He could hear the Rottweiler next door going crazier than ever, and for once he did wish the damn dog had gotten loose.
The man repeated whatever he’d said, and even lifted a hand—the fingers were nothing but stark white bones, with long, curling nails—and touched an area of his chest.
Right about where the emerald cross had hung.
Jesus Christ. If Harley had had it on him, he’d have thrown the damn thing right back at him.
“I don’t have it!” he shouted. And then, as if it would make any sense, “Charlie’s got it!”
But the man didn’t look like he understood a word of English, and when he took a step forward, Harley found himself backed up against the rear wall of the shed. He brandished the spade, but the man took no apparent notice. He came closer and Harley swung the spade at him, catching him on the shoulder and flinging him like a bundle of sticks and rags into a pile of loose timbers and shavings.
Screaming, Harley leapt over the spot where he had been standing, and with the spade still clutched in his hand, ran toward the door, knocking the wheelbarrow over on its side, then out into the alleyway. The Rottweiler was going crazy, barking in a frenzy and foaming at the window. Looking over his shoulder, Harley suddenly collided with something, or someone, and went sprawling on the ground.
Standing above him, looking pissed and confused, was McDaniel.
“What the hell are you up to, Harley?” His eyes flicked to the spade. “You planning to shovel my driveway?”
“I just needed to borrow this,” Harley said, still trying to catch his breath and keeping an eye on the open doors to the shed. Was the damn thing going to come out after him?
“Borrow it?” McDaniel said. “Yeah, right.”
He stomped into the shed before Harley could stop him, and after a minute or so, Harley saw the light go out and McDaniel came out again, none the worse for wear.
“You need to borrow some tools,” he said, “all you have to do is ask.”
“Got it,” Harley said, standing on his own two feet now. But what had happened to that corpse in the sealskin coat? Had McDaniel missed it somehow? Or was it just … gone?
“That was a pretty good speech you made in the church.”
Was it ever there in the first place? Harley wondered if he was losing it.
“Now don’t go fucking things up by stealing stuff again.”
Harley nodded, and shuffled off toward his trailer, leaving the spade propped by the steps. His hands were so cold and unsteady he had trouble getting the key in the lock. And when he did finally turn to close the door behind him, he saw McDaniel still watching him and shaking his head.
Chapter 18
Tonight, Prince Felix Yussoupov thought, I am going to change everything. Not only the way the world regards me, but history itself.
Oh, he was well aware of the figure he cut in cosmopolitan society. For years, he had deliberately gone about shocking everyone he knew—showing up in the finest women’s fashions and draped in his mother’s jewels, at cafés and restaurants and parties. He had hosted wild parties—orgies, to be frank—at one or another of his family’s many palaces in Moscow, St. Petersburg, or the countryside. He had enjoyed the favors of girls and boys alike, actresses and opera singers and dashing young sailors. And to cap it all off, he had married one of the Tsar’s own nieces, the Princess Irina, celebrated for her unparalleled beauty. In truth, he thought he was just as good-looking as she was, but she was a very sought-after match, and together he had to admit that they made a perfect pair.
Tonight, however, the princess was safely ensconced hundreds of miles from St. Petersburg, in the grand Yussoupov hunting lodge in the Crimea. He wanted her nowhere near the Moika Palace tonight, on this fateful New Year’s Eve. It was enough that she had served as bait for the trap.
Yussoupov had promised Rasputin that if he came to the palace at midnight, there would be a private party at which the monk would be introduced, at long last, to this famous beauty. “The princess has heard so much about you,” Yussoupov told him, “she insisted that I arrange for her to meet you in person.” The man’s rapacity was exceeded only by his vanity. “I have promised her you would be there.”