Blood Ties by Warren Adler

quite beastly. Acquisitive. Cruel. They
earned nothing, stole everything. When they wanted land, they took it. When
then wanted labor, they enslaved." She was engaged now. "And when
they wanted women..." Her eyes turned away. He lifted his hand upward in a
sweeping arc. "They merely plucked them off the tree, like ripe
fruit."
    "And are they still doing these things?" she
asked, offering a clear message of irony.
    "We are worse than ever," he replied cautiously,
feeling a change in the din's rhythm as all eyes in the room turned toward the
arched entrance.
    A tall woman stood framed there. Beside her, his small hand
locked in hers, stood a small boy. To Siegfried, the idea of them standing
there suggested courage, determination. Behind high Slavic cheekbones, the
woman's gaze washed over the room. Taller than the empty armor that guarded the
entrance, she wore little makeup, perhaps none, since her color might have been
heightened by some inner excitement making her cheeks seem rouged. The
hesitation might have been longer, but Rudi had broken the silence.
    "My God, the old boy has robbed the cradle," he
whispered, the articulation clear above the hiss. Her youth clearly had
startled everyone in the room. Also her looks.
    "We were all expecting some frumpy fat-assed
Russian," Siegfried whispered, exchanging glances with Rudi. But it was
Albert who moved first, as if the protocol demanded it. Siegfried, propelled by
curiosity, followed him.
    "Olga?" Albert asked tentatively, although the
identity was obvious. The woman did not smile. Up close, her skin was smooth
and tight. The boy gripped her hand tighter and moved closer to his mother's
flank.
    "Yes," she answered, looking at him directly,
openly. Siegfried detected a slight tinge of belligerency. She was obviously
being cautious, protective of herself and her son. Her armor seemed as visible
as those of the mute Knights beside her.
    "I am Albert." His hand moved outward. After a
brief hesitation, Olga's hand reached out to his. Siegfried observed the strong
long fingers, the tight grip, as Albert pumped it. He looked downward at the
little boy.
    "And this is Aleksandr," Olga said.
    The boy blushed and bowed his head.
    "And this is your nephew, Siegfried," Albert
added, not without a touch of humor.
    "Aunt Olga," Siegfried replied. Still, the woman
did not smile, as if humor was in a totally foreign frame of reference. Her
eyes darted among the group, watching them.
    Gently touching her upper arm, Albert guided her through
the gauntlet of curious von Kassels. Siegfried watched them as they made the
circle, observing the waiting Dawn, who seemed more aloof and vulnerable than
she had appeared earlier. Albert introduced each of them, then passed on,
lifting a drink from a tray and handing it to his tall aunt. Siegfried watched
them, noting the sudden animation in Albert, his morose mood dramatically
altered.
    "She's lovely," Dawn said when he returned. But
it was perfunctory, a grudging response.
    "A knockout," Siegfried said, watching her
reaction. He noted the telltale signs of jealousy.
    "How old was your uncle?" Dawn asked.
    "He was the eldest."
    "She must have been a teenager when they
married," Dawn said. The reference was blatantly malicious. She was
obviously containing the beginnings of a smoldering rage.
    "He is only being polite," Siegfried said gently.
He handed Dawn another martini from a tray and took one for himself. "A
family matter."
    But she was not easily placated. He felt her vulnerability.
    "The precious family," she said with contempt,
tipping the glass for a deep swallow. She had obviously banked on her beauty
carrying her through the night. But the other woman had drawn their attention,
especially Albert's.
    "There are many advantages to being a von
Kassel," Siegfried said, believing that his perception had reached its
most sensitive level. He was certain he could predict the effect of his
insight, especially on Dawn. Should he agitate her now, churn her