the Romanov Prophecy (2004) by Steve Berry Read Free Book Online

1950. It was impossible to determine if that instruction had been heeded.
    He reached into his briefcase and found the copy he’d carefully translated. The date at the top read April 10, 1922:
    The situation with Yurovsky is troubling. I do not believe the reports filed from Yekaterinburg were accurate and the information concerning Felix Yussoupov corroborates that. It is unfortunate the White Guardsman you persuaded to talk was not more forthcoming. Perhaps too much pain can be counterproductive. The mention of Kolya Maks is interesting. I have heard this name before. The village of Starodug has likewise been noted by two other similarly persuaded White Guardsmen. There is something occurring, of that I am certain, but I fear my body will not endure for me to learn what. I greatly worry about the future of all our endeavors after I am gone. Stalin is frightening. There is a rigidness about him that insulates all emotion from his decision making. If the leadership of our new nation falls to him, I fear the dream may die.
    I wonder if one or more of the imperials may have escaped Yekaterinburg. It certainly appears that way. Comrade Yussoupov apparently believes so. Perhaps he thinks he can offer the next generation a reprieve. Perhaps the tsarina was not as foolish as we all believed. Maybe the
staret
s’s ramblings have more meaning than we first thought. Over the past few weeks, thinking of the Romanovs, I have found myself recalling the words of an old Russian poem: The knights are dust and their good swords rust. Their souls are with the saints we trust.
    He and Artemy Bely both believed the document was penned in Lenin’s own hand. It wouldn’t be unusual. The communists had preserved thousands of Lenin’s writings. But this particular document had not been found where it should have been. Instead, Lord had located it among papers repatriated from the Nazis after World War II. Hitler’s invading armies had stolen not only Russian art, but also archival material by the tons. Document depositories in Leningrad, Stalingrad, Kiev, and Moscow were stripped clean. Only after the war, when Stalin sent his Extraordinary Commission to reclaim the country’s heritage, had many of these caches found their way back to the Motherland.
    There was, though, one other relevant paper within the crimson leather bag. A single sheet of parchment with a frilly border of flowers and leaves. The handwriting was in English, the script distinctly feminine:
    October 28, 1916.
    Dear beloved Soul of my Soul, my own Wee One, Sweet Angel, oh, me loves you so, always together, night and day, I feel what you are going through and your poor heart. God have mercy, give you strength and wisdom. He won’t forsake you. He will help, recompense this mad suffering and end this separation at such a time when one needs being together.
    Our Friend has just left. He saved Baby once again. Oh merciful Jesus thank the Lord we have him. The pain was immense, my heart torn apart from witnessing, but Baby now sleeps peacefully. I am assured that tomorrow he will be well.
    Such sunny weather, no clouds. That means, trust and hope, yet all is pitch black around, but God is above all; we know not His way, nor how He will help, but He will hark unto all prayers. Our Friend is most insistent on that.
    I must tell you that just before he left our Friend went into a strange convulsion. I was most frightened thinking he may be ill. What would Baby do without him. He fell to the floor and began muttering about leaving this world before the new year and seeing masses of corpses, several grand dukes and hundreds of counts. The Neva will be all red with blood, he said. His words terrified me.
    Looking toward heaven, he told me that if he be murdered by boyars their hands will remain soiled by blood for twenty-five years. They will leave Russia. Brother will rise against brother, they will kill each other in hate, and there will be no nobles in the country. Most disturbing,