The Last Romanov (Under Editing)

Virtanen's Source

Sasha kept his eye on Nadezhda. He couldn't remember the last time it had happened, but he actually agreed with the priest: she needed help, but she needed to be convinced that she needed help. And, knowing her, that wasn't going to happen all that easily.

So, he tried to be as subtle as he could about it. Most of it involved thanking Kominski every time he helped him move, or got him a glass of vodka, or did anything to make his life more convenient. And then making a big show of saying how nice it was to have help when he needed it. Nadezhda, most of the time, didn't seem to notice it. When she did, she would just roll her eyes, but she would never say anything about it.

Until that day, of course. They were sitting at dinner on that particular day in the basement. It was a simple affair: just some potatoes, carrots, and rice, all mixed up in some mysterious sauce that wasn't quite the worst thing he'd ever tasted. They all ate it, of course: food was food. And salt was salt. Salt being the thing that Sasha practically poured onto his food by the gallon.

"Thank you, Father," Sasha said as Kominski passed him the salt-shaker. Again. "You know, I must say: I really appreciate all of your help over the past few days. I don't know what I would do without your help."

"Thank you, Sasha," Kominski said with a smile. "I rather appreciate the fact that you appreciate my help. You know, some people don't really appreciate other people's help, these days-"

"Oh, enough!" Nadezhda snapped.

Kominski feigned surprise. "What's the matter, Nadezhda? Are we making you uncomfortable?"

Sasha took a sip of black tea, and it tasted like satisfaction. And by satisfaction, he, of course, meant death: they didn't exactly have any sugar to make the tar taste good.

"I can see what you're getting at," Nadezhda said. "And I'm telling you right now, it isn't going to work. I don't need your help, and I definitely don't need your pity. Just... let me handle this, alright?"

She angrily ate her dinner. "And for God's sake, Sasha: please, tell me you didn't eat all the salt!"

Sasha decided that it probably wasn't best to argue with the woman: he passed the salt over, and she began to dump even more salt on her food than he had on his.

He shot a glance at Kominski. Please, tell me we have more salt.

"Let's move on," Nadezhda said with a dismissive flick of her wrist. "Have we heard anything from Virtanen?"

"Wait: what role does Virtanen have with all this?" Sasha asked. He wasn't all that surprised, and yet, he was kind of surprised: Virtanen had obviously had it out for the Romanovs from the start, but he hadn't seemed like the kind of guy who would want to go right into the lion's den to accomplish what he wanted to accomplish.

"He's our man inside the palace," Nadezhda said. "There's also someone else in the palace with him, now. But, he doesn't seem all that intent on telling us who this other source is."

"And, of course, you're still a tad bitter about that," Kominski said with a sigh.

"Before you say another word, let me remind you: I know full well that it's to protect the source," Nadezhda said. "I still don't like it: makes me wonder if they're trustworthy."

"Virtanen's a pretty good judge of character, from what I know of him, and he's damned good about doing his research," Sasha said. "If he thinks they're trustworthy, they're trustworthy."

The two of them gave him a weird look.

"I was put in charge of him while he was in the palace, awhile back," Sasha explained. "Anastasia didn't trust him any farther than she could throw him. Still doesn't probably."