Three days later, on Vassily Island across the street from the humble residence of Anna and Sergei, a lone figure hid in a dark alley.
It was only about seven-thirty in the evening, but darkness came early in November. Basil Anickin had made the best use of the early winter shadows. He had been positioned in this alley for an hour, waiting, watching. He had made a habit of keeping this residence and that of Dmitri Remizov under surveillance—not every day, but often enough so that he had a very good idea of their routines. He and Jack had also made the acquaintance of a couple of the Remizov servants, frequenting a certain saloon where the two, a chauffeur and a grounds keeper, were regulars.
Patience and perseverance were Basil’s closest allies these days. And, by the look of the situation in Manchuria, it appeared as if Basil would be rewarded by soon getting Katrina’s daughter back in the nest. Only then could he strike at his blood enemies.
This night he was more weary of his quest than usual. It had snowed the night before, and his feet were numb and frozen. But his vigilance had reaped a small reward. He didn’t know quite what to make of it, but if it had any significance at all, he’d find it.
Anna—her surname was Christinin now—had had a most peculiar visitor earlier. He was, in fact, still in the house, probably partaking of the evening meal. It had been years since Basil had seen the man, but he would recognize the aloof and distinguished countenance of Prince Viktor Fedorcenko anywhere.
What was the mighty prince doing visiting a poor Vassily Island home?
True, Anna had once served his household, but according to Basil’s sources, she never returned there after Katrina’s death. She had secretly raised Katrina’s daughter in the mean peasant village of Katyk. There she had married that Christinin fellow and had two sons of her own. So what would Fedorcenko be doing here? He had been there almost as long as Basil had been in the alley. Was it logical to assume that such a lengthy visit had to be something other than business?
Possibly it had to do with the granddaughter, Mariana. The old man might have a letter to share. Basil had assumed the same thing a few days ago when Count Remizov had visited Anna’s home.
Mariana must be the link.
But Basil was not one to accept obvious answers. Life was not simple, and you missed too much if you just studied it on the surface. Because his own designs and desires were complex and convoluted, he expected the same from others. And this Fedorcenko clan had proved more inscrutable than most.
In ten more minutes Sergei and Viktor exited the house. They were chatting amiably as a fancy coach came around from the back of the apartment building. Both men climbed in and the carriage drove away.
Basil knew that Sergei had a regular tutoring session at the Assembly “clubhouse” tonight. There was also to be a board meeting of the Assembly leadership, to which Basil had contrived an invitation. The old man was probably just giving Sergei a lift to the meeting.
This connection might turn into nothing. But Basil had some time before the meeting and determined to take advantage of it.
He went to the best place he knew to glean information—a neighborhood saloon.
A glass of kvass in hand, he sat at the bar and exchanged friendly words with the three or four other men around him. Basil could be friendly when it suited his purposes—so much so that people almost forgot about the alarming intensity of his appearance.
After a few minutes, he asked casually, “Did anyone see that fine coach drive up around the corner? I thought for a minute it might be royalty.”
“Isn’t the first time that rig has been round,” said one of the men.
“Is there a dispossessed grand duke living on Vassily Island?” chuckled Basil.
“Don’t know who exactly the fellow is, but I live a couple of doors away, and I’ve seen him there before over the years. Real friendly with Sergei Ivanovich and his family.”
Basil drained his drink and said no more. No sense being too inquisitive and raising suspicions. Besides, what more was there to know? Fedorcenko had been there more than once—not just recently either, but before the war had taken the granddaughter away. The only other question this raised was one these men could not answer.
What was the significance of Fedorcenko’s visits before the war, especially in view of the fact that Mariana had been living with her father for the last five years? Her grandfather would have no reason to visit Anna for the sake of maintaining contact with Mariana.
It was food for thought, but it shouldn’t affect Basil’s plans at all.
He rose, left the saloon, and headed to the Assembly clubhouse.