Winter Palace

by T. Davis Bunn

  “Are you at your flat?”

  “Yes, of course. Where did you think?”

  “I gave the operator a string of numbers, and yours was the one that came up. I was just wondering if you were already back in the shop.”

  “Ah, I see. No, my dear boy, I am still taking my leisure at home. Although I must admit that I have begun strolling down to the shop as part of my daily constitutional. Not to interfere, you understand. Your lovely young bride has managed things quite well in your absence, I am happy to say. Even the count has granted her his official seal of approval.”

  Jeffrey turned toward the back wall so he could hide his tired smile from the two gentlemen. “I hope I still have a job when I return home.”

  “Don’t even joke about such matters. There is much awaiting you. Gregor called this very morning to ask if you might be able to arrange another trip to Cracow in the near future. When do you expect to return?”

  “That’s why I called. My work here was completed early,” Jeffrey replied. And, he added to himself, almost permanently. “Please, if you would call Katya and tell her that my flight should be arriving late this afternoon.”

  “She will be delighted to hear this,” Alexander assured him, “as am I. But you sound quite exhausted. Are you certain everything is all right?”

  “Everything is fine,” Jeffrey replied. “I have a lot to tell you.”

  “I shall look forward with great anticipation to hearing every word.”

  “I can’t get over how much better you sound.”

  “Yes, and grateful for every moment of life and relative good health left to me,” Alexander replied, then added, “And for the pleasure of good friends.”

  “Good friends,” Jeffrey agreed, and hung up.

  * * *

  “Our buddies in the anti-crime squad are averaging a new discovery every other day,” Casey told Jeffrey as he drove them toward the airport. “The latest was a state research institute that set up a private company, then placed the former local KGB leader as president. The institute sold this new company one hundred state-of-the-art computers for pennies. The company then turned around and resold the hardware for three thousand times the purchase price. The senior directors of the institute split the profits.”

  “People on the street call such deals ‘nomenklatura privatization,’” Allbright explained. “Who has money these days to buy the factories going up for sale? The list is limited to only three groups—foreigners eager to buy on the cheap, Russian mafia seeking to go legal, and the old Communist Party elite using funds they stashed during their heyday.”

  “And it is looking more and more like the lines separating the Party and the mafia are disappearing,” Casey said.

  “Exactly. Now that their Communist Party power base is dissolving, the former bosses are scrambling like rats from a sinking ship, grabbing for anything that might keep them on top. The mafia is making money hand over fist right now, what with the breakdown in laws and security. Maintaining connection with the old Party bosses is a logical step to becoming legitimate.”

  “In other words,” Casey summed up, “It’s a real mess.”

  Jeffrey sank back into the cushions, interested in the discussion but distracted by thoughts of the last few hours. The farewells with Yussef, Sergei, and Sergei’s grandmother had proven more difficult than Jeffrey had expected. There had been a few tears from the old lady, a round of back slaps and numerous farewells from both men. Jeffrey had found himself making promises of another trip very soon just to get out the door.

  But nothing could have prepared him for Ivona’s goodbye.

  She had taken him aside and with downcast eyes had solemnly thanked him for his gift of wisdom. Those had been her words: a gift of wisdom. Jeffrey had been so surprised he had actually kissed her cheek.

  “Right now,” said Allbright, “this collection of KGB, former Party bosses, and mafia is gathering power with auctioned factories, and the people are again being crushed under the same old weight, now bearing a new name. And that means there are lots of angry, disaffected people out there. Every day, the public’s hatred for all this chaos is mounting. It is a powder keg with the fuse tamped and burning.”

  Jeffrey asked, “So why doesn’t the government do something?”

  “Because their hands are tied. You see, the current parliament was elected under the old Communist scheme, where the local Party dominated everything and opposition was outlawed. Given the circumstances, it is amazing that even a third of them are backing the government’s proposed reforms, which they are.”

  “Which leaves two-thirds of the parliament against them,” Jeffrey deduced.

  “Not necessarily. One-third, yes; the hardliners go all purple at the sound of the word reform. But another third, the pivotal group, is made up of the people smart enough to realize the old Communist system doesn’t work, but frightened by the thought of change.”

  “It’s sort of like driving with one foot on the gas and the other on the brake,” Casey explained.

  “Which pretty much sums up the government’s position right now,” Allbright agreed. “In order to keep the hand-wringers from bolting, they have been forced to give up control of several key ministries, including defense.”

  “And security,” Casey added.

  “So, in regard to a lot of things, the government is simply powerless. This is one of those cases where we just have to hope that the tree of democracy will take root, and with time a good pruning of all these dead branches will be possible.”

  “And you think that will happen?”

  “I’d sure like to think so. Right here, right now, we’re watching the biggest economic upheaval the world has witnessed since the Industrial Revolution. The largest country in the world is trying to go from complete anticapitalism to capitalism in one fell swoop. And they’re doing it! But people keep pointing to unsolved problems and shouting out gloom and doom with these great voices, while the grass of change grows quietly.

  “Look,” he continued. “Eighty-five percent of Saint Petersburg’s economy depended on the military-industrial complex. Now the military isn’t buying anything. So local companies are trying to go from tanks to toasters without investment capital. I’ve seen the result. You want to buy a three-hundred-pound toaster?

  “But you know,” he went on, “nature can take a squirmy little worm and turn it into a butterfly. So can they. They’ve just got to close things down, break them up, then rebuild. And it is happening.”

  “But how fast?” Jeffrey asked.

  “Yes, that’s the million-dollar question,” Allbright agreed. “Can they do it before the people lose patience?”

  “What do you think?”

  Allbright was a long time replying. “After the Germans were defeated in the First World War, the country suffered this awful time of economic hardship. When historians look for reasons why the Nazis came to power, they point to this horrible depression and hyperinflation, and they say, ‘Look, see how bad things were? The Germans would have accepted just about anything to get food back on the table.’ But for a few people, myself included, this just doesn’t hold water. A lot of other places have suffered bad economic times and held on to democracy and basic principles of human justice. No, I think it was a bad economic struggle tied to something else, something just as big. The people faced a vacuum.”

  “In leadership,” Jeffrey suggested.

  “Not just leadership. Deeper than that. You see, the first World War didn’t just destroy the country’s industry; it defeated an entire value system. In those chaotic days after the war, the Germans had nothing to cling to, no basis for hope or confidence. Then the Nazis came along and filled this vacuum with hate. And on that hate they rebuilt a nation’s pride.”

  Jeffrey thought it over. “Seventy years of Communism swept out overnight could produce a pretty good vacuum.”

  Allbright nodded grimly. “Our biggest hope is the Russians’ own patience. They just might be able
to see this through. Watch Russians standing in line for bread in the dead of winter, and you get some idea of how much patience these people really do have.”

  “Seems to me there might be a better source of hope than that,” Jeffrey said quietly.

  Allbright grew still. “You’re talking about religion?”

  Jeffrey shook his head. “I’m talking about faith.”

  “Hard to see how,” the older man replied doubtfully. “It would be nice, I admit. I even have enough hope left myself to have asked the three churches to oversee the distribution of that recovered treasure. And maybe, when we are talking about just a few people, it might work. But with all the nation’s churches?”

  Allbright gave his head a doubtful shake. “The Protestants argue with one another, and some accuse the Orthodox of not being Christian at all. The Orthodox respond by urging all Russians to treat the incoming Protestant missionaries as heretics. Then they both look down their noses at the Catholics. And the Catholics don’t like much of anybody except themselves. Long as you see these different churches at one another’s throats, I doubt you’d find many people around here who’d agree that religious leaders could find their own hats, much less answers to a nation’s problems.”

  “I wasn’t talking about religion,” Jeffrey repeated, his voice still quiet. “I was speaking about faith in Jesus Christ. The one hope eternal.”

  Allbright examined him for a long moment before replying, “Something tells me it’s a shame we don’t have more people like you around here. People able to look to the heart of the matter and lay it out in plain words that plain people can understand.”

  ****

  The plane lifted up through the layer of clouds and on into the endless blue. Jeffrey leaned back in his seat with a very tired sigh, extremely glad the Consul General had made the travel arrangements for him. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to be home.

  He picked at the bandages wrapped around his hands and looked out on the brilliant cloudscape. Tracers from earlier aircraft stretched out like long white ribbons across the sky.

  Fatigue turned the previous hours and days into a jumble of conflicting memories. He drifted into sleep, only to be jolted awake. He opened his eyes to find the stewardess leaning over him, asking if he cared for food. He did not, but accepted anyway. He thanked her as she set down the tray, refused her offer of something to drink, and turned his face back toward the window.

  His eyelids drifted downward once more, weighted by the stresses and strains of the past days. This time he slid smoothly into welcome rest. His final waking thought was of Katya.

  Acknowledgements

  “The mind-set of the times threatens to strip our faith of symbols, rituals, dramas, mystery, poetry, and story, which say about life and God what logic and reason and rationalism can never say. Instead, we attempt to analyze and explain God. Scripture becomes mere religious information, and faith simply the progressive realization of moral or ‘religious’ goals. From this perspective we cannot expect anything but flatness. One-dimensional faith, like a tent with only one peg, easily collapses. Yet, we Americans tend to secure our faith primarily with the one peg of logical thought.”

  Reverend Lynn Anderson

  (Church of Christ)

  If I Really Believe, Why Do I Have These Doubts?

  Throughout the journey of this novel, I have been constantly humbled by the gentle hospitality of people whose hearts were open to our Lord, and by the smallness of my own world. I hope I have managed to convey some of this spirit in my work. The writing of this book has coincided with Isabella, my wife, beginning graduate studies in theology at Oxford University.

  Despite the strains of studying in this area for the first time (her previous studies have been in law and international relations), Isabella has continued to walk with me through the formation of this book, helping out at every turn. Truly, this work was completed in large part because of her loving assistance and bountiful wisdom.

  * * *

  Because of the importance of these dialogues among churches, all discussions on matters of doctrine and faith were taken verbatim from interviews I had with respective priests, bishops, and ministers. I have done this in hopes that people interested in becoming more involved in evangelistic efforts within the former Soviet lands—and make no mistake, help is desperately needed—might perhaps gain a bit more insight into the current religious culture.

  United States Consul General to Saint Petersburg, Mr. Jack Gosnell, has spent more than twelve years serving his country in Russia and China. His knowledge is simply immense. It was a great privilege to work with him. His overview of the political and economic situation facing Russia today was both succinct and extremely perceptive. We are indeed fortunate to have a gentleman of such talents representing us in this volatile region. I would also like to thank his lovely wife and most talented staff for their gifts of assistance and hospitality.

  While in Saint Petersburg, I was granted the opportunity to speak at length with a member of the nation’s Foreign Ministry. I did so with the understanding that I would not name him. But I would nonetheless like to offer my very sincere thanks for the perceptivity and depth of analysis he granted me.

  Vladimir Gronsky is editor of the International Department of the Leningrad Daily News. At the conclusion of my visit to Saint Petersburg, I was faced with the daunting task of pulling together the results of almost fifty interviews. Mr. Gronsky assisted me in rising above the mass of facts and related experiences, and searching out the overriding themes. With his honest advice as guidance, I was able to establish certain tenets that became central points in this story’s development. I am indeed thankful for his patient aid.

  H. Kozyritskiy is the Mayor of Sestoretsk, the region running from northern Saint Petersburg to the borderlands. In a discussion that was slated for fifteen minutes and ran to over two hours, he outlined with frightening honesty the economic trials facing his region. If Russia is able to overcome the challenge facing it today, it will be in no small part due to the unsung efforts of men like him.

  Reverend Allen Faubion and Reverend Larry Van Tuyl are pastors at the International Church of Saint Petersburg. For those traveling over, Sunday services are located inside the Concert-Theater Complex at 39 Nevsky Prospekt. (This was altered in this book to a location used by another Western group giving services only in Russian, as the story required a more permanent location.) I would like to offer my heartfelt thanks both for the excellent information granted to me in our discussion prior to the service, and for the most inspiring sermon. May the Lord richly bless them and their work.

  Dr. Karl Keller, pastor at the Walnut Grove Lutheran Church in British Columbia, was a leader with Christian Embassy, and traveled with a group of Canadian Christian businessmen on a goodwill mission to Moscow and Saint Petersburg. They had high-level meetings within the national and city governments, and with military officials. I am very grateful that Dr. Keller was willing to take the time from his mission work to stop and share with me both his experience and his findings. Several of his observations have been worked into Reverend Collins’ discussions.

  The story of Alexander and Gregor’s escape from Poland at the end of the war was drawn from the experiences of my wife’s uncle, Marian Tarka. He was a member of the Polish Home Army, or AK, and when the Russians arrived and fellow members began to disappear, he had the idea of escaping into the Red Army. The story is his save for one fact; he survived his interrogation, and remained with the Red Army until discharged, while his friends made their escape into the woods and joined the AK and eventually left Poland. The route up through Scandinavia to London was one used by a large number of escapees in the turmoil before the Soviet’s Iron Curtain was firmly fixed into place.

  The story of Zosha’s escape from the trek headed from the Warsaw Uprising to the German concentration camp is also true. It is the story of my wife’s aunt, Dusia Tarka, who escaped due to the courageous efforts of one young man, who
slipped in and out of the line of German soldiers to save as many young people as he could. She never even learned his name.

  Ryszard Litwicki was taken from his home in Lvov by the Germans to work at forced labor in Berlin, where during the bombing campaign he worked in a bomb depot. I am grateful that he survived the experience, and was willing to speak of his upbringing in what now is western Ukraine, and then was the area of Poland known as Galicia.

  Eugenia Krajewska is secretary to the Father Superior at the Marian Fathers monastery outside London. When she was eleven years old, she and her family were deported from Poland to a logging village just south of the Arctic Circle in European Russia. This life story made the chronicle of Ivona Aristonova’s tragic past. It is very hard for us as Americans to fathom the suffering caused to literally millions of people by Stalin’s policy of amalgamation and relocation, what was commonly referred to as Russification. Her story is in no way exceptional, and stands as a testimony to a tragedy that we as free men and women must strive never to permit to surface again.

  ****

  Some time ago, Reverend John Wimber spoke to the Holy Trinity Church in Brompton, England, on the desert experience. The section in this book that began with a reference to the sixty-third Psalm was drawn from his magnificent teaching.

  Each year, bookstore owners from across the nation join together for the Christian Booksellers Association annual convention. This year, Dr. Joe Aldrich spoke at the Sunday service. His address was on the need for harmony among the body of believers. Great inspiration, as well as considerable material for this book, was drawn from the gentleman’s well-spoken wisdom.

  Reverend Alec Brooks is former President of Bethany Fellowship, with responsibility for their worldwide missionary program as well as the Bible college. Currently he is teaching Theology, Marriage and Family, and Developing A Christan World View at this same college, and remains a member of the advisory board. He was most helpful in gaining a solid perspective on how an evangelical missionary pastor might view the Orthodox church—his words formed the discussion Jeffrey had with Reverend Evan Collins on the issue of icons. Alec has been a good friend and most helpful guide over the years. I am grateful for the opportunity to grow from his wisdom.