Odessa Sea (Dirk Pitt 24)

“Viktor Mansfield, you are ten minutes late,” Federov said. “Say hello to Dr. Anton Kromer of the State Historical Museum.”

“The unexpected rainfall was a deterrent to traffic.” Mansfield fell into a chair alongside Kromer and shook hands with the professor.

“Rain in Moscow in July is hardly unexpected,” Federov said.

“I hope this won’t take long.” Mansfield glanced at his watch. “I have tickets to the Bolshoi.”

Federov gave him a cutting stare. Viktor Mansfield, a nom de guerre, was one of his best field agents. His cover long established as a wealthy Austrian playboy with a murky royal background, Mansfield had made inroads with Europe’s leading industrialists and politicians, along with a few movie starlets. He played the role well, Federov thought. Perhaps too well, judging by his expense reports.

“Dr. Kromer has recently uncovered a historical document that has great importance to the state.”

Federov looked to Kromer to continue.

The pale academic cleared his throat. “I am the chief archivist for the State Historical Museum, which houses a sizable collection of artifacts from the Romanov era. We were preparing an exhibit on the works of nineteenth-century Russian artists held in the Imperial Collection and had retrieved some paintings from long-term storage in St. Petersburg. There were twenty-two paintings, some marvelous works. We were cleaning them in preparation for the exhibit when an interesting discovery was made on the back of one.”

He opened a thin photo album and showed Mansfield several shots of a large painting, brushed in vivid colors, of mounted Cossacks.

“Looks like an Ilya Repin,” Mansfield said.

Kromer smiled. “Indeed it is. One of just three in the collection.”

“What exactly was found with the painting?”

Kromer flipped a page to reveal several photos of the back of the painting. A close-up showed a piece of parchment wedged into one corner. “A sheet of aged paper, inserted facedown, was found affixed to the painting. We thought it would be some artist’s notes or perhaps an early sketch of the painting. It turned out to be something quite different.”

Federov held up the document. “It’s a treaty, of sorts.”

“What kind of treaty?” Mansfield asked.

“The Treaty of Petrograd, or so it is labeled. It’s an agreement between the Russian Empire and Great Britain.” Federov returned the fragile document to his desk. “The heart of the agreement entails a transfer of twenty percent of the oil and mineral rights of lands occupied by the Russian Empire to the British for a period of one hundred years, beginning some months after the treaty’s signature date.”

“That’s mad,” Mansfield said. “Who would sign such a document?”

“The Tsar himself.”

Kromer nodded. “We have verified the signature of Tsar Nicholas II on the document.”

“Why would he have signed away so much wealth?” Mansfield asked.

“To protect his own,” Federov said. “It was a reflection of the times. Dr. Kromer can explain.”

“The treaty is dated February 20, 1917. It was a desperate time for the Tsar. The Army was demoralized and unraveling after repeated battle losses to the Germans. Riots by factory workers and citizens had erupted in St. Petersburg. The Bolsheviks were beginning to stage violent protests throughout the country in the name of revolution. Sympathy for the cause existed not just among the peasants and factory workers, but also by many in the military. Nicholas knew the empire was slipping from his fingers and he looked for salvation from the Allies.”

“The Romanovs had many relatives throughout Europe,” Mansfield said.

“They certainly did. Both Nicholas and his wife, Alexandra, were first cousins to Britain’s King George V, as well as other European heads of state. And Nicholas had ongoing business dealings with the Allies during the war, especially for arms procurement. So the contacts were in place as the pressure closed in around him. Little did Nicholas and Alexandra know that after abdicating the crown on March fifteenth, they and their four children would be shipped off to the Urals—and assassinated a year later.”

“What was the Tsar hoping to gain by passing off a portion of the nation’s mineral wealth?”

“Political support,” Kromer said, “and, more critically, military assistance to the armed forces still loyal to him, which later evolved into the White Army. That, and security for a substantial sum of his own royal assets.”

“I assume you mean gold.”

“Aside from controlling the assets of the State, the Romanov family personally owned many of the gold mines in the Urals. It is well known that the State’s supply of gold bullion gradually disappeared during the revolutionary years. There has been much documentation about the Romanov gold in foreign hands, but little is known of the whereabouts of the family’s personal stock.”

“The treaty states,” Federov said, “that a to-be-determined sum of royal family assets were to be transferred to the Bank of England for safekeeping until stability was restored to the Imperial Russian Empire, at which time the treaty would be voided.”

“That didn’t work out so well,” Mansfield said. “How much did the Brits end up with?”