The Romanov Prophecy Page 0,37

he said.

"Why should you be?"

"I don't know. It's the appropriate thing to say. What do you want me to say? Too bad your grandmother was butchered by a bunch of fanatics?"

"That's what they were."

"That why you covered for me?"

She shrugged. "I hate the government and themafiya. One and the same."

"Do you think those men weremafiya ?"

"No doubt."

"I need to find a steward and talk to the conductor."

She smiled. "That would be foolish. Everyone is for sale in this land. If those men seek you, they will buy influence on this train."

She was right. The police weren't much better than themafiya. He thought of Inspector Orleg. He had disliked the burly Russian from the moment they'd met. "What do you suggest?"

"I have no suggestions. You are the lawyer for the Tsarist Commission. You think of what to do."

He noticed her overnight bag on the bed, aMOSCOW CIRCUS emblem embroidered on its side. "You told them you performed in the circus. That true?"

"Of course."

"What's your talent?"

"You tell me. What do you believe I could do?"

"Your petite size would make you an ideal tumbler." He stared at her dark tennis shoes. "Your feet are tight and compact. I'd wager long toes. Your arms are short, but muscular. I'd say an acrobat, maybe the balance beam."

She smiled. "You're quite good. Have you ever seen me perform?"

"I haven't been to the circus in many years."

He wondered about her age. She appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties.

"How did you come to speak our language so well?" she asked.

"I've studied it for years." His mind turned to the more immediate problem. "I need to get out of here and leave you be. You've done more than anyone could ask."

"Where would you go?"

"I'll find an empty compartment somewhere. Then try to get off this train tomorrow without anyone seeing me."

"Don't be foolish. Those men will search this train all night. The only safe place is here."

She tossed her travel bag to the floor between them and stretched out on her bunk. Then she reached up and switched off the light above the pillow. "Go to sleep, Miles Lord. You're safe here. They will not come back."

He was too tired to argue. And there was no sense arguing since she was right. So he loosened his tie and slipped off his suit jacket, then lay on his bunk and did what she said.

Lord opened his eyes.

Wheels still clanged on steel rails beneath him. He glanced at the luminous dial on his watch. Five twentyAM. He'd been asleep five hours.

He'd dreamed of his father. The Misunderstood Son sermon he'd heard so many times. Grover Lord loved to mix politics and religion, communists and atheists his main targets, his eldest son the example he liked to parade before the faithful. The concept played well to southern congregations, and the reverend was great at screaming fear, passing the plate, then pocketing his 80 percent before moving on to the next town.

His mother defended the bastard till the end, refusing to believe what she must have known. It had fallen to him, as the oldest, to retrieve his father's body from an Alabama motel. The woman with whom he'd spent the night had been whisked away, hysterical, after awakening to find herself naked with the corpse of the Reverend Grover Lord. Only then had he discovered what he'd long suspected--two half brothers the good reverend had supported out of the collection plate for years. Why the five children back home weren't enough, he assumed only God and Grover Lord knew. Apparently the Adultery and Evils of the Flesh sermon had gone unheeded.

He glanced across the darkened compartment. Akilina Petrovna rested quietly under a white quilt. He could barely discern her rhythmic breathing over the monotonous rattle of the tracks. He'd gotten himself into something bad, and no matter how much history was about to be made, he needed to get the hell out of Russia. Thank goodness he'd brought his passport with him. Tomorrow he'd leave for Atlanta on the first flight he could book. But right now, the sway of the compartment and the click of wheels, along with the darkness that surrounded him, allowed sleep to once again take hold.

Chapter Seven

FIFTEEN

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 15

"MILESLORD."

He opened his eyes to find Akilina Petrovna staring down at him.

"We are approaching Moscow."

"What time is it?"

"A little past seven."

He shoved away the blanket and sat up. Akilina sat back on the edge of her berth a couple of feet away.