best of the lot. Only those two, there, stay continually."
Lord stared at two dogs in the pen closest to the back porch. A male and female, both sable red, coats like silk. Their pen was larger than the others and included a wooden enclosure.
"The best of a litter from six years ago," Thorn said, pride in his voice. "Alexie and Anastasia."
Lord grinned. "Interesting choice of names."
"They're my purebred show dogs. And my friends."
Thorn moved toward the cage, unlocked the gate, and gestured. The two animals immediately smothered him with affection.
Lord watched his host. Thorn appeared levelheaded and genuinely in awe of his ancestral
responsibilities. Nothing like Stefan Baklanov. He'd heard Hayes speak of Baklanov's arrogance and the fear that Baklanov was far more interested in the title than actually ruling. Michael Thorn seemed quite different.
They returned to the house and Lord examined Thorn's library. The shelves were filled with treatises on Russian history. There were biographies of various Romanovs, many from nineteenth-century historians. Most of the titles he recognized from his own reading.
"You have quite a collection," he said.
"You'd be surprised what you can find at secondhand bookstores and library sales."
"Nobody ever questioned the interest?"
Thorn shook his head. "I'm a long-standing member of our historical society, and everyone knows my love of Russian history."
On one shelf he spied a book he was quite familiar with. Felix Yussoupov'sRasputin: His Malignant Influence and Assassination. Yussoupov had published the account in
1927, a scathing attack on Rasputin that repeatedly tried to justify the murder. Beside the volume rested the two memoirs Yussoupov published in the 1950s,Lost Splendor andEn Exil. Vain attempts at raising money, if Lord recalled what later biographers had concluded. He motioned to the shelf. "Yussoupov's writings were anything but flattering to the imperial family and Rasputin. If I remember, he particularly attacked Alexandra."
"All part of the deception. He knew Stalin was interested in what he was doing and didn't want to do anything that might raise suspicion. So he kept up the facade till his death."
He noticed a few volumes on Anna Anderson, the woman who maintained to her death that she was actually Anastasia. He pointed to the books. "I bet those were amusing."
Thorn smiled. "Her real name was Franziska Schanzkowska. Born in Prussia. She wandered in and out of sanatoriums until Yussoupov learned of her resemblance to Anastasia. He taught her everything she needed to know, and she was an eager student. By the time she died, I actually think she believed herself Anastasia."
"I read about her," Lord said. "All spoke of her in loving terms. She seemed an exceptional lady."
"A fitting stand-in," Thorn said. "One I never really minded."
The faint sound of car doors slamming could be heard through the front windows. Thorn stepped over and peeked out plantation shutters. "A sheriff's deputy is here," he said in English. "I know him."
Lord stiffened and Thorn seemed to understand. The lawyer moved to the double doors leading to the entrance foyer. "Stay here. I'll see what this is about."
"What is it?" Akilina asked in Russian.
"Trouble."
"When is your employer due?" Thorn asked at the doorway.
He checked his watch. "Anytime now. We really need to get back to the inn."
Thorn closed the double doors, but Lord crossed the room and cracked them open just as a doorbell chimed.
"Evening, Mr. Thorn," a deputy said. "The sheriff wanted me to come over and talk with you. I tried your office, your secretary said you were home."
"What's the trouble, Roscoe?"
"Has a man named Miles Lord and a Russian woman come to see you yesterday or today?"
"Who is this Miles Lord?"
"How about you answer my question first."
"No. I haven't had any visitors. Much less Russian ones."
"Kind of strange to hear you say that. Your secretary said a black lawyer named Lord and a Russian woman were at your office last evening and with you all today."
"If you already knew the answer, Roscoe, why'd you ask?"
"Just doin' my job. Care to tell me why you lied to me?"
"What's the big deal about these two?"
"A Moscow warrant for murder. They're both wanted for the death of a city cop there. Shot in Red Square."
"How do you know that?"
"Those two there in my car told me. Brought the warrant with 'em."
Lord raced from the door to the study's front window. He glanced out just as Droopy and Feliks Orleg climbed out of the police cruiser.
"Oh, shit," he whispered.
Akilina was instantly by his side and saw what he did.
The two Russians started their march from the curb. Both