The Romanov Legacy (16 page)

Patient’s coma remains unexplained. MRI reveals
overdeveloped hypothalamus with extraordinary power of suggestion—possible
cause of the somatic delusion described.

--Dr. Edward Hinman, St. Mary’s Medical Center, 1991

Patient displays signs of recurrent psychosis with
certain long-term deterioration in functional capacity. Administered immediate
dosage of Thorazine; recommended long-term treatment plan with continued use of
antipsychotics and mood stabilizers.

--Dr. Thomas Gridley, SF General Hospital, 1994

Patient exhibits anhedonia, avolition, affective
flattening and dysphoric mood, characteristic of moderate to severe
schizophrenia. According to family member (sister), symptoms worsened with
Prolixin.

--Dr. Samantha C. Thompson, Cal Pacific Medical Center,
1995

Patient is unresponsive and uncommunicative. Persistent
auditory hallucinations severely affect patient’s communication and judgment.
GAF score: 32 out of 100.

--Dr. Emil Berg, SF Community Health Network, 1999

Patient admitted after suicide attempt. Despite
persistent auditory hallucinations, patient displays advanced metabolic
function in frontal cortex. Performs exceedingly well in higher thought process
tests, including abstraction and concept formation. Family member (sister)
reports improvement after discontinuing Clozaril in favor of behavioral
therapy. 

--Dr. Jabez Harger, St. Luke’s Hospital, 2002

Not one of those doctors could tell her why Natalie chose an
angel as her hallucination of preference.  Not one of them could tell her
how Natalie knew the things Belial told her.  They couldn’t give her one
good reason why any of it was happening at all—except to tell her that a very
selfish little girl had probably woken up one day and decided to steal the spotlight
from her normal, well-adjusted parents and sibling. 

“Assholes,” Beth said, crumpling the papers in her
hand.  Medical degree or not, no one knew her sister the way she
did.  She’d seen Natalie fall prey to inexplicable fevers, bouts of
depression, seizures, and enough self-loathing to crush the most egotistic
Hollywood star.  No matter what Belial told her or showed her, the only
person she’d ever harmed was herself. 

Beth knew, in the deepest core of her soul, that Natalie
would never hurt anyone else.  As long as she still believed that was
true, Lopez didn’t need to know what the doctors had said.  But that
didn’t solve the problem.  Natalie was still alone and someone was still
chasing her—someone who was smart enough to watch Beth’s house, too.  She
thought of Seth and Roo, safe at June’s house.  How long could she leave
them there without raising suspicion?

If she called Scott and asked him to take Seth, Scott would
want to know why.  He’d been trying to get custody for two years now and
as far as the state was concerned, his only drawback was his lack of steady
income—they knew nothing about the cocaine.  If Scott discovered the
extent of Natalie’s paper trail, he’d use it to prove Beth put Seth in
danger.  So far, her only hold over him was the exorbitant alimony she
paid him every month.  With Natalie as his ace in the hole, he might
choose to forego alimony for the chance at sole custody and child
support.  “Over my dead body,” she snarled, envisioning one of Scott’s
dealers patting her son on the head.

As she gathered up the contents of Natalie’s file, she heard
a strange sound next door in Seth’s room:  the hiss and crackle of static,
as if a walkie talkie had been turned on.  As soon as she heard it, the
sound vanished.

Seth didn’t have a walkie-talkie.   

Suddenly, she wished she’d kept the dog with her.  She
wouldn’t have hesitated to investigate before last night, but now that she knew
someone was watching her, someone who had tried to kill Natalie, even an
ordinary noise was cause for alarm.

She had no weapons in the house other than kitchen knives
and garage tools.  She wondered if she should just leave and check into a
motel with Seth and Roo until the police found Natalie. 
Oh, no you
don’t
, she thought. 
This is your house and you will take charge of
it if it’s the last fucking thing you do.

She dropped the stack of papers in her hand and went to
investigate.      

July 2012

San Francisco, California

The motel’s air conditioning had been set to run at full
blast despite an outdoor temperature of less than 70 degrees.  Natalie set
the metal box on the floor next to the bed and rubbed her arms to stave off an
explosion of goosebumps.  “How long can we stay here?”

“Long enough for someone to tell me what the hell’s going
on,” Viktor snapped, pointing at her.  “Who is she, Con?”

Constantine dropped the room key on the nightstand. 
“She’s not the professor.”

“Perish the thought.”

“She’s the professor’s sister.”

“Is that true?”

Natalie nodded.  “Yuri lied to everyone.  He never
spoke to my sister about the Romanov letters.  Beth doesn’t even believe
Nicholas’s money exists.”

Viktor raised one thick black eyebrow.  “But you do?”

“Yes.  Belial told me it does.”

“You keep using that word.  If you don’t tell me what
it means, love, I’ll be forced to assume you don’t like me very much.”

Natalie felt her cheeks burn.  Explaining Belial to
Constantine was one thing…he’d witnessed her seizure and stayed with her. 
But Viktor seemed far more self-interested.  What would happen if he
decided she was a liability?  Would Constantine side with him? 

Belial noticed her discomfort and tilted his head, pressing
his wings against her skull. 
Are you embarrassed by me?  After
all I do for you?  
She grunted and clamped her jaw shut.

Viktor shifted his gaze to Constantine.  “What’s the
matter with her now?”

“You might want to sit down for this.  I know I
do.”  Constantine pulled his gun from his waistband and collapsed onto one
of the queen-sized beds.  He told Viktor everything about their flight
through San Francisco, including her part in apprehending the East German
forger.    

Through it all, Viktor leaned against the wall, arms crossed
over his chest and one heel propped against the ochre wallpaper.  “Jesus,
Con,” he said, shaking his head.  “Vadim didn’t tell me any of
this.”  He flashed a crooked smile at Natalie.  “Nice work with that
forger.  I may owe you an apology.”

“I may accept it.  Can I ask a question now?”

“One question,” Viktor acquiesced.

“Did you really give Yuri all that money?”

“Of course not.  The software was fake, the wire
transfer was fake.”

“But Yuri called the bank and they confirmed the deposit.”

Viktor shook his finger.  “Yuri used my phone, programmed
to dial the North American desk, where a native English speaker told him what
he wanted to hear.”  He wrinkled his nose.  “You don’t think we’d
give that pillock ten million dollars, do you?”

Constantine touched his shoulder and winced.  “Viktor,
what did Vadim tell you?”

“That you were trying to get the Romanov letters from a
civilian who used them to blackmail Kadyrov.  He said you needed help, and
told me when and where to arrive.”

“Why didn’t he warn you about Vympel?”

“Must have slipped his mind.”  Viktor uncrossed his
arms and stood up straight.  “He sent me into a death trap, Con, didn’t
he?”

Natalie watched Constantine to gauge his reaction.  He
said nothing and looked away from his friend. 
Not good
, she
thought.

“God, I should have known he’d only re-route me from
Colombia to send me into something worse!”  Viktor marched from the door
to the bed and back, then punched the bathroom door.  “I’m going to kill
him!  By Christ’s holy nutsack, I’m going to kill him.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Constantine said,
grimacing as he tried to sit up.

“Shit,” Viktor said, as if noticing the blood on
Constantine’s shirt for the first time.  “You need a bit of patching
up.  I’ll go and fetch some supplies.  I need some air, anyway.”
   

Constantine reached into his pocket and tossed Viktor a roll
of bills.  “Vodka.  Lots of it.”

Viktor caught the money and slammed the door behind him on
his way out.  Natalie watched him through the window, spotting his tall,
lanky form in the parking lot as it moved toward the Monte Carlo.  “Is he
going to be all right?” she asked.

“He’s never gotten along with Vadim, but I didn’t expect
this.”

“Can you trust him?”

“Viktor?  Of course.  We’ve worked together since
Stealth.” 

She closed the curtain and Constantine patted the space next
to his leg.  “Come here so I can look at you while I’m still
conscious.  Once Viktor gets his hands on me, I’ll be out cold.”  

Natalie blushed.  She wasn’t used to flirting.  In
fact, she didn’t usually talk to any men who weren’t her shrinks.  She’d
botched everything last night by throwing herself at him, but now she
understood that the wing-like flutter in her belly was thin and
evanescent.  Like a sparkling filament, it would crumble or simply vanish
if she beat at it.  “You mentioned Stealth before,” she said.  “What
is it?”

“A private security company.  Dozens of our men went to
work for the KGB in the late 90s.  That’s where Vadim found Viktor and
me.”

“Does Viktor think I’m crazy?”

Constantine grinned.  “Viktor
is
crazy.  He
pretends he’s British.”

“His accent’s terrible.  Why does he do it?”

“I don’t know, but it got worse in Chechnya when he started
watching AbFab on satellite TV.  When I first met him in Stealth training,
he hung a picture of Kim Philby next to his bunk.”

Natalie nodded.  She remembered reading about Philby, a
decorated member of British intelligence who defected to the Soviet
Union.  He became a Soviet hero after his death, complete with state
funeral, posthumous medals and a postage stamp.  “Children cling to their
heroes.”

“Who’s your hero?”

“Beth.”

“What’s she like?”

“She’s not crazy, if that’s what you mean.”  Natalie
averted her eyes, running her fingers over the slick polyester bedspread. 
“Everything good went into her.”     

“That’s not true.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s not the way I think about my sister.”

“Is she the girl who tried to kill herself?  The one
Viktor says you’re hiding?”

The smile fell from Constantine’s face.  “Viktor said
what?”

“He said you’re hiding someone.  He warned me about it
at Yuri’s.”

“Before or after he tried to kiss you?”

She grimaced, remembering Viktor’s red lips and crooked
front teeth.  “I thought he looked like a vampire.  Why didn’t you
tell him about your sister?”

“It’s none of his business.”

“It’s none of mine, either.”

He reached out and touched one of her scars.  “Maybe it
should be.  At least you would know how to talk to her.  She’s
done….this….three times now.  One of these days, she’ll get it
right.  I was supposed to go home to be with her.”

“What happened?”

“Vadim sent me here.”

“Shit.”  Natalie hung her head.  “I’m sorry.”

“Lana doesn’t listen to me.  I can’t get through to
her.”

Natalie bit her lip, wondering what she could say to
help.  Was it possible that Lana felt about Constantine the way she felt
about Beth?  She knew nothing about his family or upbringing, but she knew
what she’d seen—he took a bullet so she could escape that house.  Anyone
willing to do that for a stranger would surely love a sister, even one who was
broken inside.
 
“She listens,” Natalie said softly.
 
“I
know she does.”

She took a deep breath and shifted her weight away from him
on the bed.  “You could go to her.  I’ll tell Viktor I fell asleep
and don’t know where you went.” 

Constantine rolled over onto his right arm.  “Do you
think I would leave you here with Vympel looking for you?”

“But she needs you.”  Natalie imagined herself in
Lana’s place, struggling for a reason to live without Beth—her life support—at
her side.  “If it were me, and I didn’t have Beth…” She shook her
head.  “I wouldn’t make it.”

For a moment, Constantine’s blue eyes glimmered with
hope.  Then he blinked and shook his head.  “Our parents are with
her.  If I left you here, I’d be no better than the people who hurt
her.  I can’t do that.” 

“Who hurt her?”

“People who wanted to get to me.  She hasn’t been the
same since.”

“I’m so sorry.”  Natalie let out the breath she hadn’t
known she was holding.  “But I’m happy you’re staying.”

He smiled, creasing the skin around his eyes.  “I
wasn’t aware you were so fond of me.”

The warm blue of his eyes reminded her of the sea, shining
and deep.  When he looked at her, she realized she felt whole.  “I’m
fond of the fact that you’re really good at killing whoever wants to kill
me.  And I don’t want you to leave.”

“Then I won’t.”

She looked at him sideways and smiled.  “Is it that
easy?”

“It can be.”  He pulled her close, close enough for her
to feel his breath on her skin and to count the hundreds of tiny pores dotting
his cheeks.  She stared at him and realized how little you see of people
from far away.  Up close, you can actually see what they’re made of—the
atoms, the molecules, the way they combine to form hair and skin and
sweat. 

Her eyes ricocheted between his lips, the lines on his brow,
the stubble on his cheeks.  “Nothing in my life is easy,” she said.

“It wouldn’t be worth much if it were.”  He traced the
diagonal of her cheekbone with his index finger.  Then his finger trailed
down her neck to the collar of her blouse.  Heat began to build in her
belly, deep in her core.  She sighed and he leaned toward her with parted
lips.  He pressed them to her neck and she arched it, opening herself to
him.  The shock of his touch made her shiver; goosebumps broke out all
along her legs.  She held her breath and closed her eyes as his lips
traveled closer to hers.