Heart of Iron (11 page)

I looked around. Nevsky was not crowded, thanks to rain and chill in the air, but there were a few passersby and couples walking arm in arm, some clerks hurrying along on business, their long gray overcoats heavy with rain. No one seemed to have noticed Jack’s unusual behavior. There was no one I could appeal to for confirmation.

“I see,” I said slowly. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

He smiled wider, but humor was gone from his eyes. “You should,” he said, “if you know what is good for you.”

I glared. “Are you threatening me now, Mr. Bartram?”

He shook his head, rueful now. “Not at all. A warning, perhaps. A worry.” His gloved hand took mine and squeezed it, almost desperately. “Please believe me, Sasha. I would never do anything to let any misfortune befall you, but sometimes you really must look away.”

He walked me to my dormitory in silence, and I spent a sleepless night, angry and elated and generally uncertain how to feel.

Considering my restless night, it came as no surprise to find myself dozing through most of my classes the next morning, revived only by Dasha’s sharp jab to my side at the end of each lesson. I was ready to take my confidences to Dasha instead of Olga, in hopes she was slightly less obsessed with matrimony, but the fates interfered: when I came back to the dormitory that night, I found Anastasia in a nearly hysterical state, precipitated, as I discovered, by my aunt who was currently sitting in the living room, drinking tea, and scolding Anastasia for dust under the lampshade.

“Aunt Genia!” I exclaimed and ran across the room to embrace her. “What a pleasant surprise!”

She let me kiss her dry, papery cheek. “Good to see you too, Sasha. What is it you’re telling me — Nikolashka went and lost what little mind God blessed him with?”

It was shocking to hear my aunt to refer to the prince by his nickname, like a gossiping peasant. Refreshing, too. Before I even took my hat and gloves off, I told her about Wong Jun, my own almost-arrest, and Jack’s interference. Oh, it was such a relief to pour my heart out to a sympathetic soul. She listened, not moving, until her tea went cold and Anastasia recovered enough of her wits to bring in supper and to inquire whether Eugenia was planning to stay with us or to go back to her St. Petersburg apartment.

“I’ll stay there,” Eugenia said. “No need for me to crowd you here.”

“It’s no trouble,” I said quickly. “There is a spare bedroom, it is not much, but it is tidy and I’m sure it will suffice until your apartment is ready.”

“Thank you, niece,” Eugenia said. “I won’t be in the city for long — just a few days, to have some business taken care of. I’ll make sure to look into your friend’s whereabouts.” She wrote down Wong Jun’s name in her notepad with her small, exacting letters.

Over supper, we talked about things at home. Eugenia complained the horses were getting expensive to feed since oats had grown poorly this year and prices were now sky-high. She spoke about buying some mechanical plows, since coal and peat seemed in less demand than oats. “And the machines are certainly better tempered. The horses are such fiends — give them one finger, they’ll take your whole arm. I kept them for your riding, but now that you’re gone… ”

“I’ll be back,” I said quickly.

“You don’t say.” Eugenia waited for Anastasia to clean the table and then excuse herself and go gossip with Natalia Sergeevna before asking more. “You think you’ll come back to Trubetskoye, with your Englishman and all?”

“It’s not like that.” And before I had a chance to worry that Eugenia would think me insane and talk myself out of telling her, I told her how Jack dropped out of the sky and then chased his hat by leaping a hundred yards in one step. “There’s something about him, only I don’t know what and how it is even possible.”

“Stranger things have been known to happen,” Eugenia said. “We better turn in — you have classes tomorrow, and I will be going to the ministry offices first thing. They always make you wait forever, so I need my rest.”

When I was in my bed, drifting to sleep, there was a creak of the floorboards and weight on the edge of my bed. My aunt’s hand rested on my brow, just as when I was small and ill. A sense of deep calm and belief that everything would turn all right filled me. “You came because of my letter, didn’t you?” I murmured, comforted like a child.

“Of course,” she answered. “Not that I don’t have business of my own, but know one thing, Sasha: all you have to do is ask, and I will be there.”

I sighed, happy, and fell asleep before her dry cool hand left my forehead. I had not slept that well since arriving in St. Petersburg.

I woke up more hopeful than I had felt in weeks. Eugenia’s mere presence seemed enough to instill a sense of rightness in the world, as if nothing bad was possible when she was nearby. She ate breakfast with me and then departed toward the Palace Bridge the same time as Olga and I left for our classes. I almost skipped on my way; I had not realized how heavily the latest events weighed on my mind until the burden had lifted. Even Professor Ipatiev could not affect me with his explanation of the female reproductive system and rather excessive insistence that ovaries were nothing more than defective and listless testes. I caught Dasha’s attention, and we rolled our eyes at each other as our only recourse. I did hope, however, I would not have to draw the reproductive system at the next exam.

In philosophy, I took my usual seat. To my surprise, Jack came in earlier than was his habit, and took a seat next to me, the one usually occupied by Dasha. When Dasha came in, she smiled and moved down the aisle, leaving me in unasked-for tête-à-tête with Jack Bartram.

“Listen,” he said. “I’ve been thinking.”

“So have I,” I whispered back. “Shh, class is starting.”

“Promise you’ll stay after class and talk to me.”

“Very well.”

He didn’t move away when the lecture started, and I found I had trouble concentrating on chained men in the cave and the shadows that they somehow mistook for real people when Jack was sitting next to me.

The lecture was finally over, and I could’ve cursed my friends — Dasha and Olga, and Elena and Larisa all ran ahead, leaving me facing Jack with no excuse to escape the situation. Even our classmates who could be counted on to follow us around and make rude jokes when they were least welcome left the auditorium. I sighed and faced Jack, even though it was the last thing I was interested in doing at the time. He smiled and motioned that we should step outside.

“I know I was harsh the last time we spoke,” he said, and matched his long stride to mine. “I just… I wish I knew the right thing to do.”

“Sometimes it is hard to decide,” I said. “But you can start by not lying to me.”

“I’m fond of you,” he said. “Really, quite so.” His voice was steady, and his hat concealed his expression as well as ever. “I don’t want to lie to you, but I see no choice sometimes.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” I said, blushing rather hopelessly. “But if you want me to return your interest, your sincerity would be most effective.”

As much as I resented such manipulation, I had to sternly remind myself that it seemed to be the only way to find out what was going on. I had tried straightforward sincerity before, so I felt I was morally in the clear.

Jack nodded a few times, thoughtful. “You were right about me,” he said. “I am here on orders of my government, and I am gathering information of… sensitive nature.”

I held my breath not quite believing he was finally supplying some answers. “And the Crane Club?”

He hung his head. “I cannot talk about that. Please believe me, if it were not for necessity… I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” I responded. “You could’ve refused.”

“I face severe punishment should I disobey my orders,” he said. “More severe than most others.”

“What have you got against the Chinese?”

“Nothing,” he said. “There was some interest in the models they were building, but it is secondary, and served mostly as a diversion. That is why I, a criminal, was trusted with it — it is not important in itself, but only as a symbolic gesture.”

Although I did not wish to, I had to lean on his hand. My head spun. I had assumed Chiang Tse and the rest were victims of continuing British hostility. The emperor’s preference for all things and causes English coupled with his brother’s fear of foreigners had made matters worse. I assumed they were arrested and pursued to please the British, and that Jack and his compatriots were here to direct and to supervise. It had not occurred to me that all this was a deliberate setup, a distraction engineered by the English. The unavoidable conclusion stared me in the face, and it had the mean pinprick gaze of Dame Nightingale.

“You’re telling me,” I whispered with numb lips, “that you are not here to spy on the Chinese.”

He shook his head. “No. But please, please, be careful. Don’t tell anyone. I can protect you if need arises, but no more than that.”

I was overcome with the onslaught of information and Jack solicitously led me to a bench by the path. It was still a bit wet from the recent rain, and he laid down his cloak so I could sit comfortably. I stared for a while at the yellow leaves covering the paths and the lawns, at the students walking and laughing, their voices carrying far in the still air. I realized there was knowledge in the universe that had the ability to decisively separate one from the rest of the world — some things you could not know and continue to live like everyone else. Blood roared in my ears, and I helplessly shook my head at Jack and his moving lips — I could not hear a word he was saying. I could only acutely experience the bitter smell of fallen leaves and distant peat smoke.

“If you’re a spy,” I finally managed, my tongue slow and woolen, “and if you’re found out, you’ll be in more trouble than you can imagine.”

He smiled then. “If I ever do anything to jeopardize my task or to expose those who give me my orders, I’ll be in more trouble than you can imagine.”

“Can’t you quit? Promise to keep what you know a secret and just stop?”

He laughed, a slow mirthless sound. “As I said, it is not my choice.”

“Because you’re a criminal.” The last word was difficult for me to get out — it was something I did not want to believe.

There was one more thing I needed to know, but I could barely bring myself to ask. It seemed too much for one day, too much disappointment and heartbreak. Still, I thought it would be better to confront it all at once. “What are your crimes?”

He stood facing me, took his hat off and tapped it against his knee, absent-minded, and yet aware enough to answer my question with his face unobscured, his eyes on mine. “Armed robbery,” he said. “Theft. I never killed anyone though, if it makes it any better.”

Strangely enough, it did allow me to feel a measure of relief. I feared that the man I had spent so much time with, a man I had started to trust and liked enough to consider a friend was a murderer. I didn’t know what I would’ve done if that had been the case; as it was, I managed a smile. “This is not so bad.”

His face flushed pale pink. “I’m glad you think so,” he said. “However, you now see my predicament. My attempt to shake off the thrall I find myself under will surely lead to me being taken back and imprisoned.”

I nodded and stood. “I understand why you would want to avoid that. Still, I would imagine there are other possibilities. Hiding, for example.”

He smiled and shook his head. “It is not so easy, Sasha. Dame Nightingale… they say, you couldn’t hide from her on the bottom of the sea if she wants you, and she certainly wants me.”

“Why?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. If he was a thief, he was good at spying — he could take things without others noticing, and moreover do so without the moral reservations most people would have in his place. But even a thief might have a sense of duty and patriotism — or at least, so I imagined.

“Because of the things I can do,” he said.

Falling out of the sky, leaping a hundred feet in a single bound. I felt slightly dizzy again, my step faltered, but his arm remained a steady support and I quickly recovered. It seemed that once he had found the strength to talk to me, confession became easier.

“The display cases — they were too heavy for a single man, and how would you drag them out of a building? Surely several men carrying glass cases would be noticed.”

He laughed. “It took only me… and my gifts. We carried those cases to the roof, and leapt.”

He spoke without hesitation now, his voice full of passion, as if he had to empty his overburdened heart, before it burst or gave out.

The visions of his superhuman and terrifying abilities were almost too much for me. I imagined him as a wild, possessed thing, leaping like a demon from roof to roof, glass and metal cases rattling on his shoulders — like a
vurdalak
, a terrifying grave-robber from the old peasant tales, with two coffins on his shoulders.

“Why the Chinese?” I finally mustered. “If you said they were not important, then why wreck their club?”

“Opium,” he said simply. “The East India Trading Company will not stop selling it, and the Chinese government won’t cease trying to stop its importation. There was one war, there will be others. And they know that as well. Chinese airships are second to none, and those display cases contained some of the best examples of their ingenuity: traditional Oriental engineering combined with the modern discoveries of the West. Such equipment and devices would be invaluable in any war. Even if they are just models, our engineers may gain ideas.” He gave me a meaningful look, just as we stopped in front of my dormitory. “Remember that, Sasha. China is subdued for now, but there are other wars the empire could be fighting.”

I wanted to ask him more questions, even though my knees wobbled and threatened to yield at any moment. But he swung around and walked away, never looking back, leaning into the wind with the desperate determination of a man with no secrets left, his chest flayed open and heart torn out for all to see. For a moment, I feared I would never see him again, but a new thought made me rush through the door, in wild hope that Eugenia would be there. A sudden realization descended like a piercing and merciless beam of light which cast the unpleasant reality in stark relief: the English played Prince Nicholas’ hatred not just to gather his help against the Chinese, but also to distract him — everyone — from the fact that English spies were looking for weaknesses in Russia. They watched the submarines, they had access to the engineering students at the university and to the offices of the Ministries.