The Romanov Legacy (39 page)

“Rumkowski,” Constantine said.  “We were told that one
of his men got into the bank as an employee, but could never find the account
itself or any written proof that it existed.”

“Correct.”

“But that makes no sense,” Beth argued.  “Doesn’t every
account need paperwork or at least a signature or forward address?  Even
this goddamn password needs to be written down somewhere, doesn’t it?” 

Perry turned in mid-step, eyes twinkling.  “One would
think that, wouldn’t one?”

She glared back at him.  “I’m glad you find this all so
amusing.  Every official statement of yours I’ve ever read denies the
existence of any tsarist funds.  How many people have you lied to about
this money?”

“People have a hard time taking no for an answer.”

“Why shouldn’t they, especially when they’re right? 
How have you kept such an enormous lie intact for all these years?”

“How would anyone know it’s a lie if there’s no paperwork to
be found?  Any bank employee, even a vice-president, would find no
evidence to prove such an account exists.  When they denied the existence
of the account, they weren’t lying.  They were simply reporting the truth
as they saw it.”

“So who does know the truth?”

He stopped in front of a brass-paneled elevator and made a
polite half-bow.  “Only the sitting governor.”

“Not the prime minister?”

“Goodness, no.  Why bring politics into it?” 
Perry pulled an electronic passkey from his vest pocket and used it to unlock
the elevator.  “Follow me, if you please.”

The elevator opened and they filed in.  Perry pulled up
his identification badge and held it in front of a sealed metal panel in the
elevator wall.  He pressed it there for five seconds, palm against the
badge.  Suddenly, the panel began to glow white as an intense light shone
out from behind it. 

“Biometrics,” he said.  “Combined with nanotechnology
and a good old-fashioned x-ray.  I don’t understand a bit of it.”

The panel beeped and the governor removed his palm and the
badge.  The metallic panel popped open, revealing another set of
buttons.  He pressed the bottom button and re-latched the panel. 

Beth watched his movements with a pale face.  “Oh, God,
you’re going to have to kill us now, aren’t you?”

“If you were going to be killed, madam, I would have asked
that it be done as far away from me as possible.”

The elevator descended quickly, jolting Natalie’s stomach up
into her throat.  She took a deep breath, but still—no flutter from
Belial’s wings. 
What the hell is wrong with you?
she asked.  
Are
you even paying attention?
 

It’s all right, little one,
he answered.
 When
Marie told me the password, she also told me what’s inside.  She’s here
with me now, watching you.

“What?” she screeched.

They all turned to look at her.  “Nat,” Beth
said.  “Spill it.”

“Belial’s got company.”

Perry opened his mouth to ask a question and Beth glared at
him.  He closed it. 

“What kind of company?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…the good kind.”

Clanking and rattling, the elevator flew down an endless
shaft.  When it was pulled to a stop by a great squeak and clank of cables,
the doors opened and revealed a dim hallway with sound-absorbent tiles on the
roof and pendant light fixtures that looked like they were leftovers from a
World War II army base.  The air was chilly and damp and the cement
walkway beneath their feet was littered with dust and debris. 

Perry turned left and proceeded down the hallway, stepping
over the larger rocks in his path.  She followed him until he stopped in
front of a metal door with a tarnished brass knob.  He reached into his
pants pocket and drew out a single key.  Long and old, it looked like it
was made from the same brass as the doorknob itself.

“How old is that?” she asked.

“Seventy-three years,” he answered.  “We rebuilt this
bunker in 1938, when we knew war was inevitable.  It withstood the Blitz,
which was all we asked of it.” 

“And now?”

“Now it is up to you,” he said, looking at her.  “I am
told by the Prime Minister that you are the one with the password.  If you
are correct, this key is yours.”

“And if I’m wrong?”

“I take you back upstairs and the men with guns put you on a
plane.”  He pointed to a thin series of red wires ringing the
doorway.  “Then I destroy the contents of that room.  There will be a
press release from Downing Street that describes the unfortunate death of Russian
Prime Minister Starinov when his driver lost control of their car.  I
point out what a tragedy it is that the man died while harassing the bank yet
again about a tsarist account that simply does not exist.  In the spirit
of transparency which you Americans so eagerly desire of your bankers and
politicians, I may even make public our records from the Great War, to put to
rest once and for all the possibility of any secret account.”

“What if I tell the world you’re lying?”

Perry shrugged.  “You have no proof.  You are here
without passports, I am told, so there is no official record of your entry to
Britain.  I can destroy or replace any bank security footage that includes
you.  The only people who have seen you are now dead, in custody, or are
British soldiers who will do exactly as they are told.” 

“Wait a minute,” Constantine said.  “Starinov is
dead?  Is that true?”

“It is,” Perry said.  “He was pronounced dead not half
an hour ago at the Royal London Hospital, while you were en route.  Davies
will release a statement shortly, no matter what happens here.”

Constantine grasped Natalie’s shoulders.  “Did you hear
that?  No matter what happens here, Starinov can’t hurt you again.”

Her whole body shook with relief.  Now Beth and Seth
would be safe.  No more Vympel breaking into apartments and dragging
people away into the night.  She stared at the door and wondered why she
felt nothing, no hint of angelic excitement or inspiration.  Inside, she
just felt numb.  “What happens to the things in that room?”

“The tsar’s instructions are ironclad:  no one shall
claim the contents except the first person to give the correct password.”

“Hold the phone,” she said.  “The tsar’s
instructions?  I thought Soloviev set up the account while the tsar was in
custody in Russia.”

Perry smiled.  “I see you only know part of the
story.  The account opened by Mr. Soloviev was ancillary to the primary
account, which was set up by the tsar himself, through his finance minister Sir
Peter Bark.  After the tsar’s untimely death, Sir Peter collapsed the
accounts under Soloviev’s name, in the interests of security.”

Beth frowned.  “But Nicholas and Bark never saw each
other again after February of 1917.  We know the Soloviev account couldn’t
have been set up before late 1917.  When was the primary account set up?”

“I’ve seen it myself,” Perry said.  “The date on the
charter of the first account is 1916.  It was written by Nicholas II and
witnessed by the empress Alexandra and her brother, the Grand Duke Ernst of
Hesse.”

“That’s impossible,” Constantine said.  “Russia and
Germany were at war in 1916.”

“Holy shit,” Natalie breathed, clutching Constantine’s
wrist.  “Anna Anderson was right!  Beth, she was right!”

“Nat, what are you talking about?  That crackpot wasn’t
right about anything, not even her own name.  The DNA tests proved she
wasn’t Anastasia.”

“But do you remember what she said?  She said
Anastasia’s uncle, Ernst of Hesse, made a secret trip to Russia in 1916 to try
and work out a peace treaty between Germany and Russia.  It would have
taken Russia out of the war, leaving England and France as sitting ducks. 
She said Nicholas refused because he was honor-bound by his agreements to the
Allies.  When Anderson’s claim became public knowledge, everyone freaked
out…especially Ernie and his relatives in Germany.  Why would they have
cared, unless it were the truth?”

“So where’d she get that information?”

“Someone fed it to her.”  She started to pace, her
brain whirring like a computer scanning itself for a virus.  “So Nicholas
refuses to make a separate peace with Germany, but he understands Ernie’s
concern about the terrible state Russia is in.  He tells Ernie he’s going
to set aside enough money to take care of them should anything happen. 
Ernie witnesses the charter for this secret account, and Bark sets it up
through the old-boy network.  The tsar tells Bark the password, and Bark
tells the governor of the bank.  Each governor tells the next, like some
sick Masonic ritual.”  She turned to Perry.  “Is that how it
happened?”

“I wasn’t there, my dear.  How could I know for sure?”

Beth narrowed her eyes at the old man.  “You said
you’ve seen the date on the charter.  How?”

“The charter still exists,” he replied.  “It is shown
to each new bank governor when he takes over.”

“By whom?”

Perry’s lips twisted into a smile.  “Whom do you
think?  The reigning sovereign, of course.”

Natalie smacked her forehead.  “Of course!  Bark
smuggled the charter to England and showed it to George V, didn’t he? 
That’s why there’s no record of it in the bank.  They keep it at
Buckingham.”

Perry nodded.  “The charter and the password are
separate entities.  Her Majesty has custody of the charter but no access
to the password.”

“Yet she’s helped keep the secret,” Beth said.  “Why?”

“Her grandfather, George V, wanted it that way. 
Nicholas II wished the account to be kept secret and His Majesty honored his
cousin’s wishes.  So has every reigning monarch since.”

“That makes sense,” Constantine said.  “The brief I
read said that Nicholas repatriated all his money in 1914 and ordered his
family to do the same.  He wouldn’t want anyone knowing he was secretly
hedging his bets.”

Natalie nodded and looked Perry in the eye.  Soft and
rheumy, they were the color or cornflowers.  They had once been the color
of cold steel.  “So you’re the only person on earth who knows the
password.  What if you died without telling the next director what it is?”

“Then it all dies with me.”

“What a waste,” Beth said.

“I prefer to think of it as a tradition and an honor,” he
said dryly.  He pulled a sealed envelope from his pocket.  “While I
waited for you to arrive, I wrote the password on a card and sealed it in this
envelope.  You tell me the password, and I’ll open the envelope.  If
you’re right, I will give you the key.”  He held up the slim piece of
metal.

She slipped her hand in Constantine’s and felt his strong
fingers wrap around hers.  She thought of Nicholas and Alexandra, how they
had stood by each other to their deaths, in love until the very end.  She
thought of poor Marie, how all she’d wanted was the chance to do what her
parents had done—find the love of her life. 
Everything about this
family hurts
, she thought. 
Even their love aches.
 
I’m
just a nobody with voices in my head.  Why should I get to touch things
that they touched?
 

“I don’t think I can do this,” she said.  “It’s too
much.”

Constantine tilted her chin and kissed her gently on the
forehead, cheeks, and finally, on her lips.  “The stars aligned for this,”
he said.  “The letters made their way to you.  I made my way to
you.  If not for this, then what was it all for?”

“Nat, you should do this,” Beth added.  “It’s time for
this to end.  All their bones have been found.  This is the one thing
they can’t get away from.  End it for them and let them rest.”

Yes, please
, Marie’s voice echoed in her head. 
We’re
all so tired.  Just make it go away. 

Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them away.  “All
right,” she said.  “Let it end.  The password is Theodore.”

July 2012

London, England

“Theodore?” Beth echoed softly.  “Are you sure?”

Natalie nodded.  “That part of what I told Starinov was
the truth.  The clue in Marie’s letter really did reference President
Roosevelt.”

“I don’t get it,” Constantine said.  “Why would the
tsar use the name of the American president as his password?”

“It’s more than a name.  If you break it up into its
original Greek components, it means ‘gift of God.’  It’s what they called
Alexei, their miracle baby.  The only thing the tsar’s money couldn’t buy
him.”

Perry opened the envelope and pulled out the card
inside. 

Told you so
, Belial said. 

Constantine looked to Perry.  “What happens now? 
Does she get the key?”

“This?” he said, holding it up.  “This is
worthless.  This isn’t even the vault.  This is where we store the
rubbish.”

“You tricked us?” Natalie asked. 

Perry stood stiffly and straightened his bow tie.  “My
bank has kept this secret for almost a hundred years.  Did you really
think I would lead you to its very door and hold out the very key you needed to
unlock it, when all you had to do was knock me down and take it?”

Natalie felt her cheeks burn.  “It does sound stupid
when you say it like that.”

“Come now,” Perry said softly.  “I’ll take you to the
real thing.”

He led them back to the elevator and used his passkey to
access the same hidden panel in the elevator.  This time, he pressed a
different button and the elevator took them two floors up, to another long and
dim hallway.  It looked just like the hall they’d come from, with one
exception—Natalie noticed one door had plastic casings around it and a metal
keypad.

“That’s it,” she said, pointing at it.

“Yes, it is,” Perry said, typing in a long string of
numbers.  Finally, the keypad beeped and flashed a green light.  “Go
ahead, now, miss.”