I thought I could take his body unobserved. I needed to burn him. I needed to make sure. I was so caught up in the small things that I failed to see the big picture. Rasputin was of minimal importance. The empress had him buried in the Royal graveyard, among her ancestors. I watched from the shade of a tree during the ceremony. That night I returned with a silver chain and a shovel. I dug up the body. It was in remarkably good condition. There was no sign of the autopsy that had been carried out. I took his body onto my shoulder after digging him up and I carried him from that place and out into the woods. I knew from carrying him that he was not dead. My hearing is phenomenal, but I knew what I was waiting for. That slow beat, his heart, keeping him alive even though he was all but killed.
