Chapter XIII
"Sergei Kovran." said Frank quietly.
"Very good." Kovran sounded a little surprised. "You have been a very great inconvenience, I assure you. All my beautiful plans, thrown into turmoil by an unlucky chance meeting. It will be a pleasure to be rid of you at last."
Frank had one ear on the music below. "What about Gabby and Jerry? Are you really going to split with them?"
"Gabby and Jerry." Kovran's voice was contemptuous. "The imbeciles we must sometimes ally ourselves with. Weak fools, both, but useful. A pity about their accident."
A hand squeezed at Frank's heart. "What accident?"
"A little arrangement I made. You will not be alive to see it. Turn around, please. Slowly."
Frank did as he was told. Even in the dark, the eyes he faced were amazingly cold. Frank struggled to calm his breathing. Just keep talking, he thought. This song can't last forever. "So tell me. What makes a diplomat decide to steal a national treasure from his own country?"
For the first time, Kovran showed emotion. "Steal!" he spat. "Steal! And how did Russia come by this great treasure, hm? Do you recall? It was the property of the Romanovs, who were robbed of all they owned and brutally murdered, even the children. All those remotely related fled the country when they could. My grandmother managed to make a new home in Czechoslovakia. She never let me forget that Romanov blood ran in my veins, or how that proud house had ended.
After all that was taken from us, why is it wrong that I should take something back?
You are an American. You hold personal property sacred. Perhaps I am not the most closely related Romanov left living, but I am the only one, it seems, interested in making a claim. Why should it belong to the government? A government that robbed and murdered to own it?"
Frank didn't answer. He hardly dared breath. Wonderful, he thought. He's armed, and he's loony. And how did this song get so long?
000
Joe had to admit that he enjoyed the number. Suzy guided him through it, showing him how to freeze at the end for applause. But part of his mind was occupied with Jerry, and he immediately broke to head for the wings.
Suzy grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Where are you going?" she whispered. "They're encoring us!"
Joe groaned inwardly as they began the last chorus again. Great, he thought. Jerry could be halfway to the airport by this time.
000
"So. Why'd you end up back in Russia?" Frank couldn't believe he was using parlor chat on a guy with a gun at his heart, but he had to stall until he could think of an out, or Joe got there, or both.
"For justice. It was pathetically easy. With the Communists I was Communist. With the Nationalists I am Nationalist. Zealots and fools are easy to deceive."
Yeah, especially if you aren't burdened with any loyalties, thought Frank sourly, but he kept it to himself. He didn't want to anger Kovran. Just stall him.
Kovran crinkled his eyes at him suddenly. "Don't deceive yourself, my friend, that you are distracting me," he said mildly. "I am only passing time. In the next scene, you see, is a duel between Valentine and Faust. The noise should be sufficient to cover any awkwardness up here."
000
Joe finally got to exit, with Suzy pulling on his arm.
"You have a great tenor, y'know? How come, like, I never heard you before?" Joe smiled absently, staring down the wings towards Jerry's station. From here he couldn't tell if he was there or not. "So, like, what do you say? Want to, like, go with me to the reception after?"
"Reception?" Joe tried to wrest his arm from Suzy's insistent grasp.
"Yeah, it'll be great. Champagne and everything. I mean, we can't drink or anything, but it'll be great."
"Suzy," said Joe desperately as she showed no sign of releasing him, "Don't you have to get into your angel costume?"
Suzy gasped. "Oh, wow! You're right!" She hurried toward the exit leading to the dressing rooms. Sighing with relief, Joe edged toward the wing where Jerry was stationed, moving until he could get a good look. But there was Jerry, headphones on, flashlight in hand. He moved to where he could look across the stage to Frank and signal that everything was all right.
Frank was nowhere in sight.
000
Frank heard the soldier song end at last and braced himself. If he was going to make a move, it would have to be soon. He saw Kovran tilt his head, listening for some moment in the music. It was only the tiniest lapse in his attention, but Frank took advantage of it, grabbing the gun with both hands and throwing himself against Kovran.
The catwalk shivered as they went down, fighting for control of the gun. Kovran was not a large man, but his wiry strength was amazing. Frank managed to slam his knee into Kovran's gun hand and felt it release, heard the gun go skittering down the length of the catwalk. With a soft cry of rage, Kovran rammed his elbow into Frank's jaw. For a moment the pain loosened Frank's grip, and Kovran dove for the gun. Frank threw himself on top of him, grappling to reach the gun first. Twisting like lightening, Kovran jerked to his side to throw Frank from his back. The unexpected action sent Frank rolling off him - and over the edge of the catwalk, free-falling. He flailed to grab something - anything - to stop his deadly drop to the floor far below. His hand brushed one of the railing supports, and with a movement that nearly yanked his arm from its socket, he managed to wrap his hand around it. His body dangled in space, swinging gently.
He expected to see Kovran pick up the gun and finish it then and there, but he didn't. He knelt on the catwalk, smiling down at him. "Actually," he said pleasantly, "this is rather neater." And with his exquisite Italian boot, he applied pressure to Frank's clinging hand.
000
Joe glanced from Jerry to the opposite wing and made up his mind. Maybe Frank had found an opportunity to study that jewel casket, or maybe he had found something else. Either way, he wanted to know what it was.
He made his way backstage to the stage left wing and glanced around. No Frank. The jewel casket was still on the Prop Table. He paced the area. Frank could just be wishing Callie luck, but - he spotted Frank's sword, resting at the bottom of the catwalk ladder, pointing upward, and raised his eyebrows. He studied it for a moment, but that seemed to be the only message. With a shrug, he began to climb.
000
Frank felt his fingers loosening under the insistent pressure of Kovran's boot. He tried to get a grip with his free hand, but the movement so endangered his precarious hold that he instantly thought better of it. His shoulder screamed with the strain and his fingers burned. He looked up at Kovran, his vision blurred with sweat and pain.
Suddenly, there was a soft swishing sound and a flutter of whiteness that slammed into Kovran, sprawling him on the catwalk. The release of the pressure on Frank's hand made him gasp. Then blink. Then wonder if he was dead already.
For there on the catwalk stood an avenging angel, complete with flowing white robes and golden wings, halo slightly askew. This angel had burning eyes and Kovran's gun in a two handed grip, pointed at his astonished face. It took Frank a second to realize that it was Callie, looking fiercer than he'd ever seen her.
"Go ahead," she grated at Kovran, pulling back the hammer. "Just give me a reason."
TBC