The Romanov Conspiracy Read Online Free PDF

nodded. “Yes, he did. He was secretly directed by Lenin to supervise their execution. And I must tell you that I’ve never made that admission to a soul until now.”
    “Do you know what the rest of the inscription says?”
    “I believe I do, Dr. Pavlov.”
    “Then for heaven’s sake, tell me.”
    Yakov looked away, into the distance, as if he was trying to see something in his mind’s eye. But whatever it was, it must have been deeply personal because he didn’t speak. And then for no reason at all that I could fathom he began to cry. Deep, convulsed sobbing that made his shoulders shake. He took out a handkerchief, wiped his eyes. “Please, forgive me.”
    “Mr. Yakov, there’s nothing to forgive. What upset you?”
    “The memories of an old man.”
    “I don’t understand. Who was the woman? And what does she have to do with the grave we just saw? There’s a connection, isn’t there?”
    Yakov suddenly looked frail and troubled, completely alone, like an old man close to death and fearful of the prospect. A second later his face changed, and something in his sad expression suggested a small boy who’s suddenly gotten lost without his parents. He said quietly, “You’re an expert on the Romanovs, aren’t you, Dr. Pavlov?”
    “More a professional interested party than an expert.”
    “Then I’m afraid you’d never believe what I have to say.”
    “Why not?”
    Yakov’s voice lost its frailty. “Because the accepted history of what happened the night the Romanovs died is a huge conspiracy.”
    “That’s a very bold statement, Mr. Yakov.”
    “I can prove it.”
    I looked at him, bewildered. “If that’s true, have you ever discussed this claim of yours before now?”
    Yakov’s eyes blazed with fervor. “I’ve tried to many times, but no one would believe me. No more than you would believe me without evidence. But now that you’ve found the bodies and the locket, you have the evidence. I’m an old man, I can’t have a whole lot of time left, so I want you to hear the real story, Dr. Pavlov.”
    “What real story?”
    “Of what happened to the Romanovs on the night they disappeared, all those years ago. It’s not the story the history books will tell you. There was terrible bloodshed that night, unbelievable brutality and death, that much is certain.” He paused. “But there were too many vested interests for the real truth to come out. And when I’m done the entire mystery of Anna Anderson, the woman they called Anastasia, will be explained.”
    I stared dumbfounded at Yakov. He added, “In fact, if this story began anywhere it began in St. Petersburg in 1917 with an American spy named Philip Sorg.”
    “I’ve never heard of Sorg.”
    “Few people have. Sorg’s an enigma, a young man who was in love with the tsar’s daughter, the royal princess Anastasia. The couple you saw in the photograph taken outside this very cottage, Uri Andrev and a woman named Lydia Ryan, they were part of it, too. They spent time here together in this very house before traveling to Russia for the rescue.”
    “What rescue?”
    “To save the tsar and his family.”
    I must have looked shocked as I met Yakov’s gaze. “I read about a number of rescue plots, but surely they all came to nothing.”
    “Believe me, this one was different.” Yakov’s face ignited. “This one the history books do not record, and with good reason. For you are about to discover something that I did, Dr. Pavlov.”
    “What’s that?”
    “That as far as the Romanovs are concerned, the real truth lies hidden beneath mystery, myth, and lies.”

PART ONE

    THE PAST

2

    JANUARY 1918
    It was the coldest winter in twenty-five years.
    In Paris, a foot of snow fell in a single night and fourteen homeless vagrants perished, their frozen bodies stuck to the city’s sidewalks. The tragedy forced the capital’s mayor to throw open the metro stations to shelter the destitute from the cruel weather.
    Parisians joked grimly that