The Con Men
An Anastasia Narrative
Amidst the teeming streets of Petrograd (St. Petersburg), an older, rather plump-looking man wove his way through the swarms of people. He had a dark, graying beard, wore spectacles, and was wearing a large, red coat to block out the cold of winter. A black hat sat upon his head.
The man walked about with a quick gait, trying to move through the mobs without being rude. He soon found his way to a narrow street and came upon a doorway. He knocked and whispered a secret word through a crack in the door.
"Shvibzik," he hissed. The door was hurriedly opened and was quickly shut behind him.
He was now in a dark parlor, with only candles for light. An old woman in a brown, shabby shawl peered at him through beady eyes that were not unlike a rat's.
"I'm sure you know why I've come," he said quietly. The old woman nodded.
"Well, then, is there anything to report?"
"Vladimir," the old lady smiled, "you worry too much. You are always thinking that the worst is happening." She chuckled, a sound that resembled more of a cough than a laugh. "By the way, where is your partner, eh?"
"I prefer to look at my behavior as prepared," Vladimir smiled back. "As for my partner, he is meeting me in the marketplace later, but he sends his regards. He will be very sorry to have missed you."
The old lady seemed pleased at this.
"But onto more pressing matters," Vladimir cleared his throat. "Are there any reports whatsoever?"
"All I can say is this, you had better get a move onto the palace if that is where you're headed," she answered. "I know from various resources that the authorities are sniffing out your trail quicker than a hound sniffs out the trail of a fox. It is not too serious yet, but I say that the two of you need to cover your tracks and quickly!"
Vladimir nodded. "That is what I was afraid of. Thank you. That is all the news I need."
"I hope you will make it. It was a bad idea, trying to deceive the chief of police's wife like you two did."
"Don't forget. We deceived her husband as well. Bought some nice boots out of their 'generosity'." The pair of them laughed.
"Well, I must be going, my dear. Thank you again for the news." Vladimir kissed the lady on her withered cheek. She just cackled at him and shoved him away.
"You just tell that roguish partner of yours to be more careful next time. We neither of us would want to see him shot, now would we?" she said, though the thought seemed to give her pleasure.
Vladimir shook his head. "No, we would not."
He bid the woman goodbye, and left just as secretly as he had entered.
Once again, he was walking in the street, but now, his destination was the marketplace. As he walked, he bought a newspaper from a stand and read the headlines as follows:
"RUMORS ABOUND! ONE ROMANOV CHILD MAY STILL BE ALIVE!"
Ah yes, he mused. The missing Grand Duchess . . . A smile spread across Vladimir's face.
The rumors had been going around for nine years at least. The story of a missing Romanov child had begun when the Czar's own mother claimed she had escaped the siege of the palace, taking with her a child. The child, she said, had been separated from her and was lost in the streets. Now, ten years later, she was putting up a reward for whoever could bring the child back. It was a goldmine for tons of diggers, including Vladimir and his partner.
It had become their latest scheme. They decided that they would study everything they could about the Romanovs and about royal life, and had been doing so for the last several months. Vladimir even had an acquaintance with the Empress's cousin, which gave them extra information. They had every thing they needed to pull the plan off and were now on the search to find a girl to play the part.
But the law was getting in the way. Only just three days ago, did the men receive word that they were in suspicion of being arrested for a previous con. They needed to cover their tracks quickly, before the police discovered their hideout.
All these thoughts were spinning in his head as Vladimir roamed around a bazaar. He looked at the salespeople selling merchandise they claimed to have gotten honestly, but Vladimir knew most of it was either stolen or counterfeit. As he walked, he heard a small whistle.
"Vlad!" He turned and spotted a young man leaning against a pillar. The man wore a large overcoat and a cap that shaded his dark eyes.
"Dimitri! There you are!"
The two men shook hands and began walking through the market.
"What news?" the young man hissed. He looked about him with shifty eyes.
"I went to go see her, you know."
"I gathered that. I suppose she told you to tell me that I need to be more careful in the way I work?"
"As always. But she also said that the authorities are getting closer, son. If we are moving, we need to do so now and leave no evidence behind of our current residence."
"I see . . ." He didn't say more, for salesmen swarmed around them.
"Sir! A moment, if you will!" cried one. "Look at this remarkable painting that costs only a ruble! It's a forgotten portrait of the Czar himself! And it's totally authentic!"
Vlad's partner Dimitri just rolled his eyes.
"I don't believe you."
"Oh but it is so! I swear that it is!"
"And what is your word worth? I know this kind of thing, my man, and I'm telling you that the quality of that painting is too poor to pass off as a look-a-like. Nope. I won't buy it."
They continued walking.
"That was a counterfeit if ever I saw one," sneered Dimitri. "If he wants to pull off the trade, he's got to take more time in making his work look more authentic."
"You would know, boy," grinned Vlad. "Though it is rather ironic that someone like you should be judging that man. You sell counterfeit things just as he does."
"No, I don't sell them. I just pass them on to different customers. So what if a few people give me fake or stolen goods? It's not my fault. It's just all part of the business." A devilish light was in his eye.
It was Vlad's turn to roll his eyes. "You should hear yourself! What you're doing is turning a blind eye to certain customers, even if you know what they are doing!"
"If you say so," smiled Dimitri.
"Oh never mind that. Let us get back on the subject." Vlad's voice sank to a whisper. "Police have also begun to search the streets, asking questions. You know just as well as I do that no one is a friend in the city, and someone has been leaking out information to them of where we have stayed in the past! Sooner or later, they'll catch up to us!"
"So I've heard," Dimitri nodded back. "But we'll stay one step ahead of them, as we always do. I've packed all our things and we are ready to move to the palace. All we need is to get our bags out of the building and we can be off."
"The way you talk, it all seems so easy," muttered Vlad. "It's as if we were only going on a holiday, just move here, then move there. You don't seem even the least bit worried!"
"Pajamas! Count Yussopov's pajamas, comrades!" called out a saleswoman.
"That's because I'm not," shrugged Dimitri. He eyed a rather shiny pair of earrings on a table, then kept walking. "We are on top of the game, Vlad. We always have been, and now that we've got this great plan, all is going just perfectly."
"I don't know," worried Vlad. He bought an apple from a lady and began munching on it.
"Look. We've been in trouble like this before!" Dimitri grinned deviously, pulling Vlad along. "And we've always been able to squeeze our way out."
"Hm . . . " was Vlad's answer as he took a final bite of the apple, before throwing it to a dog.
"Comrades! You must stop and look for one minute!" called another salesman. "This stole is something that I acquired from the palace! Feel, my man! It's lined with real fur and it's only three rubles!"
Dimitri's face lit up into a crooked smile. He held the stole in his hands, felt it between his fingers, and nodded. He took out three rubles and bought the item.
"It's genuine! Perfect!" he exclaimed. Vlad frowned.
"Why did you buy that thing?" he asked. They entered a pawnshop. A sign above the door had the words "Vlad and Dimitri's," but it was old and rusted. The letters were beginning to chip off of the sign.
"Because," crowed Dimitri, "it could be worth a fortune if it belonged to . . . her!"
"Ahhh," smiled Vlad. This time, it was his smile that was devious. "Yes, well, on the subject of our missing royal princess, I got us a theater for the floods of actresses that are sure to line up at our doorstep!" The man finished his dramatic speech with a flourish.
A chuckle escaped from Dimitri. "Everything's going according to plan," he exclaimed as he leaped over a step. "All we need is the girl!"
They passed through the shop, which was littered with all sorts of old objects such as frames, vases, and even a grandfather clock. They had recently set up a pawnshop as their latest job which profited. They always promised an honest trade in their work, and it was, some of the time. But most of the time, they would use a little deceit to get their way with customers. But what of that? They hadn't been caught and it gave them money as they prepared for their great scheme. It wasn't like their last job, which dealt with the black market. Compared to that, this job was completely honest and right, even though it may not have been satisfying money-wise like the black market had been.
"I hope this plan works. We've failed at one, too many plans in the past, and conned too many people. Do you know how many angry businessmen and rich heiresses I've had to deal with after you embezzled their money?"
Dimitri shook the criticism off. "Oh, that's all in the past, man! Look to the future! Do you know what this could be for us if we play our cards right?"
They ascended a long staircase. Dimitri took them two at a time while Vlad slowly followed behind. Just as the shop was, tons of items were on the stairs. There was even a harp lying in a corner.
"Just think, Vlad! There'll be no more forging documents, no more stolen goods!" They were now on the top floor and in a bedroom suite. A few suitcases were scattered on chairs and sofas amidst other junk such as candelabrums, armoires, and music instruments.
"Aw, but forging documents is the best part of the trade," joked Vlad.
Dimitri laughed. "I hear you, and you have a gift for it! And yet, this is the same man who was judging me about cheating people a few minutes ago!" He teasingly shook his finger in Vlad's face.
"Well, that was about you. This is about me," Vlad grinned. "And I have every right to judge you! I don't know how you do it, Dimitri, but I have never seen one man influence so many women like you have."
"That's because I'm handsome," grinned Dimitri dashingly.
Vlad roared with laughter. "No, that's not it. It must be your charm that does it. You are not handsome!"
Dimitri wasn't offended. Instead, the statement made him laugh along with Vlad. He knew he wasn't the handsomest man. He had met far handsomer men and had conned them in the process. For one thing, his crooked smile and long bangs gave him a sinister look. But it was his nose that made him really odd-looking. It was also crooked, with a bump that had been caused by the many scrapes he had been in that resulted in its breaking.
"Well, then it must be my charm," he grinned again.
"And you pull it off well. What you can convince the ladies to do defies nature," his partner joked.
"Never mind that," Dimitri said, though his smile was triumphant. "I'll be glad to get away from all of this. I'm sick of St. Petersburg and Russia all together." He fished through a battered old safe and pulled out some books, along with a small, gold box. He studied it in his hands and a small smile was upon his face.
"I don't blame you," replied Vlad. He picked up the stole and scrutinized it.
Dimitri looked away from the little box and stuffed it in a bag along with the books. "I wouldn't care if you did. This will be the best thing we've ever done! We'll have three tickets out of here. One for you, one for me, and one for our girl, Anastasia!"
"Now don't get too excited," warned Vlad, understanding the light he saw in Dimitri's eyes. "We've gotta find the girl first."
"Oh we will. We will. This rumor's gotten so big, it's become a legend and one of the biggest mysteries in Russia. And besides, we've been everywhere looking for girls, and where else would we find desperate women, than in the city? You know how some are willing to do anything for the reward we'll get."
Vlad's smile widened. "Ahh . . . the reward . . . Say it again. I like hearing the sound of that word."
Dimitri chuckled. "Reward. There. And I'm sure it will be a great one! We'll be so rich, we won't have to worry about anything ever again! I'm telling you, Vlad, the "princess" Anastasia will be the one who will make us fly!" He opened a window and stepped out onto a balcony. He looked down upon the street and let out a triumphant laugh. This city had held him hostage as a poor orphan boy for so long, but he had become a man of business, and now he was getting out!
He turned to Vlad. "We'll go down in history as two of the greatest con men who tricked the Dowager Empress. Let's just hope we can find a girl who is pretty and who can act."
"And then, on to Paris!" exclaimed Vlad. "And the reward!"
The sound of the Empress's great reward made them practically jump for joy.
"Only you and I could pull it off, Vlad," Dimitri's voice was full of pride. They gathered up their suitcases (three in all) and stood on the balcony.
"Here's to Paris!" cheered Vlad.
"And the Grand Reward!" shouted Dimitri.
They whooped and hollered as they jumped off the balcony and slid down the roof. They landed on their feet in the middle of the street. Then, they hopped on the back of a bus headed eastward and enjoyed the ride that would take them to their new residence: the Alexander Palace.
Yes sir, life was good.