Tempting Fate (76 page)

“Yes, Mr. Rozoh. I’m aware of that.” She had seen his sort before; solid, reasonable, dependable men who had followed Leonid and been cut to pieces by insurgents. Oh, dear, she thought, this will never do. I will spend the afternoon thinking of Russia, and I must put it behind me, for my Russia is gone. Her hands were shaking. “Please, go on. I must know what had happened.”

“Of course,” Nikolai said miserably. “Have you ever seen Munich?”

“No.” She plucked at the little frill of lace on her cuff.

“It is like most cities: there is an inner, old city, and then there are rings around it, and extensions. The Frauenkirche is pretty much the heart of the old city. It dates from the Fifteenth Century, the Count told me. Many of the streets are narrow and mean and the buildings are packed tightly together. There have been plans to tear them all down and start afresh, but nothing has been done. It is near there that the booksellers draw up their stalls. You have seen the sort in Petrograd, Madame, the wagons fitted with shelves so that the books may be displayed. Laisha liked these particularly, and so we went looking for them. We had done this before, several times. Of late, Laisha preferred to do her shopping on her own, rather than have me tag along. So I parked the automobile and read the newspaper. My German is not good, and I have made a point of reading the newspaper to improve it.” He shifted his weight on the sofa. “Pardon, Madame. I … cannot remain still all the time or—”

“Do as you must, Mr. Rozoh. Would you like anything? I have both cognac and aspirin, and you are welcome to either or both.” She rose, noticing the line of sweat on his upper lip. “Are you in pain?”

“A little,” he admitted as the color drained from his face.

“Excuse me a moment, Mr. Rozoh,” she said, and went down the hall toward the kitchen.

“Is everything all right?” Phillippe asked as Irina passed his door.

“I don’t know. He has not yet told me everything. But he is hurt, poor man. I was going to get him a bit of cognac and an aspirin or two.”

“Both are in the kitchen,” Phillippe reminded her. He had come to the door, and now he reached out and touched her hair. “Do not let him distress you, or take advantage of your kindness.”

“Of course not, but as he comes from Comte Ragoczy, I must hear him out, Phillippe.”

“Yes,” Phillippe agreed, but with the shadow of a frown between his brows. “A strange man, Comte Ragoczy.”

“He is,” she said as she went on into the kitchen, opening the cabinet over the sink as she listened to Phillippe.

“Is he a good man? A nice man?” Phillippe had followed her into the kitchen, and he busied himself with taking the cognac from the shelf and pouring a generous amount into a wineglass.

“Comte Ragoczy? A good man?” She had lifted down the aspirin bottle and paused in the act of taking a few of the white tablets from it. “I don’t know that I would call him good, or nice. But, oh, Phillippe, he is so very, very
kind.
” She flushed at her own outburst, and covered her confusion by pouring three tablets onto her palm.

Phillippe had recorked the cognac and had a second or two to arrange his features into a smile. “Kindness is a rare quality,” he said as he turned to Irina, holding out the glass to her. “It is much rarer than goodness and niceness, certainly.”

Irina took the glass and her eyes met Phillippe’s. “It is not just for Comte Ragoczy that I want to speak to this man. He is Russian, Phillippe.”

“Yes, my love, I realized that,” he said with some amusement. “There. Go tend to him and find out what it is that distresses him so much. Otherwise we will have no peace today.”

She was still as he leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. “Thank you, Phillippe,” she whispered, and neither of them thought it was for the kiss.

Nikolai had pushed one of the sofa cushions under his knees and was struggling to brace himself against the arm of it when Irina returned. He looked up sheepishly. “I hope you will not object, Madame Ohchenov. If I can ease the strain…”

“Do as you think wisest,” she said at once, holding out the glass and the aspirin tablets.

“Spasibah,” he said as he took the glass and drank. When the glass was half-empty, he took the aspirin. “I am grateful, Madame Ohchenov,” he went on when the cognac was gone. “I will be better now.”

“I hope so, Mr. Rozoh,” she said, sitting down in one of the chairs instead of on the ottoman.

“I’ve been thinking about it all again,” he admitted. The glass dangled by its stem from his fingers. “I try to accept what happened, but I can’t, any more than the Count can.”

“But what
did
happen, Mr. Rozoh?” Irina demanded, her patience almost deserting her now that she had come back to her guest.

“A terrible thing, Madame.” His voice darkened as he spoke. “I told you that we went down to the bookstalls in the old part of Munich, Laisha and I, didn’t I? And that I parked the Isotta-Fraschini near the stalls?”

“And read the paper to improve your German,” Irina supplied for him.

“Good. That part of the city is always crowded, with all sorts on the street. Every now and then, I would look up, just to be certain that all was well with Laisha. She was such a pretty girl, with her dark-blonde hair and deep brown eyes.”

There was the past tense again. Irina’s throat grew tight as she listened.

“She was in a pretty dress, too, a kind of pinky-gold color, with a silk scarf around her neck, the same color.” His voice drifted off, and then, without prompting, he resumed his story. “I was not paying a great deal of attention. I couldn’t, because she resented it when I did. I saw her go to the last but one of the bookstalls and look over a few of the volumes in that serious way of hers. I saw her take one of the books down and read a few pages. When I looked up again—it wasn’t more than five minutes later, truly—there were a great many men in the street, Nazis in their brown shirts with the swastika armband. Then I heard the sound of breaking glass, where one of them had hurled something through a shop window. The others with him cheered him on, and a few of them kicked what was left of the glass out of the window. This gave the rest of them courage, and they began to smash windows all along the street. I looked to find Laisha and could not see her, and so I started the automobile and determined to drive down the street and take her up with me so that we could get away swiftly. Riots … you’ve seen them, Madame, and you know how quickly the violence spreads.”

Irina nodded. “Yes, I have seen riots before.”

“Then you share my fear of them.” There was not the least doubt in his statement. “And this was a riot beginning, a large one, with well-organized men. In that quarter of the city there were many of the Nazis and the Spartacists, who regularly got into brawls, and there were also businesses owned by Jews. The Nazis are against the Jews in all things, for they have said that the German loss of power and money is due entirely to Jews. They make a point of beating up Jews and wrecking their shops.”

“Jews are not well-loved in Russia, either,” Irina reminded him sadly.

“No, but it is not like this.” He hesitated, swallowing hard. “I should not have started the automobile. I think that was my greatest tactical mistake. Had I gone on foot, there is a chance I might have reached her, or found her, at least. As it was, there I was in a poor street in an Isotta-Fraschini Tipo 8A; not the sort of transportation seen very often in that area. As the automobile started to move, a few of the brownshirts, the SA men, saw it, and one of their leaders shouted that it must be stopped. More than a dozen men ran at me. I should have driven through them, but I didn’t. I didn’t think they would…” He lifted his hands to show his helplessness, and the wineglass dropped to the floor, shattering. “Oh, God,” he burst out. “I am sorry, Madame Ohchenov. I am a clumsy oaf!” He tried to get up, but Irina stopped him.

“I will tend to it later. Tell me the rest of it now.” Her self-possession was a facade, but a successful one, and communicated itself to Nikolai.

“But the glass…” He protested.

“It will be there when you are done. Go on.” She made herself lean back in her chair and wait for him to continue.

“All right. Yes.” He wiped his hand over his sweating upper lip. “The men that followed me, they climbed all over the automobile, and one of them grabbed my arms while another covered my eyes with his hands. I had tried to keep my hands on the steering wheel, but I could not. They dragged me out of the driver’s seat and … beat me. When I had fallen, one of them stood on my shoulders so that his comrades could kick my ribs. The others turned the automobile on its side and threw loose cobblestones at it. The windscreen was in pieces. I tried to get to it. I suppose I wanted to stop them. I may have thought I could still drive away. I was not thinking at all, Madame. Not at all.” He looked up suddenly, and saw Phillippe in the doorway.

“Is there trouble?” Phillippe asked Irina.

She was startled to hear him: Nikolai had claimed her attention so completely that she had not heard him come into the room. “Ah, ah, no. That is, there
is
trouble, but nothing to concern you, my dearest. Monsieur Rozoh’s story is … appalling. Please, let him continue.”

“What happened to the glass?” Phillippe gave a pointed look to the broken bits.

“He dropped it,” Irina explained with some asperity. “Phillippe,
please.
I would not ask this of you if it were not important.”

He stood a little straighter. “Very well. Call me if you require my assistance,” he said, and with a curt nod to Nikolai, he left the room.

“I do not mean to anger him,” Nikolai said in a low voice.

“He is not really angry; he is worried. There have been men of the OGPU asking questions about Russians living in Paris, and he is afraid I will be one of those to enter the House of Special Destinations. He regards all Russians with suspicion because of this.” She hated taking the time to clarify this, but feared that Nikolai would not tell her all that she must hear. “Finish your story, Mr. Rozoh.”

But Nikolai stared at her. “The OGPU is in Paris? They are
allowed
to be here?”

Irina sighed. “Not openly, no, but they are here nonetheless, and as long as those they deal with are Russians, the French are in no hurry to interfere.” She gestured in the direction of the door. “One of the reasons Phillippe is urging me to marry him is that there can be no attempt to remove me to Russia, for as the wife of a Frenchman, I would have protections that I lack now.”

“Why do you hesitate?” Nikolai asked, then held up his hand. “I will ask you later. You wish to know the rest. And it is so difficult to tell you.”

“Thank you,” Irina murmured.

“I told you that I crawled toward the automobile, didn’t I? And that it was lying on its side?” He nodded with her. “Yes. There was chaos all around me. There were men running and fighting, and there was such noise, though some of it was only the roaring in my ears from what had been done. I got as far as the automobile when I must have fainted. When I opened my eyes, the Count was bending over me, asking me where Laisha was. I tried to tell him, or show him, but I doubt I said much that made sense. My mind was fogged, and I must have been more … It was the oddest thing. I thought that the Count put me under the automobile, and then pulled it over on top of me. Nothing else saved me, and the Isotta-Fraschini was indeed over me when the police found me, but … It was a large automobile, and quite heavy. One man could not turn it over. It’s impossible.” He frowned deeply. “I wish I knew what
did
happen.”

“And Laisha?” Irina prodded him.

“The Count went to find her. But they killed her, just the same. I saw him with her body in his arms. He would not let them take her from him. He kept saying, ‘She’s my child, my child,’ and holding her.”

“Oh!” Irina exclaimed, feeling her grief in sympathy with his. “Oh, the poor man.”

“I didn’t see much more of it. I heard later from Roger that he carried her all the way back to Schloss Saint-Germain, on foot. How could he? He must have been given a ride by someone, but still…” He drew a deep breath. “I saw him two days later. I was in the hospital still, because of the broken ribs and concussion. The Count was arranging to have me sent back to his Schloss as soon as the physicians were willing to let me go. He came to my ward and spoke with me. He told me that he did not hold me in any way responsible, and wanted to assure me that he would not dismiss me because of the incident. His face … his face was terrible. His eyes were like hot iron. He was so … distant.” He stopped, thinking back to that day, and once again knew that touch of absolute fear that had run through him then. “He said he would find the men who killed her and would kill them. It was as if he were telling me what time he would want the automobile to be ready. He was … I don’t know.” His voice had become very quiet, and when he looked at Irina, he saw she had caught her lower lip between her teeth. “What is it?”

She turned away from him. “I was thinking that he will do what he has promised. Those men, whoever they are, are … doomed.” She tried to laugh, to end the icy desolation of spirits that had come over her, but the sound was more of a sob, and she choked it back. So Laisha was dead, she thought, and crossed herself, not noticing that Nikolai had done the same. “The Count told me about her, when I saw him. Had she been his own flesh and … blood, he could not have loved her more.”

Nikolai pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, and said in a thickened tone, “I don’t … I can’t…” He brought up his head. “I was told it was a very small funeral, and that he sat through it without shedding one tear.”

“Then his heart must be weeping within him,” Irina said quietly.

“Roger said … he has been with the Count for a very long time. I understand, and he said that he had never seen him so overset. He kept talking about China, saying that had not been as bad as now.”

“What did he mean, did he tell you?” Irina was puzzled.

“He said that a warlord who was a friend of the Count’s had been killed in a similar way, but would not elaborate. With an effort he got to his feet and reached for his cane. “Count Ragoczy said that I was to wait for him here, that he would come to Paris eventually, and that until then, he wanted to be sure that I was safe. He told me to come to you, because you would be willing to teach me French.…” He looked down at her. “It is not necessary, Madame Ohchenov. You are a Duchess and I am a soldier.”