Yet Andrei thought of his father’s journal and the many references in it to forgiveness. Sergei, whose life had perhaps been most harmed by Vlasenko’s evil machinations would have been the first to forgive the man. Andrei was somewhat comforted in the fact that he did not feel the depth of hatred and vindication he thought he might feel at this moment. Indeed, as he approached the room where the execution would be conducted, he felt deep loathing at what was about to transpire. He did not relish at all having to witness it.
At least, he thought, a greater good might come from Cyril Vlasenko’s demise. And perhaps even the old reprobate might be comforted knowing that his death was contributing in a small way to bringing about the rescue of his tsar. After all, Vlasenko was as staunch a monarchist as there was.
Andrei, Stephan, and a handful of other spectators took their places at the back of the room, a good twenty feet from where the victim would stand. Then, five minutes later, the prisoner was brought in. The last time Andrei had seen Vlasenko was at his gallery showing not quite four years before. Vlasenko appeared to have aged twenty years in those four. His skin was pasty, his eyes ringed with dark circles, and great folds of skin hung from his face due to weight loss that probably amounted to some fifty pounds. Andrei recalled Yuri saying Vlasenko had a serious heart condition. He did appear to be having difficulty breathing.
But there was a certain defiance in the old man’s eyes, especially as he glanced at the spectators’ area. Andrei tried to avoid eye contact, but their eyes did lock for an instant, and he knew Vlasenko recognized him. Andrei wished at that moment he could tell Vlasenko that he did not want to be there, that his only purpose was to bring about the rescue of the tsar. He wanted to say, “I forgive you, Cyril Vlasenko.” Instead, he had to stand there like Saul in the Bible, in essence holding the coats of the man’s executioners.
To Vlasenko’s credit, he waved away a blindfold and stood as straight as his old body could manage while he was tied to the post.
The head of the tribunal that had convicted Vlasenko stepped forward and read from a prepared statement: “In the name of the Soviet of People’s Commissars, this day the sentence of execution by firing squad will be carried out against one Citizen Cyril Karlovich Vlasenko for heinous crimes against the people of the Soviet and against mankind. Citizen Vlasenko, do you have any last words?”
With an unmistakable smirk on his lips, Vlasenko merely shook his head.
The tribunal head then nodded toward the six riflemen, who took their places in front of the prisoner and lifted their weapons.
Until that moment Andrei had not given a thought to the actual execution. He had not considered what it might be like to watch a man die before his eyes, nor how this might affect his particular aversion to blood. And it was too late now to do anything about it. He just prayed it would have no affect at all. That—
Suddenly gunfire rent the air. Had Andrei been prepared he might have closed his eyes and kept them closed until he could escape that terrible room. But before he could do so, or even turn away, he saw the body jerk violently before it drooped against its bonds. He also saw the blood spray from the wounds.
And he was absolutely powerless to prevent his immediate physical response. He stumbled back against the wall as if he himself had been shot. And the next thing he knew he was doubled over, losing the fine lunch of cabbage and sausages Stephan had given him earlier in the day.
Had he had any capacity at all to think, he would have realized he had destroyed his chances of ingratiating himself to Stephan, and that the entire purpose in watching the execution had been spoiled.
Only with the help of Stephan and a few of the other spectators was he able to leave the room. His legs were trembling so, they had to support him all the way outside and into a cab that took him and Stephen back to the Smolny. It was in the cab that Andrei realized he hadn’t spoiled his chances to help Daniel and Yuri after all.
Stephan was laughing at him, but in a good-natured way. “You are not the first man who has fainted at such a sight.”
“I didn’t faint,” Andrei said weakly.
“No, that is true—to your credit!”
“I’ve never had much of a stomach for blood.”
“This is only the first of many executions.”
“I thought you said there would be no mass executions because of world image.”
“It will happen eventually. It must. Remember what I also said about the old order being destroyed. Executions must be part of that. In fact it is our moral duty. Lenin has said that communist morality is what serves to destroy the old order that is exploiting the Proletariat. In doing this we are being morally and socially responsible. You’ll have to get over your weak stomach if you want to work for me.”
“Give . . . me time.”
“What is it they say, ‘the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’” Stephan laughed again. “Don’t worry, Andrushka, you’ll get another chance.”
Andrei wondered if that was a promise or a threat.
33
Nicholas knew it had been inevitable from the moment that Lenin usurped power. Yet he could not help reacting with overwhelming grief to the news in March of the Bolsheviks’ peace treaty with Germany.
“And to think, they called my Alix a traitor! Those Bolsheviks are the real traitors!” he lamented. “And I can hardly believe that the Kaiser stooped to dealing with them.”
He pressed Colonel Kobylinsky for all the details. “The Bolsheviks were stalling as long as possible trying to give the appearance of moving toward peace while at the same time creating whatever roadblocks they could.”
“That scoundrel Lenin was just trying to buy time in hopes of fomenting a revolution in Germany!” said Alexandra bitterly. “Not that I care what happens to the Kaiser any longer.”
“The Germans had reason to be worried,” said Kobylinsky, gratefully accepting a glass of tea from Nicholas. “Their war effort is not going well either. Some say they are ripe for an uprising.”
Nicholas gripped his own glass of tea in his hand, but he couldn’t drink. His stomach was in too much of an uproar. “They’d want to move quickly, then. I heard also that they have poured upward of fifty million marks into the Bolshevik government. No doubt they feared it wouldn’t stay in power long enough for them to receive a return on their investment.”
“As it is, they got a very . . . good return.” Alexandra’s voice caught on her words as obvious emotion rose within her.
Nicholas, too, wanted to weep over the ugly results of the peace negotiations. Lenin had called for “peace at any price,” and that he had received. The Germans were to occupy a quarter of Russian territory, comprising one-third of her population. That this territory included the Ukraine was even more devastating because Russia would lose nearly a third of its prime crop lands. With civil war looming over the battered land along with certain famine, it was difficult to see how Russia could survive.
Colonel Kobylinsky made mention of another aspect of the treaty, “I heard there is a clause in the treaty that demands that the royal family be handed over to the Germans unharmed.”
Perhaps he thought he was delivering some hope to the Romanovs. He couldn’t have been more mistaken.
“After this,” Alexandra declared, “I would rather die in Russia than be rescued by those Germans!”
The peace treaty seemed to awaken Lenin to the fact that he still held a very hot property in Tobolsk. It was always possible he could use the tsar to improve the treaty terms. On the other hand, the Germans might also have use for the deposed monarch. The Kaiser had made noises to the effect that he wanted the royal family remanded to his custody.
Until Lenin decided how best to use the royal pawn he held, he felt it imperative that the guard in Tobolsk be strengthened.
Stephan told this to Andrei, who saw both disaster and opportunity in the news. Until now, Tobolsk had remained fairly untouched by the new regime, and according to reports Daniel recei
ved from a couple of soldiers he was in contact with, the present guards had grown rather sympathetic to the royals. Lenin’s new directive would definitely impede rescue attempts.
On the other hand, Andrei saw the perfect opportunity to worm his way closer to the royal family. He quickly seized the moment without even discussing his actions with Daniel and Yuri.
“Stephan, I want to be part of the new guard regiment,” he said emphatically.
“You?”
“Yes, why not? When will I ever have a better chance for vengeance?”
“You mean for your father’s death?”
“Yes!”
“But this is not an execution squad.”
“At least I will have the satisfaction of watching him totally debased. And who knows? Maybe it will be an execution squad soon enough. How much longer can Lenin skirt that issue? Since the revolution began, the masses have been crying out for justice.”
“Believe me, Lenin wants justice.”
“Please, send me. I don’t want to miss whatever happens.”
“I’ve never known you to be so passionate about such matters.”
Andrei hoped he hadn’t appeared too enthusiastic, but he felt he had to play out his move. “Since my father’s death, I have dreamed of little else but the demise of the tsar, his killer.”
“I suppose you have made mention of that.” Stephan paused and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Tell me something, Andrei, would you take responsibility for such an act . . . the, how shall I put it . . . disposal of the tsar? Your weak stomach would not deter you?”
“Perhaps there will be some poetic justice to it,” Andrei replied with a wicked smile. “I believe it was watching my father die that gave me my weak stomach in the first place. Perhaps watching his murderer die will restore it to normal.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Andrei arranged a meeting with Daniel and Yuri. Since his return to the Bolsheviks, he had taken up residence with Rudy in his one-room apartment next to where Sonja had lived. The move had been hard on Anna, but he had felt it best to distance himself from his family, since Stephan had always been suspicious of Andrei’s relationship with them.
Now, however, any meetings with his brothers had to be arranged clandestinely because it was almost certain they were being watched to some extent, especially Daniel, since he was a foreigner. Andrei selected Yuri’s hospital as the meeting place, since it would be easily accepted that he had gone there for medical treatment because of his previous illness. And even Stephan would not think it too odd that Andrei would choose to be treated by his brother.
Daniel had the most difficulty getting there. He adopted a disguise—that of an old Russian worker dressed in threadbare clothes, a seaman’s cap, and even a knotty old cane on which he hobbled masterfully. Any watchers only saw a worker, possibly a veteran, going to the hospital for treatment. He then slipped into an examining room next to the one Andrei had entered only moments before. Only Yuri and the hospital staff were aware that these two particular rooms had adjoining doors.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch this past couple of weeks,” said Andrei once Yuri and Daniel had joined him. “But little has happened until now.”
“So what—?” Yuri began but stopped instantly when a sound was heard outside the door.
“Dr. Fedorcenko,” came a voice outside, “I am here for that consultation.” The voice’s owner spoke in very bad Russian.
To Yuri’s and Andrei’s puzzled looks, Daniel said, “I didn’t have time to tell you, but at the last minute Bruce decided to attend the meeting. I gave him a lab coat and stethoscope that I found at home, Yuri. He appears quite authentic—except for his Russian.”
While Andrei and Daniel stood away, out of sight, Yuri opened the door. “Thank you for coming Dr., ah, Mitkov.”
Bruce stepped in and Yuri quickly closed the door behind him. The Brit did indeed look like a doctor.
“I’m afraid I rather butchered the phrases you taught me, Daniel,” said Bruce.
Andrei noted that the Brit might pass for a doctor, but never for a Russian. Not only because of his accent, but because he looked far too British to do so. And Andrei wondered how many doctors were blind in one eye. Even if there were some, the eye patch was the kind of identifying feature most spies would like to avoid. But the damage was done. Hopefully he and Daniel had been careful enough to have thrown off surveillance long before Bruce’s arrival.
“We’ll have to keep working on it, Bruce,” said Daniel. Then he introduced him to Andrei. They conversed in English for Bruce’s benefit, for although Andrei’s English was worse than Yuri’s, it was far better than Bruce’s Russian.
Bruce shook Andrei’s hand. “I hope you know how great a service you are doing for our cause. Your brother informed me of the sacrifice you are making. It has not gone unappreciated.”
Andrei was truly flustered by the sincere formality of Bruce’s words. “Spasiba—” he began, forgetting his English, then quickly corrected himself, “Thank you. It’s . . . uh . . . that is, I—” but he could hardly think of a response in Russian, much less in English. He wished he’d been more attentive to his mother’s lessons as a child.
Thankfully, Daniel came to his rescue. “Bruce, Andrei was just about to inform us of some new developments.”
“Excellent! I hope they will benefit us. We do need a bit of a break.”
It was slow going as Andrei made his report in English with much help from the others who prompted him when he couldn’t think of the proper words.
“Well,” Andrei began, “Lenin has finally taken notice of his captives and is bolstering the guard in Tobolsk.”
“We feared that would happen sooner or later,” said Daniel.
“This is not good news,” added Bruce, though it hardly needed saying.
“But I have managed to get myself assigned to the new guard contingent,” said Andrei. “It was just made official a short time ago.”
“What?” said Daniel and Yuri together.
Then Yuri said, “You are going to Tobolsk?”
“I will leave for Moscow in two days to join up with the regiment there.”
“We must get to Tobolsk,” said Bruce.
“You’ll never make it in advance of the regiment.”
“If we leave immediately, surely three of us can travel faster than a hundred soldiers,” said Bruce, his left eye flashing with determination. “But my intent is not to try a rescue attempt before the troops arrive—that would be quite impossible. Nevertheless, we need to be there. Anything could happen with this change. We were only holding out here to allow you to do some good, Andrei. Well, I believe this is it. You have done very well. We won’t have a better chance. It was one thing to have an informer in Petrograd. It will be far more to our advantage to have an informer in Tobolsk right among the guards themselves. We must grasp the opportunity!”
“We could be on the night train,” said Daniel, catching Bruce’s enthusiasm.
“I don’t know,” said Yuri, and all eyes turned to him. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a wet blanket, but . . . we weren’t going to say anything until we were certain, and we only became certain yesterday.”
“Certain about what?” asked Andrei.
“Katya is expecting.”
Everyone momentarily forgot their mission as they offered happy congratulations to the expectant father. Daniel and Andrei knew what a momentous occasion this was and how long Yuri and Katya had desired a child.
“Of course you can’t leave her,” assured Daniel.
“I wouldn’t be so reluctant if it wasn’t for the problems in the past.”
“Don’t give it another thought, Yuri,” said Andrei. He smiled at his brother. “You’re going to be a papa after all, and nothing is more important than that.” He thought fleetingly of Talia and wondered if they would ever be in a place to know the joys of marriage and family. Andrei wanted more than ever for that time to come quickly
.
Yet events seemed to be once again driving them apart rather than together. He had to go to Tobolsk, and he had to face the certain risks of being an informer among foes he now knew to be extremely ruthless against traitors.
34
Of course he played down the risks when he saw Talia in her flat later that day and told her of his impending journey to Tobolsk. It was late afternoon, and nearly all her roommates, six total, were present because they had finished practice for the day and had no other place to be until their various performances in the evening. The noise level and distractions were intense, and finally Talia took Andrei’s hand and, after each donned a warm coat, led him outside.
A light snow fell upon them and the air was freezing. Andrei remembered that glorious day when they had declared their love in the rain. The elements would always be welcome to him. But Talia was shivering after a short walk, and finding an open tea shop, they ducked inside. Between them they could spare only enough money to buy a single glass of tea. Andrei was embarrassed by this circumstance. It made him all the more aware of the barriers that stood between them and marriage.
“I hate being always so poor,” he complained.
“Please don’t let it bother you, Andrei. We have so much besides money.” The warm intensity in Talia’s eyes spoke much more than her simple, almost trite words.
“And I have never been happier, Talia. Yet, here I am about to leave you again, and still I can make no promises for our future.”
“I would like to talk to you about that.”
“Our future?”
“No. I have complete confidence our future will work out. Instead, I wish to talk to you about leaving.”
“I must, Talia. As much as I hate to admit it, all hope of success depends on my part in this.”
“I know that, and I know you must go. I’m not going to stop you. But—” She looked up at him with her large doe eyes so full of warmth and love. “I am also not going to let you go alone.”
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