The Blood Royal(108)
‘Exactly. You have a pretty devious mind yourself, constable, but would it have occurred to you? No. Nor to me. In the quest for verisimilitude, Wentworth, this would be a step too far. And I’ll tell you something else. The last telling detail was the caking of mud between the front teeth, consistent with a grisly scenario where the doctor’s body was dragged by the heels, face down, towards the pit. The teeth scraped along the ground and became detached.’
‘Now there’s a subtlety. A convincing detail, as you say. So – unless some overarching malign intelligence was running this show …’
‘Bacchus was engaged elsewhere at the time. I checked.’
‘… the massacre must be a true bill. They died there and were buried in the forest. Poor creatures! But you mentioned a British presence. How on earth did his majesty’s agents fetch up here in the wilderness?’
‘Ekaterinburg may be a far-off outlandish sort of place, but where there’s money about, and in enormous quantities, there you’ll find international interest also. There’s a whole boulevard taken up by embassies of one sort or another. The British have an outpost there. And we have in our consul, Thomas Preston, and vice-consul, Arthur Thomas, two active, intelligent, Russian-speaking officials of the highest calibre. Bold too, I may add. The vice-consul went along to bang on the table and make demands of the local soviet concerning the security of the Romanov family once too often. He was almost shot on the spot by a gun-toting official. They did what they could and kept the villa where the Romanovs were held under very close surveillance, remaining in touch, telegraph permitting, for as long as possible. And then, of course, we have our man Lockhart out and about and up to mischief. I can say no more. Just accept that we know far more than ever appears in the pages of the London Times.’
‘I’m thinking this is a puzzle of a painting I’ve been handed.’
‘Yes. Intriguing possibilities here … A potentially dangerous work, though. It could cause difficulties for you if it got about.’ Joe began to pad about the room. ‘You see – it’s empty, the grave. It’s been dug but there are no bodies. Not a sign of one. Do you think the artist would have been able to restrain himself from adding a symbolic smear of blood-red staining the oily puddles of the taiga floor if …’ He was muttering almost to himself as he stared again at the painting. ‘I wonder if I could use this to our advantage? The uncertainty?’ He took a few more steps about the room and then: ‘Look here – I think you should leave the picture with me. It was addressed to you, care of Commander Sandilands after all. I’ll put it away in my cupboard.’ He watched as her expression changed. ‘Oh, all right. Let’s agree to wrangle about that later. Come and sit down. I need to hear your female opinion. Let me move your chair round here; you’ll want to take a look at this file with me. Bacchus managed to come up with something he thought we might find useful. It’s all we have on Anna Petrovna. Now, come on, constable! She’s in here … the woman and her motives. We have to get into her skull. We have to understand what she’s up to and why on earth she’s turned assassin. And, most importantly, how much further does she intend to go?’ He opened the file with a flourish. ‘First let’s take a look at her. Not much in the way of photographs but here’s what we have.’
He found two sepia prints and laid them out on the desk. ‘First, a line-up of nurses. Hair concealed under those white headdresses they wear. The imperial ladies, led by the Empress, rolled up their sleeves and did some pretty basic nursing work in military hospitals during the war. The older girls, Olga and Tatiana, worked like Trojans apparently. Tatiana, the sprightlier of the two, inevitably, having led such a sheltered life, fell hopelessly in love with a White Army officer under her care. Her first and only love,’ he added. ‘Bacchus’s gossip … not sure that’ll be in the notes.’
‘Oh, dear! I can’t imagine much good would have come of that,’ Lily said sadly.
‘No indeed. He must have been a spectacular young man, however. Even the Empress – the fussiest and most snobbish woman on earth – liked him and was reported to admit he’d have made a wonderful son-in-law, if only …’
‘An imperial archduchess would be destined for one of the European royal heirs. Our own Edward? Oh, goodness – now, there’s a thought. Well, I’m glad to hear the girls had a taste of real life before …’
‘We think this girl here, the tall, full-bosomed one, is our Anna. Hard to be certain. Some of their friends did join them on the wards. And then there’s this snapshot, in different mode. A rather distant and blurred shot of five girls on a summer’s day – the imperial daughters plus Anna and, honestly, she could be any one of them. They all look alike to me. A froth of white lace, a glimmer of jewels and a gallery of sulky faces. Has a Romanov ever been observed to smile?’