City of Silence (City of Mystery)

by Kim Wright

  No, women would be the death of the revolution for an entirely different reason. They disarmed men. A man in love was a man distracted, a flawed comrade, a poor soldier. Throughout the centuries, sentiment had slain more men than cannons, and Filip knew his great failure was his sentiment for his wife.

  He did not wish to ponder this overmuch. To do so would be to risk acknowledging he shared the same weakness as Yulian Krupin. Perhaps that was what had truly driven his rage toward the young dancer, why he had killed in the boy what he knew he could not kill in the man. Filip told himself once again, for the thousandth time, that his marriage to Tatiana was one of mutual convenience, and yet this morning, when he had heard her in her toiletette, the unmistakable sound of her retching…

  She carried his child. She did not have to tell him this. He simply knew. And this, of course, was a miracle. For during his recovery in the overcrowded infirmary following surgery for his gunshot wound, Filip had contracted the humiliating disease of measles. The rash and the scratching had tormented him more severely than the pain from his side, and then, final blow, the doctor had told him that the disease had most likely stolen his potency as well as his dignity.

  “There is a chance that you might someday be a father,” the man had said. “But it is slight.” And now this child – conceived against all odds – must be protected.

  As Filip waited for Tatiana in their rooms, he smoked his cigar - another small token of gratitude from the tsar - and struggled to convince himself that what he was about to do was only a small betrayal. Unlike Yulian, he would not let his heart take him completely away from the cause, but he would find a way to keep his wife safe from the events that were unfolding. The events which would likely go badly for him and his comrades. Whatever the hours ahead held, he must save Tatiana and the bud of life within her.

  She came in just as the clock chimed six. She was drenched straight through to the skin and the sight of him sitting there startled her so badly that she let out a small cry of surprise.

  “What are you doing here?”

  An odd question. These were his rooms, after all.

  The same thought had occurred to her and she amended her question. “Why have you come at this hour?”

  “I am here to talk to you,” he said. “But you should take off those clothes. They are wet and you will catch a chill.”

  She looked at the tumbler of brown liquid on the table beside him. “You have been drinking?”

  “What if I have? We must get you into something dry.”

  “I will ring for the maid.”

  “Don’t. I can help you. As I said, I wish for us to talk. Alone.”

  She hesitated. She was miserable in her clammy gown but to undress in front of him would only lead to an encounter she did not want. An encounter she knew she could not endure. Not with the smell of Konstantin still on her. She would not allow Filip to erase the last vestiges of his presence, to so quickly blot the memory from her skin. A woman who sleeps with two men finds her morality where she can, and it had been a point of honor with Tatiana that she had never lain with both Filip and Konstantin on the same day. She would not break her rule now, especially not now, when all she wanted to do was lie in her bed and weep over the events of the past hour.

  “I am unwell,” she said. This excuse had not always stalled him in the past, but it was worth a try.

  “Yes, I know, and that is what I have come to talk about,” he said, rubbing out his cigar and standing to move toward her. “You must leave St. Petersburg at once.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Winter Palace – The Guest Quarters

  7:12 PM

  “I fear I do not have the legs for this costume,” Tom said, turning one way and then the other to study his reflection in the long mirror.

  “If it is any consolation,” Rayley said, “I would imagine few men do.”

  “It is a matter of calf definition,” Tom muttered, looking critically at his lower legs which seemed to him thin and rather boyish when encased in the bright yellow stockings. He tried not to ponder the fates of the previous two occupants of the gypsy king costume – the unfortunate Konstantin Antonovich and the even more unfortunate Cynthia Kirby. The shirt hung a little too loose as well, and he wondered if it was folly to imagine he might be able to convincingly pass as the Siberian dance master.

  As if reading his mind, Rayley rushed to reassure him. “The mask and the hat will hide your hair and face,” he said, “and the cape will conceal any differences between your frame and Antonovich’s.”

  “What of the difference in height?” Tom said. “Everyone speaks of how admirably tall the man is and I am barely north of average.”

  “If you are costumed and masked, nothing else will matter,” Rayley said, silently thankful that his own spindly frame had ensured that he wouldn’t be the one tapped for this particular ruse. “You’ve read the reports from the Yard. Most people see only what they expect to see and nothing more.”

  “So they claim,” said Tom, plunking the large plumed hat over his blond hair. “But we are betting rather heavily on that, wouldn’t you say?”

  The Winter Palace – The Servant Wing

  7:14 PM

  When Emma had asked the young man in the hall for directions to Konstantin Antonovich’s room she had received little more than a vague pointing gesture and a rude smirk. There was only one reason, she supposed, that women living in her part of the palace came to visit men living in his, and she wondered how many of the imperial women had indulged in flirtations with their dance masters. Flirtations and perhaps more.

  After a few more inquiries she finally found the room, but he did not answer her knock. The door was actually a bit ajar, so she knocked again, waited, then pushed it open.

  The room was as plain as a monk’s cell. A bed, table, cot, and chest of drawers. Two of those drawers were pulled open and the bed was mussed. Emma noted how few personal possessions the room held, and she looked especially for the red satin bag in which Konstantin carried his dance shoes. They were his most prized possession, he had told her, ordered from the west when he had begun his career within the Winter Palace and he only put them on at the last minute, just as they were about to step onto the dance floor. The minute their lesson was complete, he likewise took them off.

  It would not take long to search a room of this size. She pulled open the remaining two drawers, threw back the blankets, looked under the bed. No red satin bag. With a sigh, Emma sat down on the narrow cot and stared straight ahead at the wall.

  If his dance shoes were gone, so was Konstantin.

  The Halls of the Winter Palace

  7:42 PM

  Trevor’s thoughts raced even faster than his feet as he hurried up the steps leading to the imperial suites. Rayley was helping Tom into the gypsy king costume, which had been retrieved that afternoon from the palace police, and Emma was off somewhere in the direction of the servant quarters. Her purpose was to warn Konstantin Antonovich of their plan so that he would not appear at that night’s dress rehearsal and thus shatter the illusion they were straining to create. Davy had been dispatched to the theater to procure information on all of the entrances and exits, especially those most likely to be used by the tsar and his family.

  And Trevor was on his way to see Ella. For while it would be nice to solve a Russian crime, he had not been distracted from his main function, which was to protect Victoria and her granddaughters. The Queen, when informed of the situation, had readily agreed to stay in her suite along with Alex and Prakov had sent an entire contingent of the palace police to stand guard in the halls beyond. But Ella was temperamental and determined to prove to her grandmother that the palace was safe. Persuading her to abandon the rehearsal would likely prove to be more of a challenge.

  Trevor rapped gently on the door leading to Ella’s parlor and waited. In their past visits to the royals, the group had always been ushered in by Ella’s private maid, a dour looking creature named Ali
na, so Trevor was shocked momentarily speechless when the door opened to reveal none other than Ella’s husband, the Grand Duke Serge. He regarded Trevor with an expression that managed to be simultaneously bored and suspicious.

  Trevor stammered out his rank and the reason for his visit while the Grand Duke surveyed him coolly.

  “I do not report to my own bodyguards,” he said. “And most certainly not to those of my wife’s grandmama.”

  Irritation stirred in Trevor, but he suppressed it. “I only wished, Your Excellency, to suggest that your wife might avoid the rehearsal theater this evening. We have reason to suspect there may be some sort of trouble.”

  “Some sort of trouble…” the Duke said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “Could you possibly be more specific?”

  But Trevor had scarcely begun when the Duke waved off the very explanation he had requested and said, “It doesn’t matter. My wife has left today for our villa by the sea. I bade her goodbye just minutes ago.” And with that he would have shut the door if Trevor had not managed to slip in the toe of his shoe at his last minute.

  “She traveled alone, Your Excellency?”

  “Of course not,” the Grand Duke snapped, his limited patience at an end. “A lady in waiting and her maid are with her.”

  “Her new lady-in-waiting? Tatiana Orlov?”

  “Why should I know the name of a servant? There was a carriage with ladies, headed for the coast and my wife was among them. If you have anything more to say, I suggest you say it to your own Queen. Good day.”

  And with that the door between the Romanovs and Scotland Yard was closed for good.

  The Grand Ballroom

  8:18 PM

  His first mistake was his promptness. The rehearsal was scheduled to begin at eight o’clock and Tom had entered at 7:55 only to find himself standing in an empty lounge, waiting for the rest of the performers. It was the same room he and Emma had been exploring just before they had stumbled upon Tatiana and Konstantin, he noted, and was evidently the hub of any number of theatrical activities. He paced around nervously until he finally heard the sounds of others arriving downstairs, their voices growing louder as they climbed the stairs, and Tom wished, for the hundredth time in the hour, that he spoke even a smattering of Russian.

  At least the first person through the door was someone he recognized. Xenia, the tsar’s daughter, and Emma had briefed him that she was the first person Konstantin was scheduled to dance with during the imperial waltz performance. Tom supposed he must greet her, and he sank into an exaggerated bow, holding his cape out to one side.

  “Good evening, Milady,” he growled, attempting an accent so outrageous that she would not recognize that it was not the voice of her dance master. “Welcome to the hidden lair of the Gypsy King.”

  She laughed and responded to his English with English of her own. The vast majority of those within the Romanov court were multilingual and at times the palace seemed a virtual Tower of Babel to Tom, with any number of languages being spoken almost interchangeably. But he had noticed that whoever spoke first seemed to dictate the language of the conversation to follow and this time was no exception.

  “Why are you dressed so silly?” Xenia asked. “They said we would practice the waltz first and then the theatricals.”

  “There have been a change of plans, my gypsy princess,” he said, noting that she was indeed dressed for the waltz, in the same spangled red dress that Emma wore. Presumably all the women in that performance would be wearing the same costume, along with silk masks and feathered headbands, which would only make his task more difficult.

  But Xenia appeared to take him at his word, merely nodding before turning to admire her reflection in one of the room’s many mirrors.

  Nice job, Bainbridge, Tom thought. You have at least managed to fool a twelve year old girl.

  8:34 PM

  Emma bunched the voluminous red skirt beneath her and perched on one of the balcony seats. It was the perfect vantage point for studying the ballroom below. She could see Davy at one set of doors, Trevor at another, and Rayley at the third – postings which might have seemed suspicious at any other time, but there was so much hubbub in the ballroom that no appeared to be taking note of their presence. Between the three of them they would get a good look at anyone entering from the public floors. It was up to her and Tom to monitor the entrances from the performance level.

  Speaking of Tom, he had entered the main ballroom as well and Emma internally winced as she watched him cross the dance floor. With the plumed hat he was nearly as tall as Konstantin, but Tom had little of the dance master’s natural grace. He made his way to a distant edge of the room, one of the four shadowy entrance points for the waltz, each tucked behind the base of a stage set, and stood on the periphery of a group of ladies who were all wearing the same red dress as Emma. He seemed to sense her gaze for he glanced upward toward the balcony and made a stiff little bow in her direction.

  It seemed to be going well enough from what she could tell. He wouldn’t try to dance, of course. When the music began, it was a signal that the performers had a few minutes to warm up before the rehearsal. Tom and Emma had agreed they would find each other at the sound of the first note from the pianist, grandly parade to the center of the floor, and that Tom would pretend to roll an ankle almost immediately. Since their feet and legs were their livelihood, the dancers took even the slightest injury seriously. No one would be surprised if Konstantin quickly retreated to his room to pack his sore ankle in ice.

  After all, this was merely the dress rehearsal. The rehearsal for the dancers and for the forensics team as well. If there were truly danger on the horizon, it was unlikely to come to fruition until tomorrow night, when the theater would be packed with an audience full of aristocrats. Tonight was the team’s chance to get a sense of how the performers moved around the ballroom, where any lulls or points of drama were likely to occur in the program. Tomorrow they would be back in their places with more information, and the palace police in full force as well.

  Emma gave a final quick look around the room before pushing to her feet. The costumes and matching dresses made it a little harder to tell, but she had not so far seen anyone whom she could not identify as one of the dancers, musicians, or performers. There were a few workmen adding last minute touches to the four theatrical sets in the corners and it struck her that this might be an easy way to gain access to the theater. Props were being carried in, while tools and pails of paint were being carried out, and around the cottage set were piled a virtual wall of burlap bags, evidently holding soil in which someone would plant flowers. But Trevor had noticed all this as well. He was leaning against the gilded doorframe of the entrance he was guarding, his eyes flickering from one set to another.

  The musicians had entered. The pianist was seated, sifting through his papers. Emma turned to head downstairs and – despite the fact nothing was likely to happen tonight, despite the fact this was little more than practice – her heart was pounding. She must hurry. She must guarantee that she would be the first of Konstantin’s partners to reach Tom’s side. Because, God knows, they couldn’t let him try to dance.

  The Halls of the Gentlemen’s Enclave

  8:53 PM

  It was strange to walk through halls that he had only seen in drawings. Strange to see Yulian’s careful blueprints brought to life.

  Yulian had suggested the idea of bringing in the flowers through the docks and Vlad had to admit it was genius. He had said that one of the theatrical sets was a cottage in the woods and it would be crammed full of flowers. For the sake of freshness, they would only be planted the night before the grand ball. So the dockworker on duty had not been surprised when Vlad and Gregor had rowed up in a boat full of lilies.

  “Somebody has already come through with one load of flowers,” he did remark, flicking a cigarette in the water. “How many damn posies do they need?”

  “Twice as many as you’d think,” Gregor had cheerfully an
swered. “Got another of those cigarettes? The wife won’t let me keep them on me. Says I’m sending money for the baby’s food right up in smoke.”

  The man had laughed and Gregor had tossed him a rope. Thus they had been literally pulled to the dock by one of the palace faithful, who had then furthermore lit Gregor’s cigarette off of his own while Vlad scrambled to unload the flowers. They had gotten them from a florist whose son was an ambitious Volya recruit, a boy who’d had little conscience about helping his comrades burgle his own father’s shop, and they had a subtle waxy smell which reminded Vlad of death. He watched Gregor out of the corner of his eye, admiring his coolness, his ability to share a smoke and a joke with the enemy.

  But Gregor had always told him, if you want a man to trust you, ask him for a favor. Most people get this part wrong. They try to win people over by offering something to them, but humans instinctively recoil from those who help them. They like the people that they help far better, even if the favor granted is as small as a cigarette. Gregor and the dock worker smoked and laughed while Vlad advanced upon the palace with armloads of lilies.

  The Private Stable of the Gentleman’s Enclave

  9:02 PM

  Inside the carriage, Tatiana was ready to pound her fists with frustration. They had been sitting there for over an hour, while Ella had thought of one excuse and then another to delay their departure.

  When Filip had instructed her to leave the Winter Palace, Tatiana’s mind had reeled. The entire household was expected to pack and depart for the coast by the end of the week, so his insistence that she remain not even for that brief amount of time meant that something was brewing. She could not imagine what. She did not want to even try. She was already half in shock. Minutes earlier she had said goodbye to the only man he had ever loved, and now Filip was confronting her with the knowledge she was pregnant.