Dazzle The Complete Unabridged Trilogy (32 page)

'I have.'

'And you have also seen to it that the arrangements cannot
be traced back to me?'

'I have done that too. However . . .'

'However, what?' The Prince sat forward and stared at his
cousin keenly.

'Countess Florinsky.' The Count's lips curled in distaste.
'Your having involved that woman in the project makes
secrecy . . . well, less than . . .'

'Are you trying to tell me that she has trouble holding her
tongue?'

'Precisely.'

'You needn't worry about Flora. Since her utmost concern
is not for any commissions she might earn, but for Madame
Bora's welfare, her silence is assured.'

'If you say so, cousin,' Count Kokovtsov said dubiously.

'I do.' The Prince stared down at his desk. 'Now, the least I
expect, aside from the private performances in Russian which
Flora is scheduling at the various palaces, is for Madame Bora
to star in the last five performances at the
Théâtre Français
this season.'

The Count looked shocked. 'Surely you are jesting!'

The Prince shook his head. 'I assure you I am not. In due time Olga Botkina is to become ill and Madame Bora will
replace her.'

'I am afraid that illness cannot be contrived as conveniently
as you like to think,' the Count said dryly.

'But a short tour of . . . perhaps, Paris?'

'If you insist upon squandering the family fortune, yes.'
Count Kokovtsov sighed heavily and made as though to rise
from his chair.

'One moment. There is another subject I wish to discuss
with you.' The Prince consulted the papers on his desk. 'The
day after tomorrow, you will leave for Moscow. I want the
sale of our Ural estates to be concluded as hastily as humanly
possible.'

'The Ural estates!' The Count sucked in his breath. This
was the first he had heard of this new development. 'But . . .
we are hardly what you would call financially strapped! If
anything, we have an overabundance of cash.'

'Be that as it may, there are other reasons for disposing of
the property.'

'But that could take months to do. Years, even. Vaslav, do
you have any idea of how difficult it is to sell twenty-nine
million acres?'

The Prince forced a smile. 'I do. Finding a buyer for that massive tract would not be easy, although there are several
families who might be interested. But I suggest you subdivide
it into smaller parcels, say, of one million acres apiece. That
way, I think we will not only be rid of it quite readily, but
make a substantial profit besides.'

For a moment they sat in silence.

'Vaslav, as your financial adviser,' the Count said at last, 'I
can only urge you to reconsider this.'

The Prince held his cousin's gaze unblinkingly. 'And hold
on to all our real-estate holdings?'

'As your father, and his forefathers before him,' the Count
said silkily, relieved to be back on familiar turf instead of the
murky world of footlights and stage props. 'Need I remind
you that a large part of the Danilov fortune is based on land
acquisition and ownership? Do you have any idea how much
money flows in from the timber, the mines, and the rents?'

'I have all your figures right here at my fingertips,' the Prince
replied gravely, fanning the papers out on the desktop. 'Now,
as my financial adviser, may I ask you a few questions?'

'Ask what you will.'

'Then I shall speak candidly, and expect you to answer like
wise. Mordka, do you have any idea of what is happening to
this country?'

'You mean . . . politically?'

The Prince nodded.

'Well, there is quite a bit of unrest, of course. But what
country doesn't experience those difficulties at times?'

'Mordka. Mordka. Put aside, for once, your rationalizations
and blind faith in the Motherland. Look beyond our palace
grounds and the vaults of our banking institutions.'

'So?'

The Prince sat forward. 'So what do you see?'

'Well . . .' Mordka's mind was suddenly a maelstrom of
thoughts. 'To tell you the truth,' he said uncomfortably, 'I
haven't given it much thought.'

'As I was afraid. But
I
have, Mordka.' Frowning, the Prince
got to his feet and slowly paced the Chinese Room, his hands
clasped in the small of his spine. 'I am concerned, Mordka,
far more than most, about the current political unrest, and its
repercussions down the road. I'm afraid I have trouble playing
the ostrich, hiding my head beneath the sands of reality like so many of our fellow nobles.' He paused and sighed deeply.
'Have you listened carefully to what is going on all over Russia? I don't mean among our peers, but among the
majority. The peasants. The students. Their teachers.'

'Of course I've gotten wind of silly notions such as revolu
tion.' Count Kokovtsov waved his hand irritably. 'Who
hasn't? But you can't really believe—'

'I do, Mordka.' The Prince laughed bitterly. 'It must not go
beyond these four walls, but I've kept my ear to the ground.
For quite some years now, I have been paying a network
of . . . informants, and handsomely. Their prognosis, I hate
to say, is not good.'

'Prognosis! You make it sound like . . . like some disease!'

'Mordka, Russia
is
suffering from a disease. A terminal
social disease. But then, why should you be aware of it? You
are insulated from day-to-day life and its tragedies. Everyone
else within our circle is. I would be too, were it not for my
informants. I realize, naturally, that when the time comes,
they too shall turn against me. Even now, only the gold I
distribute so lavishly among them assures their loyalty. That
too will soon change.'

'And this . . . disease you fear so greatly, cousin. What is
it, exactly?'

'Poverty, Mordka,' Vaslav Danilov said gravely. 'For cen
turies now, we have lived on the sweat and toil of millions—
millions of slaves—and it is catching up with us. I fear we
are hopelessly outnumbered. Perhaps we will even become
extinct.'

'Extinct!'

'In the future, the same fate shall befall us as befell the slave
owners in America and the aristocracy in France.'

Vaslav continued, 'I also want you to start cataloguing and shipping our finest art treasures and antiques to the estate in
Geneva. I feel they will be safer there.'

Dumbfounded, Mordka could only nod again, and wonder
for how long Vaslav had been planning this. He seemed to
have thought of everything.

Vaslav consulted another paper and pushed it aside. He
sighed heavily again. 'As soon as you've parcelled the property in the Urals,' he continued, 'I want the proceeds of each sale to
be deposited immediately in the Banque Danilov in Geneva. I
do not want to wait for it all to accumulate before being sent.
By then it might be too late, and the losses would be astronom
ical. Also, convert most of our cash assets into Swiss francs
and have them sent out of the country.'

'As you wish.' Mordka's mind was swirling with such a blizzard of thoughts that it was impossible for him to sort them all
out. For the time being, he found it simplest to agree to any
thing his cousin ordered.

'And one last thing, Mordka.'

'Yes?' What else could there possibly be?

'Our train.'

'What about it?'

'It is ready for immediate departure?'

'At our usual railroad siding, yes.'

The Prince's lips tightened. 'From now on, it will be waiting
in readiness wherever we happen to be, whether in the
Crimea, Moscow, or here. I want it fully fuelled and crewed at all times. That does not mean a skeleton crew, either. Oh,
and have two extra wagons of coal added to the front.'

'Really, Vaslav—'

The Prince gestured to the Count. 'I have not finished. I
also want six empty box-cars and two passenger cars added to the existing train, ready to be loaded within a few hours'
notice.'

The Count stared, tongue-tied, transfixed.

Vaslav Danilov remained silent.

When he recovered enough to find his tongue, Count
Kokovtsov's voice was shaky. 'Vaslav,' he whispered in stran
gely pitched words. 'You're giving me quite a fright!'

Vaslav still did not speak.

The Count shuddered. 'I mean, a contingency plan is fine
and well, but something on such a massive scale as what you're
suggesting . . . well, don't you think you're carrying this a bit
too
far?'

'I am not carrying it far enough, I fear. Now, it is important
that the train looks ordinary and unostentatious in case we are
forced to make a rather hasty
...
ah, departure. Our coats
of arms are to be sanded off the engine and the coaches, and
painted over to look like any normal train.'

The fear which already choked Mordka coursed ever more
coldly through his veins. 'Vaslav, I hope for all our sakes that
you are not clairvoyant.'

'So do I, believe me, so do I. Meanwhile, follow my instruc
tions to the letter. And do not fail me.' The Prince gestured
with authority. 'Now, go. You have plenty to occupy yourself
with.'

Count Kokovtsov rose and beat a hasty retreat, his mind
spinning out of control. He was glad to leave so he could sit
down to sort things out in his muddled mind.

Once alone in his parlour, Mordka rang for iced vodka and drank straight from the bottle while he brooded, his eyes fixed on the dancing fire. After a while the icy heat of the vodka and
the warmth emanating from the redolent spruce logs began
thawing his ice-cold fears.