Rajbcov suddenly dropped his bottle and savagely turned on Daniel, grabbing his shirt front and nearly lifting Daniel off his feet. “You call me a cheat, American?”
Daniel could barely speak because half his throat was clamped in Rajbcov’s large fist. “No . . . of course not!” he gasped. “It’s just that—”
“I kill men for far less affront!”
“We . . . don’t . . . need to—”
He did not finish because the Siberian had raised his fist and was about to smash it into Daniel’s face. But the man never completed the action. Two soldiers suddenly appeared behind Rajbcov. One grabbed the hand that was ready to strike, while the other soldier stepped between Daniel and the Siberian. Rajbcov struggled a moment but quickly saw that if he continued, he’d be involved in a three-against-one melee, something even he did not care to invite.
The soldier who had come between Daniel and his adversary spoke. “Give the foreigner back his money.”
“It is not my fault there is a storm,” Rajbcov countered.
The man behind Rajbcov twisted the Siberian’s arm down sharply, causing him to gasp in pain.
“The money,” said the soldier.
With his free arm, Rajbcov started to reach inside his coat. Quickly, the soldier pulled his side arm, aimed it at Rajbcov’s cheek, and said, “Easy, Siberian.”
Slowly, Rajbcov took the money from a pocket inside his coat and lay the crumpled wad of bills on the bar. With fastidious care, Daniel counted out eighteen hundred rubles, pocketed it, then pushed the remaining two hundred back toward the Siberian. As an afterthought he paused, took another twenty rubles from his wallet, and laid that beside the other money.
“A little extra,” Daniel said. “Your drinks tonight are on me.”
The Siberian took one more look at his opponents, then shrugged and scooped up the money. The one soldier let go of him and the other stood aside.
“No hard feelings, American,” Rajbcov said expansively. “A man must do what he must, eh?”
“Most certainly, Rajbcov. Perhaps we will do business again sometime.”
The Siberian laughed and gave Daniel a friendly slap on the shoulder that was so hard Daniel had to wonder what the man’s angry punch would have been like.
Then he turned toward his rescuers. “Thanks,” he said.
“We are happy to be of assistance,” said the soldier who had thus far been the only one to speak. From his refined speech and the captain’s signet on his uniform, Daniel knew he wasn’t in the company of a common younker. “May we buy you a drink?”
“I should buy the drinks,” said Daniel. “That’s the least I can do.”
Daniel paid for a round of Kvass, then the three went to a table. When they were seated, the soldier said, “I am Second Captain Oleg Sedov, and this is Lieutenant Georgi Pitovranov.”
“Glad to meet you. I’m—”
“Daniel Trent, if I am not mistaken.”
“How did you know?”
“Not many foreigners come this way. So, when I was told to look for a foreigner named Trent, I did not need a university degree to make the connection.”
“You were told to look for me?”
“Lieutenant Melink was detained in Moscow and sent us ahead to make contact with you. He told me the code words to confirm identities.”
“‘A white rose blooms in Kotelnikovo,’” Daniel quoted the code.
“‘The beauty of the white rose surpasses even that of diamonds,’” said Sedov. “The white rose is Tatiana Botkin’s favorite flower, and Kotelnikovo is the location of Melink’s dacha where they met.”
“Very good,” said Daniel. “So, now what? We can’t get to Tobolsk.”
“There is no need to go to Tobolsk. Soloviev has set up his headquarters here. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”
“It doesn’t seem logical. Why here?”
“Here he is in a perfect position to watch all comings and goings to Tobolsk—you have to come through here to get there. And unless you are extremely careful you cannot pass undetected.”
“It still doesn’t make sense.”
“There is much about Soloviev’s operation that doesn’t make sense. That’s why we are here. Soloviev has made many claims and collected many thousands of rubles. For instance, he says he has mined every bridge into Tobolsk and that he has converted eight regiments of Red Guards. He also says he has a spy in the house of detention itself. Many are willing to accept him on the basis of his relationship to the Monk, and on the fact that the empress accepts him unreservedly.”
“You know that for a fact—about the empress?”
“We have reports of investigators who have gone to Tobolsk and made contact with the tsar—brief words exchanged over the fence while the tsar was out walking in the yard. Nothing conclusive, but Soloviev set up these contacts.”
“But you are suspicious?”
“There are irregularities, such as the fact that Soloviev’s contact within the governor’s house where the royals are being held is a parlor maid named Romanova. Why use her when Dr. Botkin would be a much better contact? He is allowed to come and go freely, and has even set up a medical practice in the town. And these Red Guard regiments—”
“Yes, I’d like to see them for myself. Eight regiments of Reds converted to monarchism? I’d have to see that to believe it.”
“Soloviev took us last night to watch them drill.”
“And?”
“They were there. And one of the officers even gave a prearranged signal to us. But how are we to know if it is only this officer working with Soloviev to deceive us? And Soloviev has informed the Petrograd monarchist organizations that they need not send more officers. He says it would be dangerous because more new faces would arouse suspicions.”
“A valid claim,” said Daniel.
“Perhaps. He asks only for money. And the money pours in. But it is difficult to see where the money is going.”
“I’d like to meet Soloviev. Is that possible?”
“Yes. Hoping we would make contact with you, I arranged a meeting with him tonight. Now, Mr. Trent, may I ask you a question? It has nothing to do with trust, only curiosity.” Daniel nodded for him to continue. “I am curious why a foreigner such as yourself would take an interest in the welfare of our tsar.”
“First, I must tell you that my participation in all this was enlisted by a group of Brits who have come together for the purpose of rescuing the royal family. I am acquainted with one, and since I was already in Russia, he asked me to be their eyes and ears, as it were. I agreed to do so more on moral grounds than political. My wife is a Russian aristocrat of the house of Fedorcenko, but she was raised by peasants—that is a long story. At any rate, family political loyalties are stretched in many directions. Throw American politics into the pot and you have quite a brew. But in my mind none of that matters where the safety of an innocent family is concerned. Whatever the outcome of his actions, I believe the tsar acted with the best of intentions. I don’t think he deserves to die for that, nor even spend the rest of his life in prison. And I especially don’t think his children deserve to be punished for these things—as the young tsarevich surely would be.”
Sedov eyed Daniel with respect as he spoke. “Well said, Trent. I pray to our God that He will honor such noble intentions.”
29
Soloviev proved to be the kind of man whose looks were determined more by his personality than by actual physical features. He was not especially handsome unless he smiled, nor was he obviously ugly unless he grimaced. He was not much taller than Daniel and of a slender build. His eyes were dark and keen, seeming to move constantly, taking in all aspects of his surroundings. His pencil mustache framed a smile that made up in charisma what it lacked in sincerity.
They met in the restaurant of Daniel’s hotel, along with Sedov, Pitovranov, and another officer named Karloff whom Daniel had just met. Soloviev seemed not the least bothered by such a public meeting place
, and in Daniel’s wary mind that could mean but two things—either the man was drunk with confidence, or he had nothing to fear from the authorities because he was in collusion with them. And the man’s behavior easily supported both theories.
“So, you are still not satisfied, Sedov?” Soloviev said. “And now you bring this foreigner to judge me also.”
“This is Daniel Trent,” said Sedov. “He is in a very good position to benefit our cause.”
“And what position would that be?” Soloviev leveled an incisive look at Daniel.
Daniel replied, “I represent a group of very influential foreign personages with essentially unlimited financial resources.”
Soloviev’s dark eyes brightened considerably at this. “Unlimited, you say?”
“Yes, and they are committed to preserving the safety of the royal family. They would like to work with existing operations, realizing this would be the most effective way of attaining their goal. Of course, before contributing to an organization they would want to be assured of its credentials.”
“Most certainly.” Soloviev smiled and his eyes were bright and friendly, if not exactly warm. “And you will find the credentials of the Brotherhood of St. John of Tobolsk are faultless. Why, the tsaritsa herself named our organization. I am in close contact with Their Majesties. If you would like to see them for yourself, it could be arranged.”
“But it is impossible to get to Tobolsk.”
“Unfortunately, yes. But when the pass clears . . .”
“We have heard all this before, Soloviev,” said Sedov impatiently. “We need more solid evidence of your work.”
“You saw my regiments yesterday.”
“We saw, yes. But I’d like to question some of them—”
“That would be impossible!” Soloviev exclaimed. “These soldiers are risking their very lives by their loyalty to us. If outsiders began questioning them, how long before their Bolshevik superiors became suspicious? No, no! I cannot allow it.”
“Then what other specific plans do you have?” asked Daniel.
“What is your escape route?” asked Sedov.
“What about a time frame?” Pitovranov shot out.
Then followed a barrage of questions around which Soloviev danced like an expert performer. Gradually his patience wore as thin as his slick answers. He became ruffled and angered, and the angles of his features grew sharper and his charm darkened. Finally he jumped up.
“Enough of this!” he snarled. “You treat me like a criminal and I won’t have it. I have the confidence of the tsaritsa, and you have nothing. See how far you get without me! All you will achieve by your suspicions is ruining our tsar’s only chance of survival.” He then turned on his heel and stalked from the room.
Daniel did not know what to make of it. Righteous indignation? Or, a man who feared his true motives were about to be found out?
Daniel retired to his room that night puzzling over the events of the evening. He still had no clear direction, but he did see more clearly than ever why no attempt to rescue the tsar had thus far been made. No one could trust anyone else. Even Daniel was becoming more convinced of the necessity of Lord Bruce’s group working alone.
As he undressed for bed, there was a knock at his door. Before opening it, he slipped his shirt back on.
“Don’t you even ask who it is before opening your door?” Captain Sedov asked, obviously agitated.
“I saw no immediate danger.”
Sedov pushed his way into the room and quickly closed the door behind him. “Quickly gather up your things. You’ve got to get out of here.”
“What’s the problem?”
“Hurry! I’ll tell you as you go.” Daniel pulled out his small traveling satchel and began filling it as Sedov continued, “The Bolsheviks raided our hotel fifteen minutes ago. Because I was in the last room, I managed to get away. Pitovranov and Karloff were arrested. I would have stayed behind to help them but I knew you had to be warned.”
“You don’t have to defend yourself to me, Sedov. I appreciate what you have done.” Daniel latched his bag. Then, as he threw on his coat, Sedov grabbed the bag.
The captain opened the door a crack and looked out. “Let’s go, it’s clear.”
They hurried down the hall toward the main staircase but stopped suddenly as they heard loud footsteps on the stairs. Making an abrupt about-face, they sped, as quietly as their haste would allow, toward the back stairs. Reaching the stairwell they ducked inside. Daniel paused only for one brief backward glance to make certain their fears were well founded. In the hall, he saw half a dozen Red Guards heading directly for his room. Not taking another moment, he raced down the stairs behind Sedov.
Assuming the back entrance would be covered, the two fugitives did not go down the final flight of stairs to the exit but rather tried all the doors on the floor until they found one that opened. It was dark inside the room, and Daniel prayed it was vacant, or at the very least, that its occupants were sound sleepers. A brief inspection once his eyes adjusted to the dark proved the room unoccupied.
“Thank you, Lord!” Daniel murmured.
“What’s that, Trent?”
“An answer to prayer.”
“We’re not out of this yet. Let’s hope God continues to aid us.”
They were able to climb out a window and shinny down a drainpipe the short distance to the ground. They saw the guards at the back exit before they themselves were detected and were able to slip past them, confirming to both men that they were indeed being assisted by a Higher Power.
They spent a cold, miserable night in a barn on the outskirts of town. In the morning, while it was still dark, they found some old clothes, apparently belonging to the owner of the barn. Donning these, Daniel stuffed their own belongings in his satchel. He left the owner a sizable sum of rubles to pay for the clothes. Then they made for the train station.
With the aid of their disguises, they eluded the Reds and boarded the westbound train.
Alexandra scraped a layer of frost away from the windowpane and gazed out. All was covered in snow and ice, and she felt a deep chill in her bones. It was warm enough in the house despite the fact that their new rulers had cut back on the fuel ration along with food and other comforts. Colonel Kobylinsky managed to continue to bring in the wood stumps for Nicky to chop—Nicky had requested this in order to have some form of physical activity. It was proving a valuable request.
No, what Alexandra felt was neither from the temperature in the room nor outside. It came from the inner desolation she feared would never go away. She tried to keep up her hopes, to trust in God’s deliverance, but it was not always easy. How excited she had been several weeks ago when dear Grigori’s son-in-law made contact with her and Nicky assured them that rescue was imminent. But now winter had clamped down harder than ever, and it seemed unlikely anything would happen until spring.
On top of that, life was becoming more difficult since those horrible Bolsheviks had taken over. The soldiers guarding them were getting far more demanding—uppity was another way of putting it. The other day they had made a search for weapons and had taken Mr. Gilliard’s saber and Nicky’s dagger—these were but ceremonial items, little or no threat at all. But a worse blow had come when they insisted that the officers, including Nicky, remove all epaulettes from their uniforms. Colonel Kobylinsky tried to talk them out of it, but it became sadly clear that he, their commander, had no real power over them. Nicky and Baby wore their epaulettes to church but hid them under their greatcoats. Kobylinsky had come to Nicky in great distress and said his nerves were falling apart and he wished to resign.
“Eugene Stepanovich, I ask that you stay,” Nicky told him. “I don’t know what we would do without you. Do you see that I and my wife and my children bear everything? You must bear it, too.”
They did bear it. But for how much longer? Daily Alexandra felt as if the very life were draining out of her. She felt old and brittle. She tried to dwell on the good thing
s. They had been allowed once again to attend church. The people in the village, when they had heard of the cut in rations, had started bringing them small items of food. And best of all, Baby had been doing so well lately. Not a single bleeding episode had occurred since coming to Siberia. That alone should have been enough to bolster Alexandra’s melancholy.
“Mama, would you like a chair?”
“Ah, Tatiana, you are so thoughtful. I thought you were rehearsing A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“I wanted to see if you would join us.”
“Perhaps later. I feel like lying down now.”
Tatiana came to her and placed an arm around her shoulders. “What were you looking at, Mama?”
“Nothing in particular.” Slowly they walked to the bed, and Tatiana helped her mother recline upon it. “I can’t help but wonder if soon the good Russian men will come to save us.” Soloviev had assured her that three hundred Russian soldiers were standing ready to rescue them. She had gone so far as to discourage other monarchist groups from rescue attempts so as not to conflict with Soloviev.
“I don’t know, Mama. It’s been a while since we have heard anything.”
“You mustn’t lose hope, dear.” Alexandra would never reveal her own inner doubts to her children. Hope and faith were all she had to give them these days. “Russia is a strong, noble country that is for a season in the hands of sinister forces. But the people are good and decent and will soon come to their senses and rise above it. God will not let this darkness reign upon us forever. He will deliver us.”
Nicholas poked his head into the room. “There you are, Tatiana. We need you downstairs.”
“Yes, Papa, I was just on my way down,” said Tatiana. She bent down and kissed Alexandra’s cheek, then went to the door.
“I’ll be down directly,” said Nicholas. Then, to his wife he added, “Are you not feeling well, Alix?”
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