The Romanov Legacy (37 page)

“But there is no dirty laundry!  I made it all up!”

“Davies and Starinov don’t know that,” Beth said, eyes
clouding over.  “What if Davies gets to Starinov and Starinov offers him
some sort of deal?  Mary’s letter for our lives?  We’ll be dead
before anyone even finds out there is no letter.”

He felt Natalie’s gaze on him, her pale eyes wide with
renewed fear.  “Can we get out of here?”

Constantine ran the odds:  twelve armed men and a
secure perimeter against four unarmed people, two of them women.  He caught
Viktor’s eye and saw the same calculation in his dispirited gaze. 
“Probably not.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing!” Natalie wailed.

He felt his heart clench within his chest.  At least
she had made an attempt to save them; no one else had done any better. 
“You did,” he reassured her.  “If Davies refused to pick up Starinov, we
were dead anyway.  You bought us some time.”

“Time to think about how we’re going to die,” Viktor
mumbled.

Suddenly, Constantine heard the hiccup of rubber boot soles
scuffing on slick marble.  He snapped and pointed at the double ballroom
doors.  They heard the harsh crackle of a comlink turned up too loud and a
few metallic clicks as the guards disengaged their safeties.

“Time’s up,” Beth said. 

He scanned the room, looking for something to use as a
distraction, but an empty ballroom wasn’t the best place to mount a last
stand.  Then his eyes landed on one of the dead guards.  He glanced
at the doors—they opened inward.  “Komsomolskoye,” he said to Viktor. 

During one of their early Stealth missions, a group of
Chechen rebels had barricaded themselves inside a house, using a stack of their
own dead and wounded to hold the doors shut.  As the Russians worked to
push through the blocked door, the rebels picked them off one by one, crouched
behind the corpses of their comrades. 

Viktor’s head snapped up.  “Do you think it can work?”

“We retreated, didn’t we?”  He sprinted across the room
to the farthest body and dragged it by its feet until it lay a foot in front of
the double doors. Viktor immediately did the same with the second body. 
It wasn’t much, but the bodies would at least keep the doors from swinging wide
open right away.  “Viktor, you take the door on the left.  I’ll cover
the one on the right.  Natalie, Beth—get behind the bar and stay
there.”   

Natalie nodded and pulled Beth around the far side of the
bar, out of his line of sight.  He took up his position at the right-hand
door and Viktor did the same on the opposite side.  “Just like old times,”
Viktor said. 

“Not quite,” he replied.  “Now I know you’re a
traitor.”

Suddenly, a burst of fire sprayed the flimsy locks and a
booted foot kicked in one of the doors.  It slammed into the pile of
bodies and didn’t move very far.  He could hear the commander on the other
side, ordering the first two men through.  They turned sideways to slink
through the opening.

“Now!” Constantine yelled.  He and Viktor pounced,
yanking the guards inside and kicking the double doors shut behind them. 
They wrenched the guns from the men’s hands and fired.  Two more bodies
slumped to the floor. 

He could hear the consternation in the hall outside. 
The other guards hadn’t expected resistance, but they would only be stunned for
a moment.  He dropped to his knees and shoved the collection of four
bodies closer against the door.

“That won’t hold for more than a few seconds,” Viktor said.

“It doesn’t have to.  If that door starts to move, we
fire.  They’ll back off.”  He retrieved the dead guard’s PP90 and
scuttled around the bar to the women, huddled in each other’s arms. 
Constantine positioned himself nearest the edge of the bar, where he could lean
forward and spray the door with fire if anyone tried to enter.  “Are you
all right?” he asked.

“We’re fine,” Beth said.  “What’s the plan?” 

“Hold out here as long as we can.  Davies said he’d
send a team and so did Vadim.  Even if only one of them does, someone
should be coming for us.”

“And if they don’t?”

“They will,” he said.  “They have to.” 
    

July 2012

London, England

The limo sped around the corner, fishtailing as the driver
struggled to stay in his lane.  The motion threw Starinov sideways,
sloshing the vodka in his hand.  Several drops of liquid flew over the rim
of the glass, splattering his pants.  He righted himself and pressed the
intercom.  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?  I told you to
go faster, not drive like a drunken dog!”

“It’s the cars, Your Excellency.  They’re getting
closer.  I thought I could lose them, but they’re still there.”

Starinov spun toward the back window and counted three BMW
760Li sedans with tinted windows, all speeding toward him.  “
Govno
,”
he swore.  “If you stop this car before we get to the bank, I will put a
bullet in your head.  Do you understand?”

“Y—yes, Your Excellency.”  Gennady sped up and the car
flew down the Embankment, lights on the water rushing past him like
comets. 

Let them try and stop me
, he thought.  I will
get to the bank and meet the governor, who is there waiting for me.  No
police force in the world would drag me out of the bank.  I am a Prime
Minister, a ruler in my own right.  They will have to wait until I am
done, and when I am done, they will be a problem no longer.  What won’t
they do for a few coins, tossed behind me as I leave? 

He sat back, satisfied.  Everyone who knew about the
Romanov account would soon be dead, except for Vadim and he was already
broken.  The moment he said or did anything that irritated him, he would
order him and his thieving daughter to be thrown into the Moskva
River.       

There were no more obstacles.  He had conquered them
all. 

July 2012

London, England

Constantine clutched the magazine of the PP90 tightly,
waiting for the onslaught.  He kept his eyes trained on the tiny crack
between the doors.  The attack, when it came, would be sudden and fierce,
designed to leave no survivors.

Suddenly, staccato blasts of gunfire erupted on the street
outside.  Constantine held his breath.  Had someone finally come to
their rescue?  What would the guards on the other side of the door
do—defend themselves or slaughter the captives to keep them from
escaping?    

“What’s happening?” Natalie whispered. 

He could feel her warm hand on his back and he wanted to
turn and comfort her, but he didn’t dare.  He kept the gun aimed and his
eyes forward.  “The cavalry’s coming.”

“Don’t say that.”

“That’s a good thing, you daft cow,” said Viktor, crouched
at the opposite end of the bar.

“No, it’s not!  It’s why they killed Nicholas II. 
The White Army was closing in and the Soviets couldn’t risk him being rescued.”

“You just love being the bearer of good news, don’t you,
love?”

Another sharp burst of gunfire split the night. 
Someone on the other side of the double doors barked an order and several pairs
of boots squeaked away on the marble floor.  Constantine fought the urge
to smile. 
Maybe we’ll get out of this after all
, he thought. 
“They’re sending some of the men outside.  They’re just as confused as we
are.” 

“Should we run for it?” Natalie asked.

“Not just yet,” Viktor said.  He threw an arm around
Beth’s neck and pointed his PP90 at Constantine.  “We have some unfinished
business to take care of.”

“Viktor!” Natalie cried.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m just being me, lamb.  Don’t tell me your angel
didn’t warn you.”

Constantine swung his own gun around.  Beth’s wide eyes
looked up at Viktor and she clawed at the arm around her neck.  “You
fucking asshole,” she spat.  

First Marya, now Beth
.  Anger made his body
shake until even his thoughts came out with a stutter. 
I will not let
her die
.

“Put the gun down, Con.”

He felt his adrenaline pumping, set loose by the wild rage
he felt against his former comrade.  It took all his willpower not to aim
at Viktor’s head and shoot until nothing was left but a bloody pulp. 
“Even if you kill us, Starinov’s guards will mow you down the second you touch
that door.”

“Money has a lovely way of changing people’s minds. 
I’m sure they’ll see things my way when I promise them a million each to let me
go.”

“But there won’t be any money,” Natalie said.  “I gave
Starinov the wrong password, remember?”

Viktor cocked his head.  “I don’t think you did,
love.  I think you gave him the right password and lied to us to cover it
up.”

Beth gulped, still struggling in his grasp.  “You’re
crazy!  Do you seriously think my dog’s name is the last Russian tsar’s
secret password?”

“Don’t you?  Your nut-job sister didn’t even know that
old man in the nursing home and she went berserk on Yakov for killing
him.  Do you really think she’d sign her own sister’s death warrant just
to uphold a ridiculous set of principles?”  Viktor shoved the muzzle of
the gun into Beth’s back.  “Now for the last time, Constantine, put the
fucking gun down.”

Constantine gritted his teeth and obeyed, setting the PP90
on the floor and kicking it behind Viktor. 

“Now go unbarricade the door.  I’d hate to trip and
fall on my way out.”  He pushed Beth forward with the muzzle of the
gun.  “You help him.”

“No!” Natalie cried.  “They’ll get shot!”

Viktor shrugged.  “Better them than me.”

“I’ll go,” Constantine said.  “Let her stay here.”

“Many hands make light work.  I have a limousine to
catch.”

“You fucking selfish bastard!  Don’t you care about
anyone except yourself?”

“Why should I?  No one else cares about
me
.”

He imagined snapping Viktor’s spine.  The pop would
echo against the polished floor and it would sound so harmless, like a soda can
being opened.  “You will never leave this room.”

Viktor shrugged.  “Neither will you.  Perhaps
that’s enough.”

“I never hurt you, Viktor.”

“You exist,” he said simply.

“How did you hide it all these years?”

“My deep and abiding hatred for you?”

“Your pathetic level of self-loathing.”

“Jesus, Con, are you really so stupid?  Look at your
girlfriend…she’s so crazy it seeps out of her pores.  She can’t hide it,
and where has it gotten her?  There is only one way to win and I learned
it at a very early age.  The rest of you struggle like ants carrying
anteaters, sagging under the weight of things you never learn to let go.”

“It’s called ‘humanity,” Natalie said.

“I think you mean ‘insanity,’ lamb.  Now go,” he said,
waving the gun at Constantine and Beth.  “I want out of this hellhole.”

Beth stumbled forward and Constantine held out his arms to
keep her behind him.  He shielded her with his body as they stepped slowly
toward the stack of bodies blocking the exit.  If the soldiers on the
other side of the door sensed an attack, they might shoot straight through the
door.  “Quietly,” he whispered.  “I’ll try to pull them all away at
once.  Don’t let them touch the door.”

Beth nodded.  He grabbed a wrist and leg of the body on
the bottom, pulling the whole stack away from the door.  One of the
topmost body’s legs fell sideways.  Beth reached for it but she was too
late.  The leg brushed the door, rattling it slightly. 

Fuck
, he thought.  He closed his eyes and tucked
his head, waiting for the thin whine of bullets slicing through flesh. 
But it didn’t come.  He rose out of his crouch and Beth’s wide, frightened
eyes met his in an unspoken question.  He pressed his lips together and
shrugged.  “Keep going,” he mouthed.  “One at a time.”  Beads of
sweat rolled down his face, falling onto the pile of bodies. 

Beth moved first, leaning over the topmost body and grabbing
its wrists.  The man’s jacket rode up, exposing a swath of white stomach
and a black leather belt. 

Constantine narrowed his eyes.  He’d killed with less
and there were few other options remaining.  He touched Beth’s wrist and
mouthed the word “distraction.”  Beth instantly dropped the wrists of the
body she was dragging.  She staggered towards Viktor and Natalie and
unleashed a violent flood of tears.  “I can’t do it, Nat,” she sobbed. 
“He’s making me touch dead people and I just can’t do it.  You have to
tell him the truth.” 

“Truth?” asked Viktor.  “What truth?”

Natalie popped up from behind the bar.  “Yeah, what
truth?”

Beth sniffed and wiped her nose with her hands.  “Are
you really going to let him put me in front of a firing squad like this? 
All you have to do is tell him the other part of the password!”

Constantine moved toward the body Beth had set down. 
“Beth, please.  Be quiet.”

“No!” she shrieked.  “I want my son!  I want to go
home.”

He could hear the confusion in Natalie’s voice.  “Beth,
what are you talking about?”

“This is just like you, Nat!  You’re always telling
half the truth.  If you told your shrinks everything, they might be able
to help you.  Don’t you get tired of living in your head?  Doesn’t it
feel like a prison?  There are people who can help you, Nat.  Why
won’t you just let them?”  She threw her arms down onto the bar and buried
her head in them, sobbing. 

Constantine suppressed a grim smile.  Beth was quite an
actress—she probably had Natalie in agony.  But he clamped his lips shut,
kept his head down, and moved one hand toward the dead man’s belt
clasp.   

“Beth, don’t cry,” he heard Natalie say.  “I can fix
it!  Just tell me what you’re talking about!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Viktor grow pale and
point the PP90 at Natalie.  “What is she talking about, half the
password?”