Ekaterinburg, Autumn 1918
I was taken to a hotel that was being used by the Cheka, half a mile away from the Ipatiev House. People were being tortured and executed there. They threw me into a cell with Klementy Nagorny. He was badly hurt from weeks of abuse. In the adjacent cell was Prince Dolgorukov. He was convinced that the Romanovs were in grave danger and begged us to save them. Guards took him from his cell shortly after and we never saw him again. In spite of his injuries, Nagorny overcame the jailers to help me escape, giving up his life.
The house was empty when I returned and the bedrooms had been ransacked. Almost nothing remained except for a pouch of Alexei's toy soldiers. My heart sank when I went down to the basement. Blood was strewn across the floor and the walls were riddled with bullet holes. I came to the sudden realization that I was too late. I staggered back into the grand duchesses' room where I eventually collapsed. There was nothing I could've done, for I would've been killed too. But I knew the risks when I chose to be imprisoned with the imperial family.
Before long I found myself in the company of the anti-communist White Army. I had hoped to find the murderers as well as the Romanovs' grave site. I dreaded at the thought of seeing their decomposing corpses, but it wasn't right to just leave them there. The hours turned to days. Then, finally, I shot dead a commissar during a skirmish. I recognized him as one of the thugs who served at the Ipatiev House. Inside his bag was my journal, along with many valuables taken from the Romanovs. Among them was a partially bloodied, shredded garment sewed with diamonds. It must've belonged to one of the girls. The bastards stripped them. The commissar's documents only stated that he was to report to Moscow with the stolen goods. I couldn't capture him alive for interrogation. My search had reached a dead end.
For a while I was in anguish. I spent weeks in the city trying to find new traces, but to no avail. I am not a detective. When I regained composure, I remembered Olga's letter. Hopefully her aunt is still in the Crimea. I won't be staying with the Whites, who are divided about their goals. Nor will I stay with the surviving imperial entourage. They plan to head east towards Omsk. My only remaining duty is delivering Olga's letter to her aunt. My journey to the Crimea will be long and treacherous, but I'm doing this for Olga. The personal belongings I recovered, though sentimental to me, are not mine to keep anyway.
I feel terrible for leaving the Romanovs behind. I wanted to give them a proper burial somewhere safe and far away from the chaos that is ravaging Russia. They have made a real difference in my life, and the grand duchesses were more than just friends to me. The eight years I spent with them are by far the best years of my life. I will always treasure my relationship with them and think of them with fond memories, warm feelings and a special place in my heart.
