DIAMONDS AND DECEIT
The Search for the Missing Romanov Dynasty Jewels
by
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Ryan stuck his head back into the bedroom for a moment. He gave Cathleen a kiss. "I'll see you at the hotel. I promise." A cold chill went down her spine as he walked away from her. She had a horrible premonition that she'd never see him again, alive. The Irish, for centuries, had believed in fairies and leprechauns -- and premonitions. Her grandmother supposedly had been strong with the "gift." It was early enough that "Mr. O'Brian" had no trouble in getting a taxi and fifteen minutes later, he arrived at No. 87 Leninsky Prospekt. He made his way straight to Verchagin's building. Several screaming children were just coming out the door as he arrived. He got his hand on the door before it latched and let himself in. He wouldn't have to buzz Verchagin, or anyone else, on the intercom to get into the building. He took the stairs to the dimly lighted corridor of the second floor. He pounded loudly on the metal door of the man who had ruined his life twenty years earlier. "Who is it?" asked a thin, wavering voice from behind the door. "Deputy Director of the Housing Association. It's about the complaints you've made." Given what the old lady had told him, it seemed a reasonable guess that Verchagin was a frequent complainer about something in the complex. Verchagin opened the door. "It's about time you did something about those screaming children." O'Brian pushed the door wide open and stepped in, forcing Verchagin to back up. He closed the door behind him. "We have several matters to discuss. Perhaps you'd be more comfortable sitting down." He pointed at a straight-back chair by the wall. Being Russian, Verchagin sat down as commanded. "I understand you're alone here?" "Yes, my wife died several years ago. What's that got to do with ..." O'Brian put up his hand, in a gesture for Verchagin to stop speaking. "It must be lonely without your wife. You know, I lost my wife almost twenty years ago. And my son." "Sorry to hear that," automatically mumbled Verchagin. "Yes, they were shot and killed in Prague by some asshole. Beautiful city, Prague. You ever been in Prague, Valerie Ivanovich?" Verchagin's eyes opened wide. His face became taut. "No," he muttered unconvincingly. "Really? Think hard. A summer's day, about like today. On a narrow street, that led to the airport." O'Brian's voice had turned cold and hard. His stare frozen into Verchagin's eyes. Verchagin knew. "No, it can't be you. It can't be you. You're dead." "My soul's been dead for twenty years because of you, but I'm here. I'm here to kill you. Did they give you a medal Valerie Ivanovich? Maybe a promotion?" "I was only following my orders." "I could have killed you days ago from afar. But I wanted you to know who is going to kill you." Verchagin started to cry. "I'm an old man, have pity on me." "Pity? Like the pity you showed my wife and child. You know, I'm not going to kill you today. Maybe, I'll kill you tomorrow, or maybe next week. I want you to think about it coming. Think about it when you come around a corner in the dark and maybe I'll be waiting there. Or maybe some night, when you're in bed." Verchagin had both hands over his eyes, crying. "No, no, leave me alone." For the first time since he'd entered the room, O'Brian glanced around the room. On the walls, he saw various military plaques and pictures of Verchagin as a young man in the paratroopers and with Soviet troops in Afghanistan. He quietly backed up and opened the door -- then he was gone. He walked quickly from the building, but not at a run. People remember a man running. He walked several blocks within the housing projects before going out to the prospekt and hailing a taxi.
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About the Book
Karl Beck is a former KGB officer who defected to America at the end of the Cold War and was resettled with his new name as a Slavic Literature professor at Indiana University. Beck is sixty, but tall, athletic and a charming man of the world. He is falling in love with Cathleen; an attractive woman half his age of the History department, whose mother and grandfather had been part of the underground IRA of Northern Ireland. He eventually reveals his true past to her and also that in the last few years, he has become involved with a secret, private espionage group. While doing academic research, Beck stumbles across a lead to the location of a large cache of diamonds that had belonged to the Romanov Dynasty of Russia; jewels that had gone missing back in July, 1918 when the czar and the royal family were all assassinated -- or were they? Karl and Cathleen travel to Russia to pursue the clues and try to solve the puzzle of where the jewels had allegedly been hidden back in 1938. Complicating their quest is a Russian Mafia boss who has also learned of the prize they seek and the Russian government that would still like to see Beck dead. The couple is assisted by a number of people, including her IRA grandfather. However, within the complicated world of espionage, all is not always as it seems and Karl must figure out who are really his friends and whether he can he ever truly leave his KGB past behind him.
About the Author
Mr. Coyle spent 30 years as a field operations officer for the CIA, almost half of that time abroad, working undercover in a variety of countries, including Russia. He is a recipient of the CIA's Intelligence Medal of Merit. Since retiring in 2006, he has been teaching at Indiana University. His first hand knowledge of espionage and Russia allows him to weave together a plausible tale of true historical facts with a rich imagination of characters and events that might have been. This is his third spy novel.