said, you are going to die. The only question is whether it will be quick or slow. And whether Akilina Petrovna will join you."
At the mention of her name, his gaze locked tight on Orleg.
"I thought that might get your attention."
Filip Vitenko stepped up behind Orleg. "Is this not going a bit too far? There was no mention of murder when I relayed this information to Moscow."
Orleg turned to face the envoy. "Sit down and shut up."
"Who do you think you are talking to?" Vitenko barked. "I am the consul general of this station. No Moscowmilitsya gives me orders."
"This one does." Orleg motioned to Droopy. "Get this idiot out of my way."
Vitenko was jerked back. The envoy quickly shrugged off Droopy's grasp and retreated across the room, saying, "I am calling Moscow. I do not believe any of this is necessary. Something is not right here."
The door leading out of the office opened and an older man with a long smashed face and crinkly eyes the color of burnished pennies stepped into the room. He wore a dark business suit.
"Consular Vitenko, there will be no calls to Moscow. Do I make myself clear?"
Vitenko hesitated a moment, considering the words. He also recognized the voice. It was the man from the speakerphone. Vitenko shrank to the corner of the office.
The new man stepped forward. "I am Maxim Zubarev. We spoke earlier. Apparently, our little ruse did not work."
Orleg backed away. This older man was obviously in charge.
"The inspector was correct when he said you are going to die. That is unfortunate, but I have no choice. What I can promise is that Miss Petrovna will be spared. We have no reason to involve her, provided that she does not know anything of relevance or possess any information. Of course, we never learned what it is you know. I am going to have Inspector Orleg remove the tape from your mouth." The older man motioned to Droopy, who promptly closed the door leading out of the office. "But there is no need to waste your voice screaming. This room is soundproof.
Perhaps you and I can have an intelligent conversation. If I am convinced you are being truthful, Miss Petrovna will be left alone."
Zubarev stepped back and Orleg yanked the tape from Lord's mouth. He worked his jaw and loosened the stiffness.
"Better, Mr. Lord?" Zubarev asked.
He said nothing.
Zubarev pulled a chair over and sat down, facing him. "Now tell me what you failed to tell me on the phone. What evidence do you have to support a conclusion that Alexie and Anastasia Romanov survived the Bolsheviks?"
"You own Baklanov, don't you?"
The older man heaved a long breath. "I see no reason why that is relevant, but in the hope that you will cooperate I will indulge you. Yes. The only thing that could stand in the way of his ascension is the reemergence of a direct bloodline to Nicholas II."
"What's the point to all this?
The older man laughed. "The point, Mr. Lord, is stability. The reinstitution of a tsar could greatly affect not only my interests, but a great deal of other individuals' interests as well. Was that not your purpose for being in Moscow?"
"I had no idea Baklanov was a puppet."
"He is a willing puppet. And we are clever puppeteers. Russia will thrive under his rule, and so will we."
Zubarev casually examined the fingernails of his right hand, then looked at Lord. "We know that Miss Petrovna is here in San Francisco. She is no longer at your hotel, though. I have men looking for her now. If I find her before you tell me what I want to know, there will be no mercy. I will let them enjoy her and do as they please."
"This is not Russia," he said.
"True. But that is where she will be when all that occurs. A plane is waiting at the airport to return her. She is wanted for questioning and we have already cleared that with your customs authorities. Your FBI has even offered to assist in locating both you and her. International cooperation is such a wonderful thing, is it not?"
He knew what he had to do. He could only hope that after he failed to show at the zoo, Akilina would leave town. He was sad he would never see her again. "I'm not going to tell you a damn thing."
Zubarev stood. "Have it your way."
As the older man left the room, Orleg slapped another strip of tape over his mouth.
Droopy stepped