Tsar

of security forces. He could see the liveried Maybach driver’s cap, the big fellow named Kuba cradling the Beta machine attached to his wrist, two steps behind Korsakov as they mounted the steps and disappeared inside the hull.

A second later, two more men emerged from inside the house, bearing a stretcher. He couldn’t make out any faces, but there was clearly a woman on the stretcher. He saw an arm fall limply, only to dangle over the side as she was lifted up inside the ship. Drugged, no doubt. He saw the sleeve of the full-length white ermine coat she’d been wearing at the Nobel ceremony and knew without a doubt it was the Tsar’s daughter, Anastasia, on that stretcher.

“What’s happening?” Hawke whispered.

“He’s getting aboard. He’ll be aloft in a few seconds.”

“Is he-alone?”

“No, Alex. I’m sorry. She’s traveling with him.”

“Give me that bloody machine,” Hawke said, his voice weak but grim.

“Alex, no. I’ll do it. It’s better if I do it.”

Halter had the detonator in his hands now, his forefinger poised on the illuminated red trigger button. Hawke had lost a lot of blood. His mind might not be clear. Halter eyed him carefully. Could he, even in this very last moment, try to save the woman he loved? It was not at all beyond the realm of possibility.

The great silver airship separated from the mooring mast and quickly rose twenty feet above the rooftop before commencing a slow turn to the east. She’d probably be headed out over the Baltic, across tiny Estonia, making her Russian landfall at St. Petersburg.

Halter, transfixed, watched the ship sail directly over him, clearly visible from the small clearing where he and Hawke remained on the bearskin.

“I want to do it, Stefan,” Hawke said, his voice stronger now, perhaps, but full of strain and heartbreak. “It’s my responsibility. The president ordered me to take this man out. It’s my duty.”

“Nonsense. I’m going to detonate, Alex. Ship’s out over open water now. No danger of any fiery wreckage falling on the houses below. Can’t wait a minute longer.”

Hawke managed to sit up, his hands bloody from the gunshot wounds, his whole body shaking terribly. He held out both hands to Halter, his eyes following the endless passage of the airship.

“Please?” Hawke said.

“Why? Why must you do it?”

“I don’t think I could ever forgive you, or me, if I sat here and watched you do it. But I might be able to forgive myself one day. I might. Because it’s my duty, Stefan.”

Halter handed him the detonator, helping him hold it, because Hawke’s hands were shaking so badly and slippery with his own blood.

They could still see the majestic airship plainly through the bare treetops of the forest. She had sailed out over the fjord, her powerful motors helped by the prevailing winds. She was lovely to see, a gleaming silver arrow in the full moonlight. Her winking red lights reflected on the surface of the water below as she sailed away, bound for the opposite shore.

“What are you waiting for, Alex?”

“Nothing,” he said, his voice already dead, moving his finger to the trigger.

Hawke wasn’t thinking of Korsakov or the evil that madman intended to wreak upon the world as the final minutes and seconds wound down.

He was thinking only of his beloved Anastasia as he rested his finger on the blinking red button that would end her life.

How she’d looked emerging from the water that sunny afternoon on Bermuda so long ago. How grand and full of life she’d been racing the sleigh across the snowy Russian landscape, the reins of the troika in her hands, shouting commands at her chargers. And the warm, perfumed nearness of her in the darkened box at the Bolshoi, that moment when she’d leaned over and whispered those words, telling him he was going to be a father.

He hadn’t saved her, hadn’t saved either of them, had he?

He had loved her so.

His finger moved of its own accord and pushed the button.

IT BEGAN WITH a crack in the sky. The sound of the explosion was unimaginable, as if atoms were splitting. A great thunder rolled through the forest, a shockwave bending the trees in its path. The world was suddenly illuminated with false daylight, a supernova of blinding orange, and the high branches of the trees above Hawke’s head stood in stark relief, like skeletal images in an X-ray.

He leaned forward and saw the Tsar erupt into flames, first at the bow and then racing along the fuselage toward the stern. He heard loud cracking noises, probably massive internal bracing wires snapping inside. The thin fabric skin of the outer hull, supposedly flame-retardant and self-extinguishing, was soon hanging in tattered bits from the skeleton of the frame, some of it already consumed by the fiery blast. Burning fuel spewing upward from the top of the ship was causing low pressure inside, allowing atmospheric pressure to collapse the hull into itself.

There was another muffled detonation and a resounding thud as the Tsar’s back broke. He saw the great ship crack in half, and the rapid expulsion of gas made the little remaining skin at the stern begin to deflate. Flames were still climbing four or five hundred feet into the air.

No one could have survived that, Hawke thought. Burning bodies and huge chunks of flaming superstructure were falling into the fjord when he finally looked away. He closed his eyes and lay back against the bearskin.

“Listen,” Stefan said, bending over him. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, dear boy, and I’ve got to get you to a doctor as quickly as possible. Dalaro’s large enough to have at least an emergency trauma center. I think the fastest thing is to take the speedboat back to the town dock. Have an ambulance meet us there.”

“Let’s go,” Hawke murmured, raising his head to look at Halter, his voice very weak, beginning to go.

“Alex, there’s no way you can make it through the woods all the way back to the boat. I’m going to get the boat and bring it around to this part of the island. Then we’ll get you down the trail somehow. Just lie here and rest. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

“Thank you for…for…” Hawke whispered. He wanted to thank the man for saving his life but couldn’t summon the strength. He let his head fall back against the bearskin, listening to the crunch of snow as Halter quickly made his way down through the woods to the water. He looked up into the whirl of falling snowflakes, trying to focus on just one. Focus. He needed focus.

The president. Had to call the president. Tell him the threat had been blown away. He still had his phone? Where? He patted himself down, feeling all of his pockets.

After a few moments, he dug his hand inside his blood-soaked trouser pocket and pulled out his mobile. He wiped some of the blood away from the keypad with his sleeve and held the thing unsteadily right in front of his face. He needed to call the president. Now. Tell him the Tsar was dead. That the immediate danger was over. The Beta, the football, gone. His message light was blinking. Maybe the president had called him. Yes. That’s what had happened.

He punched the code to get his messages.

He held the phone to his ear.

“Alex? Darling? It’s me. Oh, I do wish you’d pick up one of these times. We haven’t spoken in so long, and I’ve so much to tell you. First of all, I love you with all my heart. Madly, deeply, truly. But you already know that, of course. And now, the news. I saw a doctor here in Stockholm this morning, a baby doctor, you know, and he did a sonogram. We have a beautiful healthy baby on the way, darling. And they can even tell the sex! Do you want to know? Now? Or should I wait and tell you in person later tonight when I see you at the ceremony? Oh, I’ve been so torn about it all day. What to do, what to do? Oh, I do have to tell you, I must, or I’ll just burst. Ready? It’s a boy, Alex. I’m going to have your son, darling! Isn’t that the most wonderful news in the world? I love you so very much. I can’t wait to see you tonight. I do hope you’re still coming. I love you, Alex Hawke. We have our whole wonderful lives in front of us, darling. I’m so happy. Good-bye.”

HAWKE HEARD THE guard dogs first. The guards themselves were right behind them. Flashlight beams crisscrossed wildly over his head as they all crashed through the woods toward him, shouting furious directions in