Mostly because no one wanted the television station to become an instant target for terrorists—or the Russian police.
She spoke calmly, her head pounding, and revealed all that she had discovered. The station had given her five minutes to elaborate on her story, and she had written it concisely and crisply to make the most of her time.
“President Nevsky has lied to the Russian people. He has undermined the Ukrainian government so his military generals could step in and take over. Now he begins to do that to you. Beginning with terrorist organizations like 17N...” Despite the pain and nausea she felt, she persevered, never missing a beat, never once losing strength in her voice, though it felt like every word she said emptied her lungs.
She saw herself on one of the monitors in front. She had been self-conscious of it in the beginning. Speaking in front of one was more distracting than she remembered.
When the nosebleed started, it was even more distracting. She mopped the blood from her face and continued. The blood became a rush, then a torrent, and her head ached more fiercely, and her senses flew. It was all she could do to keep talking and remain seated.
Some of the support staff rushed toward her. She waved them off, determined to finish. Something was wrong, and in her heart, she knew she was dying. She could feel that nothingness waiting for her, sucking her down with every passing second.
“Now that you have heard my story, you must finish what I have started. President Mikhail Nevsky is a monster. He must be stopped—” She coughed and a bubble of blood burst in the back of her throat, filling her mouth with the salty taste of iron. “And...Father...I love you. Embrace the new Russia. Do not fear it. Do not let it fall.”
Unable to hold herself up, Anna fell. She was no longer there when she hit the ground.
48
Museum of the University of Athens
Plaka, Athens
Hellenic Republic (Greece)
February 21, 2013
“Thomas.”
It took Lourds a moment to recognize Layla’s voice. He pulled the phone closer to his ear and checked the time. It was 6:47 p.m. “Layla? Is something wrong?”
“Have you seen the news?”
“No. Adonis and I have been steadily working on solving the riddle of this scroll. Every time I think we almost have it, we reach an impasse.”
“Anna Cherkshan is dead.”
The news hit Lourds like a tsunami of cold water. All his attention was suddenly focused on the phone. “Are you sure? She was here only a few hours ago.” He brought up Marias’s computer and clicked on a local news site.
“Anna died at a local television station.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Was she all right when you saw her?”
“Yes. Other than a headache. She thought she was fatigued.”
“It was more than fatigue. She had a nosebleed. It was horrible.”
Lourds found the news about Anna then. There was a print story as well as video clips.
RUSSIAN JOURNALIST DEAD
ANNA CHERKSHAN CLAIMS RUSSIAN PRESIDENT NEVSKY ARRANGED UKRAINIAN DOWNFALL
“Have they said what killed her?” Lourds clicked on one of the video clips and watched Anna’s impassioned plea for an investigation into President Nevsky. He watched the trickle of blood from her nostrils turn into a crimson rush that drenched her blouse. He closed his eyes, no longer able to look.
“No. No one is saying anything.” Layla sounded terribly upset. “God forgive me, but after what happened to her, I got so worried about you. Then, when I could not get in touch with you...” Her voice choked.
“I’m sorry, Layla. Truly I am. But we’re all fine here.”
“You will not continue to be fine if you pursue this. You know that.”
Lourds clicked off the computer, unable to watch any more, not wanting to know any more. “Layla, I have to follow up on this. Adonis and I almost have the answer.”
“It will get you killed. Just like it got Anna killed.”
“We don’t even know if her death was anything more than a terrible accident at this point.”
“She was a healthy young woman.”
“That could have been the result of an embolism. There doesn’t have to be anything nefarious about her death.”
“There is. I feel it. And you should feel it too.”
Lourds silently admitted to himself that maybe he did. “Layla, even if I tried to walk away from this thing, Nevsky—or whoever’s after Alexander’s tomb—will just come after me. I’m not going to be safe until I find it.” He paused, and a horrible thought crossed his mind. “You’re not going to