The Tsar's Assassin

The Tsar's Assassin

THE TSAR'S ASSASSIN By LINDA C WOOD

DEDICATION To Leonard Nimoy, for whom I am 'Out for the Count'. Front Page Artwork by Caryl Sibbett. All rights reserved to the author and artist. Anyone wishing to reprint all or part of this publication is asked to obtain permission in writing first. It is understood that this only applies to original material herein and that no attempt is made to supercede any rights held by Ernest Hemingway, Granada Publishing Ltd., Robert K Massie, Pan Books Ltd., Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, Robert L Joseph, or any other holders of copyright. (C) Tsaela Press, November 1987

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The Tsar's Assassin

CONTENTS 1870 1874 1874 CHAPTER 2 1888 1888 CHAPTER 3 1890 1890 CHAPTER 4 1891 CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 5

1891

1891 1893 1893 CHAPTER 7 1894 1894 CHAPTER 8 1904 1905 CHAPTER 9 1916 CHAPTER 10 1916 CHAPTER 6

1916 CHAPTER 11 1918

FIRST BLOOD A MILITARY MAN FIRST LOVE ONLY YOU ABYSINNIAN ADVENTURE TOVARICH THE END OF AN ERA REVOLUTIONARIES RASPUTIN THE DEATH OF RASPUTIN THE END OF A DYNASTY

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The Tsar's Assassin

CHAPTER 12

1918

EKATERINBERG

CHAPTER 13

1918

AFTERMATH

Spring 1923 Summer CHAPTER 15 1923 CHAPTER 14

PARIS PAMPLONA

RETURN TO HOMEPAGE This story is recommended PG-13.

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CHAPTER 1 - First Blood

THE TSAR'S ASSASSIN CHAPTER 1 1870-1874 FIRST BLOOD The dark, sombre-faced little boy looked down at the dolllike body of the little girl he had just been playing with, an unfathomable look in his eyes. He leaned down and shook her shoulder, but her blue eyes stared past him, unseeing. He washed the blade of the knife and replaced it on the kitchen rack, looked again at the little girl, the red stain spreading over her white peasant's blouse, then he reached up, opened the pantry door, and slipped away unseen. ---oo0oo--Leonid Alexeivich Ulakov-Holstein was born on the 26th of March 1870, the second son of Count Alexei Nikolaevich Ulakov and Countess Maria von Holstein of Hungary. His elder brother, Alexei, was two years of age when Leonid was born into a spring-warm day on his father's estate in the Crimea, 20 miles north of Sevastopol. His father had been granted the vineyard-rich estate and a http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (1 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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considerable amount of money by a grateful Tsar Alexander II for saving his life in foiling an assassination attempt whilst serving His Imperial Majesty as a Major in the Ochrana, the Tsar's secret police. Thus set up, Count Alexei Nikolaevich Ulakov was able to win the hand of Countess Maria, whom he had unattainably admired for years whilst a lowly young guardsman in the Tsar's Preobrajensky Regiment. As an officer in the Ochrana, Count Alexei was compelled to operate from the headquarters in St Petersburg, and used his country estate as a summer retreat, when the opportunity arose, whilst his wife preferred to stay in the comparatively warm, Mediterranean climate of the Crimea all the year round. The Count's two sons therefore benefited from growing up in physical warmth, financial security, and the advantage of a knowledgeable Russianborn Nanny, called Nyanya Olga. The job of a nanny, or nyanya, employed by an aristocrat for his young family, was to teach the children the Russian language, customs, folk-songs and legends, as it was fashionable for the aristocracy to speak French. Alexei and Leonid therefore grew up in a bilingual household. As they grew to educable age, a live-in tutor called Vladimir was also employed. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (2 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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The contrast of the brothers' characters was noticeable and remarkable, even in their earliest years. Whilst the blond, blue-eyed Alexei was a happy, outgoing, gregarious child, bursting with curiosity and the will to learn everything about life, his younger brother was saturnine and morose, always content with his own company. On many occasions, when Nyanya Olga refused to give him his own way, he would fly into a tantrum, screaming and crying and throwing crockery, or anything else he could get his hands on. Without his father's presence he grew wild and wilful, and controlling him proved to be an increasingly difficult task for the ageing nanny. He did, however, show promise of having a quick brain. His dark brown hair and eyes and long, high-cheekboned face bore a close resemblance to his father's appearance and stature and, as he grew, he seemed to be all arms and legs, with surprisingly large feet and hands for one so young. On his father's rare visits to the Crimea, he always brought his sons gifts, and, although Alexei preferred books after he learned to read, Leonid, still too young to start formal schooling, preferred to dress up in the diminuitive military uniforms that his father had had made for him, and Leonid loved nothing better than to parade all around the house, dressed either in his soldier http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (3 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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or sailor uniform, firing off pretend bullets at anyone who came in sight, and hiding in the shrubbery round the house, only to jump out and frighten unsuspecting servants. This pursuit seemed to be the only thing that made young Leonid laugh. When asked by visiting friends of his parents, unwise enough to perch him on their knees, what he wanted to do when he grew up, he would say, in a piping, baby voice "Want to be a so-jer so's I can kill, kill, kill!" and his clenched, baby fists would pummel the person holding him until, laughing at the youngster's ferocity, they quickly returned him from whence they had plucked him. The large, white, colonnaded manor house with stables, outhouses and a conservatory afforded ample opportunity for the youngsters to explore and play and, despite the fact that serfdom had been abolished some years before, a large amount of servants and land workers were employed to attend the orchards and vineyards. Although he had been strictly forbidden by his mother to mix with the commoners, Leonid often slipped out of the house, whilst his more studious older brother was starting his education with the tutor, to wander amongst the servants' hovels, silently observing their totally different way of life. He would disappear for hours on end, http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (4 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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sometimes not returning to the big house until after dusk. On these occasions the servants, led by Nyanya Olga, were all put to the task of finding the elusive four-yearold, but the heavily-wooded grounds afforded ample cover for a small boy to play hide-and-seek with clumsy, noisy adults. So it was one evening in the early autumn of 1874, when Count Alexei had returned to St Petersburg, that the servants were sent out with lanterns to search the grounds for young Leonid. Despite his childhood, he was fully aware that he was doing wrong in staying out for so long, but he was frightened about what would happen to him if his mother found out what he had done. Would she send him away, or maybe even have him shot? Worried and cold, he wandered the woods surrounding the mansion until exhaustion overtook him, and, finding an old tree with a hollow interior, he slipped in, curled up, covering leaves over him for warmth, and closed his eyes. It was pure chance that they found him that night, curled up in the bole of the tree. An observant land labourer, who worked on the orange groves during the summer, spotted that the autumn leaves had been scooped up around the tree. He stuck his lantern inside, and found the cowering boy. It took three men to carry Leonid, yelling and http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (5 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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screaming, back to the house. His mother, being comforted by Nyanya Olga in the large drawing room, ran to the entrance hail when she heard the searchers returning with her vociferous son. "Leonid! Where have you been?" she asked. "We found him in the woods, ma'am." replied the labourer, still holding the wriggling child. The Countess's eyes widened when she saw the filthy state of her younger son. "What have you been doing, Leonid? Answer me this minute!" Leonid stopped his attempt at escape and stood, hands behind his back, eyes averted, but said nothing. "Well, young man? I'm waiting for a reply!" Still not looking up, Leonid muttered "Playing." "Playing! Playing where, and with whom, till this time of night? And what's that stain on your jacket?" she said, pointing to a dark stain on his blue sailor's jacket. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, Leonid started to cry. "Oh, Mama, it was horrible!" he said between sobs, and http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (6 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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ran towards his mother. Although she was wearing an expensive lace and satin evening dress, she bent down and scooped her dirty, crying son into her arms while Nyanya Olga looked on concernedly. "Do you wish us to leave ma 'am?" asked the tired searchers. "What? Oh, yes, please go, I shall attend to him now. You have all done well and will be rewarded." The men silently trooped out of the house. As the door closed behind them, the man who had found Leonid turned to one of his companions and said "Deserves a good boot up the backside, if you ask me." and trudged homewards. As the door closed behind the men, the Countess and Olga tried to calm the sobbing boy. "There, there, Leonid, it's all right now. What's the matter, what frightened you so?" "There was a man, Mama, a funny-looking man, and he frightened me. I was ... playing with a little girl ... and he came ... and took us into a kitchen ... and he had a knife the little girl -stopped moving. I ran away from him and he tried to catch me, but I hid. He frightened me Mama!" The Countess glanced at her nanny, who leaned forward and took Leonid into her capacious arms. "I'll put him to http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (7 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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bed, ma'am." she said in her broad, country accent. "Yes, Nyanya, please do - I'll come up and see him later." The Countess's brows furrowed in concern and, as the nanny carried Leonid upstairs, something made her look at her son. He was sitting contentedly in his nanny's arms, his arms round her neck, but he had a strange, secretive smile on his face that his mother had never seen before ... ---oo0oo--The news spread like wildfire through the neighbourhood the next morning that Tatya Ilochovna Novotny, the daughter of the labourer who had discovered Leonid the night before, had been found stabbed to death in the pantry of his house by his wife. When the Countess was informed she was shocked, as she had been sure that Leonid was just making it up to save his skin. The local police were called in, and, despite his autocratic rank, the police chief came to the big house and requested permission to question the Countess's son as their only 'witness'. Alexei, Leonid's brother, was kept well out of the way and was ensconsed with his tutor whilst Leonid was being questioned. Police chief Borotkin was a large, burly man with a big, http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (8 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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bushy beard, his grey, baggy uniform adding extra stature to his appearance. Leonid was brought downstairs holding Nyanya Olga's hand, and sat beside his mother whilst the two policemen stood. Leonid looked up apprehensively at the big men, unsure what was going to happen. Did they know? Were they going to take him away and shoot him? He decided to say nothing at all. Borotkin looked down at the boy, then spoke to his mother. "May I call him Leonid, ma'am?" She nodded her approval. "Leonid, you remember the little girl you were playing with yesterday?" Leonid nodded. "Do you know that she's dead?" Leonid wrinkled his brow in apparent incomprehension. "She's gone away, Leonid, she'll never come back to play again, not ever." Borotkin saw Leonid's eyes fill with unshed tears. "Nnever?" "No. The man you saw killed her. Will you tell me what happened when you were playing with the little girl http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (9 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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yesterday?" Leonid squirmed a little in his seat, but said nothing, so his mother held his hand and said "You must speak to the policemen, Leonid - go on, tell them what happened." Leonid looked at his mother, then Borotkin and behind him to the other officer, then said simply "I was playing with Tatya, and this funny man came in with a knife and put the knife into her. I was frightened and ran away and he didn't catch me." "What did he look like, Leonid?" Leonid thought for a moment, then replied "Like you!" "Me? Do you mean he had a beard?" "Yes." "And wore a uniform?" "Yes." "The same uniform as me?" "Yes." Borotkin's forehead furrowed in puzzlement, as he knew http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (10 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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that he commanded a police force of six men, and none of them resembled him. Addressing the Countess, he said "Thank you ma'am, at least we have something now to go on." and the two policemen left. The Countess turned to her still-seated son. "Leonid, understand this - I want you never to go again and play in the village. If you do, I will lock you up in your room and send for your father. Is that clear?" "Yes, Mama." "Very well - run along now." The 'funny-looking man' was never found ... ---oo0oo--Alone in the playroom after his lessons later that day, Alexei was playing with moving wooden toys when his younger brother came in. Curious to know what had happened with the policemen, Alexei said "Have you been a bad boy, Leonid?" "No, 'course not." Leonid's eyes were guarded. He lifted a cloth ball, threw it in the air, and caught it. "Why were the police here?" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (11 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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"A girl got killed and I saw the bad man." "Gosh! You saw him! What did he do? What was he like? Tell me, tell me, please tell me!" "Nasty man, horrid man." "Oh, come on, Leonid, you can tell me - I can keep a secret!" "I'll tell you later." Content with that reply, Alexei and went back to his toys. Leonid left him there, closing the playroom door quietly behind him, evil on his mind. ---oo0oo--Children's minds work in strange, but to them perfectly logical, ways. Leonid had never liked his brother, they seemed to have nothing in common to Leonid's mind, and his mother had always made it clear that Alexei was the favourite, giving him special treats of trips with her into Sevastopol and leaving Leonid behind when he had been 'bad', which was often. What, Leonid thought, if Alexei was gone, never to come back? Then Mama would take him into town, give him treats, and he would be a good http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (12 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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boy for ever and ever. Nobody would ever know that it was he who had made Alexei dead. ---oo0oo--Tucked up in bed that night, after Nyanya Olga had read them a bed-time story then turned out all but the nightlight as she left, Alexei whispered his brother's name, but Leonid pretended to be asleep. Alexei bounded out of bed and tip-toed across the room. "LEONID!" he shouted in his ear. Leonid jumped up and started to fight his brother, but Alexei was two years older and stronger and quickly subdued Leonid's flailing arms and legs. "Hey! Stop! You promised!" Alexei, said, panting. "You promised to tell me what happened with the nasty man." Leonid relaxed and lay still on the bed, and his brother sat on the edge, a look of curiosity and anticipation on his young face. "Well?" Leonid turned over onto his tummy, elbows on the mattress, hands on his cheeks, not looking at his brother at all. "Swear you won't tell, for ever and ever?" Sure he was onto something, Alexei crossed his heart, spat on his right palm, and raised his right hand "I swear." Still Leonid was reluctant to speak. "Come on, Leonid, http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (13 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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tell me!" "Well, all right - it was me." He turned around to see his brother's reaction and was not disappointed. "You! You killed Tatya? I don't believe you, you're telling a fib, and you know what Mama and Papa say about people who fib ..." "I am not fibbing." Leonid was angry, and turned away in a huff, burying himself under the bedclothes. "All right, Leonid, all right - I believe you, honest I do. Tell me what happened - please?" Mollified, Leonid turned round again, sat up in bed, a shadow from the nightlight half-hiding his face. "She was teasing me, playing tig and not going 'het'. I said I wouldn't play if she didn't play right, but she just laughed and ran away again, hid in the pantry. I found her - there was a knife on the table, and when she tried to run away from me again I - put the knife into her. She fell and lay still, and I ran away, and hid in a tree - it's a good place to hide, Alexei - I'll take you and show you it, if you'd like." "Gosh! Would you? Tomorrow?"

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"Let's go now!" "Now? ut it's dark night out there and I don't like the woods when it's dark - they're spooky." "We'll wait till Mama and everybody goes to bed, then we'll go -it won't take long, honest!" he nightlight cast a strange shadow over Leonid's solemn face. "Well - all right." So they both sat up in bed, trying not to fall asleep. The house was quiet, all had gone to bed. It was time ... The two boys dressed quickly and inefficiently, as they were both used to Nyanya Olga dressing them then, with Leonid leading the way, they slipped downstairs and out by the servants' entrance. It had been raining but was now dry, the smell of the dying leaves all around them. The woods were dark and nocturnal animals were going about their business, frightening little boys unaccustomed to such things, but Leonid knew his way and stopped at the large-boled tree, stepping back to allow his elder brother to explore its depths. When Alexei came out again, Leonid had a kitchen knife in his hand. Alexei saw its glint in the moonlight at the last moment, but it was too late as Leonid drove the knife with all his childish http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (15 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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strength into his brother's body. Alexei cried out once, then collapsed. It was not difficult for Leonid to roll the body into the bole of the tree, and, when he was done, he threw the knife into the nearby moonlight-silver lake. There was blood on his hands, but he washed it off, then scampered back to the house, going back in the way he came. Later that night there was a torrential thunderstorm which wiped out any trace of footprints in the mud. The new heir to the Ulakov-Holstein estate slept too deeply to hear it. ---oo0oo--Nyanya Olga's daily routine encompassed waking up the boys, helping them to wash and dress and generally preparing them for presentation at the breakfast table. She awoke as usual that morning at 6 a.m., performed her early morning chores, and then made her way to the boys' bedroom. On her way upstairs she noticed small, muddy footprints on the risers, and traced them back to the servants' entrance. Curious, she remounted the stairs and was unsurprised to see that the footprints led into the boys' room. She knocked and opened the door, walked across the room and flung open the curtains, then turned round to find only one sleepy boy in bed. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Leonid, where is Alexei? Why are http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (16 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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there muddy footprints on the stairs? Answer me!" Nyanya Olga commanded. "Oh, Nyanya, it was horrible!" he started to cry. Frightened and anxious now, Nyanya Olga took the boy by the shoulders and shook him violently. "WHERE IS YOUR BROTHER?" "I - I don't know, Nyanya. We - we went out into the woods last night and - something - happened - I think I saw - the funny man again - but it was dark and I - ran away - Alexei was running, too, but - I think he caught him ..." "Why didn't you wake your mother and I up?" shouted the distraught nanny. "Why did you just go back to bed and leave your brother out there, alone?" "I - I don't know, Nyanya, I was - frightened." sobbed Leonid, and subsided onto the bed, turning his face into the pillow. Nyanya Olga ran out of the room to the Countess's bedroom, knocking urgently on the door. A sleepy voice bade her enter. "Oh, ma'am, I don't know how to tell you ... I think something's happened to Alexei!" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (17 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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"What? What do you mean, Olga?" "He's - missing - Leonid says they went out into the woods last night and the 'funny man' was there - oh, ma'am - Leonid came back alone!" It didn't take long for the hastily-organised search party to find Alexei's body. The Countess was distraught and Police Chief Borotkin was summoned. He made a thorough search of the area but was unable to find either the murder weapon or any evidence to support or refute Leonid's story. The Count was given special leave to travel down to his estate, arriving three days after the murder. By then, Chief Borotkin had made every investigation possible and come up with nothing. The Count commanded his son to an interview. Leonid had had little contact with his father, who had to spend most of his time in St Petersburg on State business. Although the Count had spent eight weeks during the summer on his estate, he had little time for his two young sons, preferring to throw and attend smart society parties which took place during the summer months. Leonid now stood apprehensively in front of his father, who, at six feet two inches tall, towered over the small boy. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (18 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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"Well, young man, you do realise what has happened, don't you?" "Yes, Papa." Leonid replied, head bowed. "There have been two murders of children, and on both occasions you have been present. Quite a coincidence, wouldn't you say?" Leonid was silent. The Count huffed into his bushy black beard, unsure of how to approach his son. Then he took a deep breath and said quietly "Why did you do it?" Leonid's eyes widened in shock and realisation, and he burst into tears. The Count waited for the childish emotion to pass, then went down on one knee and sat his son on it. "I - I didn't mean to, Papa. It was an accident, both times. Tatya - ran into me, and Alexei fell on it." The Count had his confession, and now the problem was what to do with it. The child was only four and a half and was now his heir. If the name of the real perpetrator of the crime was revealed there would be serious repercussions throughout the district. In the event, the servants were unaware that the Count was a senior member of the Ochrana - if they knew, they would be afraid they were secretly under surveillance; but now, if they knew that http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (19 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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their landlord's little son was already a killer, they would surely desert the Count's employ. And what about the police? Well, everyone had his price, thought the Count, wryly. He set his son down and stood up, towering awesomely over the child, who, despite feeling frightened of whatever punishment his father was about to mete, stood his ground. The Count drew a deep breath and spoke down to Leonid. "Will you promise -never to do it again, Leonid? It's a wicked, wicked thing to kill someone, even by accident. Promise me, now!" "I promise, Papa." "You will speak of this to nobody, ever - do you understand? It must always be - a secret." "Yes, Papa." "Very well. Now - go to your room and do not come out until somebody comes for you." However, when the Count told his wife she was hysterical with grief and rage. "I want him out of this house! I will not harbour a murderer, whether he is my own child or not! Take him back to St Petersburg with you, Alexei I don't - want -him - here!" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (20 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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"Look, Maria, in four years he'll be old enough to attend the Corps of Pages military school in the Vorontsov Palace. I promise you - as soon as he is old enough - I will bring him to St Petersburg. He needs stern discipline and he will have it. I will spend longer here, with you, as my duties permit. The tutor, Vladimir Yurchenko, will stay with him permanently. I assure you, my love, there will be no more - accidents." The Count made to embrace his wife reassuringly, but she backed away from him, trembling. "No! We are cursed! Either you take him away or I return to Hungary! I mean it!" The Count let his outstretched arms drop to his sides. "Maria, I cannot - my work ..." "It's your work that has caused this, Alexei! You are never here - he has never had the discipline and influence of a father! He must have it now, before it's too late." But it was already too late. ---oo0oo--The Count discovered that the price of Police Chief Borotkin's silence was high - he had to arrange a http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter1.htm (21 of 22) [4/6/2002 1:37:58 AM]

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considerable promotion and relocation to Yalta for the man. The 'strange man with the beard' was allowed to disappear from whence he had come and the matter, though not forgotten by the peasants, was consigned to local memory as an unsolved mystery of life. However, the Count and Countess's differences of opinion proved incompatible, and young Leonid was left in the care of Nyanya Olga and Vladimir Yurchenko when Maria, Countess Ulakov-Holstein, left her husband and went home to her native country. The Count, devastated, returned alone to St Petersburg, only visiting his despised son and his Crimean estate when it became absolutely necessary. But the pattern for the future had been set. Leonid had killed without regret and had not been adequately punished. First blood had been shed. ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 2

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CHAPTER 2 - A Military Man

CHAPTER 2 1874-1888 A MILITARY MAN

For four years Leonid was kept a virtual prisoner on the estate by Yurchenko and Nyanya Olga under the command of the Count. On the rare occasions when he was allowed to visit Sevastopol he was accompanied by Yurchenko and two burly servants, none of whom had been told why young Leonid should be treated thus, but who nevertheless had the intelligence to have their own, very strong suspicions. Under the close and strict supervision of Yurchenko, Leonid was tutored intensively for the next four years and, as well as receiving a firm grounding on the basic learning skills, he was also taught English and was able to speak in halting sentences. On his eighth birthday Leonid received a visit by his father. After formal greetings and dinner, the Count called his son into the drawing room. The boy waited apprehensively, unaware of his father's plans for his future.

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"Leonid," his father, dressed in a light-coloured linen suit and spats, stood tall, his dark hair greying at the sides. "The occurrence of what happened four years ago has neither been forgiven nor forgotten by me. However, you have a life to live, and you are my son and heir. I intend to take you with me to St Petersburg where you will attend the Corps of Pages Military School for the next ten years. You will be educated to University level in the arts, sciences and the tactics of military warfare. Yurchenko tells me you have a certain degree of intelligence - I hope it will stand you in good stead in the years to come. You will have to adapt to a completely different climate and you will learn loyalty to the Tsar and to your fellowstudents. It will not be easy, and I will watch your progress closely. "Papa, I don't want to leave home - I like it here - why can't Mr Yurchenko teach me more?" "You must face the world, my son. Your future is decided for you and I will hear no dissent. Prepare yourself for departure with me tomorrow. You may go." The Count no longer needed the services of Yurchenko or Nyanya Olga. Yurchenko set off to find another rich man s son to teach, but Nyanya Olga was too old to find other http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (2 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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work. Fortunately the Count was a compassionate man, and permitted her to stay on the estate, helping her longtime friends in and around the house. The train journey to St Petersburg was long and arduous. The farther north the train went, the colder the weather became until Leonid, unaccustomed to anything other than a Mediterranean climate, began to shiver with the cold. The Count lit the small iron stove with which every carriage was fitted, and his son gradually relaxed in returned comfort. His comfort was short-lived, however, as, on arrival at St Petersburg, the temperature was -100C. Leonid had never known such cold, nor had he ever seen a river completely frozen over, as was the River Neva. The Count first took his son to be kitted out in the Corps of Pages uniform, which comprised black, knee-length boots, grey trousers and navy blue jacket with white leather sword belt and a sailor-type white and blue hat with the Corps of Pages badge in its centre. He then took Leonid to the Vorontsov Palace to enrol, presenting him to the head of the training school, Major Leontov. The Major, a small, fat man with small, black eyes and a waxed black moustache, looked his newest recruit over, then summoned a boy, about the same age as Leonid, to take him to a dormitory. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (3 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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The Count took leave of his son with a brusque "I'll be watching your progress. Do well." Leonid trudged silently along the echoing corridors of the Vorontsov Palace carrying his kitbag, one step behind his mentor. The older boy maintained his steady stride, but asked over his shoulder "What's your name?" Leonid did not answer. He felt cold, miserably cold, and he already felt resentment against his father for bringing him to this place where nobody knew him, nobody cared, and he was not the centre of attraction. The boy ahead of him stopped abruptly and spun round. Unattentive, Leonid bumped into him and they both stumbled but maintained their balance. Anger flared in Leonid's dark eyes. "Hey, why'd you do that?" "Because," replied the boy, "I asked you a question and you did not answer. Do you not know that when someone, anyone, asks you a question, you at least have the courtesy to answer him?" The boy' s guttural accent was strange to Leonid, and he looked more closely at his unwilling companion. He was a little taller, squarely built and had clear blue eyes. Leonid could not see the colour of his hair under the cap. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (4 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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"I don't have to tell you." "Yes, you do. We're going to be next to each other in the dormitory, and we're going to be friends." "I don't want any friends - just show me where to go and leave me alone." Leonid's dark eyes were smouldering. The boy shrugged, turned and walked on. He opened a door, ushered Leonid through it, then planted his foot on Leonid's unprotected backside, pushing him so hard he fell flat on his face into the large, unoccupied room. He slammed the door behind him. "Now - my name is Krov Igorovich Orlovsky - what is your name?" Krov stood over the indignant Leonid, whom he prevented from rising by placing his boot in Leonid's stomach. Leonid's hands were free when he fell, dropping his burden, so he grabbed Krov's foot and pushed hard. Krov flew back, hitting and toppling a table. Leonid was on his way to continuing the fight when the door flew open and a young officer in full uniform strode into the room, quickly separating the struggling boys. "What is the meaning of this?" he bellowed, his deep voice echoing round the room. "Stand to attention!" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (5 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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Leonid followed Krov's example. "What is your name, boy?" he addressed Leonid. Leonid drew himself up to his full 4'7" and replied, with as much pride in his voice as he could muster: "Leonid Alexeivich Ulakov-Holstein." "SIR! You will address me, and everyone else in the Palace, as 'Sir'! Understood?" "Yes ... sir." "Very well - now, what was the meaning of the unseemly conduct I witnessed? You, Krov Igorovitch, reply!" "Sir, I merely asked him his name, and he refused to tell me. I tried to show him that it was rude not to reply, sir." "Well, Leonid Alexeivich, is that true?" "Yes, sir, but he ..." "I have no interest in further explanations. You will settle in and reply to every question asked of you from now until you leave the Palace. Is that understood?" "Yes, sir." Leonid's eyes did not denote submission. "Very well - carry on." and the young officer closed the door behind him. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (6 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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"Phew - that was close. If you hadn't been new, he'd have whipped you, Leonid." Krov said, indicating the bed Leonid was to use. "Whipped me - for what?" Leonid gasped in surprise. Throughout his childhood he had never been struck for a misdemeanour. "Rank insurbordination. Don't you know who that was?" "No, how could I?" "That's Captain Yurovsky, commander of the Hussar House, of which you have just become a member. He has complete freedom to punish us in any way he thinks fit. Believe me - it hurts." Krov unbuttoned his jacket and showed Leonid the welts on his back. Leonid's eyes widened in shock. "What did you do for him to do that to you?" "I was caught out of the dormitory after lights out - I was hungry and was raiding the pantry." "And he did that to you - just for that?" Krov nodded. "Then there's Lieutenant Medvedev, his http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (7 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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second-in-command. You don't want to get in his bad books - boys don't talk about what he does to them." continued Krov, buttoning up his jacket again. Leonid started unpacking his kitbag of belongings that he was allowed to bring with him to St Petersburg. The large room held about 20 beds and was unheated except for a single stove in the centre of the room, from which a little heat was emanating. "Hurry up," urged Krov. "I've to show you round the Palace next, so's you'll know your way around - you'll have to learn quickly to find your way between classes, and it's a huge Palace." His curiosity aroused, Leonid tagged along behind his new-found friend, who showed him the five other dormitories, all of whom were delegated to the other Regiments in the Tsar's army - the Jaegerski, the Cavaliers, the Cossacks, the Preobrajenski and the Cuirassers. He also saw the kitchens, the parade ground and the armoury room before returning to his own dormitory. ---oo0oo--From the outset Leonid hated the life. The cadets were not http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (8 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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allowed a single moment to themselves during the day, from reveille to lights out. Their time was filled with lessons, square-bashing, spit-and-polish of their uniforms and study time. Despite Krov's overtures of friendship, Leonid was a loner and wished nothing other than to be left to his own devices. Leonid learned his lessons, which was the only part of the day he enjoyed, with a quick understanding that pleased the tutors; but when he had to do anything physical, he put less than his best effort into it. The three months until the summer vacation seemed interminable for young Leonid, but at last the day dawned, bright, sunny and warm. Leonid packed his kitbag and walked, for the first time since he had arrived in St Petersburg, through the impressive gates of the Palace, expecting to see his father waiting for him. Blinking in the sunlight, he looked around the crowd of waiting parents but could see no familiar face. Suddenly a bearded man dressed in peasant's clothes of baggy trousers, blouson and belt stepped forward to stand in front of Leonid. "Leonid Ulakov-Holstein? Sir, your father has instructed me to collect you and bring you to him." He made to lift Leonid's kitbag from where Leonid had dumped it on the ground. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (9 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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"No!" Leonid was suspicious. "Where's my father? Why hasn't he come?" "Come, now, young sir, all is well. He simply is unable to be here at this moment, owing to business. I am his servant, Yuri. We will go now." and he ushered Leonid into a waiting landau and, without another word, drove off into the streets of St Petersburg. They drove along the banks of the River Neva past the Winter Palace and up an untidy, broad thoroughfare which was empty except for a few carriages and troikas trotting up and down the road. Yuri turned the carriage up a side street and reined in outside a two-storey house. He jumped down and opened the door for Leonid, who, gathering his kitbag, stepped down into the uneven street. "Sir, there's one thing I must tell you before you go in your father has been wounded recently and he's still recouperating." Suddenly filled with apprehension, Leonid followed the servant up the steps and into the large house. There was a long staircase leading upstairs, and Yuri led his young charge upwards to a door, which he respectfully knocked http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (10 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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and opened, standing back to allow Leonid to enter alone. The room was dark, the curtains drawn, and it took Leonid a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. His father was lying in bed, eyes closed. "Papa?" "Come in, my son." The Count's voice was weak. "Don't be afraid." "What happened, Papa? Who hurt you?" Leonid asked, approaching the bed and seeing his father's face badly bruised, with what appeared to be cigarette burns all over. His beard was burned away, leaving short, stubbly bristle. He spoke with difficulty. "Leonid, come closer. I want you ... to see ... what the enemies of the Tsar are capable of. These people ... want to change the world, they say they want a people's republic, and this ... is the way in which they are trying to attain it. These are the people ... I am protecting Tsar Alexander from and these are the people I hope you will one day fight, as well, my son. Now go ... I will be well again soon, and will join you down in the Crimea. There is danger for you, here, now they know my ... identity. Yuri will take you there. Never forget ... what these people have done to me ..." His voice http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (11 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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trailed off, and he closed his eyes in exhaustion. Leonid tiptoed to the door, closing it softly behind him, badly shaken at his father's apprearance. Yuri was waiting for him, leaving his father in the capable hands of a trained nurse. ---oo0oo--For the next ten years Leonid led the secluded life of an Imperial Army cadet, first in the Vorontsov Palace then, when he was 13, he was transferred to the advanced training camp at Krasnoe Selo outside St Petersburg. There the cadets were taught how to defend themselves, how to use a gun and sword and the art of strategic warfare. They were also taught to ride and given a grounding in the social graces. Always a loner, he wanted no friends, nor had any. Krov, and his friend Lev Yashkov, were the nearest boys to him, but any form of friendship from them he actively spurned until, one cold, early spring evening after all their duties and tasks were completed, Krov approached Leonid, why was lying on his bed in the dormitory, reading a book. "Leonid!" whispered Krov theatrically. "Go 'way, I'm busy." and Leonid turned away from him. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (12 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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"Leonid, listen." Krov perched himself on the edge of the bed. "There's a circus in Krasnoe village this week. Captain Orlovsky is sick and there's only Corporal Kaginov on guard over us tonight. Lev and I want to see the show - do you want to come?" "How're you going to get out?" Leonid turned round, dark eyes narrowed in cautious interest. He longed to go outside to see a real circus - he'd only heard tell of them from other boys who had come from Moscow. "After lights out," Krov whispered conspiratorially, "Corporal Kaginov likes a 'nightcap'. It's my last duty tonight to give him it - and I intend to give him more than he bargained for!" Despite himself, Leonid chuckled, the smile lighting up his sombre face. Krov felt a pang of surprise - he had never seen Leonid smile before. Perhaps, after all, they did have something in common - a taste for adventure! Lights out was at 9 p.m. for the younger seniors, and Krov, after giving the duty corporal his drink, slipped, fully dressed, between the sheets. Lev and Leonid, in the beds to Krov' s right and left respectively, were similarly attired. The three waited for thirty minutes, then Krov http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (13 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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quietly arose, pulling on his boots, and crept out of the dormitory filled with sleeping boys. He softly opened the door to the corridor and looked into the adjoining room. Corporal Kaginov was slumped at his desk. Krov tiptoed back to the door of the dorm, and waved for Leonid and Lev to follow. Only the entrance to the camp was guarded, and it was easy for three fit boys to scale the seven-foot height of the perimeter wall. They were free! They ran through newly-ploughed fields towards the lights of the small town. Music! They could hear music! Away from the confines of the barracks, they laughed aloud at their bravery and the thrill of adventure. Yes! There! There was the magic of the circus! The Big Top was ablaze with gaslight and the show was in full swing as they picked their way around the gypsy caravans. Unheeding of the mud, they crawled under the canvas of the Big Top tent and were dazzled by the spectacle of white horses running round the ring, their riders performing all kinds of acrobatic tricks. Then there were elephants, and clowns, and a high-wire, and trapeze artistes. The night flew by, the show was over before they realised. Home! They had to get back to the barracks before Kaginov awoke and checked his wards. Although it was early spring, it was still freezing and the http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (14 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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ice had not yet broken on the nearby River Neva. In their haste to get back they slipped and slid their way over fences, through thickets and small streams, deliberately avoiding bridges that would make them instantly visible to anyone out looking for them. The stream was narrow and there were stepping stones, but in the moonless, icy night Leonid missed his precarious footing and fell heavily, cracking his head on a stone. Krov and Lev stopped. Where was Leonid? They retraced their steps to the stream and saw their fallen comrade, lying unmoving on the ice. He leaned down to touch Leonid's dark head, and the injured boy gave a whimpering sound. "Oh, golly, that's torn it!" exclaimed Lev. "He's unconscious - how're we going to get him back?" Gently Krov turned Leonid over on the ice and saw a dark gash on his temple, oozing blood. He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief, and kicked a hole in the ice with his boot, reaching the water underneath. He soaked the cloth and bathed the wound, and Leonid's eyes flickered open. Leonid groaned softly, tried to sit up, holding his head, and sank back onto the ice. "Ohhh, my head." http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (15 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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"Leonid, quick," urged Lev, "we've got to get back!" "Uhh, you go on, I'll - rest here for a while, catch up with you in a minute - go on!" "No! We're in this together, Leonid." replied Krov. "We'll help you." and he reached down and hauled him up, putting his shoulder under Leonid's armpit. On Leonid's other side, Lev did likewise, and the three limped back to Kresnoe Selo as dawn broke, all thoughts of concealment gone. They staggered up to the gate, where the guards called the duty officer. Captain Orlovsky arose from his sickbed, furious at the conduct of the three boys standing before him, dishevelled and exhausted from their escapade. "WELL?" he bellowed. "What is your explanation of this disgraceful conduct? Answer me, boy!" he said, addressing Leonid. Leonid swayed on his feet, head bowed. He was still suffering from concussion. "ANSWER ME!" screamed Orlovsky, beside himself with rage. When Leonid could not reply, Orlovsky suddenly lashed out with his swagger stick, striking Leonid so hard on the face that he stumbled backwards and fell, blood steaming from a cut on his right cheek. Standing over the fallen boy, he was about to strike http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (16 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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him again when Krov stepped between them. Orlovsky stepped back, his eyes bulging with fury. "Please sir, don't hit him again, he's hurt already. Besides, it was my fault." "YOUR fault? You, Krov Igorovich Orlovsky? My son committing rank insurbordination? You will pay for this, my boy. You two - report to Corporal Kaginov for detention punishment. You, Krov, will remain with me." Slowly and deliberately, Captain Orlovsky removed his belt. Krov never told Lev or Leonid what his father did to punish him, but Krov was a much-subdued boy for the remainder of the term. Leonid, when he was released from the camp's hospital, returned to the dormitory, where Krov was working polishing his leathers. "Krov?" the boy looked at Leonid, then looked away, ashamedly. "Leonid, I'm sorry, it was my fault entirely, I..." "No, it wasn't. I wanted to come with you, so the blame lies with me, too. I want to - thank you - for coming back for me - you could've got back undetected if you hadn't."

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"We couldn't leave you - you may have frozen to death out there ..." Lev walked into the dorm, still walking a little stiffly. "Did Kaginov whip you, too?" asked Leonid. Lev nodded, smiling ruefully, as he rubbed his posterior, a boy of few words. "Thank you - both - for helping me home. I'm glad to have you as my comrades." he added, stepping forward and clasping their hands in his. "Comrades?" he smiled. "Comrades!" they replied in unison. ---oo0oo--Academically, Leonid was talented at languages, gaining fluency in English as well as his bilingual knowledge of Russian and French, and he read, on his own initiative, books written in all these languages, thus expanding his views, both politically and socially, of the world in which he lived. He enjoyed History and Geography lessons and longed to travel abroad with his Regiment. He did not, however, possess a mathematical brain, and showed no interest or aptitude for the subject throughout his academic career. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter2.htm (18 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:38:06 AM]

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As the years went by he saw less and less of his father, who was totally involved with the Court of the Tsar and its intrigues. After Tsar Alexander II's assassination by terrorist bomb in 1881 he was succeeded by his son, Alexander III. A giant of a man at 6'4", in his late thirties, wearing a large beard, his power was absolute and, a true autocrat, he considered his responsibility only to God. Leonid 's father continued his service under the new ruler. ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 3

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CHAPTER 3 1888-1890 FIRST LOVE

And so it was that, in 1888, at the age of 18, Leonid Ulakov-Holstein graduated from military college and was granted a commission in His Majesty's Hussar Guards. The day of the passing-out ceremony was probably the proudest day of Leonid's life. Resplendent in the uniform of the Hussar Guards, he cut a dashing figure, as he had grown to young manhood and was now six feet tall, with a lithe, athletic physique and the natural elegance of an aristocrat. The uniform of the Hussar Guards comprised a red jacket with gold loopings on the chest and sleeves and gold epaulettes, a black and red cap of sealskin with a white cockade, dark blue, skin tight elkskin trousers with gold loopings at the thighs and a gold stripe. The uniform was completed with black leather, knee-length boots, white gloves, black, short cloak and a sabretache and sabre. Krov and Lev had also become Hussar Guards, and the other young men who graduated that day were a blaze of colour in their differing regimental uniforms of green, white, black and red, and they all posed proudly to have their pictures taken. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (1 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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Equally proud were the graduates' parents, and the Count was given special permission by the Tsar to attend the ceremony, which was held at the Alexander Palace in Tsarskoe Selo. Tsarskoe Selo, 'the Tsar's Village', was located fifteen miles south of St Petersburg, on the edge of the great plain. Created by a succession of Russian Tsars and their Empresses, it was an isolated, autonomous community. Cossack horsemen in scarlet tunics, black fur caps and boots and flashing sabres patrolled night and day around the perimeter of the Imperial Park, inside which were triumphal arches, monuments and obelisks placed around eight hundred acres of green lawn. The park also contained a large artificial lake, glinting in the sunshine and, somewhat incongruously, a red-and-gold Chinese pagoda sat atop a small artificial hill. The gardens were a riot of colour and scent from exotic flowers and shrubs. During the long ceremony, each newly-fledged officer was personally presented to the Tsar. When it was Leonid's turn, he marched up the red carpet to the dias on which Tsar Alexander III stood and saluted smartly. When the court official announced his name, the Tsar stepped forward and attached the officer's epaulettes onto Leonid's shoulders. Whilst doing this, the Tsar spoke, his voice a http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (2 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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deep, resonant baritone. "Leonid Alexeivich UlakovHolstein, I hereby grant you a commission in My Imperial Majesty's Hussar Guards." Leonid saluted again. T hen, in a voice pitched so low that only Leonid could hear him, the Tsar added "Your father has served both my father and myself with honour. I hope you will continue the tradition. Dismissed." Leonid backed away from the Royal presence, more than a little surprised at what the Tsar had said to him. He had no real idea of what his father's Imperial duties were, but now he intended to find out. The ceremony over, there was time for the new officers to celebrate with their families, and Leonid joined his father in a celebratory dinner at the stylish Restaurant Cuba in the heart of fashionable St Petersburg. Leonid had never dined out with his father before, and was amazed and delighted at the variety of food offered. He dined on stuffed eggs with caviar, cold sturgeon, chicken pattie and pastry tarts with whipped cream. The spartan rations allowed the cadets had nothing of the flavour or variety of this most memorable meal. While they ate in companionable silence, the Count studied the young man who was his son and heir, and reflected. Despite the tragic start to Leonid's life, that little episode seemed to have been forgotten by him, and he had http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (3 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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turned into an intelligent youth, tall and strong and, he had to admit it, handsome. If he had a temper, he kept it under strict control. His sombre face would suddenly be transformed by a radiant smile if the Count, passing an astute comment, amused him. Yes, thought the Count, things have turned out better than I had ever hoped for. If only his wife had been here to share this day ... The Countess, despite the Count's repeated protestations, had never returned to him, choosing instead to seclude herself on her own estate in Hungary. She had never recovered from the shock of the discovery that her four-year-old son was a murderer ... The Count had had to assuage his personal needs discretely and, owing to the nature of his duties towards the Tsar, had been obliged to form no permanent relationships. The meal over, the Count lit up a cigar and watched his son enjoying the spectacle. There was music and dancing of all the modern dances, the large dance hall aswirl with uniformed men dancing with bejewelled ladies, the babble of talk rising to a crescendo as the evening wore on, the predominant language spoken by fashionable aristocrats being French, not Russian. Leonid's eye was caught by a pretty debutante sitting with her parents at a nearby table. In the secluded life of a http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (4 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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trainee officer there is no time for the opposite sex, and on this, his first night 'on the town', Leonid had never seen anyone as beautiful as she, and his glance was forever wandering over towards her table. His father quickly realised the situation. He leaned over towards his son. "You - ah - like her, Leonid?" Leonid wriggled uncomfortably in his chair, alarmed that his intentions were so transparent. His father, seeing his discomfiture, laughed softly. "Don't be embarrassed, my son. Do you want to meet her?" "What?" Leonid was horrified. "N-no, it's just ..." he trailed off, unable to give voice to his sudden, unexpected, feelings. Without another word, his father rose from the table and walked over to the other family. Leonid could see him talking amicably with the father, whom he seemed to be acquainted with, and then beckoned his son to join them. Leonid walked stiffly over, over-conscious of his appearance, but his eyes never leaving the girl's animated face. Arriving at the table, he stood to attention. The girl's father was wearing the uniform of a Colonel of his own regiment. "Colonel Mippipopolous, allow me to present to you my son and heir, Leonid Alexeivich Ulakovhttp://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (5 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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Holstein." Leonid clicked his heels and bowed shortly. "The Colonel's wife, Anna Malovna ..." Leonid repeated the action, and lifted her hand to brush his lips. "... and the Colonel's daughter, Lisa." Leonid bowed and kissed her hand, his eyes looking up into her large, black eyes. She had a dark, Grecian complexion, heightened for the moment by her blush of pleasure at meeting this tall, handsome Hussar. She was small, coming only up to his shoulder, her dark hair falling in ringlets around her oval face. Plucking up his courage, he asked "May I have the pleasure of this dance?" Lisa looked to her father, who nodded condescendingly, and Leonid offered his arm to escort her onto the dance floor to dance a lively mazurka. Colonel Mippipololous was a small, dumpily-built man of Greek extraction, his black hair sparse on the top and complemented by a pencil-line, waxed moustache. He gestured for the Count to be seated and, bowing towards the Colonel's wife, the Count sat in the seat vacated by Lisa and watched the two young people dancing. "They make a handsome couple, do they not, Colonel?" observed the Count. "Ah, yes. Your son - is your only heir, n'est-ce pas?" "Oui. My older son met with an accident in childhood." http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (6 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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"I am sorry. Drink?" and he poured the Count a glass of champagne. On the dance floor, Leonid was experiencing the pleasures of dancing with a pretty girl. Unaccustomed as he was to female company, he found himself at a loss as to what to say to the vision of loveliness in his arms. Plucking up his courage, he blurted out "You dance beautifully, Miss Lisa!" "Thank you - you're not so bad yourself, Officer Leonid!" He laughed, the smile lighting up his face. He gave her an extra twirl, and she gasped in breathless surprise. At the end of the dance she said "Oh, please, let's sit down - I'm quite out of breath!" "But of course." and he escorted her back to the table. Leonid danced many dances that night and, towards the end of the evening, he persuaded Lisa to walk out in the gardens with him. Lisa's father, on seeing the two young people slip out of the dance, rose to stop them being alone together, but Lisa's mother put a restraining hand on her husband's arm and, huffing, the Colonel subsided, casting many glances in the direction of the open casement window through which they had left. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (7 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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The evening was cool as they strolled in companionable silence through the moonlit gardens. Suddenly Lisa, walking with a light, carefree tread, stopped and looked up at her escort. In the darkness he seemed even taller, the moonlight casting a shadow over his face as he looked down on her. He looked, she thought, threatening, almost evil. She felt a cold chill running down her spine. But no a sudden smile lit up his face, and he was very handsome. Yes, she liked him, but he was so shy, so quiet. Keeping a respectable distance between them, she said coyly "There were lots of other unattached girls there tonight, Officer Leonid. Why didn't you dance with any of them?" Her face was pert, mischievous, and he felt his heart lurch. "Lisa Mippipopolous," he replied, his voice deep, "I saw no-one else there tonight except you - only - you." and he took the step separating them. She backed away, suddenly frightened. She became aware of how vulnerable she was, alone, here, with this strange, tall man. "Lisa..." his voice was immeasurably gentle as he moved forward again, and, his hand under her chin, he reached down and kissed her softly on the lips. He could feel her tense up, afraid, then, as his arms enfolded her, she relaxed and returned the kiss. She had never been on her own with a man before, and the unexpected strength of his passionate kiss alarmed her http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (8 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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again. She twisted and pushed away from him, saying "I ... I think we should go back in now - I'm cold!" and she swiftly retraced her steps towards the lighted open window, leaving her escort feeling frustrated and exasperated, his mind and body in a turmoil of emotions he had never known before. Gathering himself together, he ran to catch her up and they re-entered the Restaurant together, but a feeling of unease prevailed at the table for the remainder of the evening. The Mippipopolouses left at midnight. In the carriage home the Colonel asked his daughter "Did anything happen - between you and that young man tonight, Lisa?" She felt a hot flush of embarrassment rising in her cheeks and was glad it was dark. "N-no, Papa. He just wanted to kiss me, that's all." "And did you let him?" His wife drew breath to protest at the inquisition, but he raised his hand to silence her. "Well?" "He's - I don't know..." Lisa groped for words. "Sometimes he's handsome, but sometimes - he frightened me. "I don't think you should see him again, Lisa." http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (9 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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She settled back in the carriage seat and said nothing. ---oo0oo--Meanwhile, in the carriage back to the barracks, the Count opened conversation. "You have never had a - ah - liaison with a young woman?" "No, father." "Then I would advise you to wait for a little while. First you must establish yourself with your Regiment. The Tsar has his eye on you for - special duties. Do not jeopardise such a career opportunity by an emotional relationship. Do not be impatient. I saw the look in your eyes - and in hers." "I want her, father." Leonid said, quietly. "Take your time, son - there's no hurry." But for a young man suddenly in love, the only time is now. They journeyed on in silence through the deserted St Petersburg streets until Leonid turned to his father and said "Father, may I ask you something about your duties to the Tsar?" The Count leaned forward, tapped the roof of the carriage and called "Georg - to my house first, please." http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (10 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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When they had made themselves comfortable and the Count had offered his son tea from the bubbling samovar, he said "What is it you wish to know, Leonid?" "You have always told me that you simply work for the Tsar, but today, when I received my commission from him, he said that you had served both his father and himself loyally and that he hoped I would do the same. In what way do you serve the Tsar, father?" The Count drew a deep breath, checked that none of his servants were about, then began. "Now that you have entered the world of men, Leonid, there are some things that you must learn about life in modern Russia. I know you will remember that Tsar Alexander II was assassinated in 1881 by a peasant with a bomb. I was there, I tried to stop it, but was unable to. I was badly injured - you came to see me here, remember? There are people, both on the streets and at Court, who wish an end to the dynasty. It has been my job to protect the Tsar from these people." "I see." Leonid nodded. "And the Tsar wants me to follow in your footsteps?" "He does." http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (11 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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"But my career is to be in the Hussars - that is what I've worked for, that is what I want." The Count sighed. "Very well, if that is your wish, I shall so inform His Majesty." "It is, father." The Count rose from his seat and went over to a large sideboard. He opened a concealed drawer and took out a leather case, about six inches in length, and stood in front of his son. "I wish you - to receive this as a gift from me. It has stood me in good stead on many occasions." Leonid opened the case to reveal a six-inch long, leather-hilted dagger with an intricately designed sheaf of finely worked leather. The blade was razor-sharp. "I know it is against regulations, but I suggest you secrete it about your person to allow easy access. The Revolutionaries strike at any time, any place, and in any guise. With this, you are ready for them. You have already used a knife to good effect." he added, with heavy irony in his voice. Leonid gave his father a penetrating look, closed the case and put it in his cape pocket. A short time later, the Count summoned the carriage to drive his son back to the barracks. Leonid was unable to sleep that night, new and uncomfortable emotions assailing his every thought. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (12 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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---oo0oo--During the summer, the Tsar lived in the nine-hundred roomed Palace at Gatchina, which was 25 miles southwest of St Petersburg. In the snow and frost-bound winter, however, he preferred to live in the Anitchkov Palace, which was located on the Nevsky Prospekt of St Petersburg, quite near to the Winter Palace. For the next few days there was little time to think of anything other than his new duties, and Leonid was given charge of a unit of twenty guards to patrol the grounds of the Gatchina Palace in conjunction with the guard duties of the Preobrajenski Regiment. Desperate though he was to return the Restaurant Cuba in St Petersburg, he could not be sure whether Lisa would be there. Colonel Mippipololous was his battalion commander, and respect for his senior officers constrained Leonid from asking about the Colonel's beautiful daughter. There were, however, a number of Court balls which took place at the Winter Palace. Leonid, for the first time in his life, found himself longing for the cold of winter to grip the land. However, cruel fate was to step in the path of Leonid http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (13 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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Ulakov-Holstein before then. On an evening two weeks before the first Court Ball of the winter season, Krov, Lev and Leonid found that, at long last and for the first time since they joined their Regiment, they were to have the same night off duty. The Court Ball was to be a fancy dress affair, and the three young officers set off in search of costumes. There were many theatrical costumiers in St Petersburg, as the city possessed opera and ballet companies which performed at the ornate, blue-and-gold Maryinsky Theatre. Lev had met an actress and was anxious to show her off to his two unattached comrades. After the show she took the three young officers round to a shop she knew, knocked at the door of a costumiers who had fitted her out on a number of occasions, explained to him the three men's wishes, and sat back to enjoy the show. Amongst much hilarity and ribald comments they tried on a whole variety of costumes, ranging from Wagner's Ring to Swan Lake. After long deliberation, Lev decided on an Elizabethan-style white costume of shoes, tights, ribbed trews, a tight-fitting jacket and ruff and a hat with an enormous feather; Krov, always a little conservative, decided on the costume of a starets, or holy man, which was a full-length, sackcloth shift, and was supplied with a long, straggly wig and beard. Leonid, however, could not pass up the opportunity of wearing a http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (14 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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bright red devil's costume, complete with hood, mask and forked tail, the figure-fitting red body stocking only adorned with a black, alligator-skin tabard and belt. Laughing till the tears ran down their cheeks, they all decided to visit the Restaurant Cuba and dance the night away, still clad in their costumes. They went into the bar to fortify themselves. Leonid had never drunk vodka before, and it immediately went to his head. The other two, and the actress, drank it watered down, but Leonid unwisely took it straight, wanting to show off to his friends that he could take drink. He couldn't and, right in the middle of a particularly body-contorting routine in the middle of the dance floor, he collapsed. The three young officers were all so intent on getting Leonid out of the Restaurant that none of them noticed a man in full evening dress go out before them, hail a cab and drive away towards the Winter Palace. Still laughing and giggling, the two conscious officers and the actress bundled the unconscious Leonid into the next cab and, after dropping the girl off at her address, rolled up to the Winter Palace. They were about to use the cab as a changing room when the door was wrenched open and Colonel Mippipopolous stood, in full military uniform, silhouetted in the street lights of night. "Uh, oh." someone was heard to say. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (15 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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"Outside, your miserable reprobates. Get him out of there," he roared, indicating the recovering Leonid, "and report to my office immediately. Do not change your clothing." and he marched, stiff-backed, into the Palace. Krov and Lev took Leonid under each armpit and dragged him, half-walking up the stairs to Mippipopolous's quarters. He was sitting behind his desk, waiting for them. They tried to straighten up, but the ridiculousness of their situation penetrated their drunken minds and Lev giggled. "SO!" bellowed the Colonel. "You find this funny, do you?" Lev tried to straighten his face, but could not. "You have disgraced the uniform that you should be so proudly wearing. I see no uniform, I only see three children out of infant school, unable to exercise restraint or show responsibility." Lev had the giggles again, which so incensed the Colonel that he took his swagger stick and struck Lev violently across the face. Lev, still off-balance with alcohol, staggered back and struck his head on the edge of a table. All three others heard the sickening crack, as Lev fell and lay still, his head at an impossible angle. Suddenly Leonid came alive, all traces of alcohol leaving him in a rage he had never known before. "You've killed him! You bastard, you've killed him!" and he flew at the Colonel, his military knife appearing magically in his http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (16 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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hand. With a gasp of surprise the Colonel sank to the floor, the blade embedded in his heart. Krov's eyes widened when he realised what he had just witnessed. Calmly, Leonid bent over and removed the knife, a gout of blood spurting from the wound. Hearing the commotion, two patrolling guardsmen burst into the Colonel's quarters, catching Leonid with the knife in his hand. ---oo0oo--The court martial was brief and decisive. Krov was reduced to the rank of private and sent to Siberia. Leonid was sentenced to death by firing squad at dawn the next morning. ---oo0oo--Returned to his solitary confinement cell he sat on the brick-hard bed, for the rest of the time given him, hands clasped, leaning forward over his knees, his dark hair falling over closed eyes as he thought. He had killed the father of the girl he wanted more than anything else in the world. Why? Why? Was it worth it? There was nothing he could have done for Lev anyway - he was dead already. What was his father thinking? He had done it again http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (17 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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killed without thinking of the consequences. Only this time, he was to pay with his life - a danger to society, the General had called him. Just before dawn, a priest administered the last rights. He was permitted to dress in full uniform for the march to the parade ground. Shaking uncontrollably, he had to be helped to button his jacket, the jacket he had been so proud to wear. Then it was time. The guard marched him to the parade ground in the cold light of dawn. There were three stakes driven into the ground. The captain of the guard tore off his hard-won epaulettes, then removed his jacket, tied Leonid's arms round the back of the stake, and offered him a last cigarette before placing the target on his white shirt over his heart. The firing squad were marched onto the parade ground and were made to stand to attention. Leonid shrugged away the offer of a blindfold. He wanted to see his executioners. "Ready!" commanded the captain of the guard. Leonid closed his eyes momentarily. "Aim!" he drew one last, deep breath as the guards' rifles were primed, then heard a commotion behind the firing squad. "By the order of the Tsar, stop the execution!" a familiar http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (18 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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voice bellowed. The Tsar himself stood, an awesome, commanding figure in his Hussar' s supreme commander' s uniform. The captain of the guard's jaw dropped, then he pulled himself together and ordered Leonid to be cut free. As the ropes were cut he fell to the ground, shaking violently in reaction. The Tsar commanded the captain of the guard to make Leonid presentable and have him attend him forthwith. Half an hour later, Leonid had recovered and was awaiting alone the Tsar's presence. The big man swept majestically into the room, and Leonid saluted smartly. The Tsar sat down behind a desk in the sparsely furnitured room as Leonid stood to attention. "Well, young man," the Tsar's resonant voice boomed. "You have been exceedingly stupid, have you not?" "Yes, sir!" Leonid replied crisply, grateful that he was still alive. "You will be curious to know why I stepped in to rescue you? Yes? Well, if it wasn't for your father, I would have certainly let you be shot. However, your father has saved my life on a number of occasions. He did not plead for http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (19 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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your life. If he had, you would now be dead. Also, I have had unfavourable reports from my internal security about Colonel Mippipopolous, and this was not the first occasion when a soldier he was - ah -questioning - suffered a fatal accident. When I gave you your commission recently, I said I hoped you would serve me as loyally as your father has. Well, your father is coming near to the end of his use for me. His reactions are slowing down, and I fear that, just when I need him, he will be unable to help. 'Like father, like son', they say. Your father has been my personal bodyguard and assassin for over twenty years. You have the killer instinct, young man, I can see it in those strange eyes of yours - cold, unsympathetic. You have already killed twice in your life -" Leonid's eyes widened in surprise. "Yes, your father told me how you 'accidentally' killed your brother in childhood. Huh! Young man, you are doubtless aware that there are prospective assassins around every corner, both in court and on the streets, like the filthy terrorists that murdered ..." his voice rose suddenly and he paused, fighting to control his emotions -"my father. I want you" - he hesitated, both for effect and to calm himself down again, pointing a finger at Leonid's chest, "to get them, before they get me. Understood? I will have no opposition - no opposition, you hear, to my rule." http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (20 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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"Yes, Sire, thank you, Sire." "Don't thank me - yet. As of this moment, you have forfeited your birthright to succession of your father's estate. On his death, the land will revert to the Crown. You have also forfeited your identity. Leonid Alexeivich Ulakov-Holstein died in front of that firing squad. Permit me to give you another name - now, let's see ... " he stroked his beard. "Something inconspicuous ... ah, yes. How about Maximilian Ilich Maltzev? No connections with aristocratic families. Excellent. I will issue you with the necessary papers. If you are successful and remove my enemies, you will be rewarded handsomely. If you fail and I am assassinated, the sentence which I deferred today will be carried out. I hereby promote you to Fliegel-Adjutant in my personal bodyguard. You will work undercover and out of uniform under your father's command in his capacity as section head of my secret police, the Ochrana. If, on any occasion, you find it necessary to travel outwith the country in pursuit of a malefactor, you will come to me and I will make arrangements to facilitate your journeys. You will return now with me to the Anitchkov Palace to acquaint yourself with other members of my security staff. Otherwise, it is best that it be generally believed that sentence was carried out. Is that clear?" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (21 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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"Yes, Sire." Leonid, now Max, replied. Here - take this." and the Tsar slid over the desktop the knife with which Max had killed Mippipopolous. Max was permitted the honour of travelling back to the Palace in a covered carriage with the Tsar who, on arrival, said "I would suggest, Fliegel-Adjutant, that first you should visit your father. He is in his office on the second floor." Max snapped a salute and found his way to his father's office. He knocked and heard his father's voice, somewhat flatly, call "Enter." His father's back was to him and he was staring out the window which looked onto a green lawn. There was a stoop in his shoulders that Max had never seen before. When he did not turn round, Max said "Father?" The Count spun round in amazement and delight, then covered the space between them and embraced his son, kissing him twice on each cheek. There were tears in his eyes as he asked shakily: "What happened?" There was conceit in Max's deep voice as he replied "The Tsar - wanted me alive. Congratulate me, father, I am now Fliegel-Adjutant Max Ilich Maltzev, attached to the Tsar's household, and have to - assist him - in disposing of http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter3.htm (22 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:38:17 AM]

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dissidents - you are to be my commander. It would appear that you have got me where you want me. "Welcome to the Ochrana, my son!" ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 4

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CHAPTER 4 1890-1891 ONLY YOU

Under the tutelage of both his father and other members of staff, Max learned the art of espionage and disguise, slowly building up a network of contacts he could rely upon for accurate information. Traditionally, Ochrana assassins murdered by garotting their victims. However, after trying this technique, Max reverted to using his knife. Concerned by this breach of etiquette, his father summoned him. "I gather from outside reports that you have ceased to employ the garotte. What is your explanation, sir?" opened the Count angrily. "Sir, with respect, I have found the use of the garotte inconvenient." "Why?" the Count rose from behind his desk, stood facing his unrepentent son. "Despite the fact that we were informed that garotting was fast and clean, I have found it otherwise. The victims struggle too much, causing considerable disruption if the http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter4.htm (1 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:38:22 AM]

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ah - project - is carried out indoors. One must also employ considerable strength to hold them down long enough for strangulation to take place. Very tiring, if a quick getaway is needed afterwards. No, sir, I find a knife in the heart is quick and efficient. They die far faster, less mess." "Hmph." the Count pondered, rubbing his chin. "You always did like using your knife, Leonid - ah - Max. Very well. I am prepared to give you special dispensation to use your knife in the line of duty. You may go." Max saluted and left, a thin smile of satisfaction on his lips. In the hungry time of freezing winter, any observation by a starving peasant was richly rewarded. Max learned every back street, and back door, in St Petersburg, becoming a dark figure lurking in the shadows of night; he was a starets, or holy man, with long, straggly hair and beard; or maybe he too was a peasant, dressed in baggy trousers and blouse held together with a belt round his waist and a cap covering his eyes, his knife easily concealed in ample folds; sometimes he was an old, blind beggar, seeing everything through unblind eyes. He revelled in the job, which gave him a freedom he had never known before. Every Ochrana operative took a codename to maintain his http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter4.htm (2 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:38:22 AM]

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anonymity amongst his team of observers. Because of his chosen instrument of death, Max chose 'Nozh', the Russian word for 'knife'. During his visits to the Palaces to report to the Tsar, on a number of occasions Tsarevich Nicholas was obliged to be present at the meetings, as his father wished him to become acquainted with the running of the country. The Tsarevich was at that time twenty years old, virtually the same age as Max, and still too young to fully realise the importance of his position. His father, then in his midforties, appeared to have many years of rule ahead of him, and the Tsarevich was intent on enjoying his youth, more interested in going to parties, ice skating or socialising than in affairs of state. Max's surveillance duties also gave him an opportunity to observe from afar Lisa Mippipopolous. Protected by her father's household from his polite advances at furthering their acquaintance, his frustration was compounded when he killed her father and was compelled to disappear from the social scene entirely, leading society to believe that he had, in fact, been shot for a traitor. His desire for her was undiminished, however, and, disguised, he took as many opportunities as was afforded him to watch her from afar. Her mother appeared to be unwell - probably a reaction to http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter4.htm (3 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:38:22 AM]

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her husband's death, Max thought. He saw people entering and exiting the small house the widow and her daughter were forced to purchase after the death of the breadwinner. He saw young men gaining admission to the house, and Max's jealousy burned bright within him, but still he did nothing, choosing to remain a shadow amongst the darkest shadows. His time would come... And then, on one dark evening in the autumn of 1890, he witnessed a man, whom he had long suspected of being a revolutionary, entering the Mippipopulous house. Alerted, he informed his father, who granted him permission for a round-the-clock surveillance to be mounted. The widow never came out of the house, but Lisa established a routine of shopping in the marketplace then, with a full pannier, returned via certain houses, only staying for a few minutes in each. Max suspected the passing of information. He watched and waited. Then, late one night, all the people who had individually visited Lisa's house came to her door in ones, twos and small groups and gained access. It was clear an unusually large meeting was taking place. Max had two men on watch with him. One of them recognised a man of his acquaintance who was about to go in, so Max ordered him to join the group and observe the proceedings. The man gained access without difficulty. When the meeting was over they left as they had come. Max's contact http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter4.htm (4 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:38:22 AM]

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returned. He reported that an assassination attempt was being plotted against the Tsar, of which Lisa was an integral part. During a parade that would take place the following Saturday, Lisa would be at the roadside, throwing bunches of flowers towards the Royal carriage. One of the bunches would contain a bomb. Max felt as though his world had ended, that an enormous hole had been shot through his soul. Lisa, a traitor! There could be only one fate for traitors, thought Max numbly. He would have to kill her. He reported back to his father. "There is no possible doubt that Lisa is the leader of this terrorist cell?" asked the Count. "No, sir, no doubt at all. One of my men infiltrated the meeting." "Max, I know you have an attachment towards this girl." "I will not let that interfere with my duties to the Tsar, sir." Max's face was devoid of expression, hiding the tumult of passions raging within him. "Very well - do what you must." ---oo0oo--http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter4.htm (5 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:38:22 AM]

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The small house in which the Mippipopolous ladies lived was a two-storey, ornately decorated in the Italian style. On the moonless night after Max had observed the meeting at Lisa's house, an old man, blindly tapping his walking stick, slowly made his way down the Nevsky Prospekt. The night was cold, and he had layers of clothing on under an ancient Army-style greatcoat. As he approached, Lisa left her home and headed towards one of her fellowconspirators' houses, brushing past the old soldier without giving him a second look, intent on her mission. He tapped on, stopping seemingly randomly outside her house, and sat down tiredly on the bottom step. Under his broadbrimmed hat he looked quickly up and down the boulevard. The streets were empty. Moving with surprising speed for one so old, he stood, turned towards the door and, using a skeleton key, entered quickly and quietly. The house was in darkness - good. His spy had informed him that the old lady was upstairs, in the bedroom at the top of the landing. Quickly and silently, the killer stalked his prey. "Lisa? Is that you?" came a tremulous voice. Max stopped in his tracks, half-way up the stairs, then took http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter4.htm (6 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:38:22 AM]

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the rest of the steps two at a time to gain the first landing before the old lady came out of her bedroom. "Lisa?" The bedroom door opened and a chink of light spread along the landing. As she came out the door, Max slipped behind her, grabbed her from behind and struck once with the knife. She sank back onto him with a sigh. He lifted her and quickly arranged her on the bed as though she were sleeping. He then entered Lisa's bedroom, and waited. It was after midnight when Lisa returned, locking the outside door behind her. She walked up the stairs, looked into her mother's darkened room and saw her sleeping form, so softly closed the door again. Max was standing behind the door as she entered her bedroom and, before she walked over to the paraffin lamp, he slammed it behind her. She spun round and screamed at the tall form standing in the shadows. "Mama! Mama!" she called. He strolled towards her, arms crossed. "Mama can't hear you Lisa, my Lisa." She backed away from him, terrified. "Whwho are you? Go away, please don't hurt me!" "Don't you recognise me, Lisa? Remember, we danced together at the Restaurant Cuba - and I fell in love with you." He reached down and turned up the lamp, the light http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter4.htm (7 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:38:22 AM]

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casting an eerie, satanic shadow across his face. "You! You - killed my father!" she backed away, frantically looking for an escape route. "B-but you're dead!" "No Lisa, not dead - but you soon will be. And do you know why? You want to kill the Tsar, don't you? Well, I have news for you - your whole terrorist unit has just been wiped out by Cossacks. Quite quick and painless, really, which is more than they - and you - deserve. But first, lovely Lisa, I want some information. Names, Lisa, of other terrorist units -" as if by magic, his knife was in his hand. "You will tell me - now!" and he jabbed the blade to prick the skin of her neck. She screamed again, and he threw her on the bed, covering her mouth with his big hand, pinning her down. Suddenly he grunted, his whole body aflame with desire. "Ah, Lisa," he gasped "how long I have wanted you - only you - and now, at last ..." She wriggled and twisted to free herself when she saw the look of lust contorting his face. "No No, not that, please please!" But it was too late. He was a demon, taking her repeatedly, violently. When it was over, she lay, sobbing. He lifted himself off her and stood by the bed, arranging his clothing. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter4.htm (8 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:38:22 AM]

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Still breathing heavily, he spoke. "I would have given you everything, my Lisa. Jewels, horses, all that I will inherit all would have been yours, Lisa. But now, you will tell me NAMES!" he shouted in rage, slapping her violently on the face. "A b-book, over there." she said, trying to cover herself up whilst indicating drawers on her French dressing table. "I'll get it ..." "No! Don't move. I'll get it." The moment his back was turned she reached for the small pistol secreted under her pillow. At the last moment he heard the click of the cocking gun and threw himself to the side. As she hastily fired the gun he felt a tug and a sharp pain in his left shoulder as he fell, and then, before she could fire the gun again, he was on her. Wrenching the weapon from her hand, he straddled her, his knife flashing as he stabbed her, again and again, in a frenzy of wrath and vengeance, until she moved no more. Passion and anger spent, he groaned with pain as he stood up unsteadily and looked at his injury. Blood was staining his white undershirt, but the bullet had merely caused a flesh wound. Holding his injured shoulder, he looked down at the still form on the bed, her dead eyes staring http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter4.htm (9 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:38:22 AM]

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glassily at him. "Ah, Lisa, my Lisa - " he whispered, "I would have given you - anything. I will always love - only you - forever." and he bent down and tenderly kissed her still-warm lips. ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 5

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CHAPTER 5 1891 ABYSINNIAN ADVENTURE

The book in the dressing table drawer did contain names and addresses of contacts, and the Tsar had no hesitation in either ordering an execution for a military offender, or lifelong exile in Siberia for civilians. The next day Tsar Alexander summoned Max to his Imperial Presence. As Max walked along the ornate corridors of the Anitchkov Palace Chevalier Gardes, in white uniforms with silver breastplates and silver eaglecrested helmets and Cossack Life Guards in scarlet tunics, snapped to attention as he passed by. On this occasion the Tsar was accompanied by his Empress, Marie Feodorovna, a small, dark-eyed woman of great vivacity. When the major-domo presented Max he entered, briskly, injured arm in a sling. The Tsar's booming voice said "Ah, here, my dear, is the young hero you wished to meet. Approach us, Fliegel-Adjutant." Max stood before his monarch and Empress. Marie Feodorovna extended her hand, and Max bent low and brushed his lips against the back of her hand. "Charming, http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (1 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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quite charming." the Danish-born Empress said, eyes drinking in Max's tall, spare figure, resplendent once again in his uniform of His Majesty's Hussar Guards. "I hope," she added gently, "that your injury is not serious." "No, Your Majesty, it is nothing. The surgeon assures me I will be fit for duty very soon." "That is good, Fliegel-Adjutant, as I have an unusual task for you to perform." the Tsar interposed. Max's interest was caught. "Sire?" The Tsar indicated for Max to be seated at a table, where he and the Empress also sat. "You may be aware of the developing political situation in Abysinnia -" the Tsar looked at Max, who raised a questioning eyebrow. "The new Emperor, Menelik, is in dispute with the Italian Government, who have claimed suzerainty over his country. The Emperor does not wish the Italian Government to totally command his country's future, and has requested a dialogue with me on the matter. It would be strategically important for Russia to gain a foothold in that country, especially as the British appear to be uninterested in the area. I have been sending Nicholas around Europe, and now the Empress and I think http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (2 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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it advisable to send him and my younger son George on a long cruise to aid George's health. The cruise will go through the Suez Canal and on to India and Japan. The opportunity to stop off at Abysinnia would be an excellent diplomatic exercise. Nicholas is besotted with girls Princess Alix of Hesse, and that dancer Mathilde Kschessinka. We both think that it would be best for him to be away for a while. Do you have a lady friend, FliegelAdjutant?" Taken by surprise, Max stumbled "N-no, Sire." whilst an image of Lisa flashed in his mind. "Good, good. Don't know how long this little trip will take you. Yes, you, sir. You will be accompanying Nicholas as his personal bodyguard. You will be sailing in the Imperial Yacht 'Polar Star' from Yalta, through Suez to the Abysinnian port of Massawa. The Emperor will meet Nicholas in Asmara. However, there is another - ah - task that I would have you perform. These -assassins -" the Tsar's face worked, coloured suddenly with emotion "who blew up my father. One of them, of Italian extraction, has escaped to Abysinnia. Our Foreign Agency reliably informs me that he is resident in Asmara, the capital of Eritrea. Need I say more, Fliegel-Adjutant?" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (3 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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"No, Sire." Max leaned forward, arms on the table. "How may I recognise him?" Wordlessly, the Tsar slid a sketch across the table. "He goes by the name of Giorgio Camilla - if he hasn't changed it again." "If he has, Sire, it will be for the last time." Max's voice was smooth, dark, his head tilted to the side, chin jutting in determination and assurance as he looked at the likeness of the man he had to kill. The Tsar laughed loudly. "I like your style, young man. If your mission is successful, you will be handsomely rewarded. Now go, make your preparations. You father will brief you fully." Max rose to take his leave. "And take care of my son." Max snapped a salute, and departed. ---oo0oo--Max boarded the Imperial Yacht 'Polar Star' at Yalta under cover of night with false papers endorsed with the Imperial Seal. Only the Captain of the vessel and Tsarevich Nicholas knew of his presence and he stayed below decks for the duration of the journey. The Italian port authorities at Massawa in Abysinnia http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (4 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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viewed the arrival in the harbour of a large, ocean-going yacht with suspicion, but the 'Polar Star' was travelling with its name obliterated and was sailing under a flag of convenience. Crewmen and passengers alike had all been furnished with differing papers - some Greek, some Hungarian and some Russian - in order to confuse the officials. During the night, Max was smuggled off the ship on a small tender sailed personally by the Captain. He waded ashore and was on his own until the Tsarevich was due to disembark later that morning. On the outskirts of the town he would join Nicholas and they would ride alone together to Asmara, where Emperor Menelik would meet them. The port was bustling with merchants, trading in fish, cloth and dairy produce. During his time alone, Max was able to make contact with one of the Foreign Agency's informants whom his father had told him to meet. The small town's streets were baked dry with the hot sun, and Max wished he was wearing something less conspicuous than a European-style suit. The streets and clay-and-wattle huts were unnamed and, in the darkness, Max took his time until he was quite sure he had the right hut. As dawn was breaking, he brushed the curtain covering the entrance aside, his eyes, already accustomed to the dark, flicking round the interior. A man http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (5 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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and woman lay on a straw paliasse, asleep. However the man, perhaps wakened by the draught, spun and was on his feet, naked except for a loincloth, an evil-looking knife in his hand. The language he spoke was unfamiliar to Max, who simply said "Nozh." The man put his knife down. "So," he spoke in Russian "you have come at last." The woman turned in her sleep and the man motioned Max outside. "My name is Mahmoud -Sharif Mahmoud, and I am yours to assist." he made a courteous bow. "You have information for me." Max spoke in low tones. "The man you seek is in Asmara - I can take you to his abode." "First, Mahmoud, I would like you to supply me with more - ah -suitable clothing; on my arrival there I will wish to be as inconspicuous as possible, you understand." "I shall have a burnous ready for you." "Good. I shall be riding all day today with my companion, whom I shall leave in other's capable hands whilst I complete my task." "I shall ride on before you, Nozh, and meet you - here." he supplied Max with a map of the town, and an 'X' to mark http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (6 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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the rendezvous point. ---oo0oo--A few hours later a European tourist on a white Arabic horse rode out of Massawa. A tall, dark man rode at his side, mounted on a magnificent black steed. "Sire, I suggest we do not dally - we have a long ride ahead and treacherous country to pass. I hear the road up the mountainside is shifta territory ..." "Shifta?" asked Nicholas. "Bandits, Sire, of the cut-throat variety." "You've been here before, Max?" "No, Sire, merely read available books on the area. Makes fascinating reading ..." and he gave Tsarevich Nicholas a potted history of the area and of the man he was going to meet. The journey across country was uneventful and, as the Tigrean sun set, the two travellers rode their tired horses into Asmara. The Emperor's small palace was located on a hill just http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (7 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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outside the small town. With architecture of the Moorish design of high arches and minarets pointing to the sky, its white stone appeared honey- gold in the last light of day. As they rode into the courtyard attendants took their horses and escorted them first to wash the dust of the road from their clothes, then led them both into the Emperor's presence. A small, wiry man with a long beard and dark, intelligent eyes, he rose and came forward to welcome his distinguished guests. "Welcome, welcome to my humble abode." his voice was thick and he spoke French with a Tigrean accent. "Pray to take food with me, gentle sirs. We will talk in the morning, after you have enjoyed much rest." The meal was served and consisted of the national dish of Injera, which was circular bread, followed by Zegeni - curried stew of chicken with hard-boiled eggs, flavoured with red pepper and other spices. The guests were also grateful for the unintoxicating local beer, called Talla, and the excellent coffee, which is drunk bitter and is served in double-handed pottery jugs like a carafe. They were entertained by musicians playing a lyre and tambourine, with a prayer stick to mark the beat. Feeling refreshed, Menelik and his wife, Empress Taitu, showed their guests to sleeping quarters. Both rooms were bright and airy with http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (8 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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cushions on the floor as a bed. With much bowing and polite wishes for a good sleep, the Emperor and Empress left both men to rest, mounting an armed guard of two giant Danakil tribesmen on each door. There was, however, no rest for Max. News was doubtless out that two visitors had entered the Palace and speed of action was essential before his prey realised that anything unusual was planned. Although the Palace was well guarded, this proved no problem for a young, agile, highly-trained member of the Russian Ochrana, and Max made contact with Mahmoud at the appointed time and place. Mahmoud supplied him with a black burnous and head cloth. With the light beard that Max had grown since the start of the journey from Yalta, he looked very Arabic. Mahmoud led him through the dark, unfamiliar, evil-smelling streets and, pointing out the house, melted into the shadows. Max was on his own. The house was in a rich part of the small town and was a one-storey building. It was unlit. Circling round the outside in the deserted street, Max tried to gain access but, for an ordinary house, it was surprisingly well locked up. He produced a thin file from the small wallet of equipment he was carrying, and gained entry by a window http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (9 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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quickly and silently. Dropping agilely onto his feet, he looked round for the door to the hallway and, with cat-like stealth, he reached it in a few strides. Gently opening the door just enough for him to see out, the silent hallway revealed a stairwell and two other rooms. He paused for a moment but heard no sounds, so he stepped out of the room. A sudden swish of clothing behind him made him spin round, but the cudgel crashed onto his skull and he fell unconscious to the floor. He came to slowly to the hum of deep, whispered speech. His head hurt abominably and he could feel blood trickling down his neck. With tremendous willpower he remained motionless. He was lying on his side, hogtied, with his arms and feet tied together round his back in an exceedingly uncomfortable position. Keeping his eyes tight shut and his breathing even lest someone was sitting watching over him, he strained his hearing to try to make out what was being said. French! They were talking in French! "Right!" said a voice with a strong Italian accent. "Are we ready to move? We must strike now, while it is dark and while they are recovering from their banquet!" "Oui, Giorgio, we are ready - but what about him?" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (10 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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There was a pause whilst Giorgio walked over towards Max, bending down to shake him on the shoulder. Max appeared still to be unconscious. Giorgio grunted "Huh! You must have hit him harder than you thought, Laszlo. Maybe you kill him -" Giorgio put his hand to Max's chest, feeling for a heartbeat and finding one. "No - he's still alive,but his heart is beating very quickly. We'll leave him - with any luck he'll be dead by the time we get back save us the bother, hey? There was nothing on him except the tools for breaking and entering, and this pretty Italian knife. He's only a sneak thief, out for what he can get. Come on men, let's mobilise the shifta." With a flash of insight Max realised what he had stumbled onto. Here was the exact same revolutionary cell that had successfully killed a Russian Tsar, and now they were in the pay of the Italian Government and about to carry out an attempt to depose Emperor Menelik! He had to escape, warn the Palace - but how? Max could hear six pairs of footsteps leaving the house, and then silence. He cautiously opened his eyes. He was lying on the floor in the hallway near the main door to the street. With his arms and legs tied together round his back, it made movement of any kind almost impossible. He started to http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (11 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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rock onto his chest, and managed to get to his knees. His knife had been confiscated. There was a table with an earthenware pot. With a supreme effort he reached the table and, by lying across it, he was able to overturn it, knocking the pot to the floor where it smashed into shards. He grasped one of the sharp shards and started to saw his way through his bonds. He felt blood sticky on his hands and wrists where the sharp edges slipped and cut his skin. Come on! Come on! Break, dammit. And then, suddenly, the bonds snapped and he was free. Untying his feet swiftly, he looked to find his knife, but it was nowhere to be seen. No matter, no time. It took a few moments for the circulation to return to his limbs. He must return to the Palace before these mercenaries mobilised the entire bandit community with a view to usurping the Emperor. The Tsarevich! If there was an attack on the Palace, His Highness was in supreme danger! How could he get back in time? Frantically he looked for a horse, but there were none, only a lowly donkey, which would make far too much noise, even if he got it going. No, he would have to run. His head was pounding, he was seeing double, but his strong will drove him on, up towards the Palace. He watched every corner, every shadow in his flight http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (12 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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through the mud brick built town. Behind him he could hear many voices and the stamping of impatient horses' hooves. So little time! They were coming! Approaching the Palace grounds, he realised he could not gain entrance to the Palace through the sentry-guarded gates as he had sneaked out to carry out his mission of death earlier in the night. He went round the back of the Palace to the place he had exited and, taking a run, he leaped up as high as he could reach and grasped the top of the wall. Round the front he heard two muffled shouts as the bandits, experts themselves at guerilla attacks, disposed of the two sleepy guards and started breaking down the gates. His strength was waning and he banged his head again against the wall in a supreme effort to haul himself up and over, succeeding, he fell over the other side, knocking the breath from his lungs. He lay stunned for a moment then, with a groan, hauled himself to his feet and, with a stumbling run, gained access to the Palace. How to warn them of the danger at their door? Suddenly he heard a horn sounding repeatedly. No need the Palace guard was alerted, and, as they spilled out in disarray, pulling on clothes and weapons, Max ran for the Tsarevich's room. The guard on his door had joined in the general alert and Max burst into Nicholas' s room http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (13 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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unannounced. "Sire! Sire! Quickly, Sire, the Palace is under attack!" The sound of the horn had awakened the sleepy Tsarevich, and he was sitting on the bed with his legs over the side, rubbing his eyes. "Max! What on earth happened to you?" he asked, aghast at his companion's bloodstained appearance. "No time to explain, Sire, arm yourself!" The sound of fighting was approaching them in the corridors, and Max looked around quickly for the best way to protect his very important charge. There was a large scimitar as a wall decoration. He removed it from its mounting, hefting it to familiarise himself with its unusual balance. "Out the window, Sire, quickly!" The door burst open suddenly. A scimitar-wielding shifta roared a challenge, and Max faced the man and engaged in swordplay, quickly gaining supremacy and slashing the sword deep into the bandit's neck. Another two came through the door, and the Tsarevich, pistol in hand, got a clear sight of one of them. His pistol spat flame and the bandit collapsed, a bullet through his brain. Max recognised the other man - it was Grigori Camillo. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (14 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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Despite his exhaustion, he smiled as he realised his opportunity to carry out his mission had arrived. "Well, Signor Camillo," he said in Russian, "We meet at last!" His scimitar flashed in the dawn light. "You! The sneak thief! How did you get free?" Camillo circled his adversary, sword at the ready. "That is not important. What is important is this!" and he lunged forward under Camillo's guard, the tip of the scimitar piercing the man's heart. "That -" he said as he pulled the sword out of the dying man's body, "is for Tsar Alexander!" Camillo crashed to the ground, dead. Max turned to the Tsarevich. "Quick, Sire, out of the window before more come through!" But he was too late - two more bandits came through the door, both armed with bows and arrows. The Tsarevich's back was unprotected as he climbed up and out. Instinctively, facing the assailants, Max flung himself in front of Nicholas' s exposed back, then staggered against him as the double impact of two arrows penetrated right through his body, one above the other, just below the ribs on his left side. He paused for a moment, one hand clutching between the two arrow shafts as he looked down in surprise then, with a gasp, fell to the http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (15 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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floor, lying on his injured side. Nicholas, before the bandits had time to loose another couple of arrows at him, shot them dead, then knelt at the side of his seriously injured protector, looking with horror at the two arrows sticking through his side. He was still conscious. "Go ... Sire!" he groaned and coughed, the salt taste of blood in his mouth. "Save the Monarchy!" "I think you just have, Max." Nicholas's voice was gentle, compassionate, as he cradled Max's head in his lap. Palace guards burst into the room, quickly followed by Emperor Menelik. The sounds of battle had ceased outside - the attempted coup had failed, with the death of Camillo and his henchmen as well as a number of the shifta who, on sensing defeat, had melted into the dawn. "Help him, Menelik - he saved my life!" Menelik knelt beside Max, who had mercifully lost consciousness at last. He motioned for two of his burly guards to go for assistance. Max regained consciousness gradually. He was lying on his back on a soft bed in a cool, airy room in the Palace. His head was swathed in bandages and his side hurt abominably, but he was still alive, to his own surprise. A http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter5.htm (16 of 17) [4/6/2002 1:38:37 AM]

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tiny groan escaped his lips as he tried to open his eyes and the daylight hurt them. "Max! Max!" the familiar voice of the Tsarevich whispered insistently, and Max felt the warmth of a hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes a little bit and attempted a smile. "You're going to be all right, Max." "Yes." and he closed his eyes and slept. ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 6

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CHAPTER 6 1891-1893 TOVARICH

Immediately on his return to St Petersburg by way of a Russian steam packet, Max was ordered to present himself to Tsar Alexander at the Winter Palace. It was a bright, sunny day, and the Cossack Guards' red tunics and horses' silver tacking were stunning in their grandeur. Max was not even given time to visit his father before going to the Palace, so imperative was the Tsar s summons. Max, dressed in his Hussar Guard's uniform at the Tsar's request, strode quickly along the corridors alive with guards and servants, all in their respective uniforms which denoted their rank and place in the organisation and running of the Palace. The Cavalier Guards snapped to attention as he passed by. In the receiving hall, Max's name was called and he entered, saluting his monarch. The Empress was in attendance by the Tsar' s side, but Tsarevich Nicholas had continued on the long cruise to India and Japan with his younger brother, George. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter6.htm (1 of 11) [4/6/2002 1:38:47 AM]

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"Ah, Max Ilich Maltzev." the Tsar's voice boomed. "Approach me, sir. You are fully recovered from your injuries, I trust?" "Yes, Sire, fully recovered." Max replied crisply. "Good, good. You have served me supremely well, Max. Nicky telegraphed to tell me that, not only have you disposed of a cell of traitors, but also you have helped to prevent a coup d'etat in Abysinnia, organised by the same men as killed my father. You saved my son's life during the attack, receiving severe injuries in doing so. You, sir, are a hero of Mother Russia." Max's head rose in pride. "I promised you a handsome reward if you carried out your duties well. You have surpassed that goal in every way. You are now Captain of the Guard of my Hussars." The Tsar stepped down and attached the epaulettes of rank onto Max's uniform, then touched cheeks twice in congratulation. "After he returns from the cruise, you will be permanently responsible for Nicky's welfare on his trips outwith this country. You will no longer be required for duties with the Ochrana." The Tsar paused and drew a deep breath. "On that subject, I fear I have to be the bringer of the saddest news, Captain." "Sire?" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter6.htm (2 of 11) [4/6/2002 1:38:47 AM]

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"I regret to inform you that your father has been murdered whilst you were away. He was shot down by these damned Revolutionaries as he left his home one morning two weeks ago." Max swayed where he stood, his face drained of all colour. "I seem to recall that I stripped you of all claim to your father's inheritance after that little - occurrence - with Colonel Mippipopolous. I now withdraw that edict. From now on you will be addressed as 'Count Maltzev, Captain of the Hussar Guard." "I may not again use my father's name, Sire?" "No. For the purpose of society, you will be the - ah - new tenant of your father's estate in the Crimea. It is better that Leonid Ulakov-Holstein be considered dead. Your servants on the estate will, of course, know your true identity, but you will command them not to reveal it to anyone. The Imperial Purse will ensure that you never want for money. Now, Count, I order you to take two months' leave to take over your father's responsibilities. On his return, Nicky will be staying in St Petersburg for a while - by then he'll have had quite enough adventure to http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter6.htm (3 of 11) [4/6/2002 1:38:47 AM]

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be going on with." The Tsar smiled. "Oh, and, incidentally," the Tsar resumed. "The courier of Emperor Menelik who accompanied you on your return journey gave me this to present to you ..." he opened a drawer and produced a golden box, tricked with jewels and embossed with the Abysinnian Emperor's personal mark. "Go on, open it!" urged Tsar Alexander. Max took the box and flipped open the lid, to reveal a small Italian stiletto knife, six inches in length, with the hilt covered in lapis lazuli and the thin blade honed to perfection. "It is Menelik's gift to you for your action during attack. A rare and beautiful item, if I may say." "Thank you, Sire. Sire - may I have permission to speak?" "Yes, of course, Count. What is it you wish to ask?" "Sire, when I was court-martialled, the other officer who was with me at the time was Officer Krov Igorovich Orlovsky. The Court sentenced him to banishment to Siberia but, Sire, he had nothing to do with the crime. We were all just a little - ah, inebriated, at the time." He paused to see what effect his speech was having. "Go on, Count." urged the Tsar. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter6.htm (4 of 11) [4/6/2002 1:38:47 AM]

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"Sire, could you find it in the goodness of your heart to pardon him and return him to society? I feel sure that I would be able to find him of assistance to Your Majesty in the future." The Tsar huffed into his beard, and looked towards the Empress, who nodded her assent. "Very well, then, Count. You saved the life of my son, whilst placing your own life in extreme danger. For that I am grateful. You have also expedited a good political relationship with Emperor Menelik. For all these reasons, I will sign the papers for the return of your friend. Dismissed." ---oo0oo--When Tsarevich Nicholas returned to St Petersburg the Count was rarely far from him. He watched in the shadows whilst Nicholas had secret assignations with the ballet dancer Mathilde Kschessinska, accompanied by his young cousins the Grand Dukes Serge, George and Alexander Mlikhailovich. He accompanied the Tsarevich to London in 1893 to attend his cousin George, Duke of York's wedding to Princess Mary of Teck. George and Nicholas looked almost like twins when pictured together at Cowes, in the Isle of Wight; but all the time, the Count stayed well away from the snapping photographers. He http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter6.htm (5 of 11) [4/6/2002 1:38:47 AM]

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travelled to Biarritz, Venice, Cannes and Monte Carlo, as well as to Moscow and Siberia. He went with Nicholas to the Imperial Ballet and the Opera. Often Nicholas went backstage and many of the young chorus girls, unable to attract the Tsarevich, tried to catch the eye of the tall, dark man in the immaculate black evening suit who always stood beside Nicholas, but Max never seemed to see them; he always seemed to be looking for someone else who was never there ... ---oo0oo--Before the Count travelled to his estate, Krov Igorovich Orlovsky returned to St Petersburg station one chilly, late October day, exhausted after his long, tedious journey, accompanied by a Palace Guard who had brought him out of exile. "Where to, now?" he asked the Guard, with whom he had kept up a conversation during the long hours on the train. "My orders were to wait here, sir." replied the Guard. Soon they were approached by a well-dressed man who bowed subserviently. Addressing Krov, he said "Sir, I am the servant of Count Max Maltzev, Captain of the Hussar Guard, who has instructed me to accompany you to his http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter6.htm (6 of 11) [4/6/2002 1:38:47 AM]

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apartments. Officer, you may go." He made to lift Krov's luggage, but Krov restrained him. "Wait a minute - I don't know a Count Max Maltzev - are you sure you have the right person?" "Krov Igorovich Orlovsky?" enquired the servant. "Yes." "Very well, sir, please come with me." and, mystified, Krov entered the carriage, which was driven by the servant. On arrival at the Count's spacious apartments, Krov was shown to a bedroom, then was led to the living room. Krov saw a dark man, immaculately dressed in a black suit, sitting with his back towards him. On being announced, the man laid down his paper and stood, turning slowly to face his guest. "You!" exploded Krov. "Yes, me. Did you not realise?" Max's eyebrow was raised in an interrogative, a thin smile on his lips. "When did you change your name?" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter6.htm (7 of 11) [4/6/2002 1:38:47 AM]

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"Immediately after I was - ah - 'shot' for a traitor on killing Mippipopolous. The Tsar in his wisdom thought I would be of more use to him alive than dead, and so ..." he waved his arm to encompass the house and his lifestyle. "Drink?" "Ah, yes, thank you. But why have I now been pardoned?" persisted Krov. "I - requested it." He handed the neat vodka to Krov, who drank it down in one gulp. To Krov's unspoken question, he replied "I never drink now, after that night. I prefer to keep my brain clear. What happened that night was not your fault - I could see no good reason why you should be punished for my crime. I was recently in the fortunate position of being granted a boon from His Majesty. You are my comrade and tovarich, my friend. I need your help, Krov. The Tsar has enemies at court, and he has required me to - ah - exorcise as many of them as possible to ensure the smooth running of the monarchy." Suddenly turning away from his benefactor, Krov gave an ironic grunt. Spinning back round to face Max, he exploded angrily "Did it never occur to you Leonid, Max, or whatever you want to be called, that I may not want to return to St Petersburg?" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter6.htm (8 of 11) [4/6/2002 1:38:47 AM]

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Nonplussed by the seeming ingratitude of his friend's attitude, Max waved his hand in an expansive gesture, then, composing himself, he sat elegantly in a comfortable chair and pointed at another opposite. Krov sat. "Now, will you please explain to me why you don't want to be here?" Settling himself, Krov replied "I - made friends when I was in Siberia - good friends, with whom I share much. There is also - a lady..." "Ohhh..." Max chuckled knowingly. Krov did not like the sound. "But, as you have been summoned by the Tsar, you will stay in St Petersburg in his service." It was a statement. "No." Krov replied flatly, averting his glance from Max's dark gaze. Max's eyes flashed sudden anger and he said, very smoothly "But you have no option, tovarich. The Tsar has commanded it, and you will obey." "I cannot." said Krov and, rising, made to go out the door. With catlike speed and agility, Max was in front of him, barring his exit. "You will not leave, Krov, if you will not http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter6.htm (9 of 11) [4/6/2002 1:38:47 AM]

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serve the Tsar." Krov was conscious of a knife in Max's hand and his reactions were swift. Krov raised his knee and Max doubled up in agony, then he followed through with a booted uppercut which sent Max sailing through the air. With a sickening thud his head caught the side of a table, and he collapsed, unconscious. Krov knew he had little time. He searched through Max's pockets, found a wallet bulging with money, took it and escaped the way he had come. Max's servant, hearing the commotion, ran upstairs from the kitchen, passing Krov on his way down. The servant found his master lying on his back, a deep gash oozing blood on his temple. He ran to find water and a towel and returned as Max came to. He sat up, holding his head, then he looked round. "Ohhh... Orlovsky?" he asked his servant. "Gone, sir. Shall I try to catch him?" He held Max's arm as he stood unsteadily. The Count's eyes were coal-black with anger as he replied "No. No. One day, when the time is right, I will have my vengeance - one day ... ---oo0oo--http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter6.htm (10 of 11) [4/6/2002 1:38:47 AM]

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CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 7 1893-1894 THE END OF AN ERA

The new estate owner returned home to the Crimea soon afterwards and it was a strange homecoming indeed. Most of his father's oldest retainers had left, with the exception of Manov, the head butler, and Nyanya Olga, who had long since retired. An old lady in her 80s and unwell, she had clung possessively to her favoured position in the household, even although there were no children with whom she could carry out her duties. When the Count drove up the driveway in a carriage and pair, he was struck at the feeling that it seemed so much smaller than in his childhood days. The house front was sparkling white and the staff were all present in a line to welcome the new owner. Manov stepped forward as the Count alighted, but the welcoming speech froze in his mouth when he recognised his new master. He blurted a surprised "Sir!" before a warning look from the Count made him pull himself together and went he into his welcoming address, then ushered the Count indoors. The old mansion still smelled of unpolished wood and leather. It had not changed. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter7.htm (1 of 6) [4/6/2002 1:38:53 AM]

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When he had settled in, the Count summoned Manov. A man in his fifties, he had served the Count's father faithfully for over thirty years. "Manov, you of course know who I am." "Yes, sir." "Are there any others in service who do?" "No, sir, only Nyanya Olga." "She's still alive?" "Yes, sir, but ailing. She may be pleased to see you." "Maybe." the Count agreed, quietly, hands steepled to his mouth. "I want you to realise, Manov, that I wish to remain incognito. I shall not be taking my father's name. Please bear this in mind - you understand?" "Yes, sir." "Very good. Please bring me the accounts, I wish to study them." Manov bowed respectfully and left, returning soon after with the book-keeping, but Max found he could not http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter7.htm (2 of 6) [4/6/2002 1:38:53 AM]

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concentrate, the figures kept dancing before his eyes. He leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes to rest them and he felt himself drifting into sleep. Suddenly he sat up with a start, unsure what had wakened him. The drawing room was dark, with but a single oil lamp lighting it, and he could hear no other noise in the house. The servants had retired for the night. What, then, had wakened him? He rose and walked into the hallway, then went out of the house and walked in the darkness down the driveway. What was it? What was it? There was a light in one of the servant's hovels and a sound of women weeping. He walked to the light, dipped his head and walked in. There were gasps of surprise and shock from the four women standing round a bed where an old, old woman lay. In two strides he was beside her, the other women melting into the background. His voice, very deep, whispered "Nyanya." The dying woman opened her eyes at the sound of a man's voice. "Nyanya, don't you recognise me?" Her rheumy eyes tried to focus. Only Max could hear the whispered "Leonid?!" Gently he sat on the bedside, enveloping her small, cold hand in his. He had to stoop, his face near hers, to hear her. "Is it really you?" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter7.htm (3 of 6) [4/6/2002 1:38:53 AM]

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"Yes, Nyanya, I have come home." A troubled expression crossed her lined features. "You were such ... a bad boy, Leonid, but I always hoped you'd return. And then they told me you ... had killed a man and ... they shot you." "Sh, sh, Nyanya. They didn't shoot me, I am here." He gently rubbed her fevered brow. Suddenly she opened her eyes and said, in a clear, strong voice "A foreign sword will be the death of you!" A cold hand seemed to clutch his heart and he stood up quickly, withdrawing contact. Childlike, he wanted to run, go and hide, be anywhere else but in that house. Then his adult reasoning took over and he controlled his fear, slowly, uncertainly, returning to her bedside. A little while later she said, very softly, "I waited, so long, little Leonid, hoping one day you'd come back. I'm sorry ... I cannot wait ... any longer ..." He stayed until she breathed no more. ---oo0oo--Despite being in only his late forties and having hitherto had no problems with his health, Tsar Alexander III became ill during 1894. Although he received constant ministrations by the best doctors in the land and moved to http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter7.htm (4 of 6) [4/6/2002 1:38:53 AM]

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the summer palace in Livadia in the Crimea, Tsar Alexander III died on the 1st of November. Still unprepared for Kingship, Nicholas was immediately invested as Tsar Nicholas II and the wedding of Nicholas and Alexandra (formerly Princess Alix of Hesse) took place on 26th November, just one week after Alexander III's funeral. Because of his inexperience, Nicholas became dominated by the older members of the Imperial family, including the now Dowager Empress Marie, who lived with them during that first winter of Nicholas's rule in the Anitchkov Palace. When the twelve-month period of mourning was over and the ice had melted from the River Neva, on 26th of May 1896 the Coronation of Tsar Nicholas II was held in Moscow amidst rigid tradition, pomp and pageantry. On the following day, however, occurred an ominous presage of the catastrophe to come when, in a field set out for the people of Moscow for a traditional open-air feast to celebrate the coronation, hundreds of people were killed and thousands injured in a stampede caused by a rumour that there was not enough beer to go round everyone. Men, women and children were trampled to death in the mad rush for the beer wagons, and the attending squadron of Cossacks were unable to halt the http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar%27sAssassin/Chapter7.htm (5 of 6) [4/6/2002 1:38:53 AM]

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tragedy. Although Nicholas and Alexandra, deeply shocked at the wholesale slaughter of their people, did all they could financially and spiritually by giving all the dead separate coffins and the bereaved families a thousand roubles each, the people took the occurrence as an ill omen for the reign of the new Tsar, and revolutionary speakers made many converts to their cause by pointing out the fact that, on the evening of the tragedy, the uncaring Tsar did not cancel the Coronation Ball. The seeds of discontent were being sown. ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 8

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CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 8 1894-1904 THE REVOLUTIONARIES

The Coronation Ball was a glittering affair, with royalty and commoners mixing. At a table reserved for Palace staff sat Captain Max Ilyvich Maltzev, resplendent in his Hussar uniform. There were officers and their ladies from other regiments at table, but Max, during polite conversation, gave nothing away of his unique position. The ladies at his table all found their eyes being drawn to the tall, dark Hussar Captain who sat unaccompanied and who drank only water at the loyal toast. It was during the dancing that he saw her. He caught his breath in surprise at the close resemblance she bore to Lisa, his lovely Lisa, whom he would love forever ... but this girl was alive, vibrant, dancing in another man's arms. Sudden desire burned within him and he retired to watch her in the shadows, waiting his chance to speak to her, to hear the sound of her voice, which would surely be the same as Lisa's ...

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She at last excused herself and retired to the boudoir. He watched and waited, then casually bumped into her as she made her way back to her escort. "My humble apologies, my lady." he smiled, holding her arms. She looked up into hooded, dark eyes that, despite his smile, were cold. She made to move away without a word, but he said quickly "To amend my blundering carelessness, ma'am, may I have the pleasure of the next dance?" She looked around anxiously. "I-I'm sorry." she stammered, turning her head away from him. "I must return to my husband, sir!" "Would he mind me having just one dance with his lovely wife?" he persisted, disappointment in his heart on hearing the word 'husband'. No matter, that could be circumvented, he thought. "Please, officer, let me go!" and he released her, watched her flounce away towards her husband. But later in the evening, he suddenly realised she was standing by his side, no taller than his shoulder. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (2 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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Wordlessly, he escorted her onto the dance floor and waltzed. His curiosity got the better of him and he asked "Your husband?" "Retired to the smoking room. A filthy habit, I think, and I refuse to go near him when he smokes. Do you smoke, Captain?" "No, I don't, nor do I drink. I like to keep myself healthy, ma'am. She flicked her eyes appreciatively up and down his spare form and said "My name is Tatya, sir. May I be so bold as to enquire yours?" she smiled coquettishly. They were soon walking and talking in the grounds of the Kremlin, which was aglow with candlelight. Watching the time, however, she soon asked to be returned to the dance hall, where her husband was already seeking her out. "Please leave." she spoke urgently. "If he finds you with me, he may cause trouble." Max clicked his heels in salute, and she slipped a card into his palm. "Next Tuesday night." was all she said, but it was enough. He hurriedly left the ballroom. The night was always his ally, and he spent the time between their first encounter and the following Tuesday http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (3 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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by doing some research and reconnoitring. Her husband, Ilya Mikhailovich Ratzov, was a rich merchant trader, liable to be away from Moscow for lengthy periods of time in search of business. Their house, in a fashionable district of Moscow, was easily accessible and fairly isolated, with fencing and high trees surrounding its acreage perimeter. Convenient, thought Max. Unaccustomed as he was to the ways of love, he found himself becoming increasingly nervous as Tuesday approached, and he fantasised about which disguises he would use to come to her. He could not go in military uniform. Would he go as a priest, or a beggar? Yes, a beggar. Most appropriate. As night approached, he made his way to her house. Would she remember? Maybe she'd turn him away. He could not bear that, he wanted her now. Lisa, his Lisa. Now. At last. When the time came, dressed in peasant's rags complete with false beard, he silently slipped round the back, knocked softly on the door. The place was in darkness. Maybe she'd gone, too. Maybe it was all a joke. If it was, he'd ... He fingered the hilt of his stiletto knife for reassurance. The door opened quickly and he stepped into the darkened house. She was wearing a thick evening gown which http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (4 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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accentuated her hourglass figure. She gasped in surprise when she saw she had given admission to a peasant instead of the Hussar Captain she expected. "Oh! Go away, please! There's been a mistake ..." she said desperately. He gave a low chuckle and took off his cap and false beard. "No mistake, I hope, Tatya!" "Oh! You did give me a shock!" she gasped, clutching her bosom and looking him up and down. He looked so different in these baggy clothes. "I couldn't very well come in my uniform, could I?" he smiled. "No, no I suppose not. I never thought of that!" and she took him by the hand and led him through the darkened house. "I've given the servants a night off and my husband will not return until tomorrow. The neighbours saw me leaving for my sister's, so none will suspect." "Waaait a minute, wait a minute. What's the hurry?" he enquired, surprised at her attitude. "Don't you - want me?" she stopped, surprised at his hesitancy. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (5 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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"I want you, only you, Lisa." His voice was deep and husky. "Tatya." "Oh, sorry, yes, of course, Tatya, I do want you, but aren't there certain - ah - preliminaries?" "Oh, you like that, do you?" "Uh, yes." She led him to a drawing room with a chaise longue, sat him down and sat beside him, carelessly allowing her dressing gown to slip open, showing her thigh. He gulped audibly, feeling his temperature rising Suddenly he realised how inexperienced he was in this situation. She leaned back seductively and waited. He reached hesitantly towards her, his big hands clumsy, uncertain. It was then that she realised he was a novice and she collapsed in hysterical laughter. "What's so funny?" he asked, nonplussed. "You haven't a clue, have you?" she tried to wipe the tears of laughter from her eyes, laughter bubbling up within her http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (6 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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again. "Okay, let's play 'follow my leader'." and she reached into his blouson shirt, feeling the soft hair on his chest, and then, relaxing, he allowed her hands to wander and explore his body. In turn, he enjoyed the softness of her breasts while she skilfully opened the last barrier, making him gasp as she investigated his state of readiness. Suddenly and uncontrollably inflamed, he threw himself on her and they fell off the chaise longue, rolling on the floor as he fumbled with her clothing. "Oh, Holy Mother, can't you get it right?" she gasped, trying to regain her breath. Eventually, after a struggle, he got it right, grunting "Lisa!" with every movement. As he lay on top of her, finally spent, eyes closed, he did not see the dark figure appear in the doorway, but he did hear a floorboard creak behind him. His instincts for self-preservation and danger were galvanised into action, and he threw her round to be on top just as the gun fired. He felt her stiffen as the bullet hit her. His knife was still concealed in the folds of his blouson, and, with a lightning-fast movement, he rolled the body of Tatya away from him, leaped behind the cover of the chaise-longue, and threw the knife before the http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (7 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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assassin could get off another shot. He heard a grunt of pain, and the gun clatter from senseless fingers, then saw the silhouette of the man slowly crumple to the ground. He cautiously went over to inspect his assailant. Rolling him over with his boot, Max could see he was not quite dead, but he lay, clutching the hilt of Max's deeply embedded knife, gasping. Max looked for an oil lamp, found one, lit it and shone it in the man's face. "Who are you?" asked Max, leaning over the dying man. "I was sent ... to kill ... a killer." the man gasped. "You have killed ... too many of our people. Next time ... it will be your turn to die, you bastard!" Taking the man by the collar, his face inches away from his unsuccessful assassin, Max, anger welling up in him, said "Who sent you? Tell me, tell me now while you can WHO SENT YOU?" The man groaned in pain as Max shook him. "Hah!" he gasped, "You will soon find out anyway, you scum. His name .. ." he doubled up in pain. "Tell me!" commanded Max. "... is Yurovsky!" and, gathering all his remaining http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (8 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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strength, with his last breath he spat blood and spittle full in Max's face. Max spun away in sickened disgust, frantically wiping away the excreta. Then, returning to the corpse, he leaned down and pulled the knife out, cleaned it against the body's overcoat, and went through the pockets for identification papers, his mind racing. Yurovsky - Captain Yurovsky from the Corps of Pages training school - a sadist and bully, and his henchman Medvedev! They had defected to the Revolutionaries, the traitors! So now he knew the faces of his enemies. In an inside pocket he found a small red card with the legend "Social Revolutionary Party" embossed on it. "Could be useful." he murmured, and pocketed it quickly, then went over to look at Tatya. She was quite dead. Then, with sudden realisation, a raging anger rose in him. A setup! The whole thing had been a setup, and he had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker! Fool! Poor, lovelorn fool! All he'd wanted was to have her, and she'd wanted him dead! He silently vowed he would never again be a fool for love. Now, they knew who he was, how to get at him. He must take better precautions if he was to continue to serve his new Tsar. But first, he must destroy all evidence that he had ever been here. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (9 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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Giving vent to his anger and frustration, he threw himself into a frenzy of destruction, completely vandalising the room, breaking everything breakable, chairs, lamps, china, slashing the curtains and then, before setting the place alight, he arranged the corpses to make it look as though it had been a lovers' quarrel - she'd stabbed him, then he'd shot her. He was long gone into the night, still trembling with rage and reaction, before the blaze took hold. ---oo0oo--A few days later Max was granted an audience with his new Tsar. Tsarina Alexandra was also present. Max knelt before his new ruler. "Rise, Count Maltzev. I gather you had a - spot of bother the other night." "Yes, Sire. It is that which I wish to discuss with you." The Tsar gestured for Max to continue. "In the interim, Sire, I have made further observations and know of the location of a Revolutionary cell. Its leader is the traitor Captain Yurovsky, lately of the Corps of Pages, and with your permission I wish to employ some ex-colleagues from the Ochrana to clean out this rat's nest as quickly as http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (10 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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possible." "Do whatever is necessary to protect the Throne." Max bowed and left the audience room. A few moments later he was stopped by a flunkey, who gave him a note. It was from the Tsarina, who desired a private audience. Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna, a German Princess, was a small, vibrant woman with a strong, persuasive personality. In many ways she counterbalanced her husband's shyness and indecisiveness and increasingly throughout their reign took decisions on his behalf. The Count entered her private apartments. "How may I serve you, Your Majesty?" he bowed low. "My husband has informed me of your - duties - within this Court. You may find Nicky a little unsure of himself at times. If you think it necessary, do not hesitate to inform me of any subterfuge which you may uncover, either here in Court or amongst our People." Max acknowledged her words. "There is something else, Count." "My lady?" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (11 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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"There is someone I wish you to meet, someone who shares similar duties for me. She rang a summoning bell, and a blond, stockily-built man dressed in German military uniform entered. "May I present you to Captain Willem Krieger." The German clicked his heels smartly, bowing simultaneously. "I suggest you familiarise the Captain with the intricacies of your side of Court life, Count." "Madam, I work alone." Max replied, his voice smooth and determined. "In the event of danger to our Royal persons, Count, I would suggest that all assistance you may elicit from whatever quarter will facilitate your workload. Captain Krieger has considerable experience in working underground, and you can trust him implicitly." The German looked sideways at the Count, blue eyes sparkling with what, wondered Max, amusement? Max met his gaze frigidly, and Captain Krieger, pointed helmet in hand, snapped another salute and marched stiffly out the room, the Count at his heels. Outside the door, the two eyed each other up and down, the German still with a twinkle in his blue eyes. Abruptly, the Count said "There is a room which is available to me, Captain. Please http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (12 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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follow." and he walked quickly away. In the furnished room, the Count bade the Captain sit and, sitting and crossing his long legs with a fluid motion, he settled into an armchair. The German waited. "Well, Captain Krieger, since I am commanded to get to know you, I suppose I have no alternative." "Count, if it is of any comfort to you," said Krieger in halting Russian, "I, too, am used to working alone." "Indeed. Well, my ongoing mission at the moment is to clean out a Revolutionary cell which I stumbled across the other night. Two were killed, a man and a woman. The man had this..." he tossed over the Party card, which Krieger caught adeptly. "Hm." he said, inspecting it. "It may be an idea to duplicate a number of these, making infiltration of their ranks easier. Do you have a forger?" "I have a number of underground contacts, Captain. This would be no problem." "Sehr gut. Perhaps also we should have prepared false papers, endorsed with the Imperial Eagle?"

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Max looked searchingly at the German, appreciating his initiative. Aloud he said "That can be arranged. I have permission to use Ochrana agents to do the initial surveillance. It should not take long until we have uncovered the organisation." ---oo0oo--But the Count's optimism proved to be false, as the organisation that was revealed was a vast network of Revolutionary cells with a number of faceless coordinators commanding them. Russia was moving, step by step, towards the brink, and the Count and Krieger found their time fully occupied by attempting to eradicate as many Revolutionaries as they could, many of whom had infiltrated the Imperial Court. Meanwhile, Tsar Nicholas Romanov and his everincreasing family developed a routine to their year, seemingly oblivious of the approaching danger to the monarchy. Every March the Tsar and Tsarina with their family of girls, Olga, born in 1895, Tatiana, born in 1897, Marie, born in 1899 and Anastasia, born in 1901, left the Anitchkov Palace in St Petersburg for the warmth of the Crimea, thence to their villa at Peterhof on the Baltic coast in June. In July they cruised around the Finnish http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (14 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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fjords in the Tsar's new Imperial yacht, the 'Standart'. August found them at a hunting lodge in the Polish forest; September heralded their return to the Crimea, and in November they returned to Tsarskoe Selo outside St Petersburg for the winter. The Imperial train which carried the family across Russia was a travelling palace. The saloon cars were decorated in Royal blue with the double-eagled Imperial crest emblazoned in gold on the coach's sides, all pulled along by a gleaming black locomotive. The Count and the Captain were obliged to visit their monarch regularly, wherever they may be, to report on the ongoing situation, but the Tsar was undecisive what to do to eradicate the growing threat, and the Count and Krieger were compelled to follow their own beliefs and instincts for self-preservation by disposing of as many of the Revolutionaries as they could. The elusive leaders, of whom Yurovsky was one, always seemed to be one step ahead of their pursuers. Although torture and brainwashing techniques were employed, the captives never revealed enough for the Royalists to gain the uppermost hand. In 1904 came the long-hoped-for birth of the Tsarevich, the heir to Nicholas's throne, Alexis. Although the child http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (15 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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initially appeared to be healthy, it was soon discovered that he was a haemophiliac, a factor which was to be the ultimate downfall of the Romanov dynasty. Another factor was the loss of the so-called Russo-Japanese War, which occurred between 1904 and 1905 on the easternmost border of Russia. Russia adopted an expansionist policy, wishing to increase its coastline on its eastern borders, and this involved taking over Korea and Manchuria. Because these small countries were unable to defend themselves, Japan stepped in, acting on their behalf, as there was a possibility of provocation towards their country as well. The expansionist challenge was met by Japan first by protest, then by subversion, negotiation and finally war. The war could have been prevented by concessions, but these were not given. Russia also wished to protect its investment in the Trans-Siberian Railway and the Chinese Eastern railway. In ignoring the Japanese threat, when war was declared Russia was totally unready, as supplies could only be sent via the single-track railway or by sea. When the Russian fleet was torpedoed by the Japanese at Port Arthur, Britain proposed American mediation, from which Russia was forced to concede Port Arthur, the south line of the Chinese Eastern railway and the south half of Sakhalin Island to Japan.

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It was also around this time that Vladimir Ilych Ulyanov, better known as Lenin, began to make his presence felt in St Petersburg by circulating disclamatory pamphlets against the Tsar, referring to him openly as 'Nicholas the Bloody' and 'Nicholas the Hangman'. He formed the Social Democratic Party, which was formerly run by Russian Marxists, and his activist followers took on the name of Bolsheviks, which meant Majorityites, whilst the pacifist movement called itself the Mensheviks, or Minorityites. Russian Communism was gaining momentum. The other major occurrence that turned the people against the Tsar was what became known as 'Bloody Sunday', Sunday 22nd January 1905. On that day a peaceful demonstration by striking workers who amassed at the Winter Palace in St Petersburg was shot at by Hussars and Cossacks, causing nearly 100 deaths and hundreds of wounded. No longer did the people think of the Tsar as 'one of them', as bodies lay bleeding in the snow. Nicholas, however, was in residence at Tsarskoe Selo and was unaware of the occurrence until later informed, and was shocked and saddened at the news The social turmoil caused by that event continued with the peasantry rising in their millions throughout the country, evicting their http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter8.htm (17 of 18) [4/6/2002 1:39:03 AM]

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landlords and taking possession of the land. The uprising culminated in the Tsar signing an Imperial Manifesto on 30th October 1905, effectively ending the 1905 Revolution. This document ended the Tsar's autocratic rule and introduced a semi-constitutional monarchy run by an elected parliament, called the Duma. The Tsar did, however, retain his supreme authority over the appointment of Ministers, defence and overseas matters. ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 9

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CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9 1905 -1916 RASPUTIN

On 31 October 1905, a certain man called Grigori Efimovich Rasputin was introduced to the Royal family. This so-called holy man was destined to have an enormous influence on Nicholas and Alexandra, and therefore on Imperial Russia, as he frequently proved to be the only person in the world to alleviate Tsarevich Alexis' haemophilic condition. Whenever the little boy fell and hurt himself it would bring on an attack of internal bleeding, which caused excruciating pain for the child. On many occasions, when the boy appeared to be near death, Alexandra would summon Rasputin and, under his care, Alexis would improve. A rude and crude man, Rasputin had the manners of the peasant he was and, despite their patronage, he was no respecter of Royalty. However, Nicholas and Alexandra fed, clothed and housed him all for the sake of having him near to Alexis, their beloved son and heir to the throne, whose life was of paramount importance for the continuance of the Romanov line. As time went by, news of Rasputin's healing powers http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (1 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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spread, and it became fashionable for women from all walks of Russian life to visit his house, and he accepted their gifts as a matter of course. Although married and with family, he left his wife and children behind in his native village of Pokrovskoe in western Siberia, and followed the life of a 'starets' - a Man of God, claiming he had had a vision. If any of his female visitors could not pay him, he forced their sexual favours, convincing them with his blue, hypnotic eyes and fluent tongue that when they joined with him they were joining with God. He was a wildly sexual creature, taking his pleasure wherever, and whenever, he wished, and it is claimed by his daughter Maria that his sexual organ was over a foot in length. With his long, greasy hair and beard matted with food, his obnoxious pungency did not deter his adoring clientele. It was against this turbulent backdrop of history that Max and Captain Willem Krieger lived. Because of their monarch's wishes they worked together frequently, becoming a team, and, together, they stayed in the shadows of Russian life, intent on doing their rather dreadful job supremely well. Neither Court officials nor Revolutionaries were safe from the Tsar's assassin and his partner. Elusive as wraiths, they came and went in the http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (2 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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night, seeking and finding their quarry, avoiding, sometimes narrowly, the retribution of their victims' colleagues. Knives, pistols and bombs were the common weapons of the Bolsheviks, and none were safe from sudden death. Although intensely loyal to Nicholas, Max was nevertheless a realist, and he could see quite clearly the tide turning against the Monarchy. After offering an explanation to his monarch that he was unable to continue his estate's administration, he disposed of his estate in the Crimea, distributing his wealth amongst various national banks, including Switzerland, France, England and America, shipping his most valuable possessions to a mansion he purchased in Paris, engaging a housekeeper and small staff to maintain it in his absence. In the new Duma Ministers came and went with alarming frequency, as anyone who did not agree with the Tsar was dismissed summarily. Nicholas was not used to having to agree to things that were not in accord with his previous way of life. However, Prime Minister Peter Arkadyevich Stolypin was fiercely loyal towards his Tsar. A country squire, he did not suffer fools gladly and he brought a breath of fresh air to the struggling Constitution. He had an intelligent oversight of the whole political situation, http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (3 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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and was violently opposed to anyone who set themselves against the Tsar. Well aware of Max's function within the Imperial Court, and very concerned about the mounting influence Rasputin was having on the running of the country, he summoned Max to his study. A well-built, bearded man with a brusque nature, he indicated Max to be seated. "Hmph. Yes. Count Maltzev. You share my - regard - for the Tsar." Max nodded, arranging his cuffs and frock-coat elegantly. "Have you - ah - met this Rasputin?" "No, sir, I have not." "Hmph. Good, good. He does not know you, or your position at Court?" "I believe not, sir." "Very well. I have a mission for you. Nothing violent, mind, just a surveillance matter. He is not to be harmed. Your experience with the Ochrana should tell you what to do. Watch him, Count Maltzev. Watch him closely. He is a danger to the monarchy, and I wish to present His Highness with as much evidence to prove this as possible. Understood?" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (4 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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For months Max, Willem and a regular surveillance team kept close watch on Rasputin's lifestyle. They saw queues form outside his house of suppliants wishing healing, Court favours or spiritual guidance. Max infiltrated the queue one day to hear what was being said about Rasputin and was amazed to hear that the silly women thought that he was one step removed from God, considering him a wise and mystic man. He counted six women leaving Rasputin's two-storey house in obvious distress and drew his own accurate conclusions as to what Rasputin had done to them. Men, too, visited Rasputin, and a frequent visitor was Prince Feliks Feliksovich Yussopov, sole heir to the largest fortune in Russia, comprising three palaces in St Petersburg, three in Moscow and a total of thirtyseven estates scattered around Russia. Max decided to meet the 'starets' to observe him first-hand, making the excuse that his old arrow injury was troubling him. With Imperial roubles Max bought his place at the head of the queue and entered the staret's drawing room. The warm room was full of expensive gifts that grateful disciples had given Rasputin. The man himself was seated at a desk, hands clasped as if in prayer. His long brown hair was matted and his beard greasy with remnants of long-consumed food. He was dressed in black trousers http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (5 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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and boots and a red silk blouson which the Tsarina had made personally for him. The man's strong body odour immediately assailed Max's nostrils and he was forced to control his reactions of abhorrence Rasputin's hypnotic blue eyes seemed to bore into Max's very soul. "How may I help you?" His accent was coarse and guttural. "I have pain - from arrow wounds - here." Max held his side. ''Strip to your waist and lie down." He indicated a couch. Max reluctantly obeyed. The starets knelt beside him. Max was conscious of a feeling of warmth permeating his body as the holy man passed his horny hands over the scars of the injury. "Look into my eyes." he commanded, his bearded face hovering inches above Max's. His whole being concentrating on Rasputin's gaze, Max suddenly felt as though his body was floating on air. He tried to move but could not as the blue eyes bored deeply into his brain. He fought against the sensation but was totally helpless. With a stab of fear he realised he was completely at this man's mercy. Abruptly Rasputin broke the spell and, with a gruff "No pain there - you come to spy. Pah!" he quit Max's presence to attend to a genuine patient waiting in another room. Max dressed and left hastily, more frightened than he had ever been in his life. Rasputin's http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (6 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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mystical power had deeply alarmed him and, knowing the influence Rasputin held over Nicholas and Alexandra, he felt great anxiety for the future of his country. On another occasion, disguised as a gypsy, he infiltrated a party which developed into an orgy at the fashionable Villa Rhode situated on the outskirts of the city. He was shocked at the openly lascivious behaviour of the man so close to the monarchy. Rasputin loved gypsy music, often visiting their encampments which were also located on the city outskirts. During the course of the night, Max saw him take six women, one after the other, into the house. In between times he drank continuously. Max watched appalled as Rasputin suddenly stood up during a drinking session he was having at a gypsy table, reach down to open his flies, then, holding his abnormally long organ with both hands, he urinated profusely as he walked towards bushes, all in full view of everyone. Sickened by his observations, Max had no compunction but to recommend to Stolypin the immediate and permanent removal of Rasputin. "No." said Stolypin. "The Tsarina has now asked me to see him, calls him her 'Friend'. He must not be touched, but I will attempt to continually draw the Royal attention http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (7 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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to the - ah -problem." Prince Yussopov became a frequent and apparently welcome visitor at Rasputin's house. It was known that Yussopov had homosexual tendencies. Prime Minister Stolypin did succeed, though without the Tsar's permission, in temporarily banishing Rasputin from Court, during which time Rasputin went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem whilst all the time maintaining contact with the distraught Tsarina, who was desperately worried in case something happened to her son and Rasputin could not be returned in time to save the Tsarevich's life. For this reason the Tsarina hated Prime Minister Stolypin. Stolypin was assassinated by a revolutionary at Kiev Opera House in September 1911, and his successor was Vladimir Kokovtsov, also a fanatical Royalist. Kokovtsov hated Rasputin above all other men, but it was Rasputin's influence with the Tsar that succeeded in removing him from office two years after he was appointed. By 1913 Rasputin's power over the Romanovs, both politically and emotionally, was firmly established and publicised in the newspapers in derogatory terms whilst the whole of Europe was teetering on the brink of war. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (8 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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On Rasputin's return from exile in the Holy Land, he returned to his village in Siberia, where Alexandra kept in touch with him by telegraph. Meanwhile, a fanatical monk called Iliodor, who also hated Rasputin, contacted the Count, having a secret meeting with him one night in a St Petersburg rooming house. "I want you," said the small, bearded monk, "to arrange for the assassination of Rasputin." "That's - going to be difficult." hedged Max. "I will make it worth your while but - " he paused for effect "I want you to have nothing to do with it. You are too well known at Court." "Ah!" Max steepled his fingers, leaning forward. "Then, who?" "Here, take this." the monk handed Max an envelope full of roubles. "Go to Pokrovskoe. Seek out Khina Gusseva. When it is over, leave no witnesses." It was summertime, and the trip to Siberia by way of train from St Petersburg to Tobolsk, then by riverboat, was far from unpleasant. Max was standing at the rail of the riverboat, admiring the passing scenery, when he heard a http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (9 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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female voice calling "Maria! Maria Rasputin!" He slowly turned round, nonchalently resting both elbows on the rail, in time to see two young women embracing in friendship, delighted at meeting each other. The one that was Rasputin's daughter was of average height, brown hair with eyes a darker blue than her father's and wearing a peasant's dress, shawl and red headscarf. The girls went below decks to the saloon, and, lighting a cigar, Max casually followed them down, sitting nearby, sipping a soda. He thought quickly. What would be the best way to approach her? He was dressed in a casual brown suit and brown brimmed hat, so he considered himself well enough shod to pose as, perhaps, a wealthy landowner ... no, that would not catch her attention. Then, what? A newspaper was lying on the table in front of him. That was it! A newsman from Moscow, come to get a story about her father for a public always hungry for Court gossip and scandal. Perfect. She was an ignorant peasant and would not doubt his word, and he could charm and fast-talk her into his confidence. Reaching for the newspaper, he looked through it, saw the name of Walter Davidsohn on a by-line. Good. He bided his time. Maria Rasputin's friend saw someone else she knew and took her leave. Maria went over to the bar to buy herself a http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (10 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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glass of lemonade. Max stood beside her and, when somebody walked past behind him, he bumped her arm, causing her to spill her drink. "Oh! I'm most terribly sorry, miss, please forgive me - I was jostled from behind!" Max apologised, taking a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and mopping up the mess. "Please - allow me to buy you another one!" Maria looked up into strange, dark eyes and the brown face of a man who she surmised was Slavic. "Why - thank you." her voice was light, pleasant to Max's ears. "I'll have another of the same." Max indicated to the bartender, and set up another one for himself. "May I introduce myself?" he said smoothly. "My name is Walter Davidsohn and I'm a newspaper reporter. This is my paper." and he showed her the paper he had been reading. "Oh, no, not another one!" she moaned. Surprised and a little daunted at her reaction, he paused before saying "Pardon?" "You've come to see my father, haven't you? I'm Maria Rasputin." http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (11 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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He smiled broadly, and chuckled deep in his throat. "Well, well, what a coincidence, meeting you here Miss Rasputin. Yes, I must plead guilty. My paper has asked me to seek an interview with your father about the current political situation and the duration of his - ah banishment from Court." "Oh, you're a Court reporter?" "I do have - acquaintances in Court." evaded the Count. "Well, my father is coming to meet me off the steamer. I'll introduce you to him then. "Ah, no." Max thought quickly - Rasputin had met him, would remember him. There had to be no connection with the Imperial Court. "I - have another message to attend to as well, for which I shall have to stay on the ship for another stop. I shall return to Pokrovskoe in two days' time." He rose from the stool and beat a hasty retreat. From the rail he watched as the ship docked at the village of Pokrovskoe, apparently staying on. He saw Maria meet her father then ducked out of view as she made to point him out. Father and daughter walked away up the narrow street, as Max quickly gathered his belongings and left the http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (12 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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ship in the gathering dusk, just before it drew out of its moorings. He took out a slip of paper from his waistcoat pocket and walked purposefully towards the address given. He knocked on the door and Khina Gusseva, a pretty, redhaired former prostitute, opened it and looked him up and down. "Nozh." he stated simply. With a tug of her head she bade him enter. He walked into a small, ground floor apartment, crudely furnished and gaudily decorated, still leaving signs of the kind of house it had been. Max turned up his nose at unwelcome odours, but stoically made no other comment. "Well," she remarked, her voice deep and husky "so you are the famous assassin I've heard so much about." "I don't know what you've heard, but for the sake of this exercise my name is Walter Davidsohn and I'm a newspaper reporter." he replied curtly. "Oh, I see." she nodded understandingly. "And all the time ..." she looked coquettishly at him "you're going to show me how to kill the Antichrist - how clever!" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (13 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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Max sensed fanaticism and perhaps a little insanity in her reply. He realised he would have to exercise extreme caution in his dealings with this woman. Still, he thought, no-one must suspect the tacit approval of the Emperor, and Rasputin would not suspect someone he knew, someone who lived in his beloved village. Khina, watching him watching her, said "There is not much time, as I gather Rasputin is about to depart for another village on a healing mission." "Very well, it will be tomorrow. You have the murder weapon?" "Yes, Iliodor gave me this ..." and, reaching into her blouse, she pulled out a knife on a chain hanging round her neck. "Ah, excellent." Max approved. "You will show me how to use it?" she enquired, eagerness on her face as she removed the chain and knife from her neck. Max hefted the weight of the dagger. "You are, of course, not as tall as Rasputin, therefore it would be difficult to do this ..." he slashed the knife suddenly inches from her http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (14 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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neck. She jumped back, fear suddenly in her eyes. Max laughed softly, menacingly. It would be useful, he thought, to frighten her. "No, I think the best method of death will be the direct approach to his heart. Quite simple, really. Now, you be Rasputin ..." Khina was not so sure now. "Come, come, I won't hurt you, I'm just going to show you how to do it." he said plausibly. She approached him cautiously. "Good. Now, I'm coming up to you to talk to you. Conceal the knife in your skirt and then, when you're near enough him, this is what you do ..." He showed her to slip the knife into him upwards, indicating the exact spot on the body that the knife should enter. "Now, if you don't mind - it's been a long day, and I would like something to eat and some rest. Do you have a room for me?" She showed him his room. The mattress was stuffed with hay and had a life of its own. Max could see he was in for an uncomfortable night but, exhausted, he was soon asleep, his own knife under the hard pillow. However Khina Gusseva, nervous and excited at what she had to do the following day, lay awake. Unable entirely to leave her former profession behind, she softly opened Max's bedroom door. Normally a light sleeper, Max had had a long and tiring journey and was deeply asleep when she http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (15 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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entered his room, then his bed. He was lying on his stomach, snoring slightly, and she snuggled up to his back, putting her arms around his waist. He was instantly awake and out of the bed, knife in hand, breathing rapidly. He recognised the intruder. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he hissed angrily. "I was cold and lonely." she purred, seductively. "I like you -don't you like me?" "I don't even know you - now, get the hell out of here NOW!" and he moved forward, pulled her up and pushed her out of the door, placing a chair back under the handle. Every time he tried to make love, someone tried to kill him, he reflected sardonically. It took him a long time to relax into sleep again. ---oo0oo--The next day, the 28th of June 1914, dawned fine. Rasputin was up and about early and he strode the streets of Pokrovskoe confidently and unafraid. He recognised the small, red-haired woman approaching him, stopped to give her greeting. The 'starets' was alone and there were few other people in sight. With a sudden lunge she plunged the knife into Rasputin, but in her excitement she http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (16 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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was careless and she did not penetrate his heart, instead ripping open his stomach. He sank to the ground with a groan, trying to hold in his entrails. "I have killed the Antichrist!" screamed Gusseva, and tried to stab herself. People ran out of houses, up the village street, and stopped her taking her own life. Though seriously injured, Rasputin's powerful consitution kept him alive. Gusseva was put under arrest while 'Walter Davidsohn' made an attempt to finish the job. He called at the Rasputin household, and the door was opened by Maria. "Can I see him?" he asked. "You!" she shouted at him, "Haven't you done enough?" and slammed the door in his face. In the glimpse of the interior of the house, he could see that Rasputin was heavily guarded and there would be no chance of another attempt. There was, however, another duty he had to perform. Khina was in the small village hospital recovering from the self-inflicted stab wounds. Realising that she would be sent to prison on release from hospital, he decided to complete his task swiftly. There were no guards apparent http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (17 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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and only a nursing sister watching over the sleeping ward. Gusseva' s red hair was easy to see, and he created a distraction by upsetting two large, empty milk churns lying outside. Throwing them over, he ran to the nearest window on the other side, pulled it up and, while the sister was investigating, he slipped in, walking swiftly and silently to Gusseva' s bedside. Her eyes were closed and she was tossing restlessly. Bending over her, he placed one hand over her mouth to stop her screaming. Awakened, her eyes widened in terror as she struggled beneath him and saw his blade glinting silver in the moonlight. "This is how you should have done it!" he whispered evilly. Suddenly the door of the ward banged open and a guardsman stood silhouetted. There was no time for the Count to kill Gusseva, to escape unrecognised was his priority. Cursing silently, with the agility of a cat he leaped out of the still-open side window and into the night. Two bullets from the guard's rifle whizzed harmlessly past his head as he disappeared in the darkness. Unable to wait for the next boat out, he stole an unstabled horse and, disguised in stolen peasant's clothes, he rode downriver until he could catch a steamer and return safely to St Petersburg. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter9.htm (18 of 19) [4/6/2002 1:39:13 AM]

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Khina Gusseva was placed on trial, declared insane and put into an asylum. Rasputin's injury, however, successfully removed him from having any influence in the onset of the First World War and the ultimate downfall of the Romanovs. ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 10

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CHAPTER 10 1916 THE DEATH OF RASPUTIN

With the onset of the First World War in 1914, the Russian people's feeling against the German-born Tsarina was intensified to hatred. Captain Willem Krieger was compelled to return to military service with his regiment in Germany, thus abruptly ending a long and successful partnership. The supreme command of the Russian Army was given to Grand Duke Nicholas, who set up military headquarters at a Polish railway junction. The camp, which was called 'Stavka', comprised of a dozen army trains and was near the main Moscow-Warsaw railway line within easy access to the front line of fighting. Every available fighting man was either enlisted or re-enlisted to fight for his country, and Max was no exception. Re-commissioned to his Hussar Regiment, he was assigned to duty at Stavka, and it was there that Tsar Nicholas summoned him to his Imperial Presence. Resplendent in his red jacket with gold loopings, dark blue breeches and black boots, Max presented himself. The Tsar was dressed in a plain khaki jacket, blue breeches and black riding boots, and his blue http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter10.htm (1 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:39:20 AM]

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eyes regarded Max in friendship. "Ah, Captain Maltzev." "Sire!" "I wish you to travel in my retinue, Captain. Your duties will be to ensure my safety, checking for bombs and sabotage to the Imperial train, and any other duties I see fit to give you. I do not wish you to go to the Front - your knowledge of the Revolutionary movement is unique and I wish you to brief me fully, giving all the names you have of my opponents. Captain Voronin of the Cossacks will be responsible for the safety of my son during his visits here. Understood?" "Yes, Sire." ---oo0oo--As the First World War progressed great losses were sustained by the Tsar's Army. Tsar Nicholas and the Tsarevich spent much time at 'Stavka', occasionally visited by the Tsarina and her four daughters, Olga, Tatiana, Marie and Anastasia, with all of whom Captain Maltzev was respectfully familiar. When the Tsar left the camp in December 1916 to spend the winter in Tsarskoe http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter10.htm (2 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:39:20 AM]

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Selo it was to be for the last time. While Max was in military service at the front line camps he was relatively well protected from the vengeance of the Bolsheviks, but on his return to St Petersburg with the Tsar's retinue he was once again exposed to the threat of reprisals from the now-powerful Bolsheviks, whose movement under the leadership of Alexander Kerensky was quickly gaining momentum. Also gaining momentum was a plot, led by Prince Felix Yussopov, to assassinate Gregory Rasputin. Well aware of the Count's position in Court, Yussopov commanded an interview in his Moika Palace in St Petersburg. In the middle of a very severe winter when most people stayed indoors in a vain effort to keep warm, the Count took an Imperial Palace car and drove across the city, arriving, at the Prince's request, at midnight. Dressed in a black, full-length fur-lined coat, wide-brimmed hat and heavy gloves, the Count showed a pass previously issued by the Prince and entered the Moika Palace, curious to know what the second richest man in Russia wanted with him. The Count knew Yussopov from Court and disliked him http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter10.htm (3 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:39:20 AM]

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intensely, but had no intention of letting personal prejudice stand in the way of another possible assassination mission and the pursuant financial awards that the wealthy nobleman would endow. Led by an aged servant to a warm library room, where the Prince was standing over the fire, a brandy glass in his hand, the Count made abeyance. "Ah, Count Maltzev, thank you for coming." The Prince's light, feminine voice offended the Count's ears, but he concealed his reaction. As the Prince approached Max, a strong smell of scent filled the air. Prince Yussopov, not yet 30 years of age and newly married to Princess Irena, a niece of the Tsar, already bore the signs of his earlier life of debauchery, although his soft eyes and unmanly character hid a determined nature. He bade the Count sit, offering him brandy, which the Count declined, and then he elegantly arranged himself to lounge on a sofa, affectedly smoking a cigarette through a long holder. He looked at the Count through his eyelashes, then said "Mmmh - I have never found it - necessary - to associate with you, Count, but these are difficult times." The Count waited. "M-yes, difficult times." "Not difficult for you," thought the Count, "you haven't http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter10.htm (4 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:39:20 AM]

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served at the Front." "There is, dear Count, something that must be done, and done quickly." The Count was already doubling his fee in his mind. "Shall we get to the point, sir? Who is it you wish me to kill?" "Ah, you misunderstand me, Count - I don't want you to kill anyone. I do, however, wish your advice on how best to do it." The Count's heart sank - not such a great fee, after all. "I want to kill - Rasputin!" The Count's hooded eyes widened in surprise. "What? Are you serious?" "I can assure you, dear Count, that I, and a few other friends, are perfectly serious. We are aware of your reputation - as the Tsar's assassin. Rasputin is an evil influence on the Royal family - the Tsarina finds him indispensible and is sending his suggestions on how to run the War back to the Tsar, who is permitting her to act for him in his absence. Rasputin is effectively running the http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter10.htm (5 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:39:20 AM]

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country, hiring and firing the Tsar' s most senior Ministers for no reason other than the respective gentlemen do not like him. It is intolerable. Do you agree, dear Count?" The Count realised he had to choose his words carefully. "Sir, you place me in an impossible position. I have been the servant of the Tsar and his family, and his father before him, for many years. If I were to concern myself with this enterprise of yours, and be in any way implicated, I would face at best instant banishment to Siberia, or at worst death by firing squad. I have no wish to face either fate again. However, as you do not wish me to carry out the murder, in what way do you intend I assist?" "In an advisory capacity, dear Count." The Prince swung his legs off the sofa and onto the floor, leaning forward earnestly towards the Count, who was seated opposite. Once again the smell of scent assailed the Count's nostrils. "May I remind you there has already been an unsuccessful attempt on Rasputin's life?" "But you were not implicated in that, Count Maltzev." The Count said nothing, but the Prince was chilled by the expression in the Count's dark eyes. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter10.htm (6 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:39:20 AM]

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"I - see." the Prince paused, assimilating this piece of information and unsure of his guest's stance between Tsar and country. Making up his mind, the Count took a deep breath and spoke rapidly. "Sir, I completely agree that Rasputin should be removed from the scene. If you can guarantee me safe passage out of the country after the act, as I can feel the cold winds of change approaching this country of ours, and I do not want to be here when it happens - if you can guarantee me safe passage and a reasonable fee for my advice, then I shall assist you. I want the money now, and paid into a Swiss bank." "Ah, excellent, excellent! It shall be done!" the Prince leaned forward and took the Count's hand. The Count disliked intensely the feel of Prince's unmanly, weak handshake. ---oo0oo--So it was that, on the evening of 16 December 1916, Prince Felix Yussopov persuaded Rasputin to leave his warm home and come to the Moika Palace on the pretext that his wife wished to meet him. Yussopov sent a car late at night for Rasputin. Despite having predicted his own http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter10.htm (7 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:39:20 AM]

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murder, Rasputin went willingly to the Palace. He was ushered down to a basement room which Yussopov and his collaborators had had prepared as the murder room. Yussopov arranged for the sounds of a party to be heard through the house, and the Count was one of the revellers. Although he was not to be present during the first murder attempt, he heard later what happened in the room. Rasputin was led to the room in the basement, which had a low, vaulted ceiling and was adorned with carved chairs and tables, one of which had a crucifix of rock crystal and silver. On the floor there was a large Persian carpet and a white bearskin rug. Dr Lazovert, one of the conspirators, had laced cakes with potassium cyanide crystals with a dosage of the poison that should have been enough to kill Rasputin many times over. It was, however, insufficient for the Man of God. Yussopov persuaded him to eat a poisoned cake and waited, but Rasputin showed no ill effects. Yussopov then gave Rasputin Madeira to drink which also had been poisoned, but that too had no effect, and Yussopov grew increasingly frightened, believing he was in the presence of an unkillable man. Yussopov waited nervously for two and a half hours for Rasputin to die, during which time he sang songs while Rasputin listened with obvious pleasure. Distraught, Yussopov left http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter10.htm (8 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:39:20 AM]

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Rasputin and went upstairs to the waiting conspirators and, although they advised him to give up the attempt, Yussopov took a revolver and returned to the basement room. Rasputin was still acting normally, and even suggested that he and Yussopov visit the gypsy encampment "With God in thought, but mankind in the flesh." he said, winking and grasping his crotch in a way which clearly outlined his readiness. Yussopov showed him the crucifix, and then, standing behind him, he took the revolver and shot Rasputin in the back as he knelt before it. Rasputin slumped forward over the table, then fell backwards onto the white bearskin rug. The Count and the other conspirators, on hearing the shot, ran into the room and saw Rasputin lying unmoving. Dr Lazovert pronounced him dead, but Rasputin suddenly jumped to his feet and grabbed Yussopov by the throat, foaming at the mouth and roaring in anger and hatred. Yussopov, beside himself in horror, fled up the stairs and into the courtyard, followed on all fours by Rasputin. Everyone pursued him to the courtyard, and those with guns levelled them at Rasputin who stood facing them, swaying. The Count saw a volley of bullets hit Rasputin in the shoulder, chest and head and he fell, then tried unsuccessfully to get up, collapsing finally in the bloodred snow. The Count assisted in the removal of the body, http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter10.htm (9 of 10) [4/6/2002 1:39:20 AM]

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rolling it up in a blue curtain and driving with fellowconspirators in a car, with the body in the boot, to the River Neva, where it took five men to throw it into the river through the ice. It was discovered later that Rasputin had died from drowning and not from the wounds of the assassins. ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 11

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CHAPTER 11 1916 - 1918 THE END OF A DYNASTY

Because of the First World War, the Count could not live in his voluntary exile in Britain, France of Belgium. Instead he chose the neutral country of Switzerland to reside, and decided on Lucerne as being a place where he could keep himself well informed and also to live in the way to which he wished to be accustomed. He was, in effect, retiring from active service of his ailing country, certain in the knowledge of the holocaust that was about to occur there. Back at Tsarskoe Selo, Nicholas and Alexandra were so bereft at the loss of their 'Friend', Rasputin, and the lifeline he had provided for Tsarevich Alexei, that they did not, for a while, notice the absence of Count Max Maltzev. It was not until the beginning of the New Year 1917 that the Tsar requested the presence of the Count to make his monthly report of his activities that Count Paul Benckendorff, who was Grand Marshall of the Imperial Court and a dedicated Royalist, was forced to present his monarch with the fact that the Tsar's assassin had absconded. Shocked, the Tsar looked at Count http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter11.htm (1 of 7) [4/6/2002 1:39:29 AM]

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Benckendorff in incomprehension. "Why? Why would Count Maltzev do this?" "I believe, Sire," replied Benckendorff smoothly, "that he was implicated in the Rasputin affair." "Him, too? That is most difficult to accept, Count. And where is he now?" "My informants lead me to believe he is in Switzerland, possibly Lucerne, Sire. Do you wish me to - ah - arrange for his return?" The Tsar thought for a moment. "No, no, that will not be necessary. He has served both my father and I loyally for a great many years. He is due a - holiday. So it was that Count Max Maltzev viewed from afar the tragic events of the Russian Revolution - watched in pity as he read of the March Revolution, when freezing, starving people waiting in bread lines to receive their daily ration decided to wait no longer, and then, with the total defection of all the military regiments to the side of the revolution, the loss of all ruling power by the Tsar. The Duma, or Parliament, took over the responsibility, led reluctantly by Michael Rodzianko, President of the Duma. The Revolutionaries set many Government buildings alight, including the headquarters of the Ochrana and http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter11.htm (2 of 7) [4/6/2002 1:39:29 AM]

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many police stations. The prisons were opened and prisoners freed to join in the Revolution. Alexander Kerensky was elected Vice-Chairman of the Soviet and Minister of Justice of the new Provisional Government and later became Prime Minister after all the members of the Imperial Duma had resigned. By 14 March 1917 even the small pocket of Imperial resistance in the Winter Palace had gone over to the Revolutionaries. While the rest of his family was residing at Tsarskoe Selo, the Tsar was at his military headquarters in Mogilev, five hundred miles from St Petersburg, dependent for information on the telegraphs of loyal followers in or near St Petersburg, but St Petersburg, now called Petrograd, had fallen. On 15 March 1917, in the Imperial train which was resting at Pskov, the Tsar abdicated in favour of his son, and then, after taking advice about the consequences of a young ruler disabled by haemophilia, he altered his successor to his younger brother Michael. All the Tsar wanted was to retire in peace with his family to the Livadia Palace in the Crimea. However, this was not to be. The Revolutionaries wanted a Republic. Michael held a lengthy discussion with the men who would be his ministers if he accepted the monarchy. When they told him they could not vouch for his safety, http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter11.htm (3 of 7) [4/6/2002 1:39:29 AM]

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Tsar Michael II decided to abdicate. The Romanov dynasty had ended. The war with Germany still continued, and malicious rumours circulated throughout Petrograd about the supposed relationship the Tsarina had had with Rasputin together with suggestions that the Tsar was going to 'let the Germans in'. For their own protection, therefore, on 20 March the Provisional Government announced that they were going to hold the Tsar and his family under arrest at Tsarskoe Selo. During their months of captivity, the newly appointed socialist Prime Minister, Alexander Kerensky, frequently visited the deposed Tsar, and a friendly working relationship built up between them, each being impressed by the other's courteousness and love for his country. The Royal Family spent their time together by playing indoor games when the weather was bad, and, as spring came, by walking in the grounds of the Palace and tending to gardening chores They was ever hopeful that the Tsar's cousin, King George V of England, would offer them sanctuary, but the British Government, led by Prime Minister David Lloyd George, was against offering the deposed Romanovs a safe haven, and the expected http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter11.htm (4 of 7) [4/6/2002 1:39:29 AM]

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permission to travel to Britain never occurred, despite the Provisional Government's constant wish to send the Royals to safety. With that went the Romanovs' last chance of ultimate survival. In August, Kerensky chose to send them secretly by train and riverboat to a garrison in Tobolsk in Siberia. En route they passed Rasputin's home village of Pokrovskoe, thus fulfilling a prediction the starets had made many years previously. The Tsar and his entourage were to stay in the governor's house in Tobolsk for the next eight months and endure a Siberian winter. Colonel Eugene Kobylinski, who had been the officer in charge of the royal party at Tsarskoe Selo, accompanied them to Tobolsk and initially allowed them considerable freedom about the house, but this was eventually curtailed by the arrival of two fanatical Bolshevik revolutionaries, Pankratov and Nikolsky, sent to Tobolsk by the Party. Back in Petrograd the Provisional Government started to crumble with the formation by Lenin and other Bolshevik leaders of the Red Guard, which culminated in the Bolshevik November Revolution which finally ousted the remnants of the Provisional Government located in the Winter Palace at Petrograd. Back at Tobolsk, the guards in the Governor's house became more hostile towards their captives, forbidding http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter11.htm (5 of 7) [4/6/2002 1:39:29 AM]

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the Tsar to wear his Colonel's epaulets and Cossack dagger. Colonel Kobylinsky saw his command slipping from between his fingers and he was helpless to stop it, but he stayed in command when the Soldier's Committee at Tobolsk made Pankratov and Nikolsky resign. New guards who arrived from Tsarskoe Selo were much more deeply influenced by Bolshevism, and commenced a campaign of insults against all members of the Royal Family. However, a number of monarchist organisations existed throughout Russia, and they were gathering their financial resources to mount a rescue for the beleaguered Romanovs. The possibility of escape increased with the introduction of the new guards, who were quarrelsome, insolent and lazy, and the passing of information into the governor's house was, for a time, easy, but the guards soon discovered the intentions of visitors to the house, and ceased the free passage. In March 1918 the War with Germany ended disastrously for the Russians by the signing away by Lenin, now in full charge of the Bolsheviks, of the Crimea, Finland, Poland, the Caucasus, the Ukraine and the Baltic States. The Bolshevik leaders, realising that the imprisoned Tsar and his family were political pawns against the Germans, http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter11.htm (6 of 7) [4/6/2002 1:39:29 AM]

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decided to place them under stricter guard, and it was decided that they should be transferred to a town in the Urals called Ekaterinberg, under guard of a highly militant group of Bolsheviks run by the Ekaterinburg Soviet, which had already nationalised their local factories and mines. First the Tsar, Alexandra and their third daughter, Maria, were sent, soon to be followed by the ailing Tsarevich, Tatiana, Olga and Anastasia. ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 12

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CHAPTER 12 MAY - JULY 1918 EKATERINBERG

The house of imprisonment to which the whole royal family were taken was a two-storey house situated on top of the highest hill in the town, owned by a wealthy merchant called Ipatiev. Commandeered by the Bolsheviks, Ipatiev was evicted and the house was altered to act as a high-security prison, and in April 1918 Nicholas, Alexandra and Grand Duchess Marie were installed, joined a month later by the other members of the family and their retainers; Nagorny, the constant companion of the Tsarevich, a young cook called Kharitonov, a footman called Trupp and a teenage kitchen boy called Leonid Sednev. The lower floor of the Ipatiev house was used as guardrooms and offices, whilst the upper floor was the one used as the prison, with the windows painted over in order that no-one could see in or out. The Bolsheviks called it 'The House of Special Purpose'. Time was running out for the Romanovs, but the monarchist organisation had still not lost all hope. Royalists of all kinds flooded into Ekaterinberg; from http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (1 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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countesses to clergy, from diplomats to doctors, all hoping for the sight and salvation of their Imperial family. There were also, despite the deeply socialist nature of the area, a number of monarchists permanently resident in Ekaterinberg, and such a man was the tailor Baoudin, who had property directly opposite the Ipatiev House. Immediately the Imperial family were interned he sent a telegraph to royalists in Petrograd requesting help. The head of that organisation, a man called Petrovich, held a midnight meeting with the highest ranking royalists in the land. "We need to get someone in there, quickly." urged a Duke. "Yes, yes, but who?" queried a Colonel. "Someone," said Petrovich, "who knows the Family well, whom they trust. Someone who is ruthless, who will kill silently at a moment's notice." "Do you know someone like that?" asked the Duke eagerly. "Yes, sir, I do. I used to work for him, as one of his guards while he carried out assassination missions for the Tsar. Owing to extreme pressure from the Revolutionaries, he http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (2 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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was forced to quit the country - but he can be found and contacted." "Excellent. He is our man. If he is successful, he will be well rewarded. He will need backup within the place of imprisonment ..." "That is being arranged." assured Petrovich. The royalists made their preparations and, at the end of May, a cryptic telegram reached the Count: "Ekaterinberg needs you." ---oo0oo--Well established in the community of Lucerne, the Count was disinclined to answer the call. He had for the past two years first lived a life of ease then, becoming bored, he had looked around for a project with which to amuse himself and perhaps reap a financial benefit. Money was no object, but he found it impossible to procure an active interest in Swiss watches owing to the closed-shop fraternity. There was, however, a growing trade in Swiss chocolates and, finding a small factory available on the outskirts of Lucerne, he employed six accredited confectioners and started a business which, in the summer of 1918, was just beginning to interest a sweet-toothed http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (3 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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overseas market. Max fought with his conscience. He knew that the Tsar and his family were imprisoned there, but he could see no good reason for placing himself in the greatest danger by being a part of a rescue attempt. And yet, he reasoned, if Petrovich's monarchists considered him the best man for the job, and, presumably with assistance, he was able to pull it off, he would be a hero and saviour of the monarchist cause. He had proved his loyalty, time and again ... but he had deserted his monarch for a life of luxury and, if he were being completely honest with himself, he was bored at the forced inactivity, very bored indeed. There would also be opportunities to kill... He sent a one-word telegram "Coming." From a small apartment above his shop in the Pfistergasse, near the lakeside in the town of Lucerne, Max made ready for the most important mission of his life. He realised that the Bolsheviks would arrest him immediately if he travelled as a Russian nobleman. As a precaution when he fled Russia in December 1916 he had used a set of counterfeit papers prepared years before for him by the Ochrana and he had used that name for anonymity during his exile in Switzerland. His new name was Alexei, for his dead father and brother, Maximilianovich, from the first http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (4 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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name he had previously used, and Mippipopolous, in memory of Lisa, his Lisa. As Alexei Maximilianovich Mippipopolous he would be visiting a dying relative in Ekaterinberg. So it was that, dressed in a broad-brimmed brown hat, cream-coloured long overcoat and brown suit, Alexei Mippipopolous set out by rail for Ekaterinberg. At the border of Russia he was thoroughly searched and his papers checked, but the lazy, scruffy guard saw no discrepancies, and Alexei returned to his mother country. The journey to Ekaterinberg was arduous, with many enforced stops in order to verify his credentials. Alexei arrived at Ekaterinberg Station at the end of June 1918. He wandered nonchalently down the platform, uncertain whether contact would be made immediately or after he had found temporary accommodation. As nobody approached him, he enquired of the platform master where suitable habitation could be found and was directed to a small hotel at the other end of town from the Ipatiev House. He registered in a room, settled in, and waited. Late in the Siberian summer evening a light knock at the door made Alexei jump up from the bed on which he was lying, dozing. He opened the door to reveal a small, whitehaired, gnarled old woman, dressed in a long, black dress http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (5 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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and pinafore with a shawl, clutched under her chin, covering her head. She looked up into his dark eyes and said simply "Nozh." He drew in his breath sharply at he sound of his password. These people knew exactly who they were dealing with. Good. The old crone crooked her finger in an indication to follow her. He put on his coat and hat as a dual protection against the cool night air and against recognition, and followed her, his heart beating a little faster in excited anticipation. It was night by the time the little old lady led Alexei up a steep, dark alley which led to the back entrance of the tailor's shop. She wordlessly pointed to the entrance and shuffled on past, leaving Alexei to enter alone. He quickly climbed the flight of steps which took him to the rooms above the shop, then paused at the closed door, uncertain whether to knock or enter unannounced, but the door was pulled open from inside to reveal a man of medium height, black hair brushed straight back, and round, owl-like glasses. He had an inchtape round his neck. "Come in, Count." He ushered Alexei into a small room lit by two candles. There were two other men and a woman in the room. "My name is Erich Baoudin, this is my wife, Ainil, my assistant, Heinrich Kleibenzetl and a royalist associate of mine, Johan Markanova. There are many other royalist http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (6 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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cells around town, but it is obviously impossible to hold a large meeting." Alexei nodded his agreement. "Indeed. What precisely is the situation?" he asked, seating himself with the others around a small table. "Not good, I fear." replied Baoudin. "The whole family, plus their entourage, are captive in rooms on the upper floor." Baoudin produced a detailed map of the Ipatiev House. "They are in these rooms, here and here." he said, indicating two rooms located next to one another. "In this one are Nicholas, Alexandra and Alexi, and the Grand Duchesses have the other one. Johan here has infiltrated the house, in the guise of a Red Guard. He has witnessed scenes that -" here he glanced at Johan, who continued the sentence himself "I have no wish to discuss, but suffice it to say that none of the family have any privacy whatsoever - some of the guards even follow them to the lavatory." "Dear God!" exclaimed Alexei involuntarily, deeply shocked at the disgusting incursion of personal privacy. "Who is in charge?" "Avadeyev. He's a drunken, thieving rascal, and I think the Cheka are about to replace him. There are rumours ..." http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (7 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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"Go on." urged Alexei. "Well, the Bolshevik Cheka, their secret police, are stationed at the Hotel America, and two new arrivals have just - ah - checked in - Yurovsky and Medvedev." Alexei visibly jumped. "My God, I know them! Yurovsky was the head of the St Petersburg Bolsheviks. We tried many times to eradicate him and his henchman. Every time we thought we had them, they had escaped. I will not fail this time!" "At any rate," continued Baoudin, "we cannot consider releasing all the captives. With the weight of the guard in that house, that would be quite impossible. We have, however, been able to get hand-written letters smuggled out of the house, and here's the most important one ..." He unfolded a single sheet of lavatory paper and handed it to Alexei. It had three words scrawled on it "Rescue Alexi - Nicholas." "Hm. That presents us with further problems, lady and gentlemen." Alexei said. "Do you know that the Tsarevich is a haemophiliac?" At the blank expressions on every face, he continued "If the boy is jostled or tumbles and http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (8 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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hurts himself, he bleeds internally. The bleeding is almost impossible to stop and it subjects him to the most excruciating pain. I know - I have heard him cry in the night when I was on duty at Tsarskoe Selo and the Winter Palace. However, it is logical that it is the Tsarevich who should be saved." All at the table nodded agreement, looking to him for guidance. He sensed the feeling and responded. "Markanova - can you get me into the house posing as a Red Guard replacement before Yurovsky and Medvedev take over?" "You would need papers to verify your rank and posting." "Hm. Is there a good conterfeiter in town?" "It'll take a couple of days." "Have we got that long?" "Yes, I think so." "Do it, then, and use this name ..." he showed his fake passport to Markanova, who jotted down the name on a blank sheet of paper. "How about a uniform?" "No problem, there are extras in the store that will fit well enough." http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (9 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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"Good. At this time, two days from now, I shall return." The meeting over, Alexei returned to his rooms. The next two days he spent reconnoitring the whole town, studying the map of the house and considering possible escape plans. The Ipatiev House was located on a hill overlooking Ekaterinberg at the corner of Vosnessenski Prospect and Vossnessenski Lane. A tall wooden fence surrounded the house, making scaling the wall an impossibility. There was only one way in, and one way out - through the well- guarded gate. Two large, officiallooking cars came and went frequently between the house and the Hotel America, as well as service horses and carts to bring in food and other necessary items. Two nights after the first meeting, at midnight, Alexei retraced his steps to Baoudin's house. Markanova gave him the false papers and cards confirming him as a Bolshevik private in the Red Guard. He donned the Red Guard uniform of dull green with red epaulets and hat, with a belt holding a canteen around his waist. He also was given a rifle with triangular bayonet. Used to wearing military uniform proudly, he had to be shown by Markanova how to 'dress down' to match the bearing and attitude of the typical Red Guard. Then he was ready. "What's the situation inside the house?" he enquired. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (10 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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"Yurovsky and Medvedev arrive tomorrow morning, so you must get in tonight. I will go in with you - I am expected back on duty at 6 a.m., so will arrive a bit early over- zealous to my duty, one might say. We shall be - a little tipsy, perhaps, and you a long lost comrade. Understand?" "Perfectly!" snapped Alexei. "Let's go!" "How long will you be in?" asked Baoudin anxiously. "For as long as it takes to get the boy out." replied Alexei curtly, already intent on his mission. "Go with God!" wished Baoudin's wife as the two men slipped out of the now-unlit room. They walked round to the front entrance of the tailor's shop and then, hanging onto each other and singing a Party song, the crude words of which Alexei soon caught on to, they caroused their way towards the laconic sentry posted at the gate. In the darkness the sleepy sentry saw two Red Guards, glanced cursorily at their papers and let them through. Markanova led Alexei to the barracks room, where, as quietly as possible, he stowed his kit on an empty bunk bed next to Markanova's before rolling onto it http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (11 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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and drifting into a light sleep. Roused at six in the morning, the other guardsmen met their new comrade. Markanova made the appropriate introductions and Alexei was accepted without question into the group of guards. As Markanova had said, the changeover from Avadeyev to Yurovsky and Medvedev took place that morning, and Alexei's credentials were not re-inspected. It was the 4th of July 1918. As a new member of the Guard, however, he was put on gate sentry duty, which suited his purpose perfectly, as he was able to monitor very closely indeed all the movements in and out of the house throughout the day and night. Eventually, as the rota was changed, he was given the task of guarding the royal apartments. This was the opportunity he was waiting for, to make contact at last with his Tsar. His tour of duty was from midnight to 8 a.m. on the morning of 10th July. As the guards had free access to every room in the house, Alexei simply stepped into the presence of his deposed monarch, who was sitting alone on the edge of his bed. Alexandra was with her children, giving comfort and reassurance none of them felt. First of all a look of anger crossed the lined and exhausted face of Nicholas, then stunned recognition at the appearance of the familiar figure standing before him in http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (12 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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an unfamiliar uniform, saluting. "Count Maltzev!" the Tsar moved forward and embraced the embarrassed Alexei. "It is so good to see a friendly face!" "Your Majesty, my name is Private Alexei Mippipopolous of the Red Guard!" "Well, well, I suppose it is!" Alexei could see tears welling in the light blue eyes. "So many times we have received letters to say that we were to be rescued, but noone has ever come - until now. What is your plan? Can you get us all out?" the eagerness and hope in his voice tore at Alexei's heart. "Sire, I regret to have to say that that would be impossible." The Tsar's face fell as the last shred of hope was torn from within him. "Then there's no hope - no hope at all? What of my cousin George in Britain? Anybody?" Alexei merely shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Sire. But I am prepared to attempt to rescue the Tsarevich, when the time is right." "Very well, but when?" Alexei was about to reply when the door burst open. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (13 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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Alexei, his back to the door, froze. The thought flashed through his mind that, after all, the Red Guards did invade the Tsar's privacy at any time, so there was no reason for him not being there ... "What's the meaning of this?" booted feet stamped into the room and a hand on Alexei's shoulder pulled him roughly around to face the newcomer. For a timeless moment the two men looked at each other in stunned disbelief. "Hello, Leonid." "Orlovsky! You!" "I take it you know one another." commented the Tsar drily. "Yes, Sire, we were friends in our youth ..." Alexei' s explanation tailed off as full memory of their last meeting returned. "So this is why you wanted to come back!" he said, taking in the appearance of his ex-comrade. Time had not been kind to Krov - his face was scarred and lined and he was desperately thin. "I have a score to settle with you ..." "No time for that now, Leonid - you can kill me later. Right now, we have a mission to fulfil - Nozh. Sire, with http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (14 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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your permission?" He indicated his wish to withdraw from the Royal presence. The Tsar nodded and the two men left the room. "You? You are my contact here?" Alexei's surprised whisper rasped. "Wait here. When your replacement comes, pretend to him you're ill." commanded Krov. A few minutes later a sleepy young private shuffled towards Alexei, who was sitting on the floor, clutching his stomach and groaning. Krov came up behind the young guard and helped Alexei to his feet, supporting him with one hand over his shoulder and the other round his waist. With dragging steps, Alexei walked with Krov to the dark and deserted wardroom. "Nice act." commented Krov as he lit a single candle and placed it in the middle of the solitary table. They pulled up chairs and sat facing one another, both uncertain how to start. "So you came back to Siberia to join the Revolution!" Alexei' s voice was heavy with cynical irony. "The system had banished me, Leonid - I did not choose http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (15 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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to come here." "Please - for the duration of my stay here, my name is Private Alexei Mippipopolous." "Hm. You always were one for changing your name to suit your mission." commented Krov reflectively. "Anyway," he continued, "despite appearances, I am not a Bolshevik - I became a Menshevik instead, wishing a peaceful Revolution. I am still trying to achieve that aim. I, too, would like to see the Royal Family rescued and sent abroad. You have been sent to put that rescue attempt into motion, have you not?" Alexei sat silent for a moment, deciding whether or not he could trust this man who was once his friend but who was now a stranger. He came to the conclusion that he had no option -Krov was his contact and held a high rank, which could be of vital importance during a rescue bid. "There is another man in here to assist me - Johan Markanova. "Good. Let him know who I am. Have you formed a plan?" "We must wait a little while longer, say, a week, until the new regime has settled in. By then the new routines will be set and we can seek out the weak links. It must be by http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (16 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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night. Let's see - a week from now is 15th July. We will make the attempt that night. Can you have a horse and cart standing ready that night?" "It can be arranged. Now, return to your palette - you have been most unwell tonight, tovarich!" They softly laughed together, then parted. ---oo0oo--During that last week, Alexei became fully aware of the atrocities being committed upon a helpless Royal Family. He was compelled to stand guard outside the Grand Duchesses' rooms while Yurovsky forcefully took his pleasure with them. He heard the sounds of struggle coming from inside, and was helpless to save them. All the girls were systematically and repeatedly abused first by Yurovsky, then by the sadistic Medvedev. By 14th July it was clear to everyone in the Ipatiev House that something was about to happen. News that the White Russian, anti-Bolshevik, Army were advancing on Ekaterinberg and were expected to attack the Red Army defences within three days had irretrievably spurred the Ural Soviet to take the fate of the Royal Family into their own hands. Yurovsky and a member of the Ural Soviet made a number of trips to the nearby woods to survey http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (17 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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possible sites to dispose of the bodies. By that evening, Krov had organised the rota system in order that Alexei, Johan and himself would all be on duty the next night at differing parts of the house - Alexei, who would rescue the Tsarevich, had guard duty outside the Tsar's door during the night, Krov would guard the main door and Johan was posted on the outside gates. Krov had smuggled in a supply of vodka. He gave two bottles to Johan - one full of vodka, the other full of pure drinking water, and a small horse and cart waited by the side of the house. Then, to everyone's dismay, Yurovsky ordered a double guard to be placed in and around the house for the nights of 15th and 16th July. No-one was to leave the house. All guards were issued with grenades, pistols and rifles. The position appeared to be impossible, but Alexei, determined not to be thwarted at this late stage and realising that this night would be their one and only chance, decided to go ahead with the plan. The guard on duty with Alexei at the Tsar's door was to be the same young man who came to relieve him when Alexei faked illness, and this gave him an idea. Just after 8 p.m. that evening the guard changed. Alexei http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (18 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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and the youth, called Ivan, took their places, one on either side of the door, and after a few moments Alexei appeared to grow restless then, unnanounced, he turned and opened the Tsar's door, slipped inside and closed it behind him before Ivan could say anything. Inside, Alexei motioned silence to the surprised Tsar, and brought a small phial from his uniform pocket "Give this to the Tsarevich now!" he whispered. The Tsar drew breath to object but was again silenced by a gesture. "It won't harm him, just make him sleep for a few hours. We attempt the rescue tonight, Sire, and, to carry him, I must have him immobilised. If he cries out, all will be lost. I will return at midnight. Now, I must be noisy and abusive towards you - the other guard will be suspicious." He commenced to shout abuse and obscenities to the Tsar, making sounds as though he were striking his ex-ruler. Then he jerked the door abuptly open and exited. Young Ivan looked at him and smirked knowingly. Four hours later, all was quiet within the House of Special Purpose. It was time for Alexei to make his first move. Standing to casual attention, he suddenly gasped in supposed pain and held his stomach. Alarmed, Ivan asked "What's the matter? Are you ill?" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (19 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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"I have - a pain - ahh!" gasped Alexei. "I think - I'm going to be - sick!" He ran along the corridor to the nearest toilet and, sticking his fingers down his throat, made retching noises for effect. He emerged some time later, his face grey and, still groaning, took up his position again. The two guards standing outside the women's bedrooms around the corner paid no attention to the incident. Concerned, young Ivan looked at his ailing comrade. "You look terrible!" "No, no, I'll be all right soon. It's the same -" he doubled up, grimacing, "as the time before. Ahhh!" He slid down the wall and sat on the floor, clutching his stomach and rocking in agony. Alarmed, Ivan ran from his post to Captain Krov Orlovsky, the Officer of the Watch. The instant the boy disappeared downstairs, Alexei got up, dusted himself down and slipped into the Imperial bedroom. "Ready?" he whispered to the waiting Tsar. Wordlessly, the Tsar indicated a sleeping bundle of boy. Alexei quickly and gently lifted him from the bed onto the floor and rolled him up into the Turkish carpet. He heard the sound of booted feet climbing the stairs and slipped http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (20 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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outside again, resuming his prone position just as Ivan and Krov reached the top of the stairs. The unsuspecting young guard bent over the still form of Alexei, and sank soundlessly to the floor as a vicious chop on the neck, administered expertly by Krov, broke his neck. Wasting no time, both Alexei and Krov entered the Tsar's room and Alexei swept the light body concealed in the carpet up and over his shoulder. Krov checked that the stairs were clear and waved Alexei on, covering his back. Alexei, unable to hurry with the precious burden he carried, reached the front door of the house after Krov. Krov slipped the bolts as quietly as he could and Alexei slipped outside into the darkness towards the waiting horse and cart, placing the boy gently in it. Up at the front gate, Johan had got his fellow guard quite drunk and, at that precise moment, the guard was standing, one hand propped against the wall to stop falling as he relieved himself. Johan walked across as though patrolling the gate then, as he stood behind the defenceless guard, he suddenly delivered a karate chop to the base of the man's skull. The guard crumpled, and Johan had to stop him from falling, then arrange him as though he was still standing on guard by leaning the body against the wall. The way was now http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (21 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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clear for the escape to be completed. He would open the gates at the last possible moment as the cart drew out. A sound behind them as they placed the Tsarevich in the cart made the rescuers freeze. Suddenly the whole courtyard was ablaze with light from the searchlight on the roof. Silhouetted in front of the piercing beam was the large, thick-set form of Medvedev and the smaller, elegant form of Commandant Yurovsky. "Going somewhere, gentlemen?" Yurovsky and Medvedev moved from the direct light to stand beside the cart, the pistols in their hands aimed directly at Krov and Alexei's hearts. Yurovsky casually strolled round the back of the cart and roughly flipped open the carpet. "Well, well, well. What have we here?" Yurovsky's voice was smooth, malevolent. "So, Captain Orlovsky, you are a traitor!" Medvedev raised the butt of his pistol as though he was going to club the sleeping child. "NO!" Krov leaped forward to save the boy Yurovsky's pistol spat fire and Krov staggered, a look of surprise on his face. He put one hand to his chest and looked at the blood, then slowly crumpled. He was dead before he hit the ground. Panicking, Medvedev grabbed the butt of his pistol and hurriedly shot at Alexei who, in the split-second http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (22 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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given him, tried unsuccessfully to evade the shot. He was thrown back by the impact of the bullet, the side of the cart stopping his fall. He slid to the ground and lay face down in the dust. "Dammit, Medvedev, you trigger-happy bastard, I wanted one of them alive!" spat Yurovsky. Placing his boot under Alexei's prone body, he roughly pushed him to lie face-up. Alexei groaned and gripped his left side, curling up in agony. "Huh! Lucky for you - this son of a pig's still alive! Take him, and that whelp" he said, indicating the stillsleeping Tsarevich, "inside." Medvedev booted Alexei, who gasped, grimacing in pain. "Up, you swine, get up!" Alexei pulled himself erect, his right hand, clutching the wound, red with blood. "MOVE!" shouted the pitiless assassin, violently poking the pistol barrel into the small of Alexei's back, making him stumble. Alexei cast one glance at Krov's body. The sightless eyes were gazing directly at him. "Farewell, tovarich," thought Alexei as he staggered past, "I think perhaps it won't be too long before we meet again ..." "GUARD! Take this traitor to the basement!" Medvedev's big hand held Alexei's arm in a vice-like grip and he was http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (23 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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marched, two guards armed with rifles behind him, halfwalking, half-falling, down a flight of stairs. Yurovsky unlocked a door and Medvedev threw his captive violently in. Alexei fell on his injured side and rolled on the floor in agony. A table and chair were the only furniture in the room. "Get a rope and tie him up!" commanded Yurovsky. Medvedev tied him tightly into the chair, arms behind him, legs lashed to the chair. He was unable to move. "Right. First we deal with the Romanov whelp, then we come back to deal with you. If you're lucky you'll be dead before we get back to you!" and Yurovsky, summoning all the saliva he could, spat full in Alexei's face before he, Medvedev and the guard who had brought the rope marched out of the dark room, locking the door behind them. Alexei tried to clean the spittle from his face, but every movement increased the throbbing agony in his side, and soon all feeling in his hands and legs disappeared as the tightly-bound ropes cut off his circulation. He wondered how long he had. The room was in pitch darkness except for a small window near the ceiling. Even if he could free himself, it was too tiny for him to squirm through to freedom. He was well aware of the methods of torture employed by the Cheka and realised that, if they http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (24 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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discovered or recognised him, his death would be a slow, and excruciatingly painful, affair. With his knowledge of the house, he knew there was no way of escape. He started to feel cold, so very cold, and his body shook violently with reaction. He dimly realised, as he slipped into unconsciousness, that he was dying ... He came to, his face damp with sweat, to the sound of vigorous movement in the adjacent room. As the mist before his eyes cleared, he realised that furniture was being moved out of the large room and being carried upstairs. Suddenly the door burst open and Yurovsky, Medvedev and four other armed guards entered. "Light, Medvedev, put on the damn light!" "Uh? Oh." and the big man fumbled for the light switch, found it. Alexei's head was slumped to his chest, his dark hair falling over his face. Yurovsky strode forward and grabbed his hair, jerking his head upright, then threw it forward again. "Still alive, I see. Pity. Medvedev - wake him up." Medvedev thought for a moment, then, with a smile and an evil laugh revealing broken teeth, he walked up to the semi-conscious Alexei, and, producing a cosh, he started to hit him in the face and body near the gunshot wound. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (25 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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Alexei cried out in pain, twisting and turning in the chair in a vain attempt to parry the blows. "Ahh, awake at last, I see." commented Yurovsky smoothly, apparently enjoying the exhibition. "Now, who have we here? What's your name? Medvedev, stop that." Alexei stared insolently and defiantly at his captors, resigned to humiliation and degradation but vowing, deep within him, that, if ever he should escape, these men would die by his hand very slowly indeed. "Ah, silence, I see. Medvedev, persuade him further. No, wait!" Yurovsky halted his henchman, who was advancing with the cosh. "Wait - I seem to find your face familiar. Do I know you?" "Here it comes." thought Alexei, who still kept his silence. "Medvedev, re-arrange his face!" The cosh struck him hard and a cut opened on his right cheek, the blood flowing. "Again!" This time the club struck hard over his wound, making him cry in agony. "You do not have much time left, soldier, so I would advise you to talk now - and I will make your last hours on this earth a bit easier. Now where have I met you before?" When he received no reply he nodded to Medvedev, who struck him repeatedly until his face was swollen and bleeding and his eyes bruised http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (26 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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and closing. The pain was unbearable and the fever from the wound was increasing, but Alexei kept his counsel. "Oh, dear. Stubbornness never did pay. I fear we must work more on that gunshot wound. Guard - strip him!" The guard, untying Alexei's hands, tore the blood-soaked uniform jacket and shirt from his back. The wound was red and angry - suppuration had already set in and it was still bleeding. The bullet had hit a rib, splintering it, then exited his body. The guard resecured his hands to the back of the chair, then Medvedev went to work, obviously enjoying himself. Gasping and semi-conscious, Alexei struggled to stay awake. Finally the agony became unendurable and Alexei broke. "I'll tell you, I'll tell you, you devils - please - stop it!" "Very well - stand back, Medvedev. Now ..." "Krasnoe Selo - you were - one of the officers - and Krov and I - students." "Ah, yes, now I remember. But, as I recall, Orlovsky's only friends were Lev Yashkov and Leonid UlakovHolstein, and both of them are dead." http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (27 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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"No, not both of them." "Ulakov-Holstein! But you were shot in front of a firing squad years ago!" "No, I was not. The Tsar - had - other uses - for me ..." "Other uses - what other uses?" Alexei's head dropped to his chest. "Medvedev! Wake him up again!" Medvedev grabbed Alexei's hair and slapped his face vigorously till his swollen eyes flickered open. His whole body was shaking and glistening with the sweat of fever, his wound bleeding badly again. "Now, Holstein, tell me what you did for your precious Romanov!" Yurovsky shouted. His head suddenly clearing, in an unwise show of defiance he eyes flashed as he replied "I killed bastards like you!" "An assassin! The Tsar's assassin! We've been trying to get you for years - and now - you just fall into our hands!" Yurovsky laughed wickedly and Medvedev followed his example. "Can I kill him now, boss? Can I? Can I?" Medvedev raised his handgun to Alexei's head, cocking the trigger http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (28 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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and sniggering in anticipation. Alexei closed his eyes, preparing for the explosion in his brain that would bring an end to the torture. "No! No, wait! I have an idea - Medvedev, listen..." and he drew the big Russian aside, whispered in his ear, finishing aloud with "...and then we kill him!" Both men exploded into riotous laughter. "An excellent idea, don't you think?" Medvedev brushed the tears of laughter from his eyes, nodding his agreement. "But first - we have preparations - to make for the 'party' tonight, haven't we, Medvedev?" Yurovsky looked at his captive, who had lapsed into unconsciousness again. "Leave him there - he isn't going anywhere!" and they marched out of the room, slamming the door and leaving a solitary guard outside. Alexei drifted in a twilight world of semi-consciousness. He was dimly aware of the shafts of daylight penetrating the small room from the tiny window above. Despite the sunlight the tiny room was still cold and he was trembling violently with fever, verging sometimes into delerium. During a period of consciousness he was forced to foul himself, watching as his urine seeped through his trousers and ran off the chair to form a stinking puddle on the floor around him. He had lapsed into unconsciousness again when the door was opened by the guard and a tall, stout http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (29 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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man entered with a bag in his hand. He gasped as he recognised the man he had been sent to revive, and saw his wretched condition. Dr Eugene Botkin, physician of the Imperial Family, had been ordered by Yurovsky to keep him alive for as long as possible. Dr Botkin set to work. Turning to the guard standing over him with a rifle at the ready, he asked in a gentle voice "Please, release this man - I cannot administer to him like this. I request that you bring in a bed." The guard withdrew and returned shortly afterwards with Yurovsky. "I repeat, Yurovsky, if you want me to save this man's life, please let me lay him on a bed." "And what if I don't?" responded Yurovsky gruffly. "He will be dead within the hour." stated Dr Botkin simply. "Huh." Yurovsky detailed a guard to do the doctor's bidding. Botkin cleaned, strapped up and patched the bullet wound and Alexei's battered face as best he could, then forced an herb tea down Alexei's gagging throat. "That should help him for a while, but he must be taken to hospital immediately." advised Botkin. "He's going the same place as you!" answered Yurovsky enigmatically, and the guard pushed Botkin out of the http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (30 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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room. The night of the 16th of July 1918 fell. At 10.30 p.m. the Royal Family went to bed as usual, but were awakened by Yurovsky at midnight and told that, because of the advancing Czechs and White Army, the Regional Soviet had decided to move them. Simultaneously, Medvedev unlocked Alexei' s prison door. Alexei was lying propped up on the bed, bare to the waist, eyes glassily staring ahead of him. Alarmed that his quarry had died before fulfilling his Commandant's plan, he strode forward and shook Alexei violently. Alexei groaned. Medvedev pulled him up, put on a Red Army jacket and hauled him to his feet where he stood, head bowed and swaying, clutching his wounded side, his face bruised and swollen. There came the sound of many feet descending to the basement, and the whole Royal Family and their remaining entourage, including Dr Botkin, the cook Kharitonov and the kitchen boy Sednev, the footman Trupp and the Tsarina's parlourmaid, were led into the room adjacent to Alexei' s. Medvedev violently pushed Alexei out of the anteroom and into the other room where all were assembled. Yurovsky was there, and so were all of his Cheka guards. Through a mist of pain Alexei could see the Tsar standing, holding the Tsarevich in his arms. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (31 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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Alexandra sat on a chair. The three Grand Duchesses stood, along with the other members of the suite. The Tsar's eyes widened in recognition of Alexei, and a look of concern crossed his face as he saw his faithful and loyal employee's serious condition. He opened his mouth to speak, but, turning to address his Royal captives, Yurovsky announced "I told you that we were moving you, but I'm afraid that is no longer possible. You friends have tried to rescue you, but, as you can see -" he turned to the swaying Alexei "they have been thwarted." The Tsar's blue eyes were calm, pitying, as he looked first at Alexei s wretched condition, then at Yurovsky. Yurovsky drew an extra pistol from his belt and put it in Alexei's weak hands, then placed his own pistol against Alexei's temple. "Shoot the Tsar." he said calmly. Alexei's eyes widened in shock when he suddenly realised what was about to happen. "No! No, don't make me do it!" Yurovski cocked his pistol. "Do it - now!" "No! Never!" "Alexei..." the Tsar's voice was calm, "make it easy for me." Alexei realised it was the last, best duty he could perform for his Tsar. With terror in his soul, Alexei carefully took aim at the Tsar's heart and pulled the trigger http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (32 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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at point-blank range. The Tsar, still holding his sleeping son, was thrown back and fell dead. "You said you were the Tsar's assassin, now you truly are the Tsar's assassin!" Yurovsky shouted in triumph and laughed insanely as a fusillade of shots from the Cheka guard mowed down every member of the Royal party. They fired and fired and fired again until their ammunition was spent and the smell of gunpowder, blood and excreta from the still-twitching bodies filled the air. Alexei stood, mouth agape in disbelief at the horrific scene he had just witnessed, the smoking gun still in his hand. "No!" he whispered, sinking to his knees. He raised the gun to his head to take his own life, but it slipped from his numb fingers and slid undetected beneath a bleeding body. "No! You've killed them all! You made me - kill my Tsar!" "Check that they're all dead, make sure of it!" ordered Yurovsky, his face flushed, his body reacting to the orgy of death and vengeance he had commanded. The Cheka death squad moved amongst the pile of bodies, stabbing and clubbing with rifle butts anyone who moved. "And now it's your turn to die, traitor!" spat Yurovsky as he turned to Alexei and raised his pistol to Alexei's head. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (33 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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Alexei, head bowed, closed his eyes. The hammer clicked, and clicked again. There were no bullets left in Yurovsky's gun. "GUARD!" he roared in frustrated anger. A young soldier, cap pulled down over his eyes, entered the room and gasped at the ghastly sight that met his eyes. "Kill him!" ordered Yurovsky, pointing at the defenceless Alexei. "Kill him now!" Alexei recognised the guard. It was Johan. Resigned to his fate, he nodded imperceptibly as Johan took very careful aim, and fired. Alexei was thrown back over the bodies of the Tsar and the Tsarevich. He lay face down and motionless, a red weal from the glancing blow of the bullet on the side of his head seeping blood into his hair. "Is he dead?" asked Yurovsky. Johan bent over Alexei's still form and, to his relief, felt a faint heartbeat, but reported "He's dead, sir!" "Good! Dispose of all the bodies to the mine!" and Yurovsky and Medvedev marched out of the execution room, elated at their night's work. The floor was slippery with the blood flowing from the corpses and the guards were nauseated by the stench, so they did not check the bodies as thoroughly as they should have done. Johan stood over Alexei's body to protect him http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (34 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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from being bayoneted. He had noticed a tiny movement from one of the girls' bodies and, whilst watching that no other guard came near Alexei, he checked the body of Grand Duchess Anastasia and felt a flicker of life there, too. Anastasia lay under the bodies of her two sisters. She had moved to the back a moment before the firing started and, although she had been hit by a ricocheting bullet behind her right ear and had been stabbed in the foot and clubbed about the face by an over- zealous guard, she still held on to life. The execution party left the room to its silent inhabitants and went off the celebrate by drinking vodka and dancing to exorcise the memory of that dreadful room. But one guard stole back. Alexei had not revealed Johan's identity under torture and Johan's loyalty to the Cheka was therefore not suspect. It was now immediately urgent that he get Alexei and Anastasia out, alive. Yurovsky had arranged for trucks to be ready at the side of the house in order to transport the bodies, under cover of darkness, to the mine shaft called 'The Four Brothers', situated outside of Ekaterinberg, into which they were to be dumped and incinerated. In the excitement of the moment, Yurovsky had not given the order to remove the corpses, thus giving Johan his only chance of rescue.

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Alexei lay unconscious amongst the mound of bodies, their blood mingling with his. Johan reached into his pocket and produced smelling salts, which he hoped would be enough to jolt him to consciousness. He waved it under Alexei's nose, and suddenly his head jerked back from the pungent ammonia and he coughed convulsively, moaning and holding his injured side. "Alexei! Can you hear me? Can you stand? You've got to get up! Please, try to get up! We've got to get out of here!" and Johan put his arm under Alexei's shoulder and hauled him upright. "Ohhhhh!" Alexei's groan was a mixture of pain and anguish as memory returned. "My head!" He held his head, closing his eyes from sight of the carnage . "No! Please - let me die with them! I failed - all dead - please leave me - to die!" his voice was husky and feeble. "No, you haven't failed! One of the Grand Duchesses is still alive! Come on, you must help me if you can to get her, and yourself, out of this hell-hole alive!" Johan moved to the back of the room and re-checked Anastasia' s pulse. Yes! There was a beat! He pulled her sisters' bodies away from over her and looked around. There was a large travelling rug that Alexandra had brought with her, thinking they were going to experience http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (36 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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the cool, Siberian night air. Perfect. He wrapped Anastasia up in it and slung her young body over his shoulder. "Alexei - can you climb the stairs?" "Please - go on without me - so weak - must - rest." and he sank to the ground. "No, Alexei, come on, you can make it - just a few more minutes and you'll be safe!" Alexei struggled to his hands and knees and, with the last vestiges of his waning strength, dragged himself up the stairs behind Johan, who walked swiftly with his precious bundle out of the unguarded door. The whole of the Cheka guard were either celebrating their liberation from oppression, or preparing to evacuate the house in the face of the rapidly advancing White Army, all unsuspecting of the audacious escape being carried out beneath their very noses. Johan had previously placed Krov's body in one of the trucks, so there was one real corpse there for inspection. He gently placed Anastasia, still covered in the rug, into the back of the truck, then returned for Alexei, who had collapsed and lay on the stairs. Johan carried him to the truck as well. Alexei, soaked in blood, his face chalk white, looked very dead. Johan covered Krov's body http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/Chapter12.htm (37 of 38) [4/6/2002 1:39:51 AM]

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and Alexei with a tarpaulin, then climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine, driving slowly towards the gate. The double guard there halted him. "Corpses for disposal at the mine!" he lied casually. The guard flipped the tarpaulin up. Krov's dead face stared back at him. He quickly covered up the ghastly sight and waved Johan on, through the gates of the Ipatiev house and out to the safe haven of the Baoudin house. ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 13

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CHAPTER 13 1918 AFTERMATH

The truck trundled over the bumpy cobbles, and every now and then Johan could hear a low groan being emitted from one or other of his seriously injured passengers, but he dare not hurry lest he raise suspicion. At last he drew the truck to a halt outside the Baoudin house, and Baoudin, his wife Aimi and their assistant Heinrich Kleibenzetl hurried out to rescue the precious load. Anastasia was deeply unconscious, but Alexei came to as they lifted him indoors and carried him to a cellar containing two makeshift beds. "No! Please ... let me die..." "You're not going to die, you're going to be all right, Alexei." assured Baoudin. "My wife is a trained nurse." "Don't want to .. live ... cannot live ... now ..." His cheeks were wet with tears as he lapsed into unconsciousness again. Aimi Baoudin went about cleaning the wounds of the victims. Johan's bullet had creased Alexei's skull but had http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter13.htm (1 of 5) [4/6/2002 1:40:06 AM]

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not fractured it. He had lost a lot of blood from both his side and his head. Aimi fought to staunch the flow. Anastasia was very seriously injured, with stab wounds to her right foot and a head wound where a ricocheting bullet had dug a deep furrow behind her right ear. Her jaw was broken from blows by rifle butts, and she had several broken and missing teeth. Although unconscious she was emitting low, whimpering sounds. As daylight lit the sky the rescuers could hear the march of booted feet approaching. "Quick," ordered Baoudin. "Cover them up - make sure they don't make a sound, or we're all dead!" The sounds of the Red Guards pounding on every door came to their ears. If the occupants did not answer quickly enough they broke the door down and ransacked the house, in search of Anastasia. "I'll head them off." said Johan, quickly climbing the wooden cellar steps and concealing the entrance hatch under a carpet. The truck, still containing Krov's body, was parked outside. The approaching guards could not fail to notice it. He flung the door open. Yurovsky, commanding the guard, saw him come out of a local http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter13.htm (2 of 5) [4/6/2002 1:40:06 AM]

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house, adjusting his clothing, and roared "Soldier! What is your business here?" Johan appeared to be confused and embarrassed. "Sir, I - I had to pay an urgent call ..." "Why this house?" Yurovsky was angry and impatient. "Sir, the lady ..." "You are not in this army to screw every local woman. What is in that truck?" "A body, sir - one of the traitors you shot. I was detailed to take it to the mine for disposal." "You are on report, soldier. Return to the House immediately. Gospov -" he indicated a private standing beside him - "Take the body to the mine and dispose of it. The rest of you - search this house!" When they burst into the house, Yurovsky found Aimi, hair tousled and wearing a dressing gown over her nightdress. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?" she demanded, while two soldiers opened the bedroom door and the back door respectively. The bed was rumpled. Below, in the cellar, Baoudin and Kleinbenzetl listened http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter13.htm (3 of 5) [4/6/2002 1:40:06 AM]

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anxiously, their hands over Anastasia's and Alexei's mouths to stifle any moans. "No-one else here, sir." reported one of the soldiers. "Damn! Quick, you fools, search the next house!" ordered Yurovsky. Downstairs in the cellar, Kleinbenzetl relaxed too soon and raised his hand from Anastasia's mouth. She whimpered. "What was that noise?" Yurovsky demanded, immediately suspicious. Thinking fast, Aimi said "It is my kitten - you have frightened her!" "Kitten? I see no kitten!" "She is hiding. Look, there she is." From under a low chair, two green eyes peered out. The commander aimed a kick between the kitten's eyes but it scampered away unharmed and bolted out of the door, a frightened flash of white fur. "Agh!" Yurovsky roared in frustration. "Soldiers continue your search!" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter13.htm (4 of 5) [4/6/2002 1:40:06 AM]

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---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 14

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CHAPTER 14 SPRING 1923 PARIS

The tall, very slim man in the dark blue linen suit, white spats, red carnation buttonhole and broad-brimmed sunhat strolled casually down the Bois de Boulogne, nodding in passing to his many acquaintances. He preferred to walk slowly, as extra effort still tired him. His face, older now, was lined and scarred, his brow furrowed in creases of concealed pain from which he would never be free, and there was a stoop to the once-straight back and shoulders. He held a newly-purchased newspaper under his arm, the gold watch chain on his waistcoat glinting in the Parisian sunshine. Choosing a vacant table, he sat at a boulevard café and ordered a café au lait, then removed his hat, lit a Russian cigarette and settled back in his seat, content to enjoy the sights and sounds of a sunny Spring morning. When the coffee arrived he sipped elegantly from the china cup, a feeling of well-being relaxing him as the coffee took effect. He enjoyed the atmosphere of postWar Paris, which was filled with young people of many different nationalities, all seemingly hedonistically bent on pleasure, all living for today as though there would be http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (1 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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no tomorrow, living to the full every last morsel of life on behalf of friends, brothers or lovers who had died in the Great War and could never again savour the essence of a new Spring. Count Alexei Mippipopolous casually opened his newspaper and scanned the headlines, then looked through the remainder. When his eyes reached the society column he involuntarily gasped when he saw a picture of a woman. Who was she? Who was that woman? Lisa! She was so like - Lisa. The hairstyle was different, of course, cut in a modern bob, but her face, her beautiful face ... He eagerly read the paragraph, a sudden, unexpected excitement coursing through him. He read: 'Lady Brett Ashley, estranged wife of ninth baronet Lord John Ashley of Cambridge, England, is visiting friends in Paris. When the reporter asked Lady Brett how long she intended to stay in Paris, she replied -' "Count Alexei Mippipopolous?" a man's voice, speaking in Russian, interrupted his reading. Intensely annoyed at the unwanted interruption, he scowled as he looked up at the man, who was standing against the sun. "Don't you remember me, Alexei?" The man was wearing a brown suit that was a size too big for him, and a black Americanhttp://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (2 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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style Homburg hat. He moved out of the sun and Alexei was able to see his face. His scowl deepened in puzzlement. "I'm Johan Markanova - from Ekaterinberg." he added softly as an extra reminder. "Oh! Oh, yes, of course, forgive me, Monsieur Markanova, of course I - remember ..." His voice trailed off as unwelcome memories flooded back "Please - sit down, join me in a coffee. Garçon!" He folded his newspaper. "I was told I'd find you here, Count. I would have contacted you sooner, but I've only just found out that you are still ..." "Alive?" prompted the Count with a dry chuckle. "Yes, I'm still alive ..." he stopped as the waiter placed a cup of coffee in front of his guest. "And you -" he gestured, cigarette in hand, "are 'in the pink', as they say nowadays!" "'As well as can be expected' - as they say nowadays!" responded Johan, smiling. He sipped his coffee. "How did you get on - afterwards?" "I'd - rather not discuss it, if you don't mind." he replied curtly, as though it were a set reply. Then, reconsidering, http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (3 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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the Count looked around. "I suppose I owe you an explanation. Look, we can't talk here." He threw some money on the table then, rising, said "Come with me - it's not far." They strolled in silence, and the Count walked through the gates of a large mansion. "Is this yours?" Johan asked in astonishment. "I'm afraid so - expensive to keep, but that is not a problem." He led Johan to a drawing room filled with old books. There was a faint, resinous aroma about the woodcarved room that tugged at Johan's memory. A large samovar sat on a table. The Count opened a drinks cabinet. "Pernod? Absinthe? Please forgive me for not joining you, but I don't drink." He prepared the samovar. Johan savoured the expensive liqueur and watched as the Count sat elegantly in a lounge chair. He reached into his jacket pocket for his gold cigarette case. "Smoke? They're Russian, you know!" Johan declined and the Count lit his own. He inhaled and studied his unexpected guest with a penetrating look. Then, crossing his long legs, he began. "I have no recollection of the first week afterwards, but Baoudin told me later that, when they discovered that one of the girls' bodies was missing, they searched every house in Ekaterinberg. As you know, the Baoudin house http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (4 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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was very old and had a concealed cellar dug deeply below the house. That's where they hid Anastasia and me. The Red Guards knew and trusted Baoudin and did not search too thoroughly. Another soldier, Peter Tchaikovsky, came to take Anastasia away. She was seriously ill, suffering from amnesia caused by the blows to her head. I hear she's still alive, but her relatives will not identify her. Poor woman. "And me? Your aim was good. Thank you. It was a week before I regained full consciousness, during which time the White Army had arrived and they deported me on a hospital ship to America for expert medical attention. I had no will to live after ..." his voice trailed off, his eyes far away with an unwanted memory. Johan waited patiently. "Anyway," Alexei pulled himself up, leaned forward, elbows on knees, the tips of his steepled fingers on his chin. He was not looking at Johan; instead, he was looking into the distance of his memories. "they kept me alive and I underwent several operations to repair the damage. I was in hospital in Boston for six months. I had nightmares, dreadful nightmares, and I came near to suicide ... Anything, rather than live with the memories of that terrible night..." He breathed deeply, then continued. "They had good psychologists and doctors at Boston http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (5 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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General and they helped me get over the worst of it. It helped to know that we had saved Anastasia. But I could never tell them ... what I had seen. Have you?" he looked suddenly at Johan. His hands were visibly shaking. "No. No, these things are - best not spoken about." "Indeed." Alexei leaned back, in command of his emotions again. "A few years ago, before the Revolution, I had a business in Swiss chocolates. I had money in American banks and on my discharge from hospital I started to buy up some confectioners' shops, started a chain, selling Swiss chocolates. The rich Americans liked the product and ..." he waved his hand to take in the whole, rich mansion. "I've had this place since before the Revolution and always come here at some time during my business trips to Switzerland. And you?" "I - did not return to the Ipatiev House after I delivered you and Anastasia to Baoudin. I stayed nearby till the Whites arrived, and I heard they put Yurovsky and Medvedev to the firing squad." "So they're definitely dead?" asked Alexei, too quickly. "Yes, definitely. I saw their bodies." http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (6 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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"Hm. Pity. I dislike others - spoiling my fun." His voice was a whisper and Johan felt a chill run down his spine. "And afterwards?" urged the Count, speaking louder. "I came here, after the War was over. I have a small grocery business in Montmartre, nothing very much, but I earn a living." "Hm. I owe you - my life, for what it's worth. Is there anything I can do for you? Money? A shop in a better position?" "No, thank you, nothing. I have a wife and children and am quite contented. You would have done the same for me had our positions been reversed." He stood up suddenly. "Forgive me, Count, but I have an appointment I must keep." He bowed slightly. "Oh, yes, of course." The Count rose from his chair. "Thank you for letting me know the outcome of the affair - I often wondered." He extended his hand and Johan shook it, surprised at the strength of the Count's grip. "If there's anything you would like me to do for you, any problems you wish - eradicated - please do not hesitate..." the Count walked him to the front door. "Henri!" he called. "My chauffeur." he explained, as http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (7 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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Henri appeared. "Henri, please take Monsieur Markanova to his place of appointment - I have delayed his departure somewhat." The Count never met Johan Markanova again. ---oo0oo--The Count hurriedly returned to the drawing room where he had left his newspaper. He quickly opened it at the appropriate page, and read on 'Lady Brett Ashley, estranged wife of Lord John Ashley of Cambridge, England, is visiting friends in Paris. When the reporter asked Lady Brett how long she intended to stay in Paris, she replied: "I'm here to visit some American acquaintances that I met during my time as a nursing auxiliary in Italy. I don't know how long I'll be here." Lady Brett was seen in the company of Mr Jacob Barnes and Mr Robert Cohn.' Robert Cohn! He was the one who was living with Frances Clyne on the Boulevard St Michel. The Count had known Frances Clyne for some time. She was an expatriate American who collected and dealt with artists' works, and who loved knowing everybody who was 'worth knowing' in Paris. Perhaps it was time to pay a http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (8 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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courtesy call on Frances. He cut out the article and picture from the newspaper and placed it carefully in his wallet, then went out, bought another copy of the paper, cut only the picture out and inserted it in a frame which he placed at his bedside. Throughout the years he had accepted that he was attractive to women, and many had tried and failed to interest him. He always remained aloof, detached and uninterested in forming a permanent relationship. The only one he had ever wanted had been Lisa. "But now," he thought, as he sat that night on the edge of the bed, staring at Brett's bright-eyed picture, "Now may be the time for me to take a wife. I'm not getting any younger. She looks strong and healthy - she could give me a son, I would take her to America, give her everything she ever wanted ... Ah, God, I want her, want her, want her!" However, Lady Brett Ashley was not an easy person to meet. A true pleasure-seeker in post-War Europe, she had the money to go where, and with whom, the fancy took her. All the Count could do was to acquaint himself with those who knew her, and wait. When he was finally introduced to her, she would be his, of that he was quite sure. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (9 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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Over the next few weeks the Count became an habitué of Frances Clyne's house and social circle. Robert Cohn was an American Jew who had won boxing titles in Princeton and, before coming to Europe, had never been faced with anti-Semitism. The fact that many people hated Jews came as a considerable shock and disillusionment to him. He was about 10 years younger than Frances Clyne, whom he had originally met in California in the days just after his divorce. Frances had thought him to be up-andcoming in the literary world, and decided to join him on his ascent, taking him to Paris, where she had previously lived and where she hoped inspiration would be added to the creative processes of his mind. Frances Clyne enjoyed the Count's company. He had a fund of fascinating anecdotes about pre-Revolution Russia and about Tsar Nicholas, whom he appeared to idolise. Robert Cohn also discovered the violent face of anti-Semitism when the Count told him of the Russian pogroms under Tsar Alexander III, when many thousands of Russian Jews were persecuted, banished or killed. Robert Cohn was glad he was an American. The Count's obsession about meeting Brett increased. He learned that she was engaged to be married to Mike http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (10 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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Campbell, a drunken bankrupt whose only claim to fame was that he was a 'war hero', and that Jake Barnes, an American newspaper correspondent, loved her, too, but they were both just boys, children, thought the Count. He was sure she would prefer a mature man for a husband. However, he suspected, with a considerable pang of envy, that Brett and Jake Barnes were lovers. He met Jake during one of his visits with Frances and Robert and took the opportunity during the course of conversation to casually touch on the subject, but Jake, annoyed at the Count's presumption, merely gave him a cold stare, and the Count backed down, afraid he had gone too far. It was soon after then that Brett returned to Paris and started making the rounds of the nightclubs with Jake. Flushed and happy after dancing, they returned to their table in the fashionable basement nightspot. She noticed a man and a woman approaching their table. She already knew Frances Clyne, but her interest was caught by the tall, elegantly dressed, middle-aged man who was escorting her, and she felt a thrill as she realised that his eyes never left her face. "Another conquest!" she thought, conceitedly. He fascinated her. Frances introduced her escort as "Count Alexei Mippipopolous." He bent to kiss the back of her hand, his dark eyes looking searchingly http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (11 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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into hers. "Enchanté, Lady Brett." As she felt the warm touch of his hand and lips a shiver of excitement ran though her. She widened her eyes to match his gaze. Although in his middle years he was still handsome and obviously very rich. She found his strong masculinity and deep voice magnetically attractive. There was something behind his eyes, something unspoken and unspeakable inside him, that intrigued her. She decided she wanted to know him better. When, during the course of conversation at table, and seeking to impress her, he revealed that he had been very close to Tsar Nicholas and had helped him to stay in power by eliminating the opposition, she realised that she was speaking to a professional assassin. He neither liked her referring to the Tsar as 'Nicky Romanov', nor her calling him an assassin, but he remained polite, mildly correcting her indiscretions. Shocked and fascinated at the same time, she felt again the thrill of danger and the excitement of knowing a man who, by his own admission, was a killer. He assured her that he would have to be seriously provoked before he would kill again. "That " he assured her with a quiet laugh, "rarely happens." http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (12 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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Jake had taken an instinctive dislike to the Count and disapproved of Brett associating with him. He left the table to go home and tried to persuade Brett to come with him, but the Count attracted her and she refused to leave with Jake. When Jake had gone, she allowed the Count to dance with her. He held her close, and all the while his strange, dark eyes drank in her beauty. Before they parted that night he requested the pleasure of her company the following evening and she accepted. He met her at Jake 's flat, took her out to wine and dine her, then, at her suggestion, returned to Jake's flat. Jake was out at work but, when he returned to find her and the Count waiting, she asked the Count go to out and get some good champagne in order that she could talk to Jake alone. While he was gone, Jake warned her that the Count's intentions towards her were far more serious and long-term than she realised, but she chose to treat the matter in an off-hand way. The Count returned, his chauffeur carrying a bucket containing a bottle of vintage Mumm's champagne, cooled in a bucket of ice. When she had drunk some of the Count's champagne, she asked him how many people he had killed for Tsar Nicholas and was amazed when, in his quiet voice, he informed her that he had killed "About http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (13 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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38 men, and half as many women." It had never occurred to her that he would kill women. Half to frighten her, half to impress her, he told her "Women wriggle about more than men. You have to stop the screaming. To stop women screaming takes time. Men try not to scream saves time." She did not like the flat, dispassionate way he spoke, or the look in his eyes, but still the feeling of danger in associating with this man thrilled and intrigued her. Jake, in front of the Count, tried to persuade Brett not to go out with the Count, but she would not listen. Despite the late hour, she wheedled both men to take her to a nightclub to dance the night away. Jake was unwilling to be in the company of the Count, who had declared himself a rival, but Brett won him round with a winsome "Please, Jake, I need this night." The Count felt his heart beat faster in anticipation of dancing again with this beautiful, spoilt woman. He would hold her in his arms and they would move in harmony across the dance floor. And later ... The Count's chauffeur drove them to 'Le Boeuf sur le Tôit', one of the most expensive nightclubs in Paris. The bright, smoke-filled basement room was filled, even at http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (14 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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that late hour, with music and people. Some were dancing, others content just to watch, continually replenishing their drinks. Brett was no exception. She drank and danced continuously with any man who would ask her. The Count bided his time and waited for her to flop down at their table for another glass of champagne, then, taking her hand and kissing it, he asked "May I have the pleasure of the next dance?" "But of course, dear Count!" When the strains of "Whispering" began they rose, and, holding her not too closely, he danced the quickstep with her in the restricted dancing space. He was surprised that Jake had not yet asked her to dance, but she assured him that he was the best dancer there. Four men of her acquaintance sat at a nearby table, watching her dance. The band finished playing "Whispering" and she turned and walked towards their table, giving the Count her glass of champagne and a quick kiss on his cheek. More than a little drunk, she stepped up onto the men's hastily cleared table and started to dance the Charleston to the strains of "Toot, Toot, Tootsie", her red flapper- girl dress showing her admirers round the table a provocative amount of leg. The Count sat with Jake, admiring her verve and vivacity. He remarked to Jake that Jake had lost her to him and, http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (15 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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deciding to claim his prize, he rose from the table and walked towards the still-dancing Brett. In his mind the Count considered that she had gone far enough in making an exhibition of herself. After all, this was the girl he was going to marry. It was not seemly for her to be out so late, showing her body in such a manner. Tonight, that would be for him alone to enjoy. He had waited long enough. He would take her home and have her, tonight. When he had loved her once, she would be his forever. Jake, sitting resignedly beside the Count, did not try to stop him when he went to bring her down, because he knew quite well what was going to happen; knew quite well that Brett was a free spirit and would never belong to anyone, ever - but the Count would have to find that out for himself. Count Alexei Mippipopolous walked confidently towards the dancing woman and grasped her wrists to stop her dancing. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she asked angrily. "Escorting you home." "You what?" she asked incredulously. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (16 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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"Escorting you home - my home." But Brett did not want to leave - she was having too much fun. She leaned down until her face was on a level with his. "Have you gone bonkers? Listen to me, little Count you're beginning to bore the hell out of me. If you want to go home you can crawl right out, that way." she continued, pointing towards the exit. "And don't forget to split the bill with Jake. And if it's company you want to go home with, there's company here by the crate." At first he thought she was joking. "I don't want crates - I want you." "Then stand in line!" she replied haughtily. "I believe you might get to me when you're too old to even remember you're alive! You want me! ME!" She laughed derisively. His voice was deep and there was cold, controlled anger in his face as realisation crept in. "Only - you." "Do you hear?" she turned to address the men round her table. "This silly relic says he wants only me!" Then, returning her total attention to the stunned Count, she continued her tirade. "When in God's name did you ever think I would take you seriously? Paris is inundated with http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (17 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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you chaps. You strut and posture. You make up tales of murder, revenge and Royal intrigue. You create your own titles and your own legends. There are little toy titles like yours all over Paris, and tall tales to go with them. So go home, Count! Go home, Count, and get some sleep. You need sleep, Count. You're teetering on the border of lechery. And remember, Count, lechery is the prologue to growing old." Again she addressed the men round the table. "Gerald - Lett - give the Count some money to go home." Cold as ice now, he replied "I believe I can manage transportation, Lady Brett." He had never been so deeply insulted in all his life. The tirade of invective and anger that Lady Ashley had aimed at him, in public, had been deeply humiliating but he had stood and taken it, letting her have her say. She had been signing her death warrant with every word she spoke. With a very straight back and head held high, he maintained his dignity and withdrew from her presence. Then, with a final show of scorn, she shouted after him "And never tell a Lady what to do - ever!" He turned to look at the Lady in red one last time, the image burning like a brand in his brain. "A thousand http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (18 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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apologies." She continued dancing her wild Charleston long before he collected his top hat, coat and silvertopped cane and walked from the nightclub, leaving Jake to escort his 'Lady' home. ---oo0oo--He summoned Henri, his chauffeur, and sat, patiently waiting, smoking a cigarette, in his limousine, waiting and watching for Lady Brett's departure. If she left alone, the sword concealed in his walking cane would do its work tonight... He waited till dawn's early light streaked the Parisian skyline, then a group of four men, the same four men on whose table she had danced, emerged, with Brett in their centre. Jake was not amongst them. They started singing a bawdy French song. They continued their carousal down the street, unaware of the patient, frustrated, and very angry, watcher. The Count now knew that she could never be his. But if she could not be his, then she would be no-one's. She had stabbed him to the heart. She had left him no alternative but for him to do the same to her ... "Shall I follow them, Monsieur le Comte? enquired Henri, breaking into his reverie.

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"No. We'll go home for now, Henri. And a thousand thanks for a very loyal evening. Not to worry, Henri - I'll catch her yet." The white limousine purred into the Parisian dawn. ---oo0oo--The Count's anger burned to the very depths of his soul when he returned home that morning. Before retiring he took her picture from the frame by his bedside and, with the knife he had not used for years, he systematically ripped her picture into shreds. The picture and article in his wallet suffered a similar fate. He could not sleep, the words of venom and hate that she had spoken kept whirling around in his mind. "Little Count"; "toy titles"; "tall tales of murder"; "you're teetering on the border of lechery, and lechery is the prologue to growing old". Old. Hah! He would ensure that Brett never grew old. She was not worthy of life. She was a torturer, a seductress, he merely the victim of her charms. And it wasn't just him that she had tortured - she tortured all the men in her life - Jake, Mike, Robert - all had suffered under her uncaring cruelty. They all wanted her, longed for her, and she taunted and flaunted herself amongst them, creating rivalry between them. Of them all, http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (20 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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he had the most to offer her. Wealth, another title, better than the one she had had before, travel, anything she had wanted would have been hers if only she had let him love her. But that was not to be. Anyone who could think like that, and voice these opinions in public, was no lady. She didn't deserve a title - she was just a common slut, nothing more. Another dream of love had been shattered and the shards were tearing him apart. He turned his face into the pillow, but was unable to smother the groan of agony that only a spurned lover's total rejection can know. ---oo0oo--When Jean, the Count's butler, tactfully knocked his bedroom door to awake his master late the next morning, he brought in a coffee and the morning newspaper. "Monsieur le Comte, may I with respect remind you that you must make your decision very soon when you wish to return to America? There is a cable which has arrived from Boston that is marked 'Urgent'." "Hm. Thank you very much, Jean, but I think it will now be necessary for me to stay a little longer in Europe." The butler bowed and left his master alone. The cable was http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (21 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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from his accountant, informing him of some suspected interference by a large organisation in the prompt delivery of their merchandise to distributors. The Count, reading between the lines, suspected with a qualm of fear that his accountant was referring to the Mafia. That was indeed bad news and demanded his immediate attention, but there was something more pressing to attend to here, before he sailed again for the States ... He prepared a reply. "Will return within three weeks." The Mafia could wait until then. He summoned his butler and gave him the note to send, then he opened the morning paper and, turning to the society column again, was jolted by a paragraph which read: 'Departed from Paris this morning was Lady Brett Ashley. Before returning to Britain she intends to "tour the South of France" she said.' Hm. South of France. Could be anywhere. Biarritz, Nice, Cannes. Frances Clyne could not help him. She had departed for England two days previously, and he baulked at contacting Jake Barnes again after last night. He would find her, though. He had contacts all over France. She would not be difficult to trace. He would wait, take his time, choose the time and place to lure her away to somewhere quiet, then kill her. Yes. That would be the http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter14.htm (22 of 23) [4/6/2002 1:40:16 AM]

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best way to do it. ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS GO TO CHAPTER 15

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CHAPTER 15 SUMMER 1923 PAMPLONA

Meanwhile, a friend of Jake Barnes, called Bill Gorton, a fellow-writer, arrived on holiday. They arranged to go on a fishing trip to Burguete in the Spanish Pyrenees, leaving Paris on the 25th of June. Jake received a note from Robert Cohn, who was relaxing in Hendaye, near San Sebastian. Jake let Robert know that they were travelling down, and Robert met them off the train at Bayonne Station. Brett and Mike Campbell returned to San Sebastian and arranged to go to Pamplona in the north of Spain to see the Fiesta of San Fermin, which was due to start on Sunday 6th July. Jake, Bill and Robert drove a hired car to Pamplona. Following a few miles behind them, casually driving a large white car, was a tall, dark man in a white linen suit. The Count was not to be denied his quarry. Taking a room in a different hotel from the one they were using, he watched from a distance as Jake and Bill went up to Burguete for five days while Robert stayed in Pamplona, eagerly awaiting Brett's arrival. The Hotel Montoya was the most popular hotel in Pamplona and was used by all http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter15.htm (1 of 13) [4/6/2002 1:40:23 AM]

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the matadors who came to take part in the bullfights of the fiesta. The Count watched, his pulse beating faster in anticipation, as Brett arrived by bus with Mike Campbell. They were met by Robert Cohn and, on their return from Burguete, by Jake and Bill, tanned and happy from five days' successful trout fishing. He would await his opportunity, catch Brett on her own. He attached his sheathed knife to his belt. It was good to feel it there again. The chance would come, all he had to do was bide his time. Just wait ... Mike, continually drunk on cheap Spanish wine, became aggressive towards Robert Cohn's presence. He did not like Robert hanging around Brett, tagging along wherever she went like an eager puppy dog. When the fiesta started, the Count watched Brett dancing with the Basque dancers, one of their berets tipped jauntily on her head, a wine-bag, from which she constantly took sips, in her hand. She danced with gay abandon, heedless that death stalked nearby behind a fiesta mask. The music and the dance whirled past the tall, silent man and went on its way. Early the next morning the bulls were run from their enclosure on the outskirts of the town down a prepared http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter15.htm (2 of 13) [4/6/2002 1:40:23 AM]

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route to the bullring, there to be penned before they were put into the ring to fight. There were many tourists of varying nationalities in town to experience the fiesta, so the Count's presence went unnoticed - he was just one of many foreigners come to watch the spectacle. His patience was tested that day, as there were always at least two of the men accompanying Brett. He went to the bullfight, sitting in a shaded seat but not watching the ring. His eyes never left Brett Ashley, whose face was bright with excitement as she watched a handsome young matador, Pedro Romero, fight. Pedro Romero was 19 years of age, and this was only his third bullfight, but already he showed the promise of being a star performer. Romero fought again the second day, and this time Brett, Mike and Jake sat down near the barriers at the ringside while Robert and Bill sat farther back. Brett had never seen such a handsome young man and she knew that she wanted him. In the hotel's bar after the fight, Pedro Romero sat with a critic while Jake sat at the next table. Montoya, the owner of the hotel, had previously introduced Jake and Bill to the young bullfighter as he dressed to prepare for his first fight. Romero was one of the fighters who had a room in Hotel Montoya for the duration of the fiesta. Jake, an http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter15.htm (3 of 13) [4/6/2002 1:40:23 AM]

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'aficionado' of bullfighting, had been to the Pamplona fiesta before, so he was able to talk knowledgeably to the young bullfighter when he invited Jake to join them at their table. Soon afterwards Brett and Mike came into the cafe and Jake introduced Brett to Romero. Her eyes widened as she looked at the young man, still resplendent in his tight-fitting matador's costume. For a breath of air, Jake walked Brett along the town's ancient fortifications, and it was then that she confessed that she was in love with Pedro Romero. Jake advised her against doing anything about it, but Brett had already made up her mind. They returned to the hotel bar. Pedro Romero was still there. He stood and politely invited his foreign friends to sit with him. Under hooded lids, Brett allowed her eyes to inspect what was revealed by his tight trousers. It made her body throb with desire. She must have him - tonight! Brett turned to her new love. Taking the young man's arm, she led him towards her room. "You must teach me Spanish." she said. Robert came into the bar, looking for Brett. He refused to believe that she had gone off with the matador. Bill, who had taken too much to drink, started to taunt Robert about his attachment to Brett, making it quite clear that he was not welcome in the group, that he was an outsider. He http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter15.htm (4 of 13) [4/6/2002 1:40:23 AM]

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foolishly challenged Robert to fight. Robert, his tolerance stretched beyond endurance, took a swing at Bill, knocking him to the ground. Jake was also involved and took a couple of punches before he defused the situation by asking Robert to leave and leading the rest of the group outside to see the firework display. Robert Cohn disappeared amongst the crowd. Robert wandered the darkened streets, distraught at his rejection by the group. He was bewildered by Brett's attitude, because she had been in his bed in Paris and San Sebastian. He was so sure that she loved him, but now ... He went into a bar and sat alone, trying to get drunk. The Count had thought long and hard about alternative ways of disposing of Brett. What if, he thought, he could get someone else to do it for him? Someone else with a grudge, who had also been humiliated by her, who was the outsider of the group. Robert Cohn. He watched as Robert walked aimlessly and unseeingly amidst the festivities. When he settled in the small bar, the Count made his move. He went in and quietly sat at Robert's table. Robert raised his eyes, then lowered them again. The Count laughed softly. "No reaction, Robert? No surprise at my being here?" http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter15.htm (5 of 13) [4/6/2002 1:40:23 AM]

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"The world's full of coincidences." he replied flatly. "The world is a coincidence, Robert. The Lady Brett. You do know where she is?" "I think so." he evaded. "I know so. Ergo, she must be retrieved - retrieved and punished - into Eternity." The Count's voice was an icy whisper, his mind's eye seeing her lying dead beneath him. Misunderstanding, Robert said "The bullfighter." "The Lady Brett, Robert. The bullfighter is a child - he is such a child he actually cries when he kills. The Lady Brett, Robert -she does not cry, but she does kill. She kills all of us. The Lady Brett, Robert. You have been even more humiliated than any of us." Robert's befuddled mind still did not catch on to the germ the Count was trying to implant into his brain. The Count tried again. "The Lady Brett, Robert." Slowly, as though in a dream, Robert rose from the table and left the bar. The Count followed him at a distance, hiding behind his http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter15.htm (6 of 13) [4/6/2002 1:40:23 AM]

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fiesta mask whenever revellers came near. He waited in the shadows as Robert entered the hotel, then the room where Brett and Romero were still making love. Romero answered Robert's knock, allowed him in while Brett made herself respectable by putting on a dressing gown. She was furious at his unwarranted intrusion. When he reminded her that they had been to bed together in Paris and San Sebastian, she called him a "Gibbering twit" and told him to leave. Pedro Romero then stepped in, attempting to usher him out the door. "You will leave." It was then that Robert hit him - hit him again and again till the blood was pouring down his handsome face while Brett screamed for him to stop it, but, unleashing all his frustration and unrequieted love, Robert could not stop himself until the matador lay unconscious on the bed. The Count was still waiting and watching as Robert emerged, knuckles bleeding, a glassy look in his eyes, unseeing and unhearing the fiesta bursting around him. The Count emerged from the shadows, walked to the room and knocked on the door. Brett, sure that it was Robert returning for more, gasped in surprise when she saw Count Alexei Mippipopolous standing there. He walked into the room, and looked around, Brett too surprised to stop him. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter15.htm (7 of 13) [4/6/2002 1:40:23 AM]

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"I must admit, Lady Brett, your taste in people and places is at least original. Disappointing, but original." His eyes went to the bed, where Pedro Romero lay deeply unconscious, and, in a rare flash of humour, he commented "You do exhaust men, Brett!" Brett bustled to the bedside, cradling the injured man. "He's almost dead. Robert Cohn almost killed him!" "I think my only weakness is optimism." continued the Count. "Robert attacked the wrong person." Brett looked searchingly at him, a little pang of fear rippling through her. "You do confuse my colleagues." She moved away from Romero' s side. "Your colleagues?" "Yes. Robert, Jake Barnes, Mike Campbell - I could go on ..." "Yes, you could - " she interrupted. "But these young men have found a prosecutor for their tormentor." "You?" "Only - me. You see, dear Lady Brett, none of these men, http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter15.htm (8 of 13) [4/6/2002 1:40:23 AM]

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or those to follow, have the stomach ... " "You silly man." she again interrupted. "These men Robert, Jake, Mike, Romero, are men of courage, real courage." The Count laid down the mask on a settee, unbuttoned his jacket and hung it neatly on a hatstand while he spoke. "We are not talking of courage. They all have that. But they have not murdered a volume of men. Only I have that equipment. You have not only humiliated me. You have humiliated many young men, and that is not acceptable." The tone of his conversation was now frightening her, and she changed her tactics. Speaking in a 'little girl' voice she said "You said you were no longer an assassin!" He stood, towering over her, one hand on his hip, the other on the hatstand. He spoke quickly and angrily now. "I said I would have to be provoked, very provoked." "I have done nothing." She suddenly looked small and totally alone. "I live my life without deceit." "I would agree with that. But a life without deceit can be a disruptive life. You call me a toy count full of tall tales http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter15.htm (9 of 13) [4/6/2002 1:40:23 AM]

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and made-up legends. I'm afraid not, Lady Brett. I am what I said I am. You are the one who lives with fantasy, so much so you cannot recognise the real ... " "This is real." she interrupted for the sake of interrupting, to stop the angry flow of words from this man who was now a frightening, threatening stranger. "There is nothing more real than dying." His words alarmed her and she changed tactics again, reverting to anger and bluster. "How dare you! You don't know me well enough to kill me! Really, Count, you are simply going to have to learn some manners. Kill me, indeed! Why, it's simply the most vulgar thing I have ever heard of!" She brushed past him, heading towards the door to open it and usher him out, but he caught her arm, spun her round, both hands holding her above the elbows. "You are incredible! There's not a man among us that doesn't want to love you ..." This was to be her last chance at life, but she again put him down by saying "Please leave." Her hands were warm on his forearms. "When we all get back to Paris I may see you - no promises granted, but I may allow you to make amends and to learn some http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter15.htm (10 of 13) [4/6/2002 1:40:23 AM]

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grace." It was time now to really frighten her, before he killed her. His voice was gentle, reasoning, but his words were a presage to murder. "Paris is closed for you, Brett. All the cities are off limits for you - all the lights are shut off. There is nothing for you but darkness." His words had the desired effect. She backed away from him, terror in her eyes, her words tumbling out "I can't sleep in the dark - I will not ..." The knife suddenly appeared in his right hand, his left hand covering her mouth to stop the inevitable scream she emitted. He pushed her back to lie flat on the table and he leaned over her, aiming his knife at her heart while he said, "I told you women scream - you see how common you really are ... Ah!" So intent on the terrorising and ultimate killing of Lady Brett had he been that he had not heard the slight movement behind him as Pedro Romero regained consciousness. Seeing that Brett's life was in danger, he reached for the matador's sword he had previously placed by the bedside and swiftly moved up behind the Count. For an instant he poised, cobra-like, pointing the sword at the Count's unprotected back before plunging the blade with all his strength right through the Count's body. http://lindacwood.mybravenet.com/Tsar'sAssassin/chapter15.htm (11 of 13) [4/6/2002 1:40:23 AM]

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The Count froze, dropping the knife from unfeeling fingers to clutch the sword where it exited his chest, looking down at it in astonishment. He felt a sudden explosion of pain as severed heart and arteries burst inside him. Gasping, he fell to his knees, then lay back, his left arm supporting him while his right hand grasped the protruding blade. He looked up for the last time at the face he had loved all his life. Lisa? Or was it Brett? She was looking at him with shock and revulsion, but her face was hazy to his dying eyes. The matador was there, too. *Oh, the matador ... Killed - by a child ... * The pain became unbearable and he groaned once in outraged surprise then slowly, oh, so slowly, both hands again holding the protruding shaft, he fell on his side, curled up in agony. *My eyes are closed but I can see... a host of people waiting for me ... Noooooo... * Count Alexei Mippipopolous joined all those he had sent to Eternity. ---oo0oo--RETURN TO CONTENTS

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THE END

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