Catherine III, the Lost Tsar Trilogy Book III

By Terri Dixon

The time has come for the final showdown in the battle to see who rules all Russia. President Yuri Kostov is confident that Tsarina Stacey Godunov has accepted her fate in Oymyakon, when suddenly she disappears. She calls to tell him that she intends to come to Moscow and stage a coup on Christmas Day.
Stacey has the power of the people. Yuri has the power of the government. Who will win? The time has come to find out.
The chase is on as Yuri Kostov tries to stop Stacey and her band of rebels before they reach Moscow, but there are traitors along the way that he cannot identify. He expects Stacey to be hidden, but she keeps coming out into the daylight to spite him as she makes her way to Red Square, as the confident woman that she has become during her banishment to Siberia.
In an epic battle of wits and strategy, the two will lock horns and use whatever means and any person necessary to claim the right to rule. The chase by boat, train, and animal across Russia to Moscow will bring them to the negotiating table again.
Will the end game provide an elected President or a Tsarina ordained by God and church?
History vs. Modernity will end in a different world for the people of Russia, no matter the outcome. There can be only one ruler and that will be the person who gains ownership of "The Ring of the Queen." Will it be President Yuri Kostov or "Catherine III"? Find out in "Catherine III," book three of "The Lost Tsar Trilogy."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Terri Dixon
• Release date: May 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005823658

Terri Dixon

Terri Dixon is the well traveled internet writer, blogger, and photographer; Nina Kindred. Nina has been writing stories on Fictionpress for nearly 20 years. She has been writing her travel blog, Adventures for Anyone on blogger for over 10 years. She sells her photography at her shops Artistic Creations by Nina Kindred on Cafepress and Imagings on Zazzle. She also has a gallery on Fine Art America. The Ring of the Queen is her first full length novel, and is Book I of The Lost Tsar Trilogy. The Queen in Exile, is Book II of The Lost Tsar Trilogy. Catherine III, The Lost Tsar Trilogy Book III in which the battle for Russia is at last decided. The Destiny Dream is Terri's stand alone novel about the adventures of a young woman who is trying not to believe that her recurring dream is a view into her future. The Terrorist's Game Level 1 is the story of Talia Anderson and her international adventures. Greenville, Dynasty of the North Woods, a thriller that takes place in the wilds of northern Maine has arrived here! It's one of my most popular stories. Even the reviewers love it! New on Amazon is "Bourbon," the second Every Woman has a Story who's taking on Manhattan and her dysfunctional family through trials and tribulations. On Amazon and Kindle is "Alice" who is making her way humorously through a mid life crisis. Terri is a journalist who never completely took to the trade. She has a day job, a night job, and many hobbies including travel, hiking, cooking, and recently kayaking. She lives in the northwest hills of Connecticut with her husband and their temperamental kitty, while her son pursues his dreams in professional auto racing.

Book preview

Part I

Who shall call them from the grey twilight, the forgotten people?

-Anastasia Romanov

Yuri Kostov sat in his office at the Kremlin, at his desk that had served every sitting leader of Russia since the dawn of Communism, sipping a glass of tea, looking out his window. Below, on the moat bridge entrance of the famed Moscow fortress, some local primary school classes were hanging handmade Christmas puppets on the brick walls that framed the main gate to the historic enclave. It was a tradition that had begun the year that Communism had fallen, and the eager democrats had begun to reshape the largest country on Earth.

Yuri smiled. His life had become peaceful over the last several months. He had defeated his nemesis, and was now able to rule his country as he saw fit. As he watched the happy children displaying their art with the help of their proud teachers, he felt satisfied. He’d taken part in the birth of the puppet tradition for Christmas at the Kremlin gates. It was the way that he felt Christmas should be. He believed that his way was best for his people.

Protests to bring back a Tsar had diminished, just as he’d believed they would. It was the beginning of Christmas season and his people were able to celebrate the holidays as free citizens of Russia. This was because of progression not regression. He was the future, and the future was the best direction in which to set aim. To go back meant to risk giving up what they’d all worked so hard to achieve.

No sane person would choose to return to the ancient ways. No rational human would choose to become a subject to a royal ruler in the modern age, where the most powerful countries in the world had become democracies. He’d won. He’d kept Stacey Godunov out of the lime light and off the ancient throne of Russia long enough that she’d faded from the people’s memories. She’d faded like a flash in a pan, into nothingness. It was his world now. If only she could be a distant memory to him.

Yuri sighed and checked his calendar. It was the day of the month that he hated most. One day each month he attempted to talk to Stacey. It normally ended badly, with threats and accusations; yelling and a stubbornness that he'd never before encountered. He looked at his watch and decided that he’d better make his monthly call before it got too late in Eastern Siberia, where Stacey currently resided in exile.

Yuri pushed an old fashioned call button on his old intercom system. Galina, it is that time, he said. Could you place my monthly call to Mrs. Godunov?

Mr. President, Mrs. Godunov is waiting on line two for you, Galina’s voice answered.

You read my mind, Yuri said, smiling. Galina's voice often made him smile.

I wish I could take credit for that. Actually, sir, she called for you, Galina’s voice replied.

Yuri stared at the intercom. He suddenly got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. She had never called him before. Why now?

Yuri picked up his phone receiver and pressed the button next to the flashing green-yellow light. Stacey, how nice to hear from you. I was just going to call you.

Hi, Yuri, Stacey’s voice answered back. How’s things?

Yuri noticed raspiness in her voice. He wondered about her health. After all, he hadn’t actually seen her face to face since the Yakut couple Lena and Maksim had picked her up from him in a field in Oymyakon over two years ago.

You sound different, Yuri commented. How are you feeling? Should I send a doctor to see you?

I’m fine, Stacey replied

Good, Yuri lied. What can I do for you?

It’s Thanksgiving in my world on Thursday. I would like to celebrate the holiday. The people here said that they would like to share it with me, Stacey told him.

That sounds lovely, Yuri replied.

Yes, it does, Stacey agreed. So, what do you say?

Yuri was taken aback a little and minorly confused. What do I say in reference to what?

Be a sport and come see what it’s like to celebrate Thanksgiving, American style, she replied. You wouldn’t be the first foreign head of state to participate, you know.

Yuri didn’t answer her immediately. He wasn’t quite sure why she would try to make peace with him after all these years. She’d never had any interest in appeasing him. Everything she’d ever done that seemed to be in the name of peace had been a trick. He didn’t want to fall for her false promise again. He was starting to feel like the American cartoon of Charlie Brown every time Lucy pulled the football out from under his kicking foot. Coincidentally, that was what made him think of the American Thanksgiving holiday.

He took a quick moment to think. Stacey had been marooned in Oymyakon, Siberia for years. There was nothing there, save a pole that marked the coldest inhabited place in the Northern Hemisphere. Most of the world, except for some climatologists, didn’t know or care that the village even existed. Yuri couldn’t imagine any way that she could be up to anything in the vast wilderness where she lived. Maybe Siberia had finally broken her like a cowboy breaks a wild horse, mentally beating her into submission. Maybe she had asked him to Thanksgiving dinner to make peace and be an ally like the amicable interactions of pilgrims and the Indians in days of old. He was leery of it, but if he didn’t accept her invitation, she would believe that he was scared of her. He couldn’t have that.

I believe that I can take you up on your offer, Yuri finally replied. May I bring something for the meal? That is customary, is it not?

Your making the long trip out here is more than enough, Yuri, Stacey replied.

Stacey's demeanor was so sugary sweet that Yuri could tell she was up to something, but what could it be? He’d monitored her the whole time that he’d kept her in Oymyakon. Lena and Maksim had reported all of her activities and any contact that she may have had with anyone outside the village. They had reported time and again that Stacey Godunov was doing only what she needed to in order to survive in the harsh environment of Oymyakon. Yuri had loyal spies, good satellite coverage and total control of the situation. He was as sure as he could be that she could not be plotting anything against him. She simply didn’t have the means to do so.

Thursday? he double checked.

Can you make it for 2:00 p.m.? she asked. There’s a vast time difference. Will it be too early for you?

That will be fine. I can adjust, Yuri told her.

See you then, Stacey said. You can bring a plus one if you like. Oh, and dress warm. It’s a little chilly out here.

I will dress accordingly, Yuri replied. Borya will be my plus one.

When he hung up the phone, he ran several possibilities through his mind of plots that Stacey might be planning. None of the scenarios that he envisioned made sense. She couldn’t fight against him. The people of Oymyakon had nothing as far as weapons of war or anything that would be used for a military action. She couldn’t attack him. He had vigilant body guards that would never allow her to mount a successful personal attack.

Galina, he said, pushing the button on his old intercom again. Could you get me Yvgeni at the Strategic Monitoring Center please?

As you wish, Galina replied. She wondered what was happening, that she needed to contact Yvgeni.

A short time later, the call was transferred. Yuri snatched up the phone receiver. Yvgeni, how are you my friend?

I am well, Mr. President, Yvgeni answered. What can I do for you today?

I had a very strange call from my friend in Oymyakon, Yuri told him. Has there been any unusual activity in that sector recently?

Only snow sir, and a lot of it, Yvgeni told him. It is white and lifeless there. I saw a couple of reindeer herds wandering on their way south, but that was about it. It is sparse there at best. Would you like me to recheck the latest data? I may have missed something, simply because it makes us complacent to look at so much footage of lifeless white.

Yuri suddenly felt as though he was being paranoid, like a teenager after his first joint. No, that will not be necessary. I know the high quality of your work, and I have no reason to question it, Yuri said. Thank you.

After he returned the receiver of his terribly outdated land line, he buzzed the intercom again. Galina, I need you to arrange a transport for me to Oymyakon on Thursday.

Why sir? Galina asked. Is the princess all right? Will you be all right with her? It has always been a tedious issue for you. I do not mean to overstep, but she makes you crazy.

Yuri rolled his eyes. If only Galina would forget about her and trust his intellect. Yes, she is fine, and I am fine. There is no trouble. I believe she has accepted her fate. She has invited me to an American style Thanksgiving dinner.

Catherine III

Part II

Revolution can never be forecast; it cannot be foretold; it comes of itself. Revolution is brewing and is bound to flare up.

-Vladimir Lenin

The frozen, vast, snow covered, icy terrain droned on below the President and his men in their helicopter like a white sea on their way to Thanksgiving Dinner in Oymyakon, Sakha Republic, Siberia. They spotted an occasional herd of reindeer and their herders on the white plains below them along the way, but little else. Siberia was legendary for its emptiness and isolation. Ancient myths told of Yakut gods of light and darkness were still told by grandparents to the children of their children. Tales in which the gods of light labored long and hard to win a small battle against the gods of darkness every summer, only to lose in battle once again every fall. Along with the stories of the ancients came the more modern tales told of the life of political prisoners who lived and mostly died in the land called Kolyma at the orders of the Communists.

A patch of small trees. A field of some kind. A bear that should have been hibernating—or maybe not. It was hard to tell in a land that was frozen most of the year. An Elk that must have come too far north, or was it another reindeer? Size was hard to determine from the air. Even spy satellites had trouble discerning one animal from another in the land where light reflected off of the snow in such a way that most sightings were distorted. That was why the Soviets used the land for their top secret military programs and to rid whatever tyrant was in charge of opponents.

Frozen rivers, mounds of snow in drifts, and sheets of ice where lakes used to be marked harvest time in Siberia. Harvest time came and went quickly and early in those parts, where people had to prepare for the world’s harshest winters. There were no discernible roads after snowfall until some locals came out of their homes. There were no utility wires strewn from pole to pole. There were people down there somewhere, hidden under drifts of snow. And somewhere down there was Stacey Godunov.

We have arrived, Mr. President, the helicopter pilot announced from the cockpit of the Kamov ka-60 military transport.

Yuri looked down from his portal and saw nothing but white. Are you certain? I see nothing and no one.

Yes, sir, the pilot said, absolute certainty in his voice. I homed in on the signal that you gave me in your phone, as you instructed me to. X marks the spot directly below us. Welcome to Oymyakon.

Yuri looked out his window again. The nasty feeling that he’d had in the pit of his stomach after he’d talked to Stacey the other day had returned. There was nothing there below them. He’d flown to Siberia in more than one kind of aircraft and both of its two seasons, and he’d seen the desolation of the terrain in this region, but he was absolutely certain that there was no village where they were landing.

True, he’d never spent time in Oymyakon, and at that moment he wished that he had. He was feeling uneasy, and he assumed that it was his lack of knowledge that was throwing him off. He wasn't familiar with his choice of exile location for Stacey. He’d taken the advice of his top men about where to lose her, delivered her that day, years ago, and left it at that. He wondered at that moment if he’d made a huge mistake in trusting such decisions to underlings. He'd long been a believer in doing the important things himself.

Curiosity got the better of him. Very well, put her down, he called to the pilot.

Momentarily they were on the ground in deep snow. Yuri, his bodyguards, and the pilot climbed out of the Kamov. It was still somewhat light outside, making the snow appear blue. The four men looked around, confused.

The area where they’d landed was flat, barren, and white. There were no trees to block their view. More importantly, there were no buildings there to block their view either. It was worse than a ghost town. It was a missing town.

The pilot, Radko, approached Yuri and his bodyguard, Borya, with his personal GPS. He looked all around and then looked at GPS. He looked up and down over and over. Finally, he looked at Yuri and shook his head.

According to this, Mr. President, we are standing in the middle of the village of Oymyakon, the pilot said. The monument to The Pole of Cold should be in our sight. The GPS marks the spot of the pole, itself.

Yuri looked around at what during the summer was tundra, and felt a chill. He could feel his heartbeat quicken. Something was wrong. Where was the village? Where were the people? Where was The Pole of Cold? Where was Stacey?

Yuri stood in one of the most wide open places in Russia, and he suddenly felt trapped. He didn’t want to let on to his men of his trepidations. He was afraid that they would view him as paranoid, if he told them that he thought that Stacey had done something to create this illusion. He knew that it would be better to stay calm, but he didn’t know if he could. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs until Stacey crawled out from wherever she was, but he couldn’t lose his composure in front of his men.

Obviously, something is not right with your equipment, Yuri told them. Spread out and see if we cannot find some clue as to where we really are so that we can figure out how to get to the real Oymyakon. I do not know how, but this must be a diversion. Mrs. Godunov is quite stubborn and not fond of her exile to the village.

Borya and Radko began searching for signs of life. They weren’t sure what it was they were looking for. The President hadn’t told them what he thought they should find to aid in their search. They hoped that they would know when they found whatever it was that Yuri Kostov was looking for. They all knew that the President had a terrible temper and no tolerance for people who didn’t accomplish what he instructed them to do. They lived in fear quite frequently of ending up residents of Kolyma themselves.

Yuri wandered the immediate area to see if he could find anything in the area that was supposed to be a village, according to Yandex. A clue of any kind that either verified that it was Oymyakon or that it was not. The other three men moved around studying the snow and shooting each other glances trying to analyze what the solution to the problem might be. It was an uncomfortable situation for all at best.

Are you absolutely sure that this is the right location? Yuri yelled to them from nearly 200 meters away.

The pilot ran to where the President was standing. This is the location of Oymyakon and The Pole of Cold on GPS, and this is where your phone signal is originating from, he said. He took a step backward and nearly fell as he tripped over something in the snow on the ground.

Ow! He looked down at what he’d tripped over. Oh my God.

What is it? Yuri asked, straining to see what was in the snow in the fading light of day.

It is a cement block. I believe I just found an old foundation of a building, Radko answered. How can that be?

It must be an old Soviet farm. They had communal farms here in the 1950's, Yuri replied, hoping that he was right, but worrying that something much stranger was happening.

I do not think so, Borya said. I found one too, and some pipe. It appears to be from an old water system.

Yuri was so frightened that he was ashamed of himself. He did not like it at all. He worried that something had been planned for him other than Thanksgiving Dinner. Something sinister and vicious and pre meditated by Stacey.

How about you? Have you found an answer? he shouted to Radko.

Radko waved for them to come where he was standing. They joined him. Come look at this. Unbelievable!

Radko had wandered the area for a while, and had stopped, pointing to the ground. The other men looked where he was pointing. He had cleared a place in the deep snow on the ground. It looked like a grave marker. There was a large piece of stone, maybe granite, mounted on what used to be the foundation of a building, and there was text carved into it the way that headstones were carved for the dead. The text was too long to be for a grave. It was more the kind that was found on the base of a monument.

Yuri read the words on the stone:

"He who has the power to rule the great land known as Russia must hold more than a painted crest on a shield. He who rules Russia must be ordained by God to do so. He who belongs to the Romanov family is ordained by God to rule this country as its Tsar. This has been the way for centuries. I hold in my hand a ring that shall, by my decree, be the symbol of the Tsar’s license to rule. From this day forward the person who holds the ring is the person ordained to rule by God himself. The person who holds the ring is the one true Tsar. This is the decree of the ring of the queen.

Catherine II

The Catherine Papers"

Yuri looked around in horror. What was happening and how? He looked for any signs of life. He looked for any signs of Stacey. Then he heard a phone ring. Radko and Borya groaned as they moved the stone to find a cell phone ringing underneath it. Yuri picked it up. He looked at the screen to see whom was calling. Your worst nightmare was the listing that appeared on the screen.

Yuri answered the phone. Yes?

Yuri, welcome to my home. I bet you never pictured it quite like this, Stacey said.

It is interesting looking, Yuri cautiously replied. More open than I remember.

You always did have a delicate way of putting things. At any rate, you’re late, Stacey told him. I’ve had to move on. I have plans that can no longer wait.

Yuri was starting to feel a wave of anger to accompany his fear. What do you think you are doing? Where is your monitor? And, what did you do with the ancient village of Oymyakon?

Yuri, old chap, I’m a warrior of the people, she told him. I would never leave a village full of people to die on the ice. Your device was useless. It hasn't worked for months, so I lost it as I did the village. These Yakuts are my people, and I look out for my people. I look out for all of my people. You should try it sometime. Then you wouldn’t be losing entire villages in the snowdrifts of Sakha.

Point taken. I have underestimated you, Yuri replied as calmly as he could. Now, do you tell me where you have relocated my subjects, and we can discuss all of this as a group.

They’re my people now, not subjects, and they don’t wish to talk to you.

They are my people! he snapped. I have been the only leader that they have known for many years.

Not anymore, Stacey replied. But, I digress. I have a new plan for the holidays, since this whole you coming to my place for Thanksgiving didn’t work out. Why don’t I come to your place for Christmas instead?

Yuri was suddenly frantic on the inside. What are you talking about?

I’m on my way to Moscow soon. When I get there, we will have plenty of time to discuss everything en masse. I have to make some stops and gather some people along the way. I should be there with my people just in time for Christmas.

You cannot do that.

I don’t believe you can stop me.

How dare you so much as insinuate that you will do anything to me! I will throw you in prison and no one will ever hear from you again! I will hang you from the highest tree! I will kill you! Traitors are not tolerated here.

Stacey cackled an evil giggle. You don’t even know where I am.

You cannot hide from me! Yuri bellowed, losing control completely. No one hides from me! I am the President of Russia!

I already am hiding from you, Stacey giggled, mentally jabbing at him with every word. Surprise! You don’t control me or my people. You may be a President, but I am a Tsar. You failed. I’m free, and now I’m coming for you.

It will never work.

What will never work?

Your plan.

What’s my plan?

I do not know.

That’s why it’ll work.

There is no possible way that you could ever defeat me!

I disagree. I’ve been working on my plan. How about you? I bet you haven’t been thinking for a second about how to defeat me should I become, shall we say, less cooperative. I bet you’re regretting that right about now.

You are crazy. I am the leader of the most powerful military in the world.

The British said that once too. That’s the beauty of it. You have rules. I don't follow rules. Welcome to the party pal. Come on Yuri, I dare you. Catch me if you can.

She ended the call.

Yuri stared at the phone and then threw it as far as he could. Borya and Radko stood and stared at him in silence. They were afraid of what they’d just heard. They were afraid of the look on the President’s face. They were afraid to do anything, for if they did, they could end up in the middle of nowhere, lost in Siberia, without a ride back to Moscow.

Damn that woman! Yuri yelled with all the air that his lungs could hold and expel. Then he bellowed into the increasing darkness. STACEY!

Borya and Radko stared at the President. They had no clue what to say.

Catherine III

Part III

A great wind is blowing and that either gives you imagination...or a headache.

-Catherine II

Stacey smiled as she looked through her binoculars. She’d planned her revolution carefully. She’d tolerated Yuri’s smug overconfident attitude for years for the greater good. She’d come a long way since her first trip to Russia as an addle school child all those years ago.

Stacey was a Romanov. Stacey was, by royal Ukase which had never been negated, a Tsar. Over many years and in many roles, she’d learned who she was, she’d learned how important she was to the Russian people, and she’d learned how to be a Tsar. Her Cossack friends in Kolyma and throughout the Sakha Region of Siberia had all been more than happy to teach her the rules of her class in life. They wanted her to rule. They had all made sure that once she became the Tsar that she was supposed to be, she could fulfill her role.

Maksim stood next to Stacey proudly watching her smile. He and his wife, Lena, along with the rest of the village were proud to call Stacey their leader and their friend.

Maksim turned to Stacey, who looked like a Yakut hunter in her white fur coat made from a super bear, the hybrid that formed naturally between polar bears and brown bears. She was also wearing a white fur hat and white fur boots. She’d gone completely native and returned to the ways of the ancients since she’d been exiled to Oymyakon. She learned quickly from the locals that less reliance on the outside meant less visits from the people who thought they were in charge. Isolation was the key to her planning to oust Yuri Kostov from the office that he should have left years before.

At first Lena and Maksim worried about Stacey, but then they realized that the more Stacey adapted to the harsh Siberian environment, the stronger she became. She'd gone from angry woman who lacked true direction to a masterful hunter, a brilliant strategist, and a skilled survivalist. She lived off the land, which wasn’t easy in Siberia. She’d learned to make ammunition for the meager weapons that they possessed. She learned the Yakut language easily. It seemed that there was nothing she couldn’t accomplish.

Stacey stuffed her binoculars into the saddlebags that she’d made for her transport, a large, massively antlered Elk, with fur so white that it blended into the snowy terrain like a chameleon. The enormous animal stood almost 25 hands high, but it respected Stacey like a well trained show horse would.

Stacey had gone from scared little farm girl to a Siberian Jane of the jungle. Her transformation was complete. She was tough enough that no one would be able to win a one on one battle with her without a wicked fight, and she was prepared for a military battle as well.

Stacey smiled at Maksim. Let’s go home. It’s time that everyone got ready to go to the city. I hear that Christmas is beautiful in Moscow these days. I can’t wait to see it.

She made a clicking sound, which signaled her giant elk to kneel so that the tiny Tsarina could climb into her hand