“I don’t know any of their names,” she said.
“My dear mademoiselle, the meeting was in your father’s house.”
“That does not mean I have to know the names of the people who come there.”
“But I am sure you do. Will you not tell them to me?”
Sonia seemed to stiffen. “I cannot, your honour.”
“But you will, mademoiselle. You will tell me their names when you do not even know what you are saying.” He got up and walked round the desk. Sonia stood very straight, and her muscles tensed even more. Michaelin stood beside Sonia and stroked her hair, then her shoulder. His hand slipped down her back to caress her buttocks. Now she was hardly breathing, knowing that he was going to hurt her, bracing herself for the moment when it came. And was yet taken by surprise as his hand moved round in front, across her pubes then up her stomach to cup her left breast. Her frozen nipples were hard, and without warning he pinched the one in his grasp, with all the strength in his fingers. Sonia uttered a gasp, but she remained standing still, biting her lip. “You are a courageous little thing,” Michaelin remarked. “Are you as brave, my pretty little countess?”
Patricia opened her mouth, and then closed it again. If she attempted to speak she knew she was going to scream. She had to keep her mouth shut. Michaelin caressed her in turn, but instead of pinching her nipples he drove his fingers deep into her pubes, squeezing and hurting. Like Sonia, she gasped, and her mouth sagged open, but she got it shut again. “Very well,” Michaelin said. “Bring them.”
He went to the door which was opened for him. “Follow,” Reddich said.
Patricia would have hung back, but her arms were seized and she was jerked outside. They did not have very far to go before they were pushed into another room. This one was far more sinister than the first, for on the walls were a variety of whips and hooks, and in the middle of the room there was what appeared to be a low vaulting horse, in which the two bars were unusually wide apart. Michaelin came in a moment later, accompanied by several more men, two of whom carried a bucket between them.
“Now,” Michaelin said. “I have given you both every possibility of answering my questions. I will give you one last chance.” He gestured to the desk, on which there lay two sheets of paper. “You have but to sign those.”
Patricia blinked through the tears. “What are they?”
“Your confessions to being implicated in a plot to blow up the Tsar.”
“But there is no such plot.”
Michaelin squeezed her bottom. “There is, my little dove. There always is. Confess, and you will escape the death penalty.”
“But...” Patricia blinked again. “The paper is blank.”
“That is not important,” Michaelin assured her. “You sign it, and we shall write what you have signed.”
“You would be signing your own death warrant,” Sonia said.
Michaelin smiled at her. “Do you not trust me, Mademoiselle Cohen? Well, then, I shall have to convince you.” He snapped his fingers, and the two girls were dragged across the room to the parallel bars. When Patricia was pushed against the first bar it struck her in the groin. Her body was thrown forward, and her arms were pulled straight and handcuffed to the second parallel some three feet away. Arched across the bar, Patricia felt more exposed than ever before in her life, especially when the men pulled her ankles apart, shackling them in turn to the uprights to leave her absolutely helpless, bent double. Opposite her, the same treatment was being meted out to Sonia, so that they were left with their faces almost touching, staring at each other through the wet hair which came tumbling past their faces. Michaelin stepped between the bars, and thus between the two girls, signalled one of his men, who brought forward the bucket, and placed it on the floor between them, so that they could look down into its shimmering contents. “This is how we deal with recalcitrants,” Michaelin explained. “It looks like cracked ice, does it not, my children. But it is really shattered glass. Now, if you do not do as we ask, we are going to push this inside you. As you are women, we can push it in before and behind, as it were. You will find this very painful. You will find what happens afterwards even more painful. You will find every bodily function the most exquisite agony, and you will never have sex again. Then you will be grateful to my men for having raped you, for you will have only your memories to look back upon. Now then...” He thrust his hand into Patricia’s hair and pulled her head up. “Are you prepared to sign this paper?”
*
Prince Peter Bolugayevski stamped up and down the office, boots clumping on the floor. Anna sat before the empty desk, gloved hands clasped on the silver hilt of her cane. The orderly stood against the wall and looked anxious; he could tell that these two aristocrats were very angry. “This is outrageous,” Peter declared, for the third time. “We have been kept waiting an hour.”
“His honour is very busy tonight, Your Excellency,” the orderly explained.
Colonel Michaelin walked into his office, stood to attention. “Prince Peter!” He saluted. “Countess Anna!” He made to bend over her hand but she withdrew it.
Michaelin straightened, and waited, his cheeks red but his face expressionless.
“Where is my sister?” Peter demanded.
Michaelin frowned. “Your sister? You mean that young woman was telling the truth?”
“Where is she?” Peter shouted.
“A young woman claiming to be the Countess Patricia Bolugayevska is in one of my cells, Your Highness,” Michaelin said. “But frankly, I assumed she was lying.”
“Why should you do that?” Peter asked.
“What have you done to her?” Anna asked.
Michaelin looked from one to the other, and decided to answer the Prince first. “The young woman was arrested in the house of a known terrorist, Jonathan Cohen, Your Highness. She had been attending a meeting at which terrorist activities directed against the government were being discussed. And when she was arrested, she was in a bed with Jonathan Cohen’s daughter, Sonia. The woman Sonia Cohen was also arrested.”
“This is quite impossible,” Anna declared.
“I am sorry, Your Excellency. They were arrested by six of my men, who will testify to it. But I quite agree that it would be impossible for your niece to be discovered in such a situation, so you will see I am quite sure she is not your niece.”
“We’ll soon settle that,” Peter snapped. “Have her brought here.”
“I am afraid that will not be possible, Your Highness.”
“Not possible?” Peter was taken aback.
Anna stood up. “What have you done to her?” she asked again.
“I have done nothing to her, Your Excellency. I am afraid, as the young woman resisted arrest, she was manhandled by my men, but they had no alternative.”
“Manhandled!” Anna shouted.
“Have her brought here, now!” Peter commanded. “That is not possible, Your Highness,” Michaelin repeated. “The young lady, whoever she is, is under arrest on a charge of treason, and I have every right, by law, to hold her incommunicado for twenty-four hours.”
The two men stared at each other. Peter clearly wanted to assault this insolent policeman. Anna remembered that she had once given the opinion that a night in a police cell might do Patricia a world of good. She held Peter’s arm. “We shall have to have this law suspended,” she said quietly. “You will be hearing from us again, Colonel.”
Michaelin bowed. Peter pointed. “And if you have harmed a hair on my sister’s head, Michaelin, you will face me in the field.” Michaelin bowed again.
*
The Countess Janine Grabowska curtseyed in the doorway to the Tsaritsa’s private sitting-room in the Winter Palace.
“The Countess Bolugayevska is here, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, yes,” Alexandra said, looking up from her newspaper. “Tell me which one it is, again, Janine?”
“It is the Countess Sophie, Your Majesty.”
“Have y
ou any idea what it is about?”
“I would say it is to do with her marriage, Your Majesty.”
“She is getting married?”
“I understand one is being arranged, with Captain Lewitski of the Lancers.”
“Lewitski,” Alexandra said thoughtfully.
“We recommended him, Your Majesty.”
“Ah. And the Countess does not care for him.”
“I do not think the Countess cares for any man, Your Majesty.”
“You mean, this young woman does not wish to marry?” she mused. “Is she not twenty-six years old?”
“Twenty-seven, Your Majesty.”
“I see. Well, she certainly should be married. I do not think I wish to interfere. I shall not see her.”
“But, Your Majesty, you had me write and tell her she would be granted an interview.”
“I have changed my mind. You will give her an interview, Janine, and the benefit of your experience.” Janine Grabowska hesitated. “Off you go,” Alexandra said, and stood up. Janine curtsied, and backed through the door. Alexandra then went through a smaller doorway into her husband’s office.
The Tsar was sitting at his desk, holding his head in his hands. The Minister of the Interior stood before the desk, also looking worried. This look became one of apprehension as he saw the Tsaritsa. “Your Majesty.”
“Monsieur Witte.” Alexandra looked at her husband.
“Alix, my dear.” Nicholas stood up. “I am so glad to see you.”
Alexandra raised her eyebrows; they had breakfasted together only an hour previously. “Is something the matter?”
“There is always something the matter in this benighted country.” Nicholas sat down again. “The Bolugayevskis are at it again.”
“That young woman has not been to see you as well?” The Tsar frowned. “What young woman?”
“The Countess Sophie. She is in my antechamber at this moment, trying to wriggle out of a marriage. I have told Grabowska to deal with her.”
“Sophie?” Alexander looked at Sergei Witte.
“This is her sister, Sire.”
“Oh, good lord,” Nicholas said.
Alexandra sat in the chair beside the desk. “Tell me.”
“You tell Her Majesty, Witte.”
The Minister bowed. “The Countess Patricia Bolugayevska was arrested last night, Your Majesty, in a police raid carried out on a house known to be a meeting place of terrorists. There was such a meeting going on at the time, and acts of terrorism were being discussed.”
“Witte,” Alexandra said severely, “His Majesty and I are not fools, you know.”
Witte flushed. “Well, Your Majesty, I will not deny that the meeting was attended by an agent provocateur in the pay of the Okhrana. However, the Countess Patricia was most certainly there. Equally, she was most certainly known to the other people there. More important yet, she has confessed.”
“Confessed? Confessed to what?”
Witte looked at the Tsar. “This young woman, Alix,” Nicholas said, “has confessed to being a party to a plot for my assassination. And yours.”
Alexandra stared at him with her mouth open. “The idea is to toss a bomb into Your Majesties’ carriage when you leave the opera,” Witte said.
“You’ll forgive me, Nikki, but that has got to be the most utter rubbish,” Alexandra declared. “What you mean, Monsieur Witte, is that this poor girl was tortured by the Okhrana into making a false confession.”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, Your Majesty,” Witte protested. “The signature on the confession is firm and strong. It is not that of a woman who has been tortured.”
“The whole thing stinks,” Alexandra declared.
“Nonetheless it is there,” Nicholas insisted.
“You have not heard the worst of it, Your Majesty,” the Minister said. “The Countess’s confession implicates Prince Peter Bolugayevski and the Countess Anna. The Countess Patricia has stated that she attended the meeting with the encouragement of her brother and her aunt.”
“I have never heard such utter balderdash.”
“You must appreciate, Your Majesty,” the Minister said, “that this is a serious matter. His Majesty is, if you will forgive me, Sire, new to the throne. The eyes of all Russia, the eyes of the world, are upon him. This affair cannot be kept secret, and the world will wish to see how His Majesty handles it. I do not think there can be any doubt that there is a plot against His Majesty’s life, and yours, Your Majesty. These people glory in the name of anarchists. It is difficult to conceive a greater anarchy than would be Russia if the Tsar were to be assassinated with, forgive me, no heir in sight. Therefore the fact that our secret police have unearthed this plot, and moved so quickly and decisively to nip it in the bud, must be given the greatest publicity, in order to let the whole world, but especially all the anarchists or would-be anarchists in the world, know that their machinations will not be tolerated.”
Alexandra raised her eyes to heaven. “You mean there will have to be a show trial.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“At which these people, innocent or guilty, will be condemned to death, and hanged.”
“They will call me a butcher,” Nicholas muttered. “And you do not know the worst of it, Alix. Do you know who is downstairs now, demanding an audience, and demanded at the same time that his sister be released from police custody? Prince Bolugayevski.”
“Once the Countess Anna is married to Pobrebski she will disappear into Port Arthur. As for Prince Peter, he is only this girl’s half-brother, and he does not approve of her, or anything she does,” Alexandra declared.
Nicholas gazed at his wife in astonishment. “You mean to let this child be executed? If her brother and aunt are innocent, she is innocent. If she is guilty, then they are guilty.”
“I think that we may obtain the best of all worlds from this situation,” Alexandra said. “I agree with Witte that an example must be made, now, in this first crisis of our reign, and that there should be a show trial. Obviously, we will not interfere in the course of justice in any way, but if the Countess Patricia, and any or all of her friends, are found guilty, then they must be sentenced to death.”
“My God!” Nicholas muttered. Even Witte looked distressed.
“However,” Alexandra went on, “at that moment, you may exercise your prerogative of mercy, and commute the sentence to exile in Siberia.”
“Siberia? But that is a living death, and an actual one, in many cases. My dear Alix, we are not talking about some hardened criminal. This is an eighteen-year-old girl who has known nothing but luxury all her life.”
“I imagine she is tougher than you think,” Alexandra said. “If she is convicted of treason, then she deserves death. You are giving her a second chance. It will be the will of God whether or not she survives. And such an act of mercy will earn you the approbation of the world. And the Russian people.”
Nicholas scratched his head, uneasily. Witte cleared his throat. “With respect, Your Majesty. If, as seems likely, all twelve of the people arrested are convicted of treason and sentenced to death, and one of them, who happens to be a countess, is reprieved, I am afraid such an act may earn the condemnation of the world, certainly of the Russian people, rather than their approbation.”
“Oh, I am sure you are right, Witte. We will commute the sentences on all of them.”
“Some of these people are entirely deserving of hanging.” Nicholas said.
“The man Ulianov, certainly,” Witte said. “His brother was hanged some years ago, and his sister is a known anarchist...”
“So, arrest him again when he returns from Siberia,” Alexandra suggested.
Witte knew that the Tsar was going to do as his wife suggested; he always did. “And Prince Bolugayevski, sire?”
“Ah...” Nicholas looked at Alexandra.
“The Prince will have to suffer for a while, Witte,” the Tsaritsa said. “Explain to him the circumstances, and
recommend he obtain a good lawyer for his sister.”
“And if she is found guilty?”
“We will decide then what will be done.”
Witte looked at the Tsar. “The Prince asked for an audience with you, Sire.”
Nicholas bit his lip. “His Majesty is very busy right now,” Alexandra said. “I am sure you can handle this, Witte.”
*
Peter Bolugayevski stamped into his study, and hurled his cap into the corner. Anna stood in the doorway, and signalled Dmitri to bring the brandy decanter. She had never seen Peter so angry. “I have been treated like a schoolboy,” Peter said. “By that overgrown youth and his puling half-English wife.” He sat behind his desk, his fingers opening and shutting. “I was not even allowed to see them personally, but had to suffer a lecture from Witte. Find a good lawyer, he said. Ha!”
Anna went into the office, followed by Dmitri. She pulled off her gloves and sat down, while Dmitri filled the balloon glasses and set one before each of them. “We must find a way round it.”
“And how are we supposed to do that?”
“In the short term, by taking Witte’s advice, and employing the best lawyer money can buy. Our first priority is to save Patricia’s life. So, as I say, that lawyer. What is it, Dmitri?”
The butler, who had placed the decanter on the table and withdrawn, was back in the doorway, bowing. “Colonel Count Pobrebski is here, Your Excellency.”
“Ah,” Anna said. “You’ll excuse me, Peter.” She got up and went into the hall, where Pobrebski, wearing uniform, was walking to and fro with quick, nervous steps. “Good morning, Count.”
He bowed. “You’ll forgive this intrusion, Countess, in your hour of trial.”
“Of course. What have you come to say.”
“Well...” He cleared his throat. “You will understand, Countess, that you have no greater admirer.”
“I am certain of it.”
“But...well...you must understand my position.”
The Masters Page 18