Love and Triumph: The Coltrane Saga, Book 8

by Patricia Hagan

  “So the danger is not to the Russian people as a whole,” Marilee mused aloud bitterly, “only to those who support the Czar, like you and your followers…and my father,” she added grimly.

  “True.” He went on to describe how even before the Bolshevik revolution, there were those who were secretly planning to liberate the Imperial family. Both in Moscow and Petrograd, there were strong monarchist organizations with substantial funds that were anxious to attempt a rescue. “But the problem is planning, not money,” he hastened to explain. “The Czar himself is an obstacle, because whenever escape is mentioned to him, he refuses to allow the family to be separated. This, of course, presents a problem. It won’t be easy to successfully free, at one time, a number of women and a sick and handicapped boy. It would require many loyal soldiers, much food, and many horses and carriages.”

  Marilee could well understand their predicament. “Then the Whites are in constant contact with the Czar?”

  “At first, yes,” he replied. “Right after the Imperial family arrived in Tobolsk, agents were sent to Siberia. Former officers using assumed names got off the train in Tyumen and boarded the river steamers for Tobolsk. Then they mingled with merchants and shopkeepers and asked questions. Servants passed freely in and out of the governor’s house, where the family was being held, with letters and gifts and messages. Then the guards put a stop to it. Contact now is difficult.

  “Another problem with rescue,” he added, “is that there are too many groups that are jealous of each other. We’re trying to formulate one solid counterrevolutionary faction.”

  “What happens to the Czar and his family if they aren’t rescued now that the Bolsheviks have seized power?”

  Vladimir spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. “Who can say? The truth is, Lenin and the Bolsheviks might be in control, but their position is precarious as long as they don’t have peace. We think they’ll use the Czar as a bargaining tool. How, we can’t be sure. All we are sure of is that we’ve got to free him and his family before it’s too late.”

  Marilee could agree with that. She knew it was important, for Nicholas was in a precarious situation.

  But so was her father.

  And while Vladimir and his group of Whites might be intent on rescuing the Czar and the Imperial family, she had plans of her own—to find her father and help him escape from the Bolsheviks.

  How to go about doing that, she was not sure, for it would require much more knowledge of the situation. Once they reached their destination, she would endeavor to learn everything she could about the circumstances of his capture. She also wanted to find Irina.

  But for the time being, Marilee could only take solace in the fact that she was now free.

  The fact that her heart was still held captive by Cord Brandt was something she would not allow her tortured mind to dwell upon.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Spain

  February 1918

  Colt Coltrane sat on the sofa before the crackling fire, staring into the flames as he sipped absently from the snifter of brandy he held.

  Beside him, Jade reread the letter from the embassy in Zurich, her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t believe it.” She shook her head. “It’s a nightmare. It has to be.”

  “We’ve known she was missing for over three months. At least now we know the reason,” Colt said.

  Jade handed the letter over to Kit and cried, “If only I hadn’t run away like I did, in the middle of the night. I deserted her. I left her in the hands of those…those fanatics!” She burst into tears once more.

  Kurt moved to give his mother-in-law a sympathetic hug. “You have no way of knowing all that, Jade. You’ve nothing to feel guilty about. Hell, we all thought Rudolf was in love with her. How were you to know he was a traitor? A goddman Bolshevik!” he could not help cursing angrily.

  “I should’ve checked on her before going to London to meet Colt. But I missed him so, and I thought she was in good hands. I even thought she’d be better off if I just got out of her business and let nature take its course.” Jade gave a bitter laugh. “Oh, how stupid I was!”

  There was a sound in the doorway, and they all looked up as Valerie pushed Travis’s wheelchair through. Still pale from the leg wound he’d suffered in the war, Travis asked, “Is there further news?”

  “I’ve a call in to the embassy,” Colt told him, “but they probably won’t know any more than they did when they wrote this letter.”

  Travis shook his head sadly. “I still can’t believe it. They thought they were kidnapping Mother, got Marilee instead, and it took us this long to find out the whole story.”

  Kit spoke for the first time. “What I want to know is why she didn’t come back here when she escaped. What happened to her after she ran away from Daniberry?”

  Jade sighed. “All we know is what the embassy tells us, that she just disappeared and hasn’t been heard from since. We wouldn’t even know this much if Rudolf’s sister hadn’t confessed everything when they kept interrogating her.”

  “And what about Rudolf?” Travis asked, then slammed his fist into his palm. “Oh, I’d love to get my hands on that bastard!”

  “We all would, Travis,” Kurt pointed out grimly.

  “Looking for Rudolf isn’t going to help us find Marilee,” Colt said. “That girl admitted he turned her over to some of those Bolsheviks in Zurich who called themselves the Zurich Zealots, then went with the rest of them into Russia to take part in the November revolution. She swears she hasn’t heard from him since.”

  “Oh, I can believe that,” Kurt agreed. “That’s the reason she talked, in my opinion. She was mad because her brother took off and left her to take the blame for everything.”

  Jade quickly pointed out, “Don’t forget it says in the letter that she named her former lover as the actual kidnapper. A man, named Cordell Brandt.”

  Kit smiled knowingly. “And I’ve got a feeling that Elenore also confessed because she’s bitter over losing her lover to Marilee.”

  Colt, Kurt, and Travis laughed together. The women exchanged mutual glances of suspicion.

  “Marilee?” Travis hooted. “To think of her as a femme fatale is ludicrous at best. Granted, she’s pretty, but she’s not the type to go around snatching men away from women.”

  “You never know.” Kit continued to smile. “Still waters run deep.”

  “Enough of this,” Jade said wearily. “I think it’s time we decided what to do about it. We can’t just sit back and do nothing.”

  Valerie spoke for the first time. “I think she’s in Russia.”

  They all looked at her curiously.

  She nodded, her blue eyes shining. “I think she went to look for her father. You might not like my saying this, but the truth is—I don’t think Marilee ever felt like she was a real part of this family.”

  “Now, Valerie, that’s a serious thing to say. You haven’t been in the family long enough to sit in judgment like that,” Travis rebuked her gently.

  Valerie lifted her chin defiantly. “Oh, yes, I have. I’ve heard all of you talk, teasing her in ways you thought were harmless, but Marilee didn’t take it that way. I’m an outsider, and maybe I see things differently. I just got the feeling Marilee never felt like she belonged.”

  “Well, I don’t think—” Jade began.

  “I agree with Valerie,” Kurt said. “You don’t realize it, but you never considered her one of you because you never considered her grandmother Travis Coltrane’s legal wife. And you seem to forget that it doesn’t matter that Marilee Barbeau was not legally a Coltrane. She gave birth to your patriarch’s daughter, your half sister, Dani.” Kurt nodded respectfully at Colt.

  Colt said nothing, keeping his gaze on the fire.

  “And,” Kurt went on, “you all, whether you like hearing it or not, made Marilee feel like an outsider.”

  “So you’re saying that’s why she chose to go to Russia instead of returning here when she escaped h
er kidnappers?” Kit asked stiffly.

  “Exactly,” he replied. “To Marilee, Drakar is the only family she’s got.”

  “I say we go after her,” Travis declared.

  “What?” Colt and Kurt cried in unison.

  “We go after her,” Travis repeated. “Chances are that Uncle Drakar is dead by now. So what happens to Marilee? I think it’s time we showed her that she is a Coltrane and that her home is here, with all of us. The only way to do that is to go after her.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere,” Jade said sharply, pointing to his bandaged leg. “A German bullet has put you out of the war, my son.”

  Valerie could not contain her relief, and patted her stomach. “We need you more, Travis. Me and Travis Coltrane the Third.”

  “Or Katherine Wright Coltrane.” He smiled and reached for her hand, pressing it to his lips tenderly. Then he looked from his father to his brother-in-law. “There’s nothing stopping you two from going, is there?” he challenged them.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Jade cried. “Travis, are you out of your mind? They can’t just go traipsing off to Russia. It’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “It’s certainly better than sitting back and doing nothing, Mother,” Kit said. “And it’s not as though Dad doesn’t have some political connections and influence.” She looked at him. “Isn’t that so? You can find out where Uncle Drakar’s friends are, can’t you? It seems likely she would’ve found her way to them.”

  Colt nodded, his lips pursed thoughtfully. “The embassy did not go into a lot of detail, because they didn’t want to put everything in writing. There’s too much danger of interception. But I can go to Zurich and find out exactly how much they do know. Kit’s right, it is reasonable to assume Marilee would make her way to the Whites.”

  He declared wryly, “The Bolsheviks are betraying nearly every political slogan that brought them to power. They promised freedom of the individual and instead censored the press, forbade strikes, and set up a secret police. While they undertook to respect the rights of minority states, they already had an army on the move to crush the independent republic of the Ukraine. They cried for a freely elected Constituent Assembly, and now they’ve had it abolished by force.”

  Kurt asked the question burning on everyone’s lips. “So what happens next?”

  Based on what he’d been told by the American Embassy on his last visit, Colt said, “There’s only one way the Bolsheviks can redeem themselves and make good their promises. They’ve got to come to terms with the Germans. They can have no hope of their own survival unless they bring the war to an end.”

  Jade went to stand beside him, her emerald eyes flashing with anger and resentment. “They screamed ‘Bread and Peace’, but all Russia will get is famine and civil war.”

  “Yes,” Colt mused quietly. “That’s right. But they’re also getting something they hadn’t bargained for.”

  Everyone looked at him expectantly,

  “The Bolsheviks are about to meet an adversary they hadn’t counted on—the Coltranes.”

  Jade laughed. “God help them.”

  It was resolved.

  Colt would use all his political influence to learn as much as possible about where the Whites were headquartered. He would then send out inquiries about Marilee.

  Then he and Kurt would proceed to Russia and do their best to bring her home—where, they all agreed, she belonged.

  Marilee was a Coltrane, and they would all stand together.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Tobolsk, Russia

  February 1918

  Marilee had traveled to Tyumen with Vladimir Dubovitsky and the other Whites. When they had arrived in early December, she had made it quite clear she intended to work with them, doing everything possible to rescue her father from his Bolshevik captors.

  Marilee and Vladimir were told that recent information indicated that Drakar was being held somewhere in the same vicinity as the Imperial family—a heavily guarded little town called Tobolsk, where the Tobol and Irtysh rivers joined.

  Marilee and Vladimir were told that the Bolsheviks still wanted the gold returned. Irina had been seen in the area, and they felt it was just a matter of time until she tried to buy her lover’s freedom with the gold despite contrary orders from the Whites.

  The village of Tobolsk was no more than log houses, whitewashed churches, and a few commercial buildings. They had been told that the Czar and his family were being held in the governor’s house. A high wooden fence had been built around it.

  It was decided that Marilee could best obtain information by finding work in a restaurant frequented by newly assigned soldiers. She was hired and given a room above the restaurant where she could live. Vladimir and his soldiers returned to the White underground, maintaining cautious communication.

  Marilee settled down into her routine. The restaurant was open nearly all the time, for there was nowhere else to go during the harsh winter months.

  She could not remember such brutal weather in her whole life. The temperature had dropped to nearly seventy degrees below zero, and the rivers were frozen several feet deep. The world was a sculpture of ice and snow. Yet the smoldering intensity of her determination provided all the fuel she needed to survive—and succeed.

  She had decided to use a more Russian name, and called herself Natasha Kievsky. She quickly became a favorite with the soldiers, who found her beautiful and vivacious. She did not, however, allow the teasing to go too far. She demanded respect, and she got it.

  There were, of course, constant invitations from the young soldiers for dinner or a trip into Tyumen for dancing and theater when they had a pass. She knew the time would eventually come when it would be necessary to get closer to one of the soldiers in order to gain important information, but she also knew that she had to be both patient and discreet. Nothing of value could be learned from an ordinary soldier.

  One Saturday night an officer walked in whom Marilee had never seen before. She knew at once that he was someone important when the soldiers instantly fell silent.

  He scanned the room with narrow, suspicious eyes as he unfastened his greatcoat. He hung it on a hook by the door and Marilee saw that he wore stiff shoulder straps with bright metallic lace. She moved closer and saw that the straps had two longitudinal colored stripes down the center and three five-pointed stars. He was a lieutenant colonel!

  He was tall and heavyset, with piercing black eyes. Marilee found him attractive, but in a formidable way. She took a deep breath, hoping she did not appear overly anxious as she made her way toward him. It was her first encounter with an officer, and he could prove a valuable contact.

  He looked up at her coldly, but she did not flinch. Giving him her warmest smile, she spoke to him in fluent Russian. “Good evening, sir. My name is Natasha Kievsky. What is your pleasure?”

  “You! I’ll have you naked and served to me on a platter,” he said mockingly in French.

  Keeping her composure, Marilee answered him in French. “I’m sorry, sir, but I am not on the menu tonight. Perhaps you’d like to try our special—a platter of nice smoked cod and our best iced vodka.”

  He blinked, then he threw back his head and laughed. “I never thought a restaurant servant would be so learned. Can you forgive me?”

  “Of course.” She laughed with him. “If I weren’t able to overlook a lot of things, I’d never last in this job, believe me.”

  They became friends at once. He introduced himself as Boris Gorchakov and said he had only recently been assigned to the 2nd Regiment. By the time the evening ended, he had asked her to join him at his quarters for a nightcap. Marilee demurely refused, knowing he would be back. Somehow she sensed he was important, and that he might just be the officer with whom she would have to pretend romance to get the information she—and the Whites—needed.

  Boris came into the restaurant every night. He always sat alone. It was as if it was understood that Gorchakov did n
ot want company.

  Every evening he extended the same invitation to Marilee when she got off work. “I have an apartment of my own just across the way. It’s not much, but it’s warm and cozy, and I keep a supply of good caviar you won’t find elsewhere in this miserable place.”

  Marilee continued to refuse but flirted with him mercilessly. She began to wear her peasant blouse a bit lower, affording him a view of delicious cleavage when she leaned to place his drink in front of him. She did not miss the way he drew in his breath sharply, and knew she had achieved the effect she wanted. After a few nights she did not move away when he reached to touch her; instead she smiled warmly as his hand moved from her waist to trace the swell of her hips beneath her skirt. His looks became more intimate, and he began to trail his fingers down her arm, brushing now and then across her breast as she served him.

  A few times, when business was slow, she had dared to sit down at his table and chat. She let him do the talking, not wanting to arouse his suspicion that she might be a spy. At first he only tried to persuade her to go home with him. But then, as they became closer friends, he began to unwind and confide his problems—how miserable he was in his post, how he’d rather be in battle, how he wished the damnable war would just end so he could get on with his life. She learned that he was hard-core Bolshevik and felt that the Czar and his family should be exiled to the deepest regions of Siberia instead of being kept in a fine house at great expense to the government.

  One night, when he was in an extremely talkative mood, Marilee dared ask, “How does the Imperial family act? Do they seem happy?”

  He flashed her an accusing look. “What do you care? Are you sympathetic to the Imperialist dogs?”

  “No, no.” She shook her head quickly and reached to cover his hand with hers. “I just thought maybe they might be complaining.”

  He grunted and slouched back in his chair. “No,” he admitted, “they don’t complain. To be honest, I try not to be around them that much. I seldom see them. One of the soldiers said the four Grand Duchesses are acting out little plays. The boy joins in. The Empress knits and sews, and the Czar writes letters and reads.”