CHAPTER 40
The sound of gunfire ceased and presently the guards returned. They brought with them one of the assassins, who came clutching his right arm, blood saturating his sleeve.
Alexandra, who with Farah had risen and moved to one side, said sharply, "Did the others get away?"
The guard who seemed to be the leader said curtly, "No." He looked Alexandra straight in the eye as he said this.
"You did well," she said. "Has this one talked?"
"Not yet, Your Highness." His grim tone promised that the prisoner would soon be glad to talk.
The police and the ambulance arrived, followed closely by a second ambulance which had been dispatched from the nearest hospital when word of the slayings reached them. It carried two doctors, who were on duty at the time.
The police chief moved quickly to Alexandra's side. Alexandra, always the patrican, stood waiting. The fact that she wore no shoes did nothing to detract from her regal bearing.
"Perhaps you should go inside, Your Highness," the chief said.
"No. My place is here."
"Perhaps the Princess . . ..?"
"My granddaughter's place is here also."
"Very well," he said. He remained standing nearby.
One of the doctors bent over Boris, the other knelt beside Michael. After a brief inspection, they shook their heads and covered the bodies with sheets.
The paramedic who had run to Megan's side took one shocked look and put a sheet over her with trembling hands, his face white.
Suddenly the paramedic leaning over Nickolai cried, "He's still breathing. I found a pulse." He looked at them in awe and added, "I was ready to cover him. There was absolutely no sign of life. But then he just started to breathe. It's a miracle."
The life-saving procedure began at once, and the attendants transferred Nicky to an ambulance, which went speeding away, its shrill siren cutting the air. An armed policeman rode with him and a police car with two officers followed.
One of the doctors approached Alexandra and said, "We'll do everything possible for your grandson, but it's in God's hands. He's been badly injured."
"We will pray for him," Alexandra said. "And as soon as things are taken care of here, Princess Megan and I will go to the hospital to be with him."
"Would you like me to see to the ... er ... details?"
"Yes, thank you." We would like to say goodbye to them first.
She took Farah by the hand and together they knelt beside each one in turn, uncovered the faces, and kissed them goodbye. Then they clung to each other, fighting tears, as the bodies were borne away.
Meanwhile, the household staff, who had been ordered by the guards to remain inside when the trouble started, had come crowding out and were now standing huddled together near the house. Alexandra summoned Megan's maid and said to her, "Please help Princess Megan change into proper clothing. And have someone bring me my shoes."
The maid looked at Farah's white, tortured face and trembling limbs and put her arms around her. "There, there, Miss Megan," she said, "I'll help you."
She has accepted me as Megan, Farah thought, and went along to Megan's bedroom to change into appropriate clothes from Megan's wardrobe.
Alexandra's shoes were brought to her. After putting them on, she addressed the staff. "This is a great loss for all of us and for our country. No one knows yet who is responsible for this tragedy, but I'm sure the government and the police will do everything in their power to find the culprits and bring them to justice. Prince Nickolai is in grave condition and could do with your prayers. In the meantime, we will all have to carry on as usual."
She then asked that her car be brought around, and by the time it arrived, Farah, dressed in Megan's clothes, had returned. Alexandra's regular driver had been replaced by one of the guards. A second guard sat beside him. A police car followed.
At the hospital, they were ushered into a private waiting room. A policeman stood outside guarding the door. The hospital administrator came to tell them that everything possible was being done, and though he was not out of danger, the prince's youth and physical condition were in his favor.
On the heels of his departure, the phone rang. The Prime Minister had arrived. Should they show him up? When he came, he was trailed by the Archbishop, who prayed for Nicky's recovery and for the souls of the victims.
The Prime Minister, a close friend of the family, checked his impulse to put his arms around Alexandra, who stood so straight and tall before him. He correctly understood that to do so might undermine her control.
"Your Highness," he said formally, "the whole country is stunned by this tragedy. Thousands of townspeople have gathered outside to pray for Prince Nickolai's recovery. They are praying that you and Princess Megan may find the strength to bear this sorrow."
"Thank you." Alexandra's tone was also formal.
"Princess Megan," he began, but after one look at Farah's ravaged face he took her into his arms. "I am so sorry," he whispered, fighting tears.
"May we wait with you?" the Prime Minister asked Alexandra.
"Please do."
He sat down beside her. "Do you feel like talking about what happened?"
"No," said Alexandra, "but I think we have to."
"I've searched my mind and nothing makes any sense," he said. "I can't think of anyone who would gain by it. Has something happened that I don't know about? Some little something that went unnoticed at the time, perhaps?"
Farah looked at Alexandra. "It couldn't be . . . no. This was slaughter on a grand scale. It doesn't make any sense at all."
"What were you about to say? You must have someone in mind."
Alexandra interrupted, "Prince Andre got upset and nasty because he wasn't invited to our Christmas dinner. He gave Farah a bad time about it until she explained that because it was so soon after Maria's death, no one but the immediate family was there."
Farah realized she had spoken as herself and looked at Alexandra in gratitude.
"Was that the end of the incident?" the Prime Minister asked.
"He seemed mollified," Alexandra told him, "and we were careful to invite him to the dinner today, but he told Farah he was taking a vacation and would be out of the country at the time."
"Do you know where he was going?"
"He didn't say."
"Well, I know Andre to be mean and spiteful, but weak and indecisive. It doesn't sound like him. And what could he gain? He surely knows that he's not in line for succession."
"He did say to Farah that he considered himself a part of the immediate family. Perhaps he does think there's a chance he can inherit."
The Archbishop, who had been listening intently to all this, said, "The Mid-East is a hotbed of bloodthirsty zealots who would like to have a stronghold in the middle of Europe from which to operate. Could Andre have been a pawn in a scheme for a takeover by one of these groups?"
"It's something to think about, isn't it?" The Prime Minister rose. "I'll check with the Chief of Police about the prisoner. Maybe they've learned something from him. I've already alerted the Security forces, but there hasn't been anything to go on. This information about Andre will give us a place to start, and if he's guilty . . . well, the prisoner might be willing to talk if he thinks we know something."
The Archbishop rose also. "I'm needed at the cathedral," he said. "We plan to conduct all-night services for the people who are crowding the church to pray for the royal family, living and deceased, with special prayers for Prince Nickolai and for you, Your Highness, and for your grand-daughter."
The doctor came in, a scowl on his face. He told them that Nicky's condition had worsened due to the lack of blood. And there was no blood of his type available. Would either of them like to be tested for blood type.
"Of course, Farah said. "It isn't uncommon for members of a family to have the same type of blood."
Farah went with the doctor for a test, accompanied by a guard. The tech found the blood to be compatible. A0fter the transfusion was accomplished, they transferred Nicky to the Intensive Care Unit, with police protection. Presently Farah was escorted back upstairs with orders to drink a lot of liquids.
After another wait, the surgeon came to report that the anesthetic hadn't worn off but that Prince Nickolai seemed to be holding his own. "His color is much better since the transfusion and is breathing easier." He paused and looked at them in bewilderment, but all he said was, "He has had a very close shave."
"You might as well go home," he added. "It may be some time before he regains consciousness, and he shouldn't have visitors at all."
"We'll stay," Alexandra said firmly.
"Would you like some food brought in?"
Alexandra looked at Farah. "Could you eat something, Megan?"
Farah shook her head. "I wouldn't be able to swallow."
"Nothing for me," said the Prime Minister. "Would you like me to go down and speak to the people outside? There must be a raft of reporters out there screaming for news. I'll talk to them."
He returned soon to say that the crowd had grown but was very quiet and orderly. Even the reporters were being respectful. "I told them that the Prince seemed to be out of danger and the doctors had high hopes of a complete recovery. I said they might as well go home and listen for bulletins that will be aired periodically on radio and television. Many of them were beginning to leave already."
Finally the Administrator came to tell them that Nicky had regained consciousness for a brief time, then had drifted into a natural sleep, a good sign. "You should go home and try to get some sleep also," he told them. "I'll be here all night. There are police guards all over the place, so he will be safe."
"Yes, we might as well go," Alexandra said. "He's in good hands here.But you'll let us know if there's any change?"
"Of course. The police will take you home in a bullet-proof car, and you'll be escorted to the car." To the Prime Minister he said, "I understand you drove yourself here. We'll give you an escort to your home and leave a man to guard you."
"You think that's necessary?"
"It's a precaution. There's no need to take chances."
"Very well. And thank you for all your help and your courtesy."
The palace, heavily patrolled by police and palace guards, blazing with light. No one had gone to bed. The mood there had been somber ever since Maria's death, and they were stunned by this triple tragedy. Alexandra thanked them for standing by, reported that Prince Nickolai's condition was encouraging, and said they should all go to bed and get some rest.
Her secretary, a neat and attractive middle-aged woman named Estelle, asked if they had eaten, and expressed concern when told that they had not. "I'll have something brought to you right away," she said.
"A sandwich and a glass of milk will do for me," Alexandra said.
"You may bring the same for me," Farah told her.
They saw guards in the hallways as they went upstairs to Alexandra's quarters to eat their sandwichs, and after they had eaten, a guard escorted Farah to the room assigned her, where one of the maids waited. She had turned down the bed, brought a nightgown and robe (probably Maria's) and offered to help Farah get ready to retire. Farah thanked her and said she was used to doing for herself.
After the maid left, Farah went to bed. She felt drained and numb from the events of the day. She hoped she could go to sleep at once and erase from her mind all the unthinkable things that had happened.
But sleep wouldn't come. Every time she closed her eyes she could see again the lifeless bodies. She could see and smell the blood. She could hear the shots and the running. And the enormity of her loss overwhelmed her.
I bring bad luck, she told herself. She had said this before, when Jason died. She had said it again when Kevin died. Now almost herwhole family had been wiped out, and it must be her fault.
And she asked herself again the same question: Why have I been spared. For what reason have I been spared?
Well, her life had been spared, but Farah had been eliminated. She must now pose as Megan. She wondered if she could do it successfully. Even if no one questioned it, the chances were she would give herself away. She had been through this once before, but the circumstances had been different -- she had assumed a new identity, where no one, except Jason, had known either Donna Harris or the real Farah.
When she and Alexandra had conspired together, it had appeared that all the others were dead. Nicky had stopped breathing, he had no pulse, she knew that for a fact. The paramedic had been certain. By the time he started breathing again, her identity as Megan had already been established in the eyes of the Chief of Police. Perhaps it could have been undone, but in the excitement of learning that Nicky was still alive, they hadn't thought of that.
But no, they couldn't have taken that chance. With such severe injuries, the odds that Nicky would survive, seemed nonexistent. They had no choice.
And that brought her to another frightening thought. Donna had been forty years old when she became Farah. Now Farah had reached forty and had become Megan. She would have to go through the whole masquerade again, the masquerade of being a young girl. And just as no one but Jason had shared her secret then, no one but Alexandra must ever share it now.
And the worst thing of all was that, added to the difficulty of learning again how to relate to teenagers was the more difficult position of posing as Nicky's sister. Her gift of total recall had helped her as Farah, but she wondered if anything could stop her from inadvertently betraying to Nicky that she was not his sister, she was his mother.
There may be some reason, some destiny, in all this, she thought in panic, but I had sooner died with the rest of my family. Her grief finally overcame her, and she wept for Michael, for Megan, for Boris, for Nicky, and for herself. I wish they had killed me, too, she thought.
Finally, worn out by grief and worry, she fell into a deep sleep.