The Romanov Prophecy Page 0,111

gave them the correct answer.

"Of course."

FORTY-TWO

GENESIS, NORTH CAROLINA

4:15 PM

LORD STARED OUT THE WINDSHIELD AND ADMIRED WITH REnewed interest the thick stands of tall trees rising on both sides of the steeply graded highway. Their bark was a patchy dark gray, the long leaves a verdant green. He'd visited the area several times on weekend getaways and recognized the more common sycamore, beech, and oak. But he'd always thought the bushy trees just another form of poplar. Now he knew them for what they were.

"Those are princess trees," he said, pointing. "I read last night that this time of the year is when the big ones release their seeds. One tree sends out twenty million seeds. Easy to see why the things are everywhere."

"Have you visited here before?" Akilina asked.

"I've been to Asheville, which we passed a while back, and Boone, which is farther north. This is a big ski area in winter and wonderful during summer."

"It reminds me of Siberia. Near where my grandmother lived. There were low mountains and forests just like this. The air there was cool and fresh, too. I loved it."

All around autumn had grabbed hold, the peaks and valleys ablaze with red, gold, and orange, a smoky mist curling out of the deepest valleys. Only the pines and princess trees retained a lively summer facade.

They'd changed planes in Dallas and caught a flight to Nashville. From there, a half-full commuter shuttle had brought them to Asheville about an hour ago. He'd run out of cash in Nashville and had been forced to use his credit card, a move he hoped they would not regret, knowing full well how credit card receipts could be traced. But airline ticket purchases could likewise be monitored. He could only hope that Maxim Zubarev's boast that the FBI and customs were helping was only talk. Why, he could not say for sure, but he believed the Russians were working independent of the U.S. government--maybe there was some peripheral cooperation, minor and covert, but nothing reaching a fullscale effort to locate one American lawyer and a Russian acrobat. That, he reasoned, would require some in-depth explanation. And there was simply too much risk that he would tell the Americans everything before the Russians could contain the situation. No. The Russians were working alone--at least for the moment.

The drive north from Asheville had been pleasant, across the Blue Ridge Parkway, then onto State Route 81 for the final trek through rolling hills and stunted mountains. Genesis itself was a picture-book town of brick, wood, and fieldstone buildings filled with quaint art galleries, gift shops, and antiques stores. Benches lined Main Street, roofed by bushy sycamore trees. An ice-cream parlor dominated one corner at the central intersection, two banks and a drugstore the others. Franchise operations, condominiums, and vacation homes were zoned to the outskirts. As they cruised into town, the sun was already low,

transforming the sky from a bright blue to a pale salmon as the trees and peaks faded to a deep violet. Evening apparently came early here.

"This is it," he told Akilina. "Now we have to find out who or what Thorn is."

He was just about to pull into a convenience store and check the local telephone directory when a sign caught his eye. The wrought-iron display hung from the side of a two-story redbrick building. The county courthouse was a block beyond on a tree-filled square. The words announced in black lettering:OFFICE OF MICHAEL THORN, LAWYER. He pointed and translated for Akilina.

"Just like Starodug," she said.

He'd already thought the same thing.

He parked close to the curb a block down. They quickly made their way into the law office where a secretary informed them that Mr. Thorn was at the courthouse, finishing up some deed work, and should be back shortly. He expressed a desire to talk with Thorn immediately and the woman told them where to find him.

They walked to the Dillsboro County Courthouse, a neoclassical brick-and-stone building with the pedimented portico and tall cupola customary for legal buildings in the South. A bronze plaque near the front door noted that the structure had been completed in 1898. Lord had rarely visited courthouses, his practice confined to the boardrooms and financial institutions of America's largest cities or Eastern European capitals. He'd never actually appeared in court for anything. Pridgen & Woodworth employed hundreds of litigators who handled that chore. He was a deal maker. The behind-the-scenes man. Until one week ago, when he'd been catapulted to the forefront.

They