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The Kremlin Games(131)

By:Eric Flint


Kiril knew who she was talking about. Although cretin might be a bit tame, in his opinion. “He was drunk earlier, but I didn’t expect him to actually come here.”

They stopped and looked around the princess’ room at the same time. Natasha was cramming jewelry and papers into a bag, urging Anya to hurry.

Sofia gasped. Natasha’s face was reddened, as though she’d been punched and her dressing gown was in tatters. “Natasha!”

“Cass tried to rape her. And I shot him.” Anya pointed at the limp form of Sheremetev’s prize up-timer. “Then they came in and tried to draw on me with a gun in my hand, and I shot them.” She pointed at the guards.

Sofia’s face paled and Kiril couldn’t quite tell if it was the news about Cass or that Anya, a peasant, had been shooting up members of the service nobility. That didn’t matter now. It was obvious that Princess Natalia was in shock. Anya seemed to be doing better but Anya had previous experience with violence.

“We have to get you out of here,” Kiril said. “And we have to do it now. There’s not much time. It’s only pure luck that none of the other guards were near the house.”

“We’ll need horses,” Princess Natasha said. “Anya and I can . . . can . . .”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sofia said sharply. “You and Anya are leaving, yes. But not on horses.”

“But, but . . .”

“I’ve heard Bernie’s car roaring around this place for weeks,” Sofia said. “You’ll take it.”

“But, but . . .”

“Neither of us know how to drive,” Anya pointed out.

“So we wake up Bernie!”

“We can’t take Bernie!” Natasha insisted. “He’ll be safe, if we can get away. Sheremetev won’t hurt him. He needs an up-timer.” She pointed at Cass on the floor.

“Bernie would follow you anyway,” Sofia snapped. “So stop being silly.”

Kiril’s mind was racing. “And Filip. You’ll want Filip.”

“Why Filip?” Anya said, then almost dragging the words out. “He has a secure position here. It would be better if he stayed here where it’s safe.”

Father Kiril smiled. “For the same reason that we’re going to send Bernie. He would follow you anyway. Besides, who do you think has been writing the Flying Squirrel pamphlets? Filip isn’t safe here, not with the heat that will be coming down.”

Anya nodded, accepting Father Kiril’s logic “And Gregorii,” Anya said. “He’s been working on our papers, just in case.”

“And you, Father,” Sofia said. “All these children need an adult around.”





Chapter 75





“Wake up! Wake up!”

Bernie was never at his best when shaken out of sleep. “Wha . . . Who . . . ?”

“Bernie, wake up,” Natasha said. “We have to go.”

“Go where?”

“Anywhere away from here.”

That last comment woke Bernie up fully. “Natasha, what happened?”

“Quickly, Bernie. Quickly. I’ll tell you on the way.” He was half out of his room before his mind caught up with his body. “All right, everyone stop. What’s going on?”

“We don’t have time for this!” Natasha said exasperated.

“We don’t have time to skip this part,” Bernie said. After four years of the enthusiasms of geniuses he knew well how easy it was for them to get excited and forget minor details like, say, shoes in a snow storm. “What are we trying to accomplish? What can we do that will make it safer and more likely to work? What must we do that will prevent it from working?”

“We’re trying to escape!” We can move quic—”

Bernie held up a hand. “Escape to where? For how long? From who?”

And that brought everyone up short.

Father Kiril quickly and concisely filled Bernie in on what had happened.

“Anya,” Natasha added, “had been working on just-in-case plans to escape to the east.”

“Good thinking, kid,” Bernie said. “I figured on running west myself, but all the forces that would be hunting us are in that direction and that’s the direction they would expect. So we escape to the east long enough to get away and figure out what to do next?”

There were nods.

“We’re escaping from the present government of Russia, not just Sheremetev and his goons since he’s running things now. Which means we need to be as far and as long gone as we can before he realizes we’ve left. What about the radio?”

“What about it?” Sofia asked. But Natasha was nodding.