(eng) Jonathan Green - Pax Britannia 05 by Blood Royal # (v5.0)

Author:Blood Royal # (v5.0) [#, Blood Royal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The Enemy of My Enemy

OUTSIDE THE TOMB, the sun was struggling to penetrate the stubborn ground mist that shrouded the burial plots and wound between the stones with something like animal intelligence.

Ulysses took another look at Gallowglass’s notebook now that they were out in the daylight. As he flicked through the well-thumbed journal thoughts poured through his mind. How had the haematologist’s precious notebook ended up not only in Russia, but inside the empty tomb of Rasputin? And how had Natasha Eltsina known it was there?

“So, is this the Russian connection you were looking for?” Nimrod asked, nodding at the battered notebook.

“I suppose, actually, it is. Although I didn’t realise this was what we should be looking for when we came to this country.”

“But someone did.”

“Yes,” Ulysses mused.

Ulysses stopped abruptly in his tracks, putting a hand to Nimrod to stop him too, whilst slipping Gallowglass’s notebook into an inside jacket pocket and swapping it for his pistol.

Six familiar black-clad figures stepped out from between the crowding tombs, guns trained on the two gentlemen.

Last to emerge was the blonde-haired woman, only now she was wearing a pair of dark glasses and much of her face was swathed by a black scarf.

“Mr Quicksilver,” the woman said in accented, yet faultless, English, “or can I call you Ulysses? Please, put the gun down.”

“Who are you and how do you know who I am?” Ulysses challenged.

“But of course, you won’t remember yet. Let us just say that it is my business to know when an agent of the British throne is visiting my country,” she said. “As to who I am, my designation is Agent Katarina Kharkova, or simply Agent K, if you prefer. Although you can call me Katarina.”

“Agent K, eh? And who do you work for?”

“I am an agent of the throne of Imperial Russia. Whichever way you look at it, we’re on the same side.”

Ulysses regarded the six gunmen. “And which side would that be?”

“Now, now, Ulysses, you really are hard work, aren’t you? Do you really want to talk politics or shall we – how do you say? – cut to the chase?”

“I would love do,” Ulysses replied, “but before we do, if I am to co-operate with you, then you need to co-operate with me.”

“I am sorry? In what way?”

“We pool our knowledge. Quid pro quo.”

“But I am the one holding all the cards.”

“Was the Firebird on your side too?”

Agent K said nothing, a smile barely hiding her growing irritation.

“Very good. Have it your way. And now I have a question for you.”

“Go on.”

“Natasha Eltsina sent you here, didn’t she?”

Ulysses opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it and said nothing.

“What was it she sent you to find?”

“Isn’t it possible that we are here simply to take a look around one of Russia’s greatest Imperial monuments?”

“Not when it’s eight a.m. on a misty April morning, no. Ulysses, I hate to do this to you,” the woman said, “but perhaps now would be an appropriate time to tell you that I have an agent watching your car.

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