Eight

by James R. Vance

  “It's his dream.” Katherine smiled, benignly. “He sees the creation of an all-encompassing union to be the panacea to Russia's ceaseless turmoil. He wishes to see the state bury past differences, to work towards a fair, just and perfect political solution. To achieve that dream, he believes that, as the heir to an imperfect dynasty, he has the duty and the right to redress those historical inequalities.”

  Petra shook her head in disbelief. “And to attain that goal, he believes that it is necessary to support extremists focussed on destroying all who oppose their ideology…misguided fundamentalists who excuse their actions by denouncing their opponents as crusading infidels.” She leaned back in her chair. “Now, I'm convinced that he's insane.”

  “Mark my words, Petra. He'll prove you wrong before August, 2017.”

  “He'll be banged up well before that for aiding and abetting terrorism along with all the other fanatics,” Petra said in despair.

  Clearly, Katherine was as obsessed as her grandson. “Look at Mandela. Look at what he achieved.”

  “That was different. Here, you're talking about a global movement, not an individual country…a movement, Katherine. One that knows no boundaries, that targets people indiscriminately, has no regard for humanity, no morals, no scruples. Even Alexis said that about Dumas. They're all tarred with the same brush. He's fallen in with some very evil people. It's a dangerous world out there and he's in a no-win situation. Just tell me where he is.”

  Katherine stood, leaning on her cane. “Look at any map, Petra. You will see that Chechnya is a tiny country. Remember one small step…who knows what may be possible?”

  Petra sighed. “Tell me, Katherine. Who is deluded in believing that Alexis could become the future Tsar of Russia? Is it you or Alexis?”

  “I admit that there will be constitutional issues,” Katherine said, unruffled by Petra's remark. “However, in return for an era of lasting peace and prosperity, the Russian people will make allowances. They were prepared to bend the rules for Grand Duke Mikhail to replace his brother, Tsar Nicholas II. Nor have the Chechens forgotten that Mikhail, a Romanov, led a Chechen army against our enemies.”

  Petra finished her tea. The old woman was beginning to frustrate her. I'll give her ten out of ten for entertainment, she thought, but zero for substance. No wonder Alexis is a Jekyll and Hide character. It must run in the family.

  “Give him my regards, Katherine. I imagine that Interpol has a warrant for his arrest. I intended to put in a good word for him, but, if what you say is true, I'm afraid for his state of mind. Thank you for your hospitality and your truly fascinating tales. I simply believe that the world consists of good and evil. I used to bat for the other side, but I learned my lesson the hard way. I'm with the good guys now. Tell Alexis that it's not too late to change.” She stood to leave.

  Katherine smiled. “Have a good journey, my dear. One day, Petra, one day you will return and fulfil your destiny.”

  They kissed cheeks and bade each other farewell.

  Petra turned at the doorway. “It's strange. Apart from your stories, I know so little about you and Alexis, yet it feels that I have known both of you all my life.”

  Katherine placed her hand on Petra's shoulder. “To be exact, my dear, it has only been eight days.”

  Petra was half way to her car, when the old woman's words sank in. “Oh my God, eight again,” she uttered.

  8888

  It was early that same Sunday evening when Petra decided to contact Rob. She was back in her apartment at Limoges. He answered immediately.

  “Hi, how's it going? Are you still in Marseille?”

  “Almost finished here,” Rob replied. “Dumas and his lawyers are in custody along with some of his retinue who require further investigation. Last night, we released most of the guests and the majority of the domestic staff. Forensics should be finished by the end of the day at which point we will be in a position to seal the house and the remainder of the property. The yacht and the helicopter will be impounded.”

  “Any news of Alexis?”

  “He seems to have vanished into thin air. We'll circulate his details. Don't worry…he'll turn up. Any joy with the grandmother?”

  “She reckons that he'll have gone to Chechnya,” Petra said, half expecting him to laugh.

  “Chechnya? Why bloody Chechnya?”

  “According to her, he's well connected to some rebel leaders. Together, they're planning to save the world.”

  Rob's amusement was now evident over the phone. “You certainly know how to pick them.”

  “Tell me about it. I reckon she's rambling again,” Petra said with a hint of regret.

  “Have you contacted Jean-Marie about handing back the car and the apartment?”

  “Not yet. I need to discuss timings with him. I also must book my flight from Limoges to the U.K.”

  “Okay, but ensure that you keep tomorrow free. There's the possibility of another meeting. Jean-Marie will keep you posted.”

  “Why another meeting?”

  “It's a final debrief.” Rob was determined to impart limited information.

  “Have you had any update from the hospital on Massey's condition?” Petra felt that she should bear some responsibility for his injuries, even though it was Harcourt's error of judgement that had compounded the situation.

  “They stated that he'll be discharged tomorrow or first thing Tuesday. He'll need further treatment and some additional physio on his return to Manchester.”

  “When do you want me back in the agency?”

  “Take a couple of days off at home. Come in on Friday. I may have another small assignment for you.”

  Petra was hoping for at least a week. “Thanks, Rob. You're so kind. If it's abroad again, do me a favour and make sure it's in an English speaking country.”

  “How's your Japanese?”

  “You're joking.”

  “I'm joking,” he said. “Hopefully, see you tomorrow.”

  Rob rang off, leaving her wondering, not about the next assignment, but about how Alexis managed to evade the security blanket at the villa. She had also meant to ask about Bobo. Why was he a member of Dumas's staff? Where did he fit in? Was he unharmed and subsequently questioned? She decided to walk to Bar 1900 for a late drink before turning in. She was unaware that all her questions would be unexpectedly answered before she left Limoges. The eighth day was a prelude to the dénouement of a tangled web of deceit.

  8888

  The combination of a long day and several glasses of wine ensured a sound night's sleep. The following morning seemed to arrive soon after her head had touched the pillow. At least, her energy levels were back to normal. Petra emerged from the shower seconds before the intercom buzzer sounded.

  Wrapped in just a towel, she crossed to the doorway and lifted the handset. “Hello,” she said, half expecting to hear the voice of Jean-Marie. Here am I undressed again, she thought.

  “Hi, any chance of some breakfast?”

  “Oh, my God,” she mouthed. It was the voice of Alexis. She pressed the lock release button and quickly slipped into a towelling bathrobe before opening the apartment door.

  Alexis appeared, unshaven and looking tired. He smiled. “Sorry to disturb you so early, but I was hoping to catch you before you departed. I need to explain.”

  “Too bloody true,” Petra snapped, showing her annoyance and, at the same time, masking her pleasure at seeing him alive. “How did you know that I would be here?”

  “I spoke with grand'maman late last night.”

  Petra was in a dilemma. Rob had said that they would be circulating his details. Now he's here, she thought, what the hell am I supposed to do with him? I can hardly detain him dressed in nothing but a bathrobe. Do I really want to arrest him?

  She walked towards the bedroom door. “Can you help yourself to coffee, whilst I put on some clothes?”

  Alexis grinned. “It never bothered you the last time that I was here.”

  “Arg
h!” Petra's face turned crimson. “You may not have noticed but circumstances have changed. Which Alexis is here today?”

  “Which Petra are you today?”

  She ignored the riposte and turned away. Nevertheless, she continued to blush. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

  She closed the bedroom door behind her, leaned back against it and ran her fingers through her damp hair. She needed to call Rob, but realised that her mobile phone was in the living room. Sod it, she thought, it's my apartment. Why should I be concerned about returning to pick up my mobile? She walked back to find Alexis in the kitchen.

  “Would you like a coffee?” he asked nonchalantly.

  “Why not?” Petra picked up her shoulder bag as well as the phone. “I forgot my make-up,” she added, wondering why she was making excuses. She entered the bedroom, closed the door and immediately contacted Rob to give him the news.

  “I'll send some local detectives round to detain him,” Rob said. “Keep hold of him until they arrive…at gunpoint if you must.”

  “I have no gun. All the weapons were left at the villa as part of the investigation.”

  “Well, you'll just have to use your other line of defence…talk him into submission. I'm sure that you'll have a lot of news to occupy your time. Ask him about Chechnya. Good luck.” Rob rang off.

  Petra detected a faint laugh as he ended the conversation. Now annoyed with Rob's apparent lack of concern, she dressed hurriedly in jeans and sweater, applied a token smidgen of make-up and returned to the living room. She sank casually onto a sofa.

  “So, are you going to tell me how you managed to escape unnoticed from the villa? What did you do…kill a member of the task force and nick his uniform?”

  “Nothing so dramatic.” Alexis placed two beakers of coffee on a low table. “Remember the secret cellar at Roche's place?”

  “The house you destroyed, killing all those gendarmes?”

  Alexis looked serious. “Roche was the culprit. I had no involvement whatsoever. That aside, his cellar was a rough, cheap version of an underground bunker at Dumas's villa. His son designed it. He's an architect. It's a sophisticated, self-contained, self-supporting reinforced shelter, totally separate from the main house. Two people could survive in there for several months. It possesses its own set of services, a communication centre and living quarters. The original plans for the property contain no reference to it. In other words, as far as the authorities are aware, it does not exist.”

  “You're saying that you hid there?”

  Alexis nodded. “Access is via a bookcase in the library, similar to the sliding wall unit at Roche's house. I took refuge there until everyone had left.”

  “How did you know when the coast was clear and it was safe to leave?”

  “There's a closed circuit surveillance system served by miniature cameras. Those are concealed on the existing ones that cover the main property and the exterior grounds. I watched the clearing operation from a bank of screens in the bunker.”

  “Why didn't Dumas use it when he was cornered in the library?” she asked, not too convinced with his story.

  “And reveal it to a group of strangers? Only his son, his daughter, Dimitri and I know its existence. When the teams had finally left the scene, I took one of his cars from the garages and drove through a rear gateway. It was after midnight, so I drove straight here.”

  “Rob said that there were armed guards on duty,” Petra said, challenging his story.

  “They must have been on a tea break,” he replied with a smirk.

  “Your grandmother said that you would head for Chechnya. What's that all about?”

  Alexis sipped his coffee. “I gather from your remark that she's been entertaining you with more Russian history?”

  “She said that you sympathised with their cause and had visions of somehow bringing an end to the conflict. Is that true?”

  “A resolution is needed without a revolution,” he replied. “For centuries, Chechnya has been subjected to external rule, first by the Tsars and then by the Soviets. Though Chechens are mainly Sunni Moslems, they collaborated with the Germans during the Second World War in the hope of gaining their independence after Germany had won. Of course, that never happened and Russia emerged victorious. Consequently, Stalin sent many of them to Siberia, the deportation resulting in radical nationalism against Russia. Over recent years, tensions have escalated, attracting many Islamist militants to their cause. The government often blames Chechens for terrorist bombs in Russian cities, even though there has been neither proof nor admittance.

  “The situation needs to be resolved as Chechnya is becoming a breeding ground for rogue Islamist networks that threaten terror attacks in Europe. You believe that I and a few reactionaries can change all that?”

  “I said that it was hard to believe, but she said that you were trusted because of your Romanov connections.”

  “You still believe that?” he asked with the hint of a smile.

  “Alexis, I don't know what to believe. Your gran can be very persuasive. She makes everything seem extremely credible by her in-depth knowledge of Russian history, especially when it comes to facts and figures.” Petra suddenly remembered the silver cigarette case containing the strands of hair. “Nowadays, there are scientific methods of verifying whether her story is true.”

  At that moment, the buzzer sounded. Alexis sprang to his feet, suddenly produced a handgun and told Petra to answer, but to send away whoever had called. She walked over to the intercom as Alexis followed her closely. On reaching the door, she turned, looked beyond him towards the window and screamed.

  Alexis was distracted momentarily. Petra kicked the gun from his hand and leaped upon him, pinning him to the floor. She reached out, grasped the gun and thrust it towards his head. The buzzer sounded once again.

  “Don't move,” she said to the prostrate Alexis as she backed towards the doorway. She pressed the lock release and opened the door to the apartment.

  Alexis raised himself onto his haunches and smiled. “Not bad for a trainee.”

  Two men in jeans and leather jackets entered the room. They said bonjour to Petra, looked down at Alexis and grinned.

  “C'est lui?” asked the shorter of the two.

  “Oui, that's him,” Petra replied, reluctantly.

  They cuffed Alexis and dragged him towards the open doorway.

  “Sorry,” Petra said, as he passed. “I'm just following orders.”

  “That's what they said at Nuremburg,” Alexis replied with a rueful smile.

  She glared at him. “Murder is still murder whether it's one individual or six million.”

  After they had left, she called Rob to update him. The number was engaged. She left a message and returned to the bedroom to finish drying her hair.

  Her thoughts turned to Alexis. If it was true about Roche blowing up his own house, maybe he hadn't killed anyone. As far as she knew, he wasn't responsible for any casualties at the villa and if he had hidden in a secret bunker, he didn't have to shoot anyone to escape. Despite all the talk of his involvement with Dumas, none of it rang true. How could he be on friendly terms with terrorists? His profile just did not fit. Was he merely trying to impress her?

  The past week seemed like a convoluted dream, especially Katherine's ramblings. Surely, they were unbelievable. If there was any truth in her tale, someone must have unearthed the facts before now. The ring tone of her mobile interrupted her reflections.

  It was Jean-Marie. “Bonjour, Louise. Monsieur Smith, il veut que je vous amène à une réunion à onze heures ce matin. D'accord?”

  “Fine.” Petra checked her watch. An eleven o'clock meeting. Two and a half hours to get ready, she thought. “Where is this meeting?”

  “At a château, Domaine du Fan, a centre for meetings at Verneuil Moustiers. We take autoroute to sortie twenty-two, then to Saint-Sulpice-les-Feuilles and Lussac-les-Eglises. We must leave your apartment at ten.”

  “Okay, see you at ten.
” An hour less, she thought. That's cutting it fine. At least I've showered. I wonder what the meeting's about? I hope that it will provide some answers.

  Jean-Marie had more to add. “Monsieur Smith, ‘e ask also that you take all your bags with you in my car. I think you leave to return ‘ome after the meeting.”

  “Really?” Not so much time after all, she thought. Why the sudden rush? What should I do about booking a flight? I don't know when I'll be finished. Perhaps he has something else in mind…and what about Alexis and Katherine? I won't be able to say goodbye.

  She tried to phone Rob for more information, but his mobile was not in service. She could do no more than follow Jean-Marie's instructions and hope that Rob had organised something.

  8888

  Set amongst rolling countryside, the Chateau Domaine du Fan stood in open parkland surrounded by several wooded areas. The location was a typical Limousin landscape. Numerous outbuildings were visible beyond the trees as Jean-Marie drove along a narrow track. It was a relatively unimpressive structure compared to the chateaux that Petra had visited several years previously on her school trip. They turned onto a gravel driveway leading to the main entrance and found a small parking area with sufficient space between other visitors’ vehicles.

  On entering the hotel and conference centre, a pleasant multi-lingual Dutch woman greeted them. Jean-Marie introduced her as the proprietor. Inside the main lobby, a curved staircase of marble steps surmounted by an intricate balustrade of wrought iron wound upwards to the guest accommodation. They followed her echoing footsteps across a tiled floor into a spacious dining area. Floor-to-ceiling arched windows overlooked an outdoor terrace and expansive lawns.

  “Your colleagues are taking aperitifs on the terrace,” she said in perfect English as she led them through glazed patio doors. Outside, stood a small group of individuals, chatting and sipping Champagne. Petra stopped abruptly. The hairs on her neck stood on end; a shiver ran down her spine. She was speechless. Her mind was racing, her head in a whirl.