Silvio announces, ‘I think you are a man with many secrets, Marc.’
‘Maybe. But most secrets are just problems glammed up to look mysterious.’
He begins saying something in response, but Chloe spots that I’m distracted. She stands and gently takes her husband by the elbow. ‘Come on, Silvio. Let’s get a little something for our guests to eat. They must be starving after their trip . . .’
When we’re alone, Stacey asks in a loud whisper, ‘How the hell did you know that?’
‘I should have seen it earlier! Taras was just a kid. Why would anyone trust him with the treasures of the Romanovs? I mean, it wasn’t just that he was inexperienced. Ekaterina and Maughan both told me he was gauche and clumsy – that’s part of the reason they called him Mr Pitkin.’
‘Right. Agreed. He doesn’t sound the ideal candidate for such a big job.’
‘So what gets him the job? What always gets you the job? Nepotism.’
Stacey ponders this for a moment. ‘You think Taras was part of the Court?’
‘Come with me!’ I begin to lead her through the Saluccis’ home. ‘Know how to tell a fake diamond from a real one?’
‘Test for hardness?’
‘Even easier. Hot breath on a diamond or a fake gem will mist over the surface. With a fake, it’ll clear after a few seconds. With a diamond, it’ll clear immediately.’
We enter the nursery and I stride towards the teddy in a tutu.
‘Taras showed Ekaterina photos of the Alexander III Commemorative Fabergé egg. I know what happened to that. He also showed her a photo of the tiara known as the Russian Beauty. A priceless piece of headwear that belonged to the Romanovs long before the massacre at Ipatiev House. Its history was quite blood-free until it ended up the property of Imelda Marcos.’
‘The woman with the shoes?’
‘The woman with the shoes.’ I remove the teddy bear’s crown, move it close to my mouth, breathe on one of its sparkling stones and study what happens to its surface. ‘The tiara was made for the Empress Alexandra Feodorovna. Much beloved of the Empress Maria. And, funnily enough . . .’ The mist from my breath has instantly cleared. ‘It’s right here.’ I pluck the streamers and brightly coloured pieces of cardboard from the headwear, reducing it in both size and gaudiness. As I toss it to Stacey, I say, ‘Why don’t you try it on?’
She catches it. Places it on her head. ‘Is it real?’ She looks at herself in a wall mirror.
I join her. ‘You’re looking at twenty-five natural pearls, God knows how many diamonds, all wrapped up in a piece of history that stretches back almost two centuries. It’s real. And it’s priceless.’
Stacey stands back as if judging it from a different angle. ‘You don’t think it’s too much, do you?’
*
Back in the main living area, I call through to the kitchen. ‘Chloe! Silvio! I’m afraid we’re going to have to leave!’
They immediately appear and try to dissuade us, but we apologise and thank them for their hospitality and help.
As he walks us to the door, I ask Silvio, ‘Do you recall anything Taras told you in the ambulance?’
He shakes his head. ‘It was a long time ago, so not a great deal. I just remember he mentioned something. I didn’t know what it was. To keep his mind active, to keep him with me and engaged, I asked him what it was. He told me it was a book.’
I ask, ‘What was the name of the book?’
‘I have not forgotten that. It was so distinctive. The book he kept talking about was called The Romanov Code.’
*
As we hurry back to the car, I explain to Stacey, ‘So when Taras is killed, the Court thanks Silvio with the gift of the tiara.’
‘Why give him something so extravagant?’
‘They can afford it, believe me. Besides, it’s one of the items that got him killed. Too many bad memories for them. Best be shot of it. Of course, the Saluccis naturally thought it was a weird present, along the lines of costume jewellery. The Court’s gift to Fenton – AKA Thomas Maughan – was less palpable. They knew he’d saved Taras’s life in Turin. So, they exerted their influence and one of the results was, well, even the FSB treat him with undue respect. The top-of-the-range passports and so on. He probably wasn’t even aware of it.’
‘But where does any of that get us?’
‘Well, isn’t the natural conclusion quite scary?’
‘Look, Novak, I’ve no idea what the natural conclusion is!’
We reach the Mini. ‘Wait here!’
I tell Stacey I won’t be a moment and jog back up the stone staircase that leads to the villa’s lower floor.
‘You came back, Mr Novak! Have you and the charming young lady changed your mind? Shall I open champagne?’
‘Another time, Silvio. Another time. Right now, I just wanted to ask you one more question.’
‘Feel free!’
‘Thank you . . .’
I ask my question and Salucci rubs his chin as he considers it. ‘Yes! Yes, poor Taras did mention something along those lines! It was decades ago, so it had slipped my mind, but I’m certain of it.’
And with that reply, I know why I’ve been dragged into this whole search for the Romanov treasure. I know the real reason why Taras Zvyagintsev was murdered. And I know the secret of the Romanov Code.