Anastasia's Grandson

I give you the pleasure or displeasure of reading this introduction to a story concept I have. Feel free to comment. Yes I intended this for the collaborative fiction, since I cannot post there for whatever reason (restricted) I figured the kind moderators of this forum of the closest like-topic would simply move this to the correct forum Otherwise just give me access to the collaborative forum. Unless I don't write well enough? -shrugs- I am accepting comments



Anastacia’s Grandson


Boris Khorov breathed in slowly through his mouth, his face in the shadows lit by his cigar. A full glass of vodka sat on his carved oak desk top, the bottle near-by was barely emptied. Boris exhaled the smoke across the desk where there sat Vasili Mikhailovich.

“Oo tebya yest, yevo?” asked Vasili.

“Nyet,” replied Boris.

Boris had anticipated the question, however, Vasili did not anticipate the answer. No, Boris did not have him. Vasili expected results and Boris knew this would displease him. He also knew that Vasili was an investor and did not understand the difficulties of the task at hand. It was hard enough finding someone these days it would be even harder to find someone who was deliberately erased almost 100 years ago. But, Boris was an idealist and Vasili was a capitalist to say the least.

“I have a lot of money invested in you, Boris,” Vasili stated with disappointment.

”I know. And you know equally well this is a high risk investment, old friend.”

“Da, da, da. But, I expect results, my collaborators expect results. Without results we will decide to put our money where it is better invested.”

”And you know all I can tell you is we have leads. This time we have a lead in the old Soviet Archives.” Boris put out his cigar and drank the glass of vodka, slamming it on the desk. “Documents from the Revolution; stating the possible where-about of Anastacia, in Finland. We’ve already dispatched our agents to investigate,” Boris said with motivation.

“Good, I suspect this will cost me more money?”

”No, this is a simple matter, document hunting, it costs you nothing.”

“Then why was I called here, not for a motivational talk to keep me thinking my money is well spent,” inquired Vasili, he knew Boris would not waste his time for such things.

“No, old friend, I did not call you for a motivational speech. You must go to Moscow, I need you to put pressure on a man. That will cost you a lot of money if he is not an idealist such as me. Aleksandr Putin –“

“Any relation to –,” interrupted Vasili.

“Nyet,” replied Boris. Vasili lit his own cigar and took a slow drag.

“Who is this man,” Vasili asked, knowing that Boris would tell him what he needed to know if only to save time from having to do his own research. It would be easier to pressure someone knowing their prospects.

“He will be made the commander of the submarine Borey, if all goes well, it’s been arranged. He is our future.”

Jesus, thought Vasili.

The Borey would be the newest addition to the Russian Ballistic Missile Submarine fleet.

Jesus, he thought again. What would they need with a ballistic missile submarine? Vasili looked around the room, admired the leather chairs, the finely carved oak desk, the carpeting and shelving. Even the books gave this room a perfect atmosphere for such closed door meetings. Books on sailing, on military, on history, ancient Greek and Roman plays.

”Is there a problem,” inquired Boris.

“Nyet, old friend, I just need to think about how I can do this,” this would be Vasili’s first job from his investment. Someone somewhere on the other side trusted him enough to get him closer to them, or were they using his connections for their own purposes? He glanced at Boris; he knew the curse of idealists. They were see-through, you knew their motives and intentions far better than a person of fortune. But, like-wise they knew exactly what they expected of you. If Boris wanted him to deliver Aleksandr to their cause, he would do just that.

Vasili stood up and Boris did the same coming to the other side of his desk to embrace Vasili, who gave in turn a parting glance, turned and exited. Boris sat back down in his leather chair, relaxed, and pulled a key from his coat pocket which with he opened the side drawer. He then pulled out a letter which he read as he had read what seemed a thousand times before.

Aleksandr Putin must be persuaded; Naval offices in Moscow – Severney Flot.

The Northern Fleet

Boris had wondered when they found the last Romanov what could they possibly do to instate him as the new authority in Russia? What kind of coup could they possibly do? Would there need to be a coup? There would be the soon to be commander to the Borey, he hadn’t even been appointed yet. Boris now began to understand that with the finding of Anastacia’s grandson would come hard times, for him, his family, his friends, his enemies, all would enter a new and troubling world.