The Margin of Evil!

by Simon Boxall

  The three of them waited and then Stalin signalled to them to sit down.

  'What I said was the situation is serious, what I didn't say was how we are going to deal with it.' He paused and gazed into the faces of the two men who in turn were intently watching him.'

  'How serious is it?' Ordzhonikidze said.

  'It's bad ... but not that bad. If we move fast, I think we can deal with it. In fact I know with your support we can deal with it. Now, I am going to go into greater detail than I did with the others ... but in case things go wrong, I want you two to know exactly what is happening.' Stalin paused and then carried on. 'Through my various contacts I have found out that two German surgeons are coming here to Moscow to operate on Lenin. You two must ensure that they never arrive. We have to be very careful because it appears they are coming here to operate on Vladimir Iilyvych with the full blessing of Scheidemann's new Weimar republic.'

  Anticipating what 'The Boss' was going to say, 'I take it then ... you will have a good use for, and need of, my medical expertise?'

  'Yes I will Sergo. This is what I want you to do. Long ago you once told me a story that whilst you were at Med school, you had encountered two medical students that spent their days gambling, drinking and whoring. You also said that these two's medical abilities were so bad, they could botch up the simplest of operations. When they were in theatre, people used to come from miles around to watch these incompetents bleed a patient to death. And was it not you that told me that if they had taken their act to London they could have a made a fortune in the English Music Hall. Do you remember?'

  'Yes I do I have dined out many times on the tales of those two! A lecturer once said that Mazhulin and Krupin, collectively, had the IQ's of a field of dead plants. He also said, ha, ha ... that it was, being very unkind to fields of 'Dead Plants'. Anyway, the pair were beyond the cererbral pale, they were completely useless!'

  'Then my dear Sergo, you will be pleased to know that these 'Dead Plants' are still here in Moscow. And they are still up to their old tricks! Do you remember that you told me that, and this is if my memory serves me well; did you not say, those two managed to fail their first year entrance exams five years in a row!!'

  'That is true; they only managed to survive there because their parents gave large donations to the university medical research faculty.'

  'Well I want you to oversee them; when the pair conduct the neck operation on Vladimir Iilyvich. They will both pose as the German surgeons!'

  'Anastas, you will intercept the Germans en-route. Word has it they are coming here from Warsaw by train. This is how you will do it ... First things first, we will now cover our tracks and then we have to go on a little journey ...'

  Stalin lent over the grate and set fire to the papers. They watched them burn. Once the fire had extinguished itself, Mikoyan went to the kitchen and returned with saucepan full of water. He walked over to the fireplace and emptied the water into the grate. All three watched the burnt papers dissolve. Satisfied that the job had been done properly, they turned and faced each other. Their eyes fixed onto the mouth of 'The Boss', they all nodded in agreement and then left the flat. The strange thing was had anyone been listening to the conversation out on the landing, they would have heard nothing; the reason being, Kevshor meetings were always held in silence, all of those present were expert at lip reading.

  Outside on the street, the three of them waited for the car to arrive. They knew exactly what was to be done.

  The car sped round the corner and they got inside. The driver was given instructions and off they went in a southerly direction.

  Several hours later they arrived at their destination and then entered a bourgeois block of flats. Once inside they took the elevator to the top floor. Stalin knocked on the front door. The door was opened by a nurse and the three of them entered the flat.

  'The Boss' dismissed the nurse, and then started rummaging around the flat. He knew exactly what he was looking for.

  Ordzhonikidze and Mikoyan stopped for a moment, so that Sergo could open his doctor's case to get out the syringe. Then they headed for the bedroom. There the occupant was in a quasi delirious state. Mikoyan darted around the bed and firmly held the arm of its occupant. Whilst on the other side, Ordzhonikidze jabbed the needle into the arm. A moment later the two reported back to Stalin who was still busy ferreting around for something in the living room.

  Sergo Ordzhonikidze went back into the bedroom to check on the incumbent whilst the other two turned the place upside down. From the inside of the bedroom Sergo could hear a faint whistle, by the time he had rejoined them, two more people had turned up at the flat. Stalin, in the mean time, had found what he had been looking for. It was a file, not dissimilar to the Okhrana files of old; he was sitting down leafing, back and forth, through the contents. Whilst the rest of them straightened up the flat.

  Stalin told the man and the woman that no one was to visit the flat. A substitute body for Sverdlov would be brought in. Under no circumstances was anyone allowed to see the body.

  Satisfied that their instructions had been fully understood, the three of them left the flat, taking the comatose body with them. If everything went to plan, Stalin would be making an announcement, soon, on the death of Yakov Mikhaylovich Sverdlov sometime around the middle of March.

  Anyway, there was no time to hang around; they had to get back to Moscow post haste. It was important that no one missed them while they were gone. So the body, wrapped up in a blanket, was bundled into the boot. Then the three of them jumped into the car and set off on the long journey back to Moscow.

  It was on the journey back to Moscow that Sergo Ordzhonikidze began to notice a change in 'The Boss'. At first he put it down to the punishing schedule and the long hours they had all been working. Without making it too obvious, he stole glances at Stalin here and there and noticed that 'The Boss' was muttering, albeit inaudibly, to himself. He was also leafing through the file they had taken from Sverdlov's flat.

  Turning around Stalin said, 'Sergo, instruct the driver, we`re going back to Oryol. 'So the car turned around and they headed back in the direction they had just come from.

  Once they arrived in the city of Oryol Stalin instructed them to stay in the car while he went inside the building. 'The Boss' was not gone long. Once again the car turned around and made off in the direction of Moscow.

  Sergo knew from experience not to bother 'The Boss' with futile questions. If Stalin was going to tell him he would do it in his own time.

  'Sergo, I think we have miscalculated,' then he fixed him with a long stare and said, 'There is a third party, I think, that's involved in all of this. Possibly even a fourth ...'

  Sergo Ordzhonikidze said nothing; he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

  But the stroke of genius for Sergo Ordzhonikidze was that Sverdlov's death was going to be overseen in Moscow. To all sense and purposes the outside world would believe that 'The Good Comrade' had died of Spanish flu in Oryol. The announcement would be made by the local 'Soviet' in Oryol; as 'The Boss'said, no one was likely to question the contents of a coffin. The car continued on its long journey, whilst the occupants grimly sat in silence.

  Schroder and Gottschalk left Berlin on the train to Warsaw. Their brief was to travel incognito. From Warsaw they were to travel to Brest Litovsk, there a courier would join them and take them on to Moscow.

  Once they arrived in Warsaw, the authorities detained them. As they were to find out Germans were not held in high regard. Eventually they were released, and told that they could carry on, on their eastward journey. By the time the two of them got to Brest Litovsk, they were all set to turn around and head back to Germany. But the courier that joined the train to accompany them on the rest of their journey, obviously a 'Bolshevik' official, persuaded them to keep on going. Against their better judgment they agreed to carry on.

  'If at the outset I had envisaged what this journey was going to be like. I would never have gone,' Schroder said
.

  'I agree,' Gottschalk replied.

  'Objectionable Polish officials, ignorant Ukrainians and arrogant Russians!' The eminent surgeon said to his colleague.

  'I agree!' The other replied, then added,' I get the feeling that they don't like Germans. 'The two of them laughed, other passengers who understood their language hid their embarrassment.

  'As soon as we`re done I'm off,' the first said.

  'You mean ... we`re both off,' the second surgeon reminded him.

  'Yah, we`re both out of here!' Schroder said. He lit a cigarette, thought about the previous seventy-two hours and then wondered what the rest of their journey would be like.

  Schroder looked down the long carriage, halfway down there were a group of American women. He wondered why on earth they would be travelling through this 'Living Hell'. The train travelled onwards into the night.

  Next morning the passengers were told that the train would be returning to Brest Litovsk. Apparently there was trouble ahead; the line to Minsk was closed. Their 'Bolshevik' guide told the two Germans that, for their safety, it would be best to stay put on the train. The two medical men, who would have preferred to book into a hotel, grudgingly agreed. Day dragged and then turned into night.

  Collaring the courier Gottschalk said, 'Look! You can't keep us on this train indefinitely!'

  'That's right; you can't keep us here all the time. You've let the Americans off! Why not us?!' Schroder said.

  'But as I've told you before there is Civil War in these parts; it is not safe ... You are honoured guests of the Russian Socialist Federative Socialist Republic. But remember 'Comrades' we are travelling incognito. They are charity workers and tourists ... but wait; I will see what I can do for you.'

  Dismayed, the two surgeons looked at each other, without saying it they shared the same thought. Who on earth would want to come travelling here.

  The man returned, 'The authorities say that you are permitted to stay within the confines of the railway station. But do not go any further. I must remind you that up until a few months ago your army's forces of occupation were still here committing every kind of atrocity. Germans are not popular around here. So venture out at your peril. And if you do! Don't talk to any strangers!'

  Schroder and Gottschalk alighted onto the station platform. They walked from one end and back to the other. They could see that Brest Litovsk had been ravaged by war. The evidence was right in front of them. Starving children dressed in rags, no shoes, roamed around begging for food. From the station platform, the town pretty much looked intact. The whole scene was depressing; they got back on to the train and waited. As it happened they did not have to wait long before the train started back on its journey. The guard informed them that the delay had been caused by clashes between 'Reds' and 'White' forces. But the good news was that even though this was predominantly a 'White' area, from time to time, there were clashes between regular and irregular units from both sides.

  Schroder lent forward and quietly addressed the courier, 'And how are we going to cross their lines?'

  'Don't you worry about that! Skirmishes only take place around here. There are no fixed battle lines. It is too big; there is nothing around here but forest and swamp.'

  'Surely it is in the interests of both sides to cut each other's lines of communication?'

  'Well it is ... and it isn't! Shall we say, it's like in the days of the 'Great Imperialist War'. Shall we also say, that their friends brothers and cousins, from the same families, who have, and, for whatever reason chosen to fight on 'The Red' and 'White' side; ah, ah, they have negotiated, 'Unofficial Truces', to keep certain roads and railways open! It benefits all!'

  'Funny Civil War', Schroder said looking over at Gottschalk who simply sat there and nodded.

  The train carried on, on its long journey. Through dense pine forest it travelled, occasionally they would break into the open. Small towns, villages and hamlets would, momentarily, reveal themselves to the passers-by and then the train would disappear back into the forest.

  Near Minsk the train started to slow down, it began to crawl along at a very slow pace. The two doctors, looking out of the window, realised that what the courier had said about 'Unofficial Truces' was true. Lined up by the trees was a battalion of 'White' soldiers. Two hundred yards further down the railway line, was a detachment of 'Red Army' guards. Both groups faced each other in silence; the only noise was that of the passing train.

  By the time they had arrived in Minsk, the two men were allowed to disembark the train for a few hours. Schroder and Gottschalk decided that they would find the nearest hotel, so that they could use its facilities to wash and change. Compared to Brest Litovsk, Minsk was a ghost town. Apart from detachments of the 'Red Army', there seemed to be no one there. Streets were full of potholes, refuse lay everywhere and graffiti covered the walls of churches; most of the buildings appeared to be in an advanced state of disrepair.

  The doctors could see that the city was literally dying on its feet. Gottschalk shook Schroder by the hand and said, 'Welcome to Bolshevik Russia!'

  Finding a building that looked like a hotel proved to be much more difficult. The two doctors entered a building that looked like, in happier times, it might have once been a good place for the weary traveller to rest. They walked into what once had been a foyer. Where there had previously been luxurious carpets, furniture and wallpaper. The scene that unfolded before their eyes was one of utter depravation. Most of the fixtures and fittings had been removed, all that was left was bare walls and floorboards; dog and rat faeces were all over the place and nothing of much worth was left inside, except the empty shell of a once magnificent building. If this place had once been a classy establishment, it now had all of the charm of a public urinal.

  In the centre of the hallway, sitting behind a makeshift wooden desk, was the concierge. 'Welcome to Minsk', he said.

  'Yaah, Welcome to Minsk, you definitely need a sense of humour to come and stay here,' Schroder replied. Schroder and Gottschalk turned around solemnly, and walked back to the railway station.

  Two surprises awaited them. The first was not a real surprise. The courier that had accompanied them from Brest Litovsk had shed his suit in favour of traditional 'Red Army' attire. The second was totally unexpected. The train was grimly going to resume its eastward journey. Onward through, the Silver Birch forests, it passed, through the city of Smolensk, and was well on the way to Vyasma when suddenly the carriage screeched to a halt. What next the doctors both thought!

  Sergo Ordzhonikidze had not been idle. Whilst the two German doctors travelled on towards Moscow; he had eventually tracked-down, the two layabouts, Mazhulin and Krupin.

  The pair were living in what could only be described at that time as a, 'Bourgeois Funk Hole', and Sergo was well aware of this; Moscow was full of them. It has to be remembered that even though in the beginning the Bolshevik's mainly targeted 'High Profile' senior nobility. The middle and lower ranks, if they kept their noses clean, were pretty much left alone; some easily made the transition into 'The Party' rank and file, others carried on as if nothing had happened. Sympathetic party members and friends looked out for them, like Mazhulin and Krupin. In most cases, palms were greased, such as were the nature of the times. This went on with full party approval. Sergo knew, as were the times, that the 'Party Nomenclature' wore 'Janus Face's' inwardly, they were more than happy to accept bribes, whilst on the other they preached 'Class War' and 'Permanent Revolution'.

  The rationale was twofold at the time, such persons, non citizens, might be useful to the revolution at some point in the future; and many a loyal 'Bolshevik' had something in their past to hide.

  Sergo found the pair living in one of these squalid 'Funk Holes'. Such was the nature of the place; the two were sharing a room with five others in the most squalid of conditions. The 'Others' were removed and then he got down to business.

  The two incompetents loved the idea of impersonating two German surgeons; they
were over the moon at finally conducting an operation. But Sergo declined to tell them who they were operating on.

  As Krupin said, 'Removing a bullet! No problem! In the neck! Even better! Ha, ha, ha! We'll stand him on his feet! Ha, ha won't have to bend!'

  Sergo kicked the other who was lying on the floor drunk. Mazhulin awoke from his stupor. He said, 'Every day I like, 'Bolshevik' Russia, a little bit more!' He raised his glass and toasted Russia. 'Here's to living the 'Red' dream,' and then threw his glass against the wall.

  Looking at the two of them Sergo Ordzhonikidze thought that sometimes 'The Boss' expected a lot from his co-conspirators. On his way back to meet his illustrious leader he rubbed his hands with glee, everything was going to plan.

  He was ushered into Joseph Stalin's Kremlin office. Sergo Ordzhonikidze gave 'The Boss' a full report. Stalin lent back in his chair, intermittently taking puffs from his pipe, and listened.

  'This is what we do next ...' and 'The Boss' went on to explain what him to do. When he was finished, he locked the door and then he got out his 'Holy' paraphernalia. Then the two of them prayed in silence.

  When they had finished, Sergo Ordzhonikidze got up and left. He knew exactly what had to be done; so he set off to set those wheels in motion.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Anastas Mikoyan waited by the railway line for the train to arrive. He looked around him, the 'Red Guards' discretely waited at the forests edge. Everything was ready to go; all he needed was the train.

  In the distance he faintly heard a whistle. He looked around just to make sure, yes, everything was set. The 'Red Guard' was standing on the track waving a lantern and the others were in position. The train was moving at speed. The guard stood unflinchingly in the middle of the line and waved his lantern. If not for his own skin and the guards, Mikoyan thought the train had better stop!

  He could see that the driver was looking out of his cab, the train slowly screeched to a halt.