Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (52 page)

'Quick! Into the bushes!' Senda hissed as they approached the
gatehouse of the Danilov Palace. Without a word, Inge drew Tamara into a cluster of scratchy leafless winter shrubbery. Even on foot, their progress had been surprisingly swift and,
until now, blessedly uneventful. By taking turns carrying
Tamara rather than matching her slower pace, they had
crossed the Neva bridge and reached the forbidding palace
walls in no time at all.
'What is it?' Inge asked with alarm. 'What do you see?'

'Ssssh!' Senda hissed, squeezing Inge's wrist to silence her.
She pushed a branch aside and peered ahead into the darkness.
Two men had come out of the gatehouse. One of them carried a ladder and the other peered cautiously through the filigreed
wrought-iron bars before unlocking the gate. Their furtive
apprehension nagged at her, and she watched quietly as in the
white gleam of the ironwork lanterns mounted on the stone piers at either side of the gate, they began to work quickly.
First they unfurled long red banners.

A roiling sickness clutched her belly. Red, she thought with
an involuntary shudder. Why does that bright, crimson red
strike such terror in me? Despite the cold, a faint mist of
perspiration sleeked her features.

Having finished hanging the banners, the two men began to affix a wooden sign on the gate bars. Close enough to see what
they were doing, Senda was too far away to make out the words. But she could see that they, too, were painted in red.

Inge tugged at her sleeve. 'Shouldn't we leave?' she whispered sibilantly. 'What if they find us here?'

Senda didn't reply. Her squinted gaze was fixed on the men.
Suddenly she understood their furtiveness and laughed softly
to herself. Her tensed muscles relaxed and the warm rush of relief she felt as she recognized one of the men was good. The
tall, thin, praying mantis of a figure was unmistakably Count
Kokovtsov.

'Well, I'll be,' she marvelled, shaking her head in wonder.
'Clever. Very clever.'

'Ssssh!' Now Inge silenced her.

'We don't have to whisper anymore,' Senda said, raising
her voice above a whisper but still speaking softly. 'I think it's
safe to approach now. But stay back with Tamara a little,
while I do the talking.'

'You're sure?' Inge asked hesitantly.

Senda nodded definitely and branches rustled as she
emerged from the bushes. Brushing her woollen coat with her
hands, she hurried toward the gate.

Hearing the briskly approaching footsteps, Count
Kokovtsov turned slowly to face her. She heard his sharp
intake of breath, and in the wash of the lamplight she could
see a single eyebrow arch into a poised question mark on his
high, domed forehead.

'Count Kokovtsov,' she said pleasantly.

'Madame Bora,' he said tightly. He was momentarily at a loss; she was the last person he had expected to see.'What . . .
what a . . . pleasant surprise.'

Senda forced a smile. 'The pleasure is mine, Count,' she answered in a civil tone, the irony of her own words not lost on her. She looked questioningly at the burly, short-haired
man beside him.

'Ivan, my manservant,' the Count replied to her questioning
look.

She nodded and turned to the sign they had affixed to the
gate, reading the crudely painted red letters as she slid her
hands into her coat pockets:

NO TRESPASSING!

THIS HOUSE IS THE PROPERTY OF THE PETROGRAD SOVIET!

PRINCE VASLAV DANILOV AND PRICESS IRINA HAVE BEEN

REMOVED TO THE FORTRESS OF ST. PETER AND ST. PAUL!

The Count watched her with an inscrutable expression, one hand tucked in the small of his back. To either side of them,
the long red cotton banners flapped and sighed like sails in the
wind. The Count turned to his servant. 'That will do, Ivan,'
he said.

Bowing, his servant picked up the ladder and carried it
through the open gate.

The Count turned his full attention to Senda, fixing her with
an imperious gaze.

'Monsieur le Comte,' she said softly, 'I have come to see
the Prince.'

His eyes were hooded. 'Madame Bora,' he intoned
patiently, 'you can undoubtedly read; therefore, the sign
should be self-explanatory.'

Senda squared her shoulders. She was determined not to let his haughty superiority intimidate her. She gripped his arm. 'I
must see him!' she whispered urgently.

'As you can see for yourself, madame,' he said obliquely,
freeing himself from her grasp, 'it is impossible for me to assist
you. I am truly sorry.' He gestured elegantly at the sign. 'I
suggest you rely on your own, shall we say, somewhat formidable resources. Perhaps you would like to pay him a visit in
the fortress?'

'Count Kokovtsov.' She smiled chidingly. 'What do you take me for? I know it's merely a ruse. The sign, the red
banners, the shuttered windows. It's a ploy to divert the revo
lutionaries who would otherwise ransack the palace and surely
imprison you.'

He looked surprised. 'Why should we want to do such a
thing?'

'To buy time in order to escape.' She nodded. 'Shrewd.
Very clever.'

'Believe what you will.' He turned away in irritation and
began to head through the gate.

'I watched while you and Ivan hung the banners and the
sign.'

He began to shut the gate on her.

Her voice rose. 'Don't you dare lock me out! I demand to
speak to Vaslav.'

'Vaslav, is it now?' He smirked. 'My, my, but we
are
familiar.'

'I'm going to see him.' Her voice took on a knife edge of
warning.

'And if you can't?' Kokovtsov's smile was wide but humour
less. A death's-head grin, she thought.

She smiled grimly. 'In that case, Count Kokovtsov, I shall be forced to camp out here . . . tear down your precious sign
and banners.'

'You are bluffing.'

She raised her chin stubbornly. 'Try me.' Her eyes flashed
challenging fire.

His eyes blazed hatred, his cheeks twitched, but she had to
say one thing for him. Somehow he managed to salvage his
cold pride and keep his voice under control.

'Very well, Madame Bora.' His voice lowered. 'You give
me no choice. However, I shall not take the responsibility for
having let you in.'

'I am willing to take responsibility for my actions.'

He swung the gate open. 'I see you have brought your
daughter and a servant. The three of you will have to wait in
the Jasper Vestibule while I inform the Prince that you are
here. He is with the Princess. I should think you would not
wish to barge in on them.'

'Thank you, Count Kokovtsov.' She was pleased to see that
despite the breakdown of society, etiquette and discretion
were practiced here. She turned, motioning for Inge and Tamara to follow, and slipped through the gate. Count
Kokovtsov locked the gates behind them. Then they hurried
along the curving drive to keep up with his swift stride.

As she walked, Senda glanced around. Nothing seemed to
have changed in the three years since she had first set foot here. Except for the shuttered windows, everything looked
the same. To either side of her, the specimen trees were bare, skeletal, and in front loomed the massive palace, its signature
cluster of five onion domes poised pitch black against the deep
purple velvet of the night sky. The palace grounds seemed
deceptively peaceful, giving her the feeling that the walls could
forever keep the world at bay. Overhead, amid the canopy of winking, incandescent stars, the coral strands of the aurora
borealis hovered like brilliant necklaces in midair. For the
first time since the start of the revolution, she began to feel a
measure of peace and tranquillity. The heavy burdens which
had weighed her down lifted from her shoulders.
Vaslav will help us, she thought.

Count Kokovtsov closed the door on the Jasper Vestibule and
smiled at Ivan, but his lips were humourless. 'There. That
should keep them out of our hair for a while.'

'You are certain they will wait, master?'

'For a half-hour or more, yes.' The Count's voice was cold. 'The woman is a fool. She believes whatever she is told. Is the
car in readiness?'

Ivan bowed his head. 'I have filled it with petrol and warmed
up the engine, as you instructed.'

'Good. We will be leaving at once. Wait for us in the
garages . . .
No!'
He poised a finger lightly on his lips, his ruby
ring glinting crimson. 'On second thought,' he said slowly,
'hitch up a carriage.'

'A carriage!' The burly Cossack looked at him in surprise.
'But the car will get us to the train so much faster!'

'It will also draw undue attention to us. Haven't you
noticed, Ivan? There
are
no cars on the streets.'

Ivan looked at the Count with glowing respect. 'I hadn't
thought of that, master.'

The Count smiled benignly.
'
That is why I am your master,
and you are my servant. In the meantime, I shall go see the Prince and the Princess. Have the carriage waiting. Five
minutes.' The Count held up a hand, splaying his five fingers.
Then he strode off. After a few steps he halted and turned
around. 'And, Ivan?' he called out.

'Yes, master?'

'Affix one of those infernal red banners to the carriage.'

'Yes, master. It is as good as done.'

The Count hurried to the Danilov suite of apartments in the
far wing of the palace. He smiled to himself with satisfaction,
congratulating himself on his quick thinking. Despite the
initial shock he had felt when that actress had arrived, he had
kept his wits about him and gained the upper hand. He hadn't
planned to have to deal with her, but matters were under control. He had chosen to have her wait in the Jasper Vesti
bule for the very reason that it was the public room furthest
from the Danilov apartments. There would be no danger of
her running into Vaslav.