Firebird (31 page)

In the long night that followed, they’d offered him an opportunity to do something extraordinary.  He felt himself falling deeper into the memory.

The air had been white with snow…

* * * *

The air was white with snow.   Huge crystals fell on the official black Zil limousine parked at the edge of the tarmac at Pulkovo Airport.  At this time of year, the dusk was constant.  The old buildings were blurred by the shadows and pale spinning flakes.

A tall officer waited by a small, dimly lit hanger, stamping booted feet in the cold. Neon Cyrillic letters above the door lit his high-peaked hat and furred earflaps with a green, unearthly sheen.  In the front seat of the Zil, his driver sat with face carefully averted, staring at the snow that drifted against the dirty hanger wall.

A scrape to the left, and two men appeared through the white veil of snow.  One figure, the bodyguard, remained in the neon shadows.  The second man moved toward the officer.  His breath came out in crystals that crusted on the fine golden stubble of his beard.  His eyes, intensely blue in the hanger lights, gleamed from a narrow, square-jawed face.   With a shake of his head, the man pulled his boot-length fur coat tighter around his body. “Only February,” he said softly, “but I long for the warmth of our summer nights.”

The door to the hanger opened and the young dancer stepped into the light.  “What do you want from me?”

The two men turned to him.

“Your father was a brave soldier,” said the bearded man.  “Is the son as brave, we wonder?”

“I would make my father proud!”

“Well spoken.  Would you be willing to leave Russia?”

“Leave my home?  But... my mother, my little sister.  The Kirov.   Why?”

“You have been chosen to be a hero.  We want you to defect, during a Kirov tour.  Your family would be rewarded.  You would dance in the West, and help us whenever we needed you.”

The West
.

Ivan blinked, saw himself in the mirror of his townhouse bedroom, dressed in his silk tuxedo.  He looked down at the diamond and ebony cufflinks.  That night in St. Petersburg had changed his life.

He’d returned to the rehearsal hall later that night and danced with all the confusion and longing of his young heart until his body was totally exhausted and he’d fallen to the bare floor.  The next morning he had agreed, and his future had been settled.

Or so he’d believed.  He’d never planned on falling in love.

The price for freedom
, he thought
, is loneliness
.

Ivan turned away from the mirror.  It was time to go to Foxwood.  The limo was waiting.  And so was Alexandra Marik.  

He reached for his keys and turned out the light.

CHAPTER 32

“Find one face there...”

Charles Kingsley

FOXWOOD ESTATE.  MIDDLEBURG, VIRGINIA

“Oh, Eve, no wonder you loved this place,” breathed Alexandra as the town car slowed to pass through a high, open iron gate.

At the end of a long alley of oaks, Foxwood sat on a green rise, surrounded by a dense border of clipped English boxwood hedges.  Hundreds of lanterns lit the tall arched windows and white-columned porch that wrapped, plantation-style, around the gracious old house.  Beyond the porch, twilight still shimmered above jade hills that fell away toward white-washed stables, paddocks and forest.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to calm her tripping heart.  She’d only had an hour back in Georgetown to recover from her emotional visit to the river and prepare for Foxwood.  Now, too soon, it was showtime.  Garcia had been called to a meeting at Justice.  She was on her own.

She opened her eyes.  Just do it.

The car slowed on the circular driveway, came to a stop.  The French doors to the porch swung open and Anthony Rhodes appeared, a tall, dark figure against the flickering light.

Okay, she thought, bracing herself.  Here we go.  I’m sorry, Anthony, but I have to do this.  Heart drumming, she grasped the small gold evening bag, reached for her sister’s silken shawl and stepped from the car, lifting her long skirt and walking slowly toward him up the broad marble steps.  She heard the sharp intake of his breath.

“
Is it you
?”  Rhodes’ voice trembled with shock.  A heartbeat later,  “Alexandra?  My God, for a moment I thought...  You look just like her tonight.”

Alexandra looked down at the shimmering folds of the long copper sheath that skimmed her body and bared her back.  Her sister’s dress, altered by Billie just hours earlier.  Her hair was slicked back from her forehead in a sophisticated cap, the heavy golden discs on her ears borrowed from Eve’s jewelry box.

Yes.  I want to look like her
.

“Eve - ” he murmured.  Her name caught in his throat.

She felt his warm fingers under her chin, tilting her face toward his and searching her eyes.   For a long moment she heard only the soft chords of a Haydn concerto and the distant whinny of horses carried on the night air.

“Eve’s dress,” he murmured.  His fingers dropped to touch the narrow shoulder strap, sending an involuntary shiver across her skin as he brushed her bare shoulder.  “The last time Eve wore this dress...”

She felt the longing rise in him and closed her fingers around his.  “Don’t, Anthony,” she murmured.  “I didn’t do this to hurt you.”

She saw the sudden leap of understanding, the quick pain that flared in his eyes.  His expression hardened, eyes burning at her like blue torches.

“What the hell is going on, Alexandra?”

“Please, I know you’re angry – ”

“Angry?  Angry doesn’t begin to cover it.  You’ve deliberately dressed like my wife!  I told you to let this go, dammit.  Why couldn’t you listen to me?”  His hand dropped away from her as he shook his head.  “Good God, what are you thinking, dressing like her?  What the devil are you trying to prove tonight?”

I’ve gotten someone’s attention
. 
I’ve scared him.  I’ve awakened the dragon, and now he’s coming after me, just the way I want him to
.

She said, “Someone has taken an interest in me.”

“Who?  What interest?”

“I’m not sure,” she said honestly.  “But I think it’s someone who will be here tonight, someone who knows the truth about Eve’s death.” 

“We know the truth about her death!”

“Do we?”  She looked down at her sister’s dress, then her chin came up.  “I want to encourage that interest, Anthony.”

“And what if this
interest
is in stopping you?”

 “Eve was in trouble, Anthony, we both know it.  She was being blackmailed, she was expecting something to happen here tonight.  Maybe I can make that something happen.  I need answers.”

“There
are
none.  Nothing you do will bring Eve back.”

“I need to know why my sister died!”

“This is a damned dangerous game you’re playing, Alexandra.”  In the shadows, his eyes glittered like cold blue stars.

“This is no game, I promise you.  Please, try to trust me, Anthony.  Just for tonight.”  She could almost feel the anger burning in him and turned away from his pain to gaze out across the darkening paddock. 

“You have more of your sister in you than I realized,” he said, too quietly.  

“I just want people to talk to me, Anthony, that’s all.  I want to meet the men and women who knew Eve.”  She took a deep breath.  “I want to meet your Lions.”

He stared down at her, his expression unreadable.  After a long moment, he shrugged and said curtly, “Talk with whomever you like.  You won’t find your answers here.”

Once more she turned away from the coldness in his face.  Her gaze swept the house and gardens.  “Foxwood is even more beautiful than Eve described,” she told him, offering an olive branch.

She heard him inhale, as if he were trying to regain control.  She looked at him, saw his body go rigid with the effort to curb his anger.  Finally, he expelled a long breath and she saw the tension ease in his face.

“Eve loved it here,” he said softly.  “Juliet, too.  Especially the horses.”

“Jules was supposed to be here tonight.  For her birthday.  You’re sure she’s all right?”

“I’m sure.”  His smile was enigmatic.  “Come with me.”  He drew her around the curving porch, then across a terrace to a white-fenced paddock.  They leaned against the fencing, shoulders close.  The jingle of a bridle drifted toward them on the breeze.  In the distance, a bow-legged groom led a lone horse across the paddock against a deepening sky.  The horse’s coat shone like black glass in the dusky light.

“Welcome to Foxwood, Alexandra.  Ground zero for horse country.  Your sister’s favorite place.”

Alexandra gazed at the postcard scene.  Foxwood, the last place her sister had come before she died. 
Did you come here to hide the Firebird brooch, Eve?

She turned to her brother-in-law.  “It’s only been two weeks since Eve died.   Playing host here tonight has to be the very last thing you want to do.”

“The
very
last.  But those children in the hospital – they’ve been
Eve’s
cause, my dear, for many years.  It’s the very least I can do to honor her.”  He turned to her.  “No, it’s
you
I’m worried about tonight.  Dressing like Eve…”  Again, she saw the unsettling light in the blue eyes.  “I can’t lose you, too, Alexandra.”

Alexandra took his hand.  His fingers were warm and comforting against her skin.  “Dear Anthony.  You won’t.  We’ve all had enough of loss.”

She turned away, ambushed by sudden sadness.  “This was going to be Juliet’s night, too.  Eve wanted Jules to spend her sixteenth birthday at Foxwood.  She was
trying
, reaching out to her daughter, after all the years of being apart.  She was going to surprise her with a cake at midnight.”

“Juliet hasn’t been forgotten.  I’ve planned a special birthday surprise for my incorrigible step-daughter this year.”  Rhodes’ silvered brows spiked like birds’ wings.  “Your sister wasn’t the only one good at keeping secrets,” he added cryptically.

A sharp whinny tore through the air.

Alexandra started, half-turned, moving away from Rhodes.  “What was that?”

“That, my dear Alexandra, is my newest stallion, Dark Victory.  He’s only just broken, still unpredictable.  He senses we’re here.”

In the blue twilight, the jet horse in the paddock was cloaked in shadow.  As the massive animal raised his head and turned toward them, she felt an inexplicable sense of foreboding. 

Rhodes looked down at her, his face hard and still as a stone mask. “I’m asking you one last time, Alexandra.  Let this go.”

She stood frozen, unable to answer.  Another wild stallion cry split the air just as headlamps speared the oak trees.

Once more, she saw the anger flash deep in his eyes before he could hide it.  “So be it,” he said softly.  And then, “The first guests are arriving.  Tonight you will see seduction at the very highest levels.”  His smile was cold.  “You will not be the only one with a hidden agenda.  Be very careful.”

His arm slipped around her waist and drew her toward the terrace doors.

“Come, my dear.  Let the games begin.”

* * * *

Taking a deep breath, Alexandra turned once more to scan Foxwood’s crowded ballroom.  The gathering was elegant, dramatic and sexy.  Over-the-top, just like Eve herself.  She could just imagine Eve making her entrance there, at the top of the high curving red staircase lifted straight from
Gone with the Wind
.

For a long moment she kept her eyes on the landing, waiting.

Are you there, Eve
?

But the crimson staircase remained empty.

The music of Strauss floated down around her from a quartet in a gold-curtained balcony.  Tall mirrors circled the ballroom, reflecting the hundreds of lanterns and glittering ice sculptures, the shimmering sweep of silken gowns and platinum hair.  The far wall of windows framed a broad terrace lit by starlight.  And everywhere she looked, there were faces.

There, by the buffet, the patrician Supreme Court Justice who had kissed her hand so gallantly.  Holding court on the carpeted stairs, the acid-tongued liberal editor from The Washington Post.  In a shadowed alcove, the wizened Secretary of Homeland Security whispering to an Indian woman swathed in an emerald sari.  And there, in a crowd of admirers, stood Billie Jordan.  Tonight she looked like an African queen in a dramatic, intricately-patterned gown.  A huge beaded necklace graced her neck, and wide silver cuffs wrapped around her biceps.

But where was Jon Garcia?  Still delayed at Justice?  Just as well, she told herself.  Those unsettling dark eyes were definitely the last thing she needed tonight.

Once more she scanned the room.  Ivan had been a young man in Russia in 1966.  She’d not yet been born.  For years they’d lived parallel lives in two very different worlds, each unaware of the other’s existence.  Until now.  Now, because of Eve, their collision was inevitable...

I
will
find you, Ivan
.  And you will tell me why my sister died. 

A sea of mustaches and tuxedos, smooth bald heads and snowy manes, medals and ivy league pins swallowed her as she walked slowly into the swirl of faces.  Rigid postures, full jowls and clipped beards.  Pocket watches and enough foreign accents to populate a small country.  Veined hands gripping every style of carved cane.  Tinted glasses that could be hiding pale blue eyes… 

Glasses clinking, everyone clasping shoulders and leaning closer in a dizzying haze of cigar smoke to exchange the latest Washington scandals and secrets.  Lobbyists, Senators, thoroughbred owners, board members from Children’s Hospital.  The guests closed around her in a crushing wall of black tuxedos and Patou perfume.

She felt the prickle across the nape of her neck, as if someone had just touched her, and she spun around, eyes searching the dense crowd.  Fear snaked up her spine as the sweet scent of musk cologne lingered near - the same scent that had enveloped her in the kitchen in Maine.  Just before she was attacked.