Steps were maneuvred into place and a red carpet rolled out. Moments later the cabin door swung open. A stewardess appeared on the top step and stood aside to allow the passengers to disembark. Television cameras began to whirr, photographers jostled for a clear view of Anatoly Babakov as he stepped off the plane and journalists had their pens poised.

And then Harry spotted a lone reporter, who had withdrawn from the melee around the steps and turned her back on the aircraft. She was speaking straight to camera, no longer taking any interest in the disembarking passengers. Harry walked across the room to the television and turned up the volume.

“We have just received a news flash from the Russian news agency, TASS. It is reporting that the Nobel Laureate Anatoly Babakov was rushed to hospital earlier this morning after suffering a stroke. He died a few minutes ago. I repeat…”

Chapter 48

48

YELENA BABAKOVA COLLAPSED, both mentally and physically, when she heard the news of her husband’s death. Emma rushed to her side and took the broken woman in her arms.

“I need an ambulance, quickly,” she told an equerry, who picked up the nearest phone.

Harry knelt by his wife’s side. “God help her,” he said, as Emma checked her pulse.

“Her heart is weak, but I suspect the real problem is she no longer has any reason to live.”

The door swung open and two paramedics entered the room carrying a stretcher, onto which they gently lifted Mrs. Babakova. The equerry whispered something to one of them.

“I’ve instructed them to take Mrs. Babakova straight to the palace,” he told Harry and Emma. “It has a private medical wing, with a doctor and two nurses always in attendance.”

“Thank you,” said Emma, as one of the paramedics placed an oxygen mask over Yelena’s face before they lifted the stretcher and carried her out of the room. Emma held her hand as they progressed slowly down a corridor and out of the building, where an ambulance, with its back doors already open, awaited them.

“His Majesty wondered if you and Mr. Clifton would be willing to stay at the palace, so you can be near Mrs. Babakova once she regains consciousness.”

“Of course. Thank you,” said Emma, as she and Harry joined Yelena in the back of the ambulance.

Emma didn’t let go of Yelena’s hand during the thirty-minute journey, accompanied by police outriders neither even realized were there. The palace gates swung open to allow the ambulance to enter and it came to a halt in a large cobbled courtyard, from where a doctor guided the paramedics to the hospital wing. Yelena was lifted off the stretcher and onto a bed that was normally only occupied by patients who’d spilt blue blood.

“I’d like to stay with her,” said Emma, who still hadn’t let go of her hand.