Anna was not fine, though, and she knew it. She had a fever that felt like it was burning her up from the inside. Her shoulder, the one the woman had scratched at the airport, burned and itched at the same time. She wanted to scratch it, but every time she touched it, pain exploded and filled her whole chest, making it hard to breathe. It was, in fact, getting harder to breathe anyway. She just couldn’t seem to get enough air into her lungs.
Convincing the news producer — and his bosses — at the television station had been easier than she’d thought. Especially after she had shown them the papers Spaso had downloaded. They made a convincing argument, even though they were all she had.
Security around the station had been doubled since the story was going out live.
The fact that she was doing the delivery herself was a blessing and a curse. She liked the thought of being in front of the camera again. She’d loved working in the news station at university, but it was too much of a production. Print journalism afforded her more of a chance to be herself and say the things she wanted to say.
“Are you ready, Ms. Cherkshan?” The director’s voice came to her through the earbud she wore.
Anna was scared. As much as she didn’t want to be, she was absolutely terrified. But she held it in and made herself be on point. And when the news anchor turned to her, she kept the fear in check and made her voice strong.
“Good evening. My name is Anna Cherkshan. I am a Russian citizen, and I am here tonight to expose the truth of what President Nevsky has done to the Ukrainian people and how he plans to incite terrorist attacks in your country.”
A hush fell over the studio. Most of the people working the broadcast didn’t know what she was there to present. There had been some press releases hurriedly done, some promo spots on earlier programs, but no one had wanted to let the cat out of the bag.
Mostly because no one wanted the television station to become an instant target for terrorists — or the Russian police.
She spoke calmly, her head pounding, and revealed all that she had discovered. The station had given her five minutes to elaborate on her story, and she had written it concisely and crisply to make the most of her time.
“President Nevsky has lied to the Russian people. He has undermined the Ukrainian government so his military generals could step in and take over. Now he begins to do that to you. Beginning with terrorist organizations like 17N…” Despite the pain and nausea she felt, she persevered, never missing a beat, never once losing strength in her voice, though it felt like every word she said emptied her lungs.
She saw herself on one of the monitors in front. She had been self-conscious of it in the beginning. Speaking in front of one was more distracting than she remembered.
When the nosebleed started, it was even more distracting. She mopped the blood from her face and continued. The blood became a rush, then a torrent, and her head ached more fiercely, and her senses flew. It was all she could do to keep talking and remain seated.
Some of the support staff rushed toward her. She waved them off, determined to finish. Something was wrong, and in her heart, she knew she was dying. She could feel that nothingness waiting for her, sucking her down with every passing second.
“Now that you have heard my story, you must finish what I have started. President Mikhail Nevsky is a monster. He must be stopped—” She coughed and a bubble of blood burst in the back of her throat, filling her mouth with the salty taste of iron. “And…Father…I love you. Embrace the new Russia. Do not fear it. Do not let it fall.”
Unable to hold herself up, Anna fell. She was no longer there when she hit the ground.
48
“Thomas.”
It took Lourds a moment to recognize Layla’s voice. He pulled the phone closer to his ear and checked the time. It was 6:47 p.m. “Layla? Is something wrong?”
“Have you seen the news?”
“No. Adonis and I have been steadily working on solving the riddle of this scroll. Every time I think we almost have it, we reach an impasse.”
“Anna Cherkshan is dead.”
The news hit Lourds like a tsunami of cold water. All his attention was suddenly focused on the phone. “Are you sure? She was here only a few hours ago.” He brought up Marias’s computer and clicked on a local news site.
“Anna died at a local television station.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Was she all right when you saw her?”
“Yes. Other than a headache. She thought she was fatigued.”
“It was more than fatigue. She had a nosebleed. It was horrible.”
Lourds found the news about Anna then. There was a print story as well as video clips.
RUSSIAN JOURNALIST DEAD
ANNA CHERKSHAN CLAIMS RUSSIAN PRESIDENT NEVSKY ARRANGED UKRAINIAN DOWNFALL
“Have they said what killed her?” Lourds clicked on one of the video clips and watched Anna’s impassioned plea for an investigation into President Nevsky. He watched the trickle of blood from her nostrils turn into a crimson rush that drenched her blouse. He closed his eyes, no longer able to look.
“No. No one is saying anything.” Layla sounded terribly upset. “God forgive me, but after what happened to her, I got so worried about you. Then, when I could not get in touch with you…” Her voice choked.
“I’m sorry, Layla. Truly I am. But we’re all fine here.”
“You will not continue to be fine if you pursue this. You know that.”
Lourds clicked off the computer, unable to watch any more, not wanting to know any more. “Layla, I have to follow up on this. Adonis and I almost have the answer.”
“It will get you killed. Just like it got Anna killed.”
“We don’t even know if her death was anything more than a terrible accident at this point.”
“She was a healthy young woman.”
“That could have been the result of an embolism. There doesn’t have to be anything nefarious about her death.”
“There is. I feel it. And you should feel it too.”
Lourds silently admitted to himself that maybe he did. “Layla, even if I tried to walk away from this thing, Nevsky — or whoever’s after Alexander’s tomb — will just come after me. I’m not going to be safe until I find it.” He paused, and a horrible thought crossed his mind. “You’re not going to be safe either. They know you and I are involved.”
“I will be fine. I am protected.”
“Except that Captain Fitrat is here.”
“That way I know that you are protected. As much as you can be. What bothers me most is that I cannot be there with you.”
“Don’t try to come. It’s too dangerous.”
“I will not. I cannot. I have too much going on here. I am being buried by the work I have to do. And I feel so badly that I cannot be there with you.”
“I’ll be fine. I promise.” Lourds hoped he wasn’t lying through his teeth, and he grieved terribly for Anna.
One short flight from Kiev to Moscow and the drive from the airport, two hours and twenty-three minutes after hearing about his daughter’s death, Cherkshan stood in front of the door to his house. He hesitated there, standing in the white, swirling snow gathered on his stoop. He wanted to go in, but it hurt him to think of what he was going to find.
Katrina had called once, to make sure that he had heard about Anna, and to verify that what she had heard on the Internet news was true. Then she had broken down crying and hung up the phone.