"Your name means `eagle,' child."
"So I'm told."
"You are a lovely creature."
She smiled.
"I hope this quest does not endanger that beauty."
"How would it?" she asked.
The old man rubbed his bulbous nose. "When my father informed me of the duty expected, he warned that perhaps it might cost my life one day. I never took him seriously ... until this moment."
"What is it you know?" Lord asked.
The old man let out a breath. "I think about what happened often. My father told me I would, but I didn't believe him. I can almost see them being awakened in the middle of night and hustled downstairs. They think the White Army is about to overrun the town and free them. Yurovsky, the mad Jew, tells them an evacuation is necessary, but first a photo needs to be taken for Moscow, to prove them alive and well. He tells everyone where to stand. But there is to be no photo. Instead, men with guns come into the room and the tsar is told that he and his family are to be executed. Then, Yurovsky points his gun."
The old man paused and shook his head.
"Let me prepare our lunch. Then I will tell you all about what happened in Yekaterinburg that July night."
Yurovsky fired the Colt pistol and the head of Nicholas II, Tsar of All Russia, exploded in a shower of blood. The tsar fell back toward his son. Alexandra had just started to make the sign of the cross when the other gunmen opened fire. Bullets raked the tsarina and toppled her from the chair. Yurovsky had specifically assigned a victim for each gunman and instructed that the shots be to the heart to minimize bleeding. But Nicholas's body erupted in a fury of impacts as the other eleven executioners decided to take aim at their once divine ruler.
The shooters were arrayed in rows of three. The second and third rows were firing over the shoulders of the first, so close that many on the first row were being burned by hot exhaust. Kolya Maks stood in the first row, his neck singed twice. He'd been instructed to shoot Olga, the oldest daughter, but could not bring himself to do it. He'd been sent to
Yekaterinburg to orchestrate the family's escape, arriving three days earlier, but events had accelerated at lightning pace.
The guards had been called into Yurovsky's office earlier. The commandant had told them, "Today, we are going to be killing the entire family and the doctor and servants living with them. Warn the detachment not to be alarmed if they hear shots. " Eleven men, including Maks, were selected. It had been a stroke of luck that Maks was chosen, but he'd come highly recommended from the Ural Soviet--a man who could be trusted to follow orders--and apparently Yurovsky was in need of loyalty.
Two Latvians immediately spoke up and said they would not shoot women. Maks had been impressed that such brutal men possessed a conscience. Yurovsky did not object to their refusal and replaced them with two more who eagerly stepped forward and expressed no reservations. The final regiment included six Latvians and five Russians, plus Yurovsky. Hardened men with the names of Nikulin, Ermakov, two Medvedevs, and Pavel. Names Kolya Maks would forever recall.
A truck was parked outside, its engine revved to cover the gunfire, which came in a fusillade. The smoke from the barrels clothed the scene in a thick, eerie fog. It was becoming difficult to see, to tell who was shooting whom. Maks reasoned that several hours of hard drinking had dulled senses to the point that no one other than himself, and perhaps Yurovsky, was sober. Few would remember the details, only that they fired at anything that moved. He'd been careful with his alcohol consumption, knowing his head had to stay clear.
Maks watched Olga's body crumple after a bullet to the head. The shooters were aiming at each victim's heart, but something strange was happening. The bullets simply ricocheted off the women's chests and darted around the room like hail. One of the Latvians muttered that God was protecting them. Another wondered aloud if all this was wise.
Maks watched as Grand Duchesses Tatiana and Marie tried to cower in one corner, their arms raised for protection. Bullets raked their young bodies, some bouncing off, others penetrating. Two men broke formation and moved close, shooting both girls in the head.
The valet, the cook, and the doctor were all shot where they stood, their bodies dropping like