by Simon Boxall
Hung-over Georgii got up off the floor and went upstairs to help the writer with his luggage. The writer was still in bed, so he turfed him out. He sobered him up and then they set off for the railway station. Georgii could see the writer was travelling light, so he asked him what he wanted done with the possessions he was leaving behind. Boris told him he could take what he wanted; Georgii was already eyeing the one thing he wanted, it was over in the far corner of the room.
Next day the pair walked in silence towards the Yaroslavsky terminal. To any outsider watching Georgii and the writer walking down the street, Moscow might have been a ghost town and, in many ways they would have been right. The population had halved during the preceding two years. Whole neighbourhoods had evaporated into thin air. They had simply upped sticks and left. But that did not bother the two men, both had enjoyed each other's company and both of them knew that they were standing at a cross roads in life; both of them knew that the likelihood of their seeing each other alive again was pretty remote, but both of them valued the time of their friendship. Soon the imposing facade of the Yaroslavsky terminal appeared before them.
The building looked unkempt from the outside. Inside, it had been ravaged by two revolutions and a civil war. Revolutionary graffiti was plastered all over the walls and all fixtures and fittings had been removed. Everything was covered in filth and soot. As the pair entered the station they became aware, from all the people milling around, that some of them had been waiting for days to catch a train out of Moscow. They pushed their way out onto the platform. There was no train to be seen. The platform was a heaving mass of people. Like the writer they all had one thing in common and that was to get out of Moscow. They found a space sat down and waited. Georgii looked at all the people around him. There were old people and young people. There were young children playing, and young babies crying. All around them was the din of voices.
Early morning came and went. Georgii, at any one time, found himself watching the rats foraging on the railway track, or the sailors that had trooped out onto the platform, or the crowd of persons over on the far side of the goods yard whom seemed to be under some sort of armed escort. Prisoners he thought. Lunchtime came and went and the pangs of hunger were starting to kick in. When, shortly before two in the afternoon, a whistle was heard. But still there was no sign of a train. Slowly a train was reversing down the track and it was heading towards them. The people on the platform cheered, then it stopped and they started to boo. The train seemed to wait, for what seemed to them like an eternity. Georgii Radetzky and the writer stared at it as if willing it to move. But it was now clear that for the moment the train was going nowhere. They watched and waited. Over in the far corner of the railway yard; the group of men under armed escort were frog marched over to the waiting train and everybody on the platform watched them get onboard in silence.
Slowly the train started moving towards them. You could hear the breaks squeak and the locomotive hiss steam. Eventually it pulled up and stopped at the platform. The sailors were the first to move. They got into the train. After that everybody else was herded on. Georgii hugged the writer, kissed each cheek and then watched Boris get into a car. For a long time after the train had left Georgii stood on the platform and looked off in the direction where the train had gone. Eventually he turned around, choosing to ignore the faces of disappointment; of those not lucky enough to secure a place on the departing train.
He would never see his friend again, but years later he would read the book that the writer became famous for, and when he had read the book, Georgii immediately recognised the departure scene at the railway station. There were only two differences. The first was that the young doctor and his girlfriend had been substituted for himself and the writer; the second was only one person, the 'Comrade Writer', would succeed in getting out of Moscow.
Chapter Twenty Seven
On seeing his mentor in one of the Kremlins inner quads, Georgii went over to talk to him.
'Auguste! I take it that you will be wanting see me,' he said.
'Sorry, busy at the moment! Let's put it this way, at this time, I have much more important fish to fry,' his mentor said impatiently.
Georgii was surprised by Gerhardt's reaction. Maybe, in light of recent events, he had outlived his usefulness. But even so Gerhardt's reaction had caught him on the wrong footing; but it also occurred to him that up until their chance meeting his former Okhrana boss was not even aware that Georgii had been summoned to work in the Kremlin. But then, who or whom had summoned him to work, in this inner sanctum of Bolshevism? The answer to that question would come the following day. Shaking his head Georgii got on with the task in hand, which was settling into his new office.
The answer, to 'The Whom', or, 'Who' question came along with a loud knock on the door. Georgii got up from behind his desk and walked over to the door. He opened it. The ever affable Georgian was standing there.
'Come with me Comrade!'
'By all means ... Do I need my coat?' Georgii said.
'Nooooooooooo; just your wits,' the Georgian said.
They must have walked for about ten or fifteen minutes. They went up staircases and down until they finally arrived at an office. Fishing out some keys from his pocket the Georgian unlocked the door and gestured for Georgii to enter. Once they were both safely inside, he shut the door behind him and then locked it. Georgii looked around him. The office was full of filing cabinets, there was another office off to one side and once again it was full of more filing cabinets. His host sensed at what Georgii was looking at.
'Good or bad! Anyone who's anyone is in this office. If their records are not here, then they don't matter!' The Georgian carried on. 'Your records are here Comrade Radetzky. They are in good company, Lenin and Trotsky's are here. I'll show you yours one day.' Wistfully he added, 'It makes for some interesting reading ...'
Georgii stood and slowly nodded his head. He was impressed by this man that so many others had consistently underestimated. Georgii didn't get it though, why had he been singled out.
The Georgian explained. He told Georgii that he was looking for able persons to assist him with his alternative vision for Russia. Georgii listened and wondered how the Georgian was going to pull it off. He also wondered why Stalin was letting him in on his plan. But the Georgian sounded plausible and Georgii Radetzky was taken in by his soft spoken rhetoric.
'Georgii, your life's in danger; mines not, but yours is. They are using you to get at me and when they have finished they intend to kill you!'
The man facing him was as wily as a fox. On this point Georgii had no doubt and he played his cards only when he had to. In the silence they stood there sizing each other up.
This was the second time in a week that Georgii had heard this. First time was when that English subversive had warned him; the second time was now in the office of Comrade Stalin, Commissar for the Nationalities. Georgii had to admit that the Georgian was perfectly charming, and what the man said, made perfect sense. He waited for the commissar to carry on.
The Georgian pulled a filing cabinet away from the wall and beckoned Georgii over. Comrade Radetzky watched the Georgian touch the edge of a panel and then the secret door slid open. The Georgian signalled for Georgii to follow.
As far as Georgii was concerned the tour was unbelievable. His guide showed him Trotsky and Lenin both in conference. Kamenev and Bukharin entertaining in their bourgeoisie apartments. They watched Lunarcharsky dance a naked fandango around a drunken sailor.
For Georgii Radetzky, this was rapidly turning into one of the most interesting weeks of his life. Alright he had lost his writer friend, but never in a month of Sundays had he expected to be privy to the inner secrets of the Kremlin. It was really too much for him to take in at once. They returned to the Georgians office and he sat there in a dumbfounded state of speechlessness. It suddenly dawned on him that he was in the presence of the most powerful man in all of 'The Russia's'. The irony was that few people, exc
ept party insiders, had ever heard the name Joseph Stalin. He didn't know what to say. As it happened he didn't have to, 'The Georgian', puffing at his pipe, broke the silence.
'Georgii Radetzky! Even Lenin picks his nose!' He paused and stubbed the contents of his pipe into an ashtray. Then he looked at him, 'Comrade, so good to have you onboard! I can always use a good man ... And you are a good man,' the Commissar for Nationalities said.
Those words would haunt Georgii Radetzky for the rest of his life. Not that it was immediately obvious to him on that day the most unlikeliest of partnerships had been struck.
Even as he sat there in the Commissars office the priority was still for Georgii Radetzky to get Yulia and the kids, and his own hide, out of Russia and he would do it by using any means at his disposal. He still didn't know how he was going to do this.
While he was thinking of escape he was aware of a knock coming from inside the wall. The Georgian moved over and, pressing the corner of the wall, a panel slid open and out came a small, almost midget sized man.
At that moment he wasn't really concentrating; he was lost and completely away with the fairies.
'I want you to meet Nikollai Yezhov,' the Georgian said.
Still, not fully returned to the reality of Comrade Stalin's office, Georgii looked up, and then rubbing his eyes in disbelief, he had the shock of his life. In front of him, holding out his hand for Georgii to shake was none other than the Lithuanian office boy, the one that had disappeared. Georgii instinctively held out his hand, but the Lithuanian still had an ace up his sleeve to play.
As Georgii shook the Lithuanian's hand, he felt Yezhov tickle the inside of his palm with his middle finger. Yezhov then winked at him and Georgii instinctively recoiled. But it was too late. The two men facing him were killing themselves with laughter. He didn't share their warped sense of humour. Georgii Radetzky did not like being the 'Butt' of other people's sick jokes. The two men, knowingly, that they had touched on a tender spot, guffawed. Radetzky felt sick.
It was the Georgian that broke the ice. 'Come on Comrade Radetzky, it was only a little bit of fun. You 'Ex' Okhrana people have no sense of humour! Come on!'
Yezhov took 'The Boss' over to the corner of the office; they spoke slightly out of earshot. Georgii couldn't really make out what they were saying and he still felt ever so slightly humiliated by the perverse antics of the Lithuanian dwarf. Yezhov disappeared again into the wall.
Stalin beckoned Radetzky to follow. Georgii thought to himself by God if they try to pull another stroke like that then, be damned, he would kill them both with his bare hands.
What Georgii didn't know, was that he was in for the shock of his life. Not even the cunning Georgian or the slimy midget saw this one coming.
The Georgian whispered into Radetzky's ear,' I'm going to take you to see your friend. He's in conference with Lev Trotsky at the moment. It's usually very interesting when these two meet.'
The journey to Trotsky's apartment seemed like an age. Eventually they arrived at their hidden destination. Georgii peered through a tiny hole and into the apartment. It was the same apartment that he himself had been summoned to. Trotsky and Gerhardt sat in the two wing chairs. The talking was clear and to the point. But Georgii Radetzky was more than aware that he was coming in halfway through the conversation.
'I have some bad news to report Comrade,' Gerhardt said.
'And that is ...' Trotsky replied.
'It would seem that Comrade Radetzky is now working for 'Koba'.'
'Is that going to be a problem for us Gerhardt?'
'I don't know. But his working for 'The Commissar for The Nationalities', could present us with many problems. The main concern for us is, has he completed our assignment? Has he been 'Got At', and, as a result of having been 'Got At', has he changed sides?'
'I see, I see! But let us rewind back to the winter. You told me that this man was reliable. You told me that if you told him to jump over a cliff, this man, Georgii Radetzky, was stupid enough to do it. You later told me that we would use him to finish off Sverdlov's investigation and then we would kill him when he became surplus to requirement ...! Am I right or am I wrong.'
Georgii had now started to experience a sinking feeling in his gut. He looked away and towards Stalin. In the half-light of the secret corridor the Georgian was watching him with great interest. Georgii peered back into the room.
'In your wisdom, you are so right, but you are wrong about one thing. Georgii Radetzky is no fool. I have known him for a long time and I tell you this do not underestimate him. Also remember this; he is the man that had you arrested when you were running the St Petersburg Soviet. He is not, Comrade, to be trifled with. Leave him to me; I know exactly how to handle him.'
'Gerhardt, I don't like losers. But since this man came to work for us, he has come up with exactly nothing. All he's managed to do so far is go down with 'The Fever', and make us a whole series of unkept promises.' Trotsky paused for a minute and then carried on. 'Get that incomplete file off him and then we can present it to 'The Central Committee.' As the English say we kill two birds with one stone. First we knock out that 'Georgian Crook' and then we cover our tracks and kill your protégé! No one will ever know, how, or by whom we ever came by the incriminating evidence. Hey, we will both be in the clear!'
'That was always the plan. But remember it was me, Comrade that set the ball rolling in the first place. It was me, acting on information received, that put Sverdlov onto Koba's trail. Remember Goldstein, he was working, all the time, for me!' Gerhardt said.
Georgii gazed on in sheer disbelief. The pain in his stomach had reached an excruciating level. It felt like, any minute now, that his appendix was going to burst. Not for the first time or the last, was Georgii Radetzky to be in on, and witness, his own betrayal. He just stood there, frozen in shock. He felt a hand tug at his arm and the Georgian led him down the concealed passageway.
Back in Stalin's office Georgii sat down; it was one of those times in his life when he was entirely speechless. The Georgian went into the adjacent office and came back with a bottle of vodka and two glasses. Before he sat down he poured out a generous measure for Georgii.
'How long have you known?' Georgii asked.
'Almost from the beginning,' the Georgian said.
'How?' Georgii said in a tone of almost disbelief.
'A letter from Goldstein came into my possession. It stated quite clearly that I was the subject of an investigation by Sverdlov.'
'Why him of all people,' Georgii asked.
'We have never got on. I suspect he wanted me out of the way. You have to remember Georgii that up until the Fanya Kaplan incident, the party was free of infighting. But there were those in the party that, shall we say, were looking for the excuse. Kaplan's bullet, believe you me, played into a lot of peoples plans and schemes!' Stalin faced Radetzky with a long hard piercing stare. 'I, too, am not entirely blameless. I, too, have plans.'
Getting himself together, 'Now hang on! Where do I fit into this, 'Georgii said.
'Quite simply, as you put it, you fit into this because after Sverdlovs death, you were the person who was, unwittingly, going to carry on their investigation. They, Trotsky and Gerhardt needed someone that they could trust. They didn't want a party incompetent. Believe you me, men like you Georgii, are worth their weight in gold. You were the person who was going to finish it off. And when you had done it, they were going to finish you off. Your old Okhrana boss effectively, when he took you on, had already planned your demise.'
Using all of his powers of concentration, Georgii was desperately resisting the temptation to let the room go into a spin. But at the same time he had loads of questions to ask.
'So am I right in saying, that this letter from Sverdlov alerted you to Trotsky and Gerhardt's plot?'
'Yes,' the Georgian said.
'Am I also right to assume, that the letter, and probably the eavesdropping here, led you to Goldstein?'
'Yes!'
'Am I also right, that you know I know a lot more about you and that I could walk out of here; get the letters, come back here, make an appointment with Lenin? If I did that your career would be in tatters and by tomorrow night you would have been taken out of here to a place of execution and summarily shot!' Georgii paused.
'You could do that Comrade Radetzky. Yes I know that you know that I'm a Kevshor; yes I know that you know about my connections with certain businessmen. But what makes you think that you could walk out of this office alive?' Stalin twisted around his chair to reveal a holster on his belt. 'Georgii, I have told you on many occasions, and in this conversation, that I can always use a good Comrade like you. You heard your associate Gerhardt has already sold you down the river. He believes, by flattery alone and through some misguided loyalty you hold for him, that he has you in the palm of his hand. Let's face it, so far he's been right!'
This time the Georgian fixed Georgii with a warm smile. 'But I know people through and through and I have experienced the feeling of betrayal on many occasions. I would wager that you are not going to betray me, if anything, you are going to come over and work for me.'
'Wouldn't it be easier just to kill me?' Georgii said.
'It would, but you're missing the point. I've been watching you for a long time. I've seen you from the marshalling yard, I have been to your dingy rooms; I have had Yezhov watch you down at the Cheka office. The point is, I need you to work for me. None of the other 'Blockheads', could I trust to do what I want you to do. And at this stage I'm not altogether sure what I want you to do! But rest assured I'll find something,' Stalin reflected.
'Do I have a choice in this,' Georgii said.
'No! I don't think you do. You are caught between a rock and a hard place. Georgii they will kill you and, if you piss me off, I will kill you. Time is running out for you! Now, you could make a start by handing over Sverdlovs file; that's if,' Stalin paused for a moment then carried on; 'Come on! Do you really want to end up sleeping with 'The Worms'?'