the wooded shore. She was wearing blue jeans, a T-shirt, and a white blouse, a simple outfit that would help her blend in with all the people in the park. It would be closing shortly, and when it did, she hoped to disappear into the crowd.
Known as the Russian Versailles for its similarities to the château in France, the Peterhof was a series of palaces, fountains, and gardens that had been built as the summer residence of Peter the Great. Designed in 1714, the most remarkable feature of the sprawling grounds was the central role of water—whether it was the sea that bordered half the complex or the massive canal that bisected it. Allison had seen pictures of the Peterhof when she was in junior high and had marveled at its opulence, but nothing had prepared her for the things she was about to see.
Her first glimpse of the grounds came from the boat platform near the
Meteor.
She was walking across a concrete bridge when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. Paranoid, she glanced in that direction and saw a large pair of geysers spouting water on both sides of the channel that ran from the palace to the edge of the bay. Behind them was another pair of fountains. And another. And another. In fact, there were so many fountains blending in with one another that she was unable to count them from where she was standing.
Of course, none of that mattered when she spotted the Grand Palace. It was painted bright yellow and sat on top of a small hill that appeared to hover above the fountains. From where she was standing, the hill seemed to be moving, as if the ground itself was caving under the weight of the building. Intrigued, she walked closer, taking the path on the right-hand side of the wide canal. A thick wall of pine trees blocked her view of the fountains, but she heard their constant trickling. The sound was soft and reassuring, somehow calming her nerves.
When Allison emerged from the grove, she was surprised by the sight. The section of hill that she thought was swaying was not a hill at all. Instead, it was the Grand Cascade, a series of seven water steps flanking both sides of a large grotto with water flowing from one level to the next. Each of the platforms was decorated by low-relief sculptures, gilded statues, and waterspouts—all of them facing the Samson Fountain that dominated the foreground. The gold statue in the center depicted Samson ripping open the jaws of a lion, symbolizing Russia’s victory over Sweden in the Great Northern War. A geyser from the lion’s mouth shot water sixty-five feet into the air.
Remarkably, none of the Peterhof fountains were operated by mechanical pumps. Peter the Great chose this location for his palace because of several spring-fed reservoirs to the south. In 1721 a canal system was built so water could flow by gravity to large storage pools. When the pressure was released, water rushed through the pipes with so much force that it erupted through the spouts, feeding the dozens of fountains all over the grounds.
Allison watched the flight of the water as it left the lion’s mouth. It sailed high above the balustrade and fell back to its circular basin. The resulting mist, carried by the light breeze that blew in from the bay, drifted toward the spacious patio at the rear of the palace.
And that’s where she spotted him.
He was standing next to a decorative vase perched above the grotto. Just standing there, staring at her, waiting for her arrival. The instant she saw him she wanted to wave, but knew it was too dangerous. No need to attract attention—someone might be watching. Instead, she studied her surroundings, searching all the nearby faces for anyone who looked suspicious.
After several seconds, she breathed a sigh of relief.
As far as she could tell, the coast was clear.
The grounds extended in all directions, a labyrinth of sidewalks, gardens, and culs-de-sac. Without a map, she didn’t know which way to go, so she waited for him to decide.
It
Known as the Russian Versailles for its similarities to the château in France, the Peterhof was a series of palaces, fountains, and gardens that had been built as the summer residence of Peter the Great. Designed in 1714, the most remarkable feature of the sprawling grounds was the central role of water—whether it was the sea that bordered half the complex or the massive canal that bisected it. Allison had seen pictures of the Peterhof when she was in junior high and had marveled at its opulence, but nothing had prepared her for the things she was about to see.
Her first glimpse of the grounds came from the boat platform near the
Meteor.
She was walking across a concrete bridge when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. Paranoid, she glanced in that direction and saw a large pair of geysers spouting water on both sides of the channel that ran from the palace to the edge of the bay. Behind them was another pair of fountains. And another. And another. In fact, there were so many fountains blending in with one another that she was unable to count them from where she was standing.
Of course, none of that mattered when she spotted the Grand Palace. It was painted bright yellow and sat on top of a small hill that appeared to hover above the fountains. From where she was standing, the hill seemed to be moving, as if the ground itself was caving under the weight of the building. Intrigued, she walked closer, taking the path on the right-hand side of the wide canal. A thick wall of pine trees blocked her view of the fountains, but she heard their constant trickling. The sound was soft and reassuring, somehow calming her nerves.
When Allison emerged from the grove, she was surprised by the sight. The section of hill that she thought was swaying was not a hill at all. Instead, it was the Grand Cascade, a series of seven water steps flanking both sides of a large grotto with water flowing from one level to the next. Each of the platforms was decorated by low-relief sculptures, gilded statues, and waterspouts—all of them facing the Samson Fountain that dominated the foreground. The gold statue in the center depicted Samson ripping open the jaws of a lion, symbolizing Russia’s victory over Sweden in the Great Northern War. A geyser from the lion’s mouth shot water sixty-five feet into the air.
Remarkably, none of the Peterhof fountains were operated by mechanical pumps. Peter the Great chose this location for his palace because of several spring-fed reservoirs to the south. In 1721 a canal system was built so water could flow by gravity to large storage pools. When the pressure was released, water rushed through the pipes with so much force that it erupted through the spouts, feeding the dozens of fountains all over the grounds.
Allison watched the flight of the water as it left the lion’s mouth. It sailed high above the balustrade and fell back to its circular basin. The resulting mist, carried by the light breeze that blew in from the bay, drifted toward the spacious patio at the rear of the palace.
And that’s where she spotted him.
He was standing next to a decorative vase perched above the grotto. Just standing there, staring at her, waiting for her arrival. The instant she saw him she wanted to wave, but knew it was too dangerous. No need to attract attention—someone might be watching. Instead, she studied her surroundings, searching all the nearby faces for anyone who looked suspicious.
After several seconds, she breathed a sigh of relief.
As far as she could tell, the coast was clear.
The grounds extended in all directions, a labyrinth of sidewalks, gardens, and culs-de-sac. Without a map, she didn’t know which way to go, so she waited for him to decide.
It
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