The Kremlin Games(137)
* * *
The Dodge traveled slowly, pulling a down-time made trailer behind it. The trailer carried some twenty of Natasha’s men at arms led by Vladislav Vasl’yevich. In order to avoid jarring the men too much, Bernie kept the speed down to around twenty miles per hour, and often much less than that. The thirty-two mile trip to the hunting lodge took three hours. It was evening when they approached the hunting lodge.
“You need to warn me before we get there, Natasha,” Bernie said. “We need to stop the car a mile or so away from the lodge and let the boys in back out of the trailer.”
A few minutes later Natasha told Bernie to stop. “The path goes forward, then turns right. After the turn, you can see the lodge.”
Bernie consulted with the armsmen, including one of her huntsmen who was very familiar with this particular lodge. “How close can you get before you’re spotted?”
“It depends on who’s doing the spotting,” the huntsman said. “If it was you I could tap you on the shoulder before you knew I was there.”
“Maybe you better go scout for us then.”
“I can do that.”
The wait seemed to last forever, but it wasn’t really that long before the huntsman came up behind Bernie and said “Boo.” Bernie grinned and turned to face the man. He’d spotted him well before time. The huntsman grimaced. “So what did you see, Boo?” Bernie asked.
“About a hundred yards east of the lodge, there are several tents and a paddock with maybe twenty horses. Considering the size of the lodge, I don’t see how there can be more than thirty or so men, at most.”
“All right,” Bernie said. “You and the men infiltrate. Natasha and I will drive in just like we own the place.”
Vladislav Vasl’yevich started to object but was interrupted.
“I do own the place,” Natasha said.
“Fine. We’re the distraction, Natasha. Ride in like the queen of England, order them off your property. And while they’re arresting us, the rest of these guys will get the drop on them.” Bernie didn’t have to explain “get the drop on them.” He’d already done that. Many times.
And, in essence, that’s what they did.
Bernie drove up to the house, with the horn blaring. Most of the horses in the area panicked. Half a dozen men came out of the tents and one man came out of the house itself.
* * *
Natasha emerged from the car, using her most regal manner. “What are you people doing at my lodge? You’re trespassing. Get out at once!” Then, apparently seeing Czar Mikhail for the first time, she added, “Except, of course, for Your Majesty. You are always welcome on my lands.”
The czar was looking as shocked as anyone. But it wasn’t he who spoke. It was a man Natasha had never seen before, who was dressed in a black fur coat with a silver dog’s head clasp. Sixty years before, Ivan the Terrible had created a band of enforcers called the Oprichniki who were recognized by their black fur coats and the severed dog’s heads they carried. Later Ivan had outlawed them and made it a crime to even say the word Oprichniki.
This man and the six he had with him, also wearing the clasp, weren’t the same Oprichniki as Ivan had had. A silver dog’s head wasn’t the same as the severed head of a real dog. Still, the symbolism was unmistakable.
“You are under arrest!” the latter-day Oprichniki said.
Feeling more than a little pale herself, Natasha turned to the czar and waved at the man in black. “Did you authorize this, Your Majesty?”
She was unutterably relieved to see the little, almost unconscious, shake of the czar’s head.
The black coat spoke again. “Seize them!”
“Hold!” Natasha shouted. “You have no authority here and none over me! The only one who could give you such authority is right here and he hasn’t done so.”
Her arguments went unheeded and the troops kept right on coming. Then she heard Bernie.
“Hey, Dogboy!” he shouted. “That fancy silver puppy won’t stop a bullet.”
When Natasha looked, Bernie was holding a large up-time revolver pointed at the chest of the Oprichniki.
“My men will kill you and the princess!” the Oprichniki shouted back.
“Could be,” Bernie acknowledged rather more calmly than Natasha really would have preferred, “but you will still be dead.”
“They will be dead before then,” came another voice, as calm as Bernie’s but much colder. Looking over, Natasha saw that Vladislav Vasl’yevich had come out from the gap between two of the tents, followed by several of his men. All of them had their weapons raised and ready to fire.