Many thanks to alybro, Ozma and my good buddy amethyst. And apologies too - I didn't mean I would stop posting - this one is done and has been on my conscious for too long for that. But it's sure nice to know somebody's out there. J

Chapter XI

The theatre was filled with screams and shouting. Callie's face was so white that she looked like she might faint, sending her on a drop to her death.

That was all Joe had time to notice, because he had his own hands full. At the sound of Callie's scream, Frank had leapt forward from their hiding place. Only Joe's quick tackle stopped him from running down the aisle to the rescue. Frank struggled like a wild man. Joe was glad that everyone's attention was riveted to the stage.

"Cut it out, Frank!" Joe hissed in his ear. "Even if you could get there in time, there's nothing you could do! You're just exposing yourself needlessly!"

Frank didn't answer, but with a sudden movement, nearly broke free. Joe tightened his grip. Right now, his greater bodyweight gave him the advantage, but Frank was more flexible and had some pretty smooth moves. He had a brief, nightmarish flash of memory - of Frank holding him back, as he tried to rush forward and pull Iola from the burning car where she'd met her death - and for a moment his heart broke all over again. In that moment Frank slipped from his grasp.

The offstage voice echoed throughout the theatre. "Everybody calm down! Get a mattress or something under her! Callie, honey, hang on - I'm coming for you!"

Joe, cursing his second of deja vu, dove after Frank. He wasn't Bayport's best tackle for nothing, and though Frank was a good quarterback, there was no room for evasive action in the narrow theatre aisle. Joe got him firmly around the knees. He flipped Frank over while he was still winded and sat on his chest, shaking him by the shoulders.

"Listen to me! She's okay! They've got her! I'm going to let you look, but you've got to stay put!" Frank's blank, frantic stare began to refocus and he stared at Joe for a moment before giving a perfunctory nod. Joe helped him to sit up, but kept a tight grip on his arm. Frank's straining eyes gazed at the stage, where someone else in a harness was lowering himself next to Callie. Four stagehands held a tarp under her in case she should fall.

Callie's face was still white, but she didn't seem to be loosening her grip. Joe and Frank watched in tense silence as the stagehand in the harness moved in closer - carefully, so as not to startle her into letting go. In another minute he had his arm around her waist.

"Let go of the harness and put your arms around me, Callie." For a second, it looked as though Callie would not be able to loosen her death grip on the harness, but the Stagehand wrapped his other arm around her and spoke to her soothingly for a few minutes, and she finally wrapped her arms around his neck. "Okay, guys, lower us, nice and easy, down to the stage."

Neither Joe or Frank breathed as Callie began her slow descent to the stage, but within a short time the stagehand had landed on his feet. He set Callie down and knelt beside her. "I'd like some water over here! And smelling salts!"

Frank made a move to rise and join them, but Joe yanked him firmly back down. "Jerry Stryker's on that stage," he explained in an undertone. Frank glared, but the fight seemed to have gone out of him. He watched from a distance as they ministered to Callie. His muscles under Joe's grip felt tense as iron. After a minute Joe said, "Look, I'll go find Alissa. She'll tell us which dressing room they take Callie to, and if the coast is clear for us to join her. Okay?"

Frank nodded, and Joe helped him to his feet. As they started down the darkened column of stairs, Joe said slowly "Know what this made me think of? Remember how I tried to pull Iola out of that explosion, even though it was hopeless? And you stopped me? I even punched you in the mouth. Remember?" Frank looked at him, his expression softening. "So I guess now I know how you felt. And you kind of know how I felt."

Frank nodded. "Except that Callie's still alive."

"Right."

"And I didn't get to punch you in the mouth."

"Also right. And you're not gonna."

"So - I guess I mean thanks."

"You're welcome. But you still can't punch me."

Finding Alissa was no problem - the near tragedy seemed to have brought people from every corner. Having assured herself that Callie was all right, she had obviously gone looking for them and grabbed onto Joe's arm as he exited the theatre.

"There you guys are. They took her to one of the unoccupied star dressing rooms to rest. I asked them to all clear out so she can sleep, so you should be able to see her in a minute." She gestured to them to follow her down the hall, and stopped beside another dressing room door, marked with a star, as Galina's had been. She knocked gently on the door and poked her head in. Then she pushed the door further inward and indicated for them to go ahead.

Callie was sitting up on a coach, and when she saw Frank, she held out her arms to him. Without a word, he sat down next to her and held her close.

Joe grinned at Alissa. "I think we're a little in the way here."

Alissa shook her head. "Maybe so, but I'm not budging until we make some decisions. This has gotten way, way too dangerous. I say we call the police right now."

Callie pulled her head up from Frank's shoulder. "It could have been a coincidence. No one could be sure which harness I'd get - not even Jerry."

"That makes it worse. That means they don't care who they kill. I say you kids are out of it right now."

"Maybe it was just the curse," Joe suggested. "In which case, it's gonna follow us no matter what we do and we might as well see this thing through."

Alissa snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. We need to contact some kind of authorities before someone is hurt for real."

Joe looked at Frank. "You're pretty quiet."

"I don't know - seeing Callie hang over that stage - maybe Alissa is right."

Callie sat up straight. "I see! So this is about me again! Well, I, for one, vote that we carry on! He's not going to try that harness trick again - especially with Eric checking over every piece of equipment with a fine tooth comb. And by the time we convince any authorities that this is for real and not some teenage prank, the Romanov Rose will be long gone."

Alissa stared at her. "You don't mean that you're still willing to be an angel!"

"Of course I am! I'm not a quitter!"

"Callie, we know you're not, but don't you think -"

"What I think, Frank Hardy, is that I had to hang tough for two whole days while you were missing and in God knows what condition, and now you can hang tough through this. Besides, as I say, I think the danger is over for me, if there ever actually was any."

"That is the most convoluted logic - " Frank caught a glimpse of Joe's face. "And what are you finding so funny?"

Joe's grin broadened. "Was I laughing? I guess I'm just so relieved Callie's all right. And making such good sense, too."

Frank sighed. "You're both impossible."

Alissa shook her head. "I agree. Unfortunately, though, there's some sense to what you say. I don't know what to do."

Frank shrugged. "I guess there's only one thing to do. Keep on keeping on. You'd better take a nap, Cal."

Callie stood up and straightened her shoulders. "And miss tea with Kareechniva? You must be joking. I never felt better in my life. If you'll all excuse me, I'm going to powder my nose."

Frank stared after her bemusedly as she disappeared into the bath adjoining the dressing room. Joe patted him on the shoulder, and Frank gave him a sour look. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Joe grinned. "Better than the Boxing Channel. Come on and run a comb through your hair before you meet the Great Kareechniva. I want you to make a good impression."

000

The Great Kareechniva had her dressing room beautifully tripped out with scented candles and a small, polished samovar. They drank tea in tall glasses, sweetened with cherry jam instead of sugar. Tiny pancakes wrapped around different fillings that she called "blini" and a cranberry pudding garnished with sour cream completed the spread.

"Not good eat too much before singing", Galina explained, cheerfully putting away her third blini. "But not good eat too little, either. Good singing need big energy. Where you children first sing? Here?"

"Um. Sydney. Australia," Joe said weakly, remembering Alissa's advice. It hadn't occurred to him that she could ask some pretty embarrassing questions.

Galina nodded. "I never see. Someday, maybe."

"Thank you for the beautiful flowers, Ms. Kareechniva," Callie chimed in eagerly. "It was so nice of you to send them. But are you sure you want us to have them? The back of the card said 'From Sergei' - it would be a shame to disappoint one of your admirers."

Joe tossed her an admiring glance.

Galina's face grew surprisingly hard. She shrugged. "Sergei admires no one. He is - what is English - no duscha."

"Soul," Frank supplied. "No soul."

"Da. He is wild dog. He feeds from the carcasses of others' misfortune."

"But he's an ambassador. He represents your country."

"My country," Galina nearly spat the words. "He represents Sergei. He has tortured my country. My people. Because of Sergei many, many innocents - my father included - are dead. Dead or dying in hard labor camps. You do not know what men like Sergei did in the name of Communism. What they will continue to do, if someone does not stop them. He pretends to want peace, progress. He only waits to feed again."

"What happened to your father?" Callie asked at last, shyly.

For a minute they thought she would not answer, then she sighed deeply. "My father. A good man. Many high ideals. He protested lavish housing available for some, not for others. Jobs for some, others starving. He spoke loudly. In squares. In marketplaces. Wherever there were people. Of tyranny. Of injustice. Of unequal opportunity. This, in Soviet Russia." She shook her head. "A good man, but not wise. Suicide, this."

She was silent again, until Callie said, "And he died?"

"Died?" Galina raised her eyebrows "For this? Of course. Arrested. Executed.

Kolya - my brother - swore revenge. Wiser than my father he was - secret. But still…mad. They know everything, the KGB. Are ruthless. He was not so lucky as my father. He was sent to hard labor in the Ural Mountains. My mother broke her heart for this. She was ill…long time."

"Is she…better now?"

Galina smiled a new smile - cold, harrowing. "Better? Suppose yes. Medical treatment too not equal in Soviet Russia. She die - two years later." She looked from one to the other of them, her eyes burning with hate. "Who you think was arresting agent for my father, my brother? Who? You guess."

TBC