The Romanov Prophecy Page 0,16

era, soon to be new tsarist era, he was still an American working under credentials granted by a shaky Russian government. "Something tells me that if tanks rolled through Red Square tomorrow, everyone who works in this archive would be there to cheer them on."

"They are no better than street beggars," Pashenko said. "They enjoyed privilege, kept the leaders' secrets, and in return received a choice apartment, some extra bread, a few more days off in summer. You must work and earn what you get, is that not what America stands for?"

Lord didn't answer. Instead, he asked, "What do you think of the Tsarist Commission?"

"I voted yes. How could a tsar do any worse?"

He'd found that attitude quite prevalent.

"It is unusual to find an American able to speak our language so well."

He shrugged. "You have a fascinating country."

"Have you always had an interest?"

"Since childhood. I started reading about Peter the Great and Ivan the Terrible."

"And now you are a part of our Tsarist Commission. About to make history." Pashenko motioned to the sheets on the table. "Those are quite old. Do they come from the Protective Papers?"

"I found both a couple of weeks ago."

"I recognize the script. Alexandra herself penned that one. She wrote all her letters and diaries in English. The Russians hated her because she was born a German princess. I always thought that an unfair criticism. Alexandra was a most misunderstood woman."

He offered the sheet, deciding that this Russian's brain might be worth picking. Pashenko read the letter, then said when he finished, "She was colorful in her prose, but this is mild. She and Nicholas wrote many romantic letters."

"It's sad handling them. I feel like an intruder. I was reading earlier about the execution. Yurovsky must have been one devil of a man."

"Yurovsky's son said that his father always regretted his involvement. But who knows? For twenty years after he gave lectures to Bolshevik groups about the murders, proud of what he did."

He handed Pashenko the note penned by Lenin. "Take a look at this."

The Russian read the page slowly, then said, "Definitely Lenin. I am familiar with his writing style, too. Curious."

"My thought exactly."

Pashenko's eyes lit up. "Surely you do not believe those stories that two of the royal family survived the execution at Yekaterinburg?"

He shrugged. "To this day the bodies of Alexie and Anastasia have never been found. Now this."

Pashenko grinned. "Americans really are conspiratorialists. A plot into everything."

"It's my job at the moment."

"You must support Stefan Baklanov's claim, correct?"

He was a little surprised and wondered about his transparency.

Pashenko motioned to the surroundings. "The women, again, Mr. Lord. They know all. Your document inquiries are recorded and, believe me, they pay attention. Have you met our so-called Heir Apparent?"

He shook his head. "But the man I work for has."

"Baklanov is no better fit to rule than Mikhail Romanov was four hundred years ago. Too weak. Unlike poor Mikhail, who had his father to make decisions for him, Baklanov will be on his own, and many would revel in his failure."

This Russian academician had a point. From all he'd read about Baklanov, the man seemed more concerned with a return of tsarist prestige than with actually governing the nation.

"May I make a suggestion, Mr. Lord?"

"Certainly."

"Have you been to the archives in St. Petersburg?"

He shook his head.

"A look there might be productive. They house many of Lenin's writings. Most of the tsar and tsarina's diaries and letters are stored there, too." He pointed to the sheets. "It might help discover the meaning of what you have found."

The suggestion seemed a good one. "Thank you, I just might do that." He glanced at his watch. "If you'll excuse me, I have more to read before this place closes. But I enjoyed talking. I'll be around for a few more days. Maybe we can chat again."

"I, too, will be in and out. If you don't mind, I think I might just sit here a little while. May I read those two sheets again?"

"Of course."

Ten minutes later when he returned, the writings by Alexandra and Lenin lay on the table, but Semyon Pashenko was gone.

SEVEN

5:25 PM

ADARK BMWPICKED HAYES UP IN FRONT OF THEVOLKHOV.After a fifteenminute trek through surprisingly light traffic, the driver wheeled into a gated courtyard. The house beyond was late classical, built in the early part of the nineteenth century, then and now one of Moscow's showpieces. During the communist tenure it had been the Center for State Literature and Arts, but after the fall,