“He argued strenuously against it, but was overruled.”

“By whom?”

“By King George.”

Zavala's eyes narrowed. “I see why you were reluctant to make this information public. Some people might not like learning that the king was a traitorous informant and accessory to a multiple murder.”

“I don't know if I'd go so far as to identify the king as a criminal, though what he did was morally reprehensible. It was naïvete on his part, but George never dreamed that Lenin would be so ruthless as to order them assassinated. My father said the king assumed the women would be kept in a convent. The Bolsheviks may have given the impression that no harm would come to them.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, alone with their thoughts, listening to the trill of the birds.

Zavala shook his head in puzzlement. “There's something I don't get. A few years ago, the Russians dug up some bones that were supposedly identified as those of the Romanov family.”

“The Soviet government was masterful at fabricating evidence. I would assume that they passed along that skill to their successors. There may be some truth to the story of the tsar's bones, but even so, the remains of the boy, Alexis, and his sister the Grand Duchess Maria were never found.”

“Maria?”

“Yes, she was the second youngest. Why?”

Zavala went out to his car and returned with the Perlmutter file. He leafed thorough the contents and pulled out the book excerpt on the little mermaid, which he handed to Dodson. The Englishman donned a pair of wire-rimmed reading glasses. As he pored over the file, his expression grew grave.

“Astounding! If this is accurate, the Romanov line didn’t die out! Maria, or Marie as she's called here, went on to marry and have children.”

“That's my take on it.”

“Do you know what this means? Somewhere there may be a legitimate heir to the tsar's throne.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “My God, what a catastrophe!”

“I'm not sure I understand.”