The Romanov Prophecy Page 0,118

body or two. "

Maks did not relish the thought of retrieving nine bloodied corpses from the bottom of the Four Brothers mine. He recalled Yurovsky tossing hand grenades down the shaft, and his spine shivered at the prospects that lay ahead.

Fifteen miles west of Yekaterinburg, the car broke down. Yurovsky cursed the engine, then led the way on foot. They discovered three deep mines about five miles away filled with water. It was eightPM when they finally returned to town, the journey made partly by foot, the rest on a horse commandeered from a peasant. Not until shortly after midnight on July 18, twenty-four hours after the debacle of the night before, did they finally return to the Four Brothers mine.

It took several hours to light the deep shaft and prepare. Maks listened as each of the three who came with Yurovsky hoped not to be the one chosen for the descent. When all the preparations were in order Yurovsky said, "Kolya, climb down and find them. "

Maks thought of objecting but it would show weakness, and that was the last thing he wanted to demonstrate before these men. He had their confidence. Most important, he had Yurovsky's confidence, and that was something he would need in the days ahead. Without saying a word, he tied a rope around his waist and two men slowly lowered him into the shaft. The black clay was oily to the touch. A bituminous stench mixed with mildew and lichens permeated the cold air. But there was also another odor, one more pungent and sickly sweet. One he'd smelled before. The scent of decaying flesh.

Fifty feet down, his torch illuminated a pool. In the flickering light he saw an arm, a leg, the back of a head. He called up for the lowering to stop. He hovered just above the surface.

"Down. Slow, " he yelled.

His right boot touched, then submerged. The water was icy. A chill swept through him as his legs were soaked. Luckily, the water was only waist-deep. He stood shivering and called out that they should stop lowering.

Another rope suddenly fell from above. He knew what it was for. He reached over and grabbed its end. Yurovsky's grenades had apparently done little damage. He reached out for the closest body part and pulled naked flesh toward him. It was Nicholas. Maks stared down at the mutilated tsar, the face barely recognizable. He remembered the man as he was. Slender body, square face, impressive beard, expressive eyes.

He tied the rope around the corpse and signaled that it should be raised. But the earth seemed not to want to yield its charge. Water gushed from the lifeless shell. Limp muscles and flesh gave way, and Nicholas II crashed back into the pool.

Frigid water drenched Maks's face and hair.

The rope dropped back down. He waded to the corpse and this time tied the noose tighter, pinching the torso and tearing flesh.

It took three more attempts to lift the tsar from the shaft.

Fighting back nausea, he repeated the task eight more times. It took hours to finish, the cold, darkness, and decay complicating everything. He'd gone back up three times to warm himself by a fire, the water chilling him to the bone. When he was lifted out the final time, the sun was high in the sky and nine mutilated corpses lay on the wet grass.

One of the men produced a blanket for Maks. The dry wool smelled of ox, but felt good.

"Let's just bury them here, " one of the men said.

Yurovsky shook his head. "Not in this mud. The grave would be easily discovered. We need to transport them to a new site. These demons need to be covered forever. I'm tired of seeing their cursed faces. Bring the carts forward. We'll take them to a new place. "

Three flimsy wooden carts were rolled from where the cars were parked. The wheels bucked on the rough, muddy ground. Maks stood with the blanket wrapped around him, near Yurovsky, waiting for men and carts to draw near.

Yurovsky stood rigid, staring down at the bloated bodies. "Where could the other two be?"

"Not here, " Maks answered.

The burly Jew's glare came with the speed and accuracy of a bullet. "I wonder if that might one day be a problem. "

Maks considered whether the short-necked man in the black leather jacket standing before him knew more than he should. Then he dismissed the thought. Those two missing corpses could mean Yurovsky's life. No way he'd