please,” he said.

Ruzsky followed.

Shulgin led him to the antechamber and they sat in a pair of upholstered chairs beneath the portrait of Marie Antoinette. Ruzsky glanced up at it. He had once been told that it hung over the Empress’s desk.

They waited. Shulgin examined his hands. “I’m sorry about your father,” he said beneath his breath. He stared dead ahead. “I had not imagined…”

“I must speak with you.”

They heard footsteps from the direction of the Empress’s private apartments. She swept into the room, wearing a dark dress with a cream brooch at the neck. Shulgin and Ruzsky both stood and bowed low.

The Empress waved them back to their seats and took one opposite. She was about to start speaking when they heard a child’s cry in the distance. She began to get up, then chose to ignore it and sat down, smoothing the front of her dress.

There was another scream, a boy’s, high-pitched and heartfelt. This time the Empress stood, turned, and departed without a word.

Ruzsky listened to her rapid footsteps. “Colonel Shulgin. I very much need to-”

“Later, Chief Investigator. Please bear in mind where you are.”

At length, the Empress returned. She offered no explanation, nor apology, and after they had repeated their bows and seated themselves once more, she stared at the floor. Ruzsky wondered if she was having difficulty remembering why he was here, or even who he was. A phrase from his father’s letter echoed in his mind: She has become quite unhinged…

What struck him most was how tired she looked; in fact more than tired. He himself was exhausted, and so, by the look of it, was Shulgin, but the fatigue in the Tsarina’s eyes was of a wholly different nature. Her face and mouth were pinched, her eyes hollow. She gave the impression of having to exert a gigantic effort of will simply to articulate a question.

“You have not recovered…” She sighed and placed her head in her hand for a moment, as if once again having to steel herself to think straight. “You have not recovered the girl’s possessions?”

Ruzsky did not answer. He could not imagine what he was supposed to say.

“The chief investigator is primarily conducting a murder investigation,” Shulgin said. Ruzsky noticed the tension in his voice and face. He wondered whether any of them had had any sleep.

The Empress did not appear to understand. She frowned heavily at Shulgin.

“This is the chief investigator, ma’am. Chief Investigator Ruzsky. He was assigned to investigate Ella’s murder. Since then, there have been three more victims.”

“But you have still not recovered her… possessions?”

Ruzsky stared at the Empress. He wondered if she was on some kind of sedative. “No, Your Majesty.”

“Then why have you come here?”

There was silence.

“You instructed me to summon him, ma’am,” Shulgin said. The strain in his voice was barely hidden now.

“He has not got to the bottom of it.”

“No, ma’am. He has not.”

They heard a soft patter of feet. Ruzsky caught his breath. For a moment, he thought he’d seen a ghost. A girl with a shaven head, dressed completely in white, hovered in the doorway.

Anastasia. It was the Grand Duchess Anastasia.

Ruzsky could not take his eyes off her. She looked pale and unwell. There were deep shadows under her eyes. It had been two weeks ago that he’d seen her playing in front of the Alexander Palace with her brother and sisters, her long, dark hair framing a face of exceptional beauty.

“Mama?”

Anastasia came to her mother and whispered something in her ear.

The Empress hugged her, and Ruzsky noticed the way in which her mother’s fingers dug into her back as she held her.

The Tsarina released her daughter reluctantly. Anastasia smiled shyly at Ruzsky and Shulgin and then withdrew, glancing once more over her shoulder as she reached the doorway.

The Empress stood and followed.

“Measles?” Ruzsky whispered, pointing at his hair.

Shulgin nodded.

Ruzsky waited. The minutes ticked by, but Shulgin did not meet his eye. “Why am I here?” he asked.

“Because the Empress summoned you.”

“But why-”

“No reason is required, Chief Investigator.”

“May I be assured that you will speak to me when this audience is at an end?”

Shulgin sighed. “Your father’s death will be discussed at the Imperial Council tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I am empowered to offer my most profound condolences.”

They heard the Empress’s footsteps. As she reentered the room, she appeared to be in some pain.

She sat awkwardly, and looked at him. “You have not found the girl’s possessions?”

“I was not aware, Your Majesty, that we were looking-”

“So, you have not found them?”

Shulgin’s eyes flashed a warning.

“No, Your Majesty,” Ruzsky said.

“You have found nothing, then?”

They endured another lengthy silence.

“Have you spoken to Mr. Vasilyev?”

“On a number of occasions, Your Majesty.”

“You are working together on the case?”

“Together… yes.”

Shulgin leaned forward. “The chief investigator’s father was the assistant minister of finance, ma’am, if you recall…”

“Yes,” she said.

Ruzsky waited for condolences to be offered, but the Empress continued to look straight through him.

“Very reliable family,” Shulgin added.

“Is that reliable in the general sense, or the specific?” she asked. “As reliable as most of our reliable families?” The Empress glared at Shulgin before turning her attention back to Ruzsky. She seemed more alert now. “Your father met with an accident?”

Ruzsky hesitated. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry for it.”

“That’s kind of you, Your Majesty.”

“Does this mean you will give up on the case?”

“Of course not.”

Her expression became opaque once more. “But you have not yet recovered any of the girl’s possessions,” she said again.

“No, Your Majesty. We were not aware any were missing.”

“Has he spoken to that filthy newspaper?” she snapped at Shulgin.

“No, ma’am. Vasilyev has taken care of that.”

“But they will not be publishing what the American took to them? We have a guarantee of that?”

“Yes.”

They heard another cry. It was fainter now, but Ruzsky could see the son’s pain mirrored in the mother. “Yes,” she said, distracted. “Well…”

For a moment, Ruzsky saw the despair in Shulgin’s eyes, before the colonel lowered his head and stared at the floor. The Empress stood. “I wish to be informed immediately when you have recovered the girl’s possessions. I wish this matter to be given the most urgent priority. I don’t want to have to go through this again.”

Anastasia and one of her elder sisters had returned to the doorway. They stared silently, round-eyed, at the two men who had been occupying their mother’s attention. As the Empress reached them, she bent and placed her arms around their shoulders, ushering them gently from the room.

Ruzsky watched Shulgin staring into the empty doorway.

The court official forced himself back to the present, sighed deeply, and stood. He muttered something under his breath, before leading Ruzsky back down the corridor. All the doors were shut, but Ruzsky could still hear the young boy’s whimpering.