The Margin of Evil!

by Simon Boxall

  'Only the same old one, that goes up and down every night! Only the same old one,' the man said fading off into an almost hoarse whisper.

  Yezhov turned around and coolly said to the driver, 'I don't think we're going to find out much more here.' He turned around as if to walk away and then spun round on his heel and kicked the old man's stool from underneath him. He pushed the startled man into the icy depths of the black river.

  They drove back to the Kremlin in silence. Eventually the Latvian said, 'That was rather unnecessary don't you think?'

  Yezhov didn't bother to reply, his mind was fixated on what he was going to say to Stalin in the morning.

  When he had finished recounting the story of the fruitless night's labours, he was somewhat relieved when 'The Boss' told him to go.

  Nodding his head slowly, Joseph Stalin now knew how 'The Bastard' Radetzky had got away. Clever, clever, clever, he thought. Must be a chess player!

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Decks covered in logs, the tugboat carried on its journey down the River Moskva until it turned into the Okah River. From there stopping to get firewood from the never ending forest it made its way towards the river Volga. Reaching the mighty river of 'Olde' Russian folk lore, there the tug started on its journey towards the city of Tver.

  Georgii had completely changed his opinion on Adrastos Constantinou. In Georgii's book Constantinou was rather a good sort. Many's a day he had sat on the deck with Yulia, watching the forest roll by, and they had spent hours talking to the skipper about anything and everything, or in Constantinou's words, 'The price of fish'. He watched the man deal with the riverside folk and he watched the man organise their daily lives aboard the tug. By the time they were sailing up the Volga he had nothing but admiration for the man.

  It was about this time that the first flakes of winter started to fall. This time was always a special time for Georgii, all the more poignant, since he had made the momentous decision to 'Cut and Run for it' with Yulia, O'Reilly and the kids in tow. But what made him marvel, was the way the riverside folk could almost predict, to the moment, when the snows were going to fall. Urban folk couldn't do it, but then urban folk couldn't do much, in his book, except make a mess of things.

  Georgii was on deck and he had noticed that the temperature had suddenly dropped. He liked taking the air up on deck; he didn't know why, but as he turned the collar of his trench coat up, he looked up. Then it happened. He blinked; he rubbed his eyes and then looked again. The skies were 'Battleship Grey', he found himself blinking again. Constantinou's voice came from behind him. Georgii spun round and he saw that the Greek skipper was leaning out of the wheelhouse and was pointing to the skies.

  'First flakes of winter, eh,' Constantinou said.

  Georgii looked across the river. At this point the Volga was approximately a mile and a half across. The Greek was now standing next to him on the deck.

  'Mother nature's beautiful! Isn't it,' the captain said, adding, 'no way, could you put a price on it, my friend!'

  Georgii looked around again. Flakes of snow were wheeling around them, he watched as they danced in the air. He marvelled at the fact that in the space of a few minutes autumn had turned to winter.

  'Georgii it's occurred to me,' the captain said. 'What are your plans for this winter?'

  'I think, if all the rumours are true, before this war starts we must make all speed for Warsaw. Before we left Moscow there were reports that Polish forces were operating in the Eastern Ukraine. The 'Bolshies' won't stand for that,' Radetzky said.

  'No what I meant was what are your plans when we arrive in Tver? If I were you, I would blend into the background, stay there until spring and then make your move! If this war does start, maybe you and your party could take advantage of all of the confusion and make your escape. But first, you need somewhere to stay.'

  'Adrastos, I have given this a great deal of thought. But I still believe that we need to make speed, post-haste, as they say! I appreciate what you are saying, but Tver is bound to be full of 'Reds', isn't it?'

  'Georgii, the countryside is different. You`re right there are 'Reds' around here, but there are also 'Greens' and 'Whites'. Life is not really that different than, say, it was a couple of years ago. The 'Bolshies' are visible, but by and large they are ignored by the locals. People, after the deprivations of war, just want to get on with their lives. They are sick of being told what to do. Georgii you have no idea! Why do you think Petrograd and Moscow, and other places, are emptying out? People know that whatever the elite, Lenin, Kerensky or Deniken, they were born to fail them. They have heard that life out here is pretty much as it's always been! They like that Georgii.'

  'What about the Civil War,' Georgii said.

  'Pah ... they don't give a toss. They just tip their hats to 'Red' or 'White'. They curtsey to whoever's in town. Lie through their teeth and tell them what they want to hear. When they leave, they laugh and then get on with their lives!'

  That made Georgii laugh; he thought to himself, so much for The Civil War, the great struggle over 'The Insurmountable Evils' of old. In that split second it struck him exactly what the Greek was saying. A voice from within was saying nobody cares anymore.

  Constantinou carried on, 'Tver is a good place to stay. You will like it there. The people are fine. I know a woman there; I will go and stay with her. The crew, all two of them, will shack up in whore houses. Once we've got the boat out of the water, you lot can stay on it! Give it some thought Georgii. My advice to you is, make your move in the spring!'

  Over the next few days Georgii did give it some thought. Initially he had been hostile towards the captain's advice, but gradually it dawned upon him that staying there might not be such a bad idea.

  He sounded the others out. Surprisingly, they all, including O'Reilly, agreed that the Greek was talking sense. So caving in to the popular will of his group, it was decided that winter would be spent in Tver.

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  'The Boss' had the office door locked. When the phone rang, he was running the rosary beads through his fingers..

  No matter what, he was determined to find the whereabouts of Georgii Radetzky, but the trail had gone cold. In the weeks since Radetzky had made his move he had tried, time permitting, to follow up every lead. But this had proved to be a virtually impossible task; there were always distractions like this. An extraordinary sitting of the 'Central Committee' had been called and he'd been summoned to attend. So putting the beads away, he made his way over to Lenin's inner sanctum in the heart of the Kremlin.

  The meeting had been called over the ever deteriorating relationship between Russia and Poland. Bored by Trotsky's intrigues, and all the other pussy footing that went on around Comrade Lenin, Stalin's mind returned to the whereabouts of Radetzky. Where was the bastard he thought?

  'And now comrades! Down to the last item on the agenda. There has now been a change of plan! Comrade Stalin will not be going to the Ukraine. Instead, he will leave at once for the Caucasus[30]. With his vast experience, and knowledge of the area, he will be able to win over the hearts and minds of the local proletariat ... Lev Kamenev shall take his place in the Ukraine,' Lenin said.

  There was a firmness to Lenin's invective that had, by and large, been absent since nineteen eighteens botched assassination attempt. Joseph Stalin suddenly realised that through his obsession in trying to find Georgii Radetzky, he was in danger of losing his focus; and having spent all of his time following up clues on Radetzky's whereabouts, he was now risking losing it altogether. Others might, if they realised this, call his unquestionable judgment into doubt; there was no two ways about it, he had temporarily lost his grip on things. Time to put things right he thought.

  'I take it Comrade Stalin that you will be able to make immediate travel arrangements? You will be briefed upon your arrival, by local party Soviets,' Lenin said.

  'Of course! I can be there within a week? Stalin said. He looked across the table and saw that Tr
otsky was watching him like a hawk.

  Chapter Forty

  It was exactly as the tug boat captain had said. People in Tver just got in with their lives. Even though the 'Bolsheviks' were there, they pretty much kept themselves to themselves. Life carried on as it always had.

  As far as Georgii was concerned, they could have been living in the city during the reign of Alexander the Third. Occasionally the peace was disturbed and, it was as the Greek had said people went down to the main square to read the Bolshevik decrees, or to salute visiting 'Red' dignitaries, but they carried on about their business oblivious to the undeclared war with Poland. As for the 'Civil War', that was now, by and large, mainly being fought in the east.

  Contrary to any misapprehensions that he might have had, Georgii, Yulia, O'Reilly and the two children were given a warm welcome by the local people. This was mainly due to the fact that Adrastos Constantinou was well respected along the length and breadth of the Volga, and all of its tributaries. The city streets of Tver boasted kids playing on sledges and, weather permitting, a healthy street life. Cafes were open and restaurants flourished. Once the Volga had completely frozen over, people started to skate over its icy surface and, in every sense of the word, there was a strong feeling of community here.

  Another thing made Georgii marvel, the churches were always full on Sundays and Saints Days. In Moscow 'The Bolshies' had closed most of them down and, those that had remained open, they had intimidated the congregations. Here it was different, churches remained open and the 'Reds' kept their heads down.

  One day out walking the streets with Constantinou, Georgii commented on this fact. The skipper took Georgii to a large burned out French style house. They stood in front of the burned out boarded up building, Constantinou explained that this building had been the centre for all things 'Bolshevik'. He explained that the people of these parts were very proud, and were also very set in their ways. So when, in the early days after the fall of the Kerensky government, the Bolsheviks had behaved in a manner that had bordered on, shall we say, 'the arrogant'. The Greek told an eager Georgii the story.

  One Sunday local people on their way to the Cathedral found that they were turned away, at gun point, by a line of 'Red' officials picketing the Cathedral gates. The clergy had been tied down and drunken Bolsheviks were pissing all over them. People protested, only to find themselves beaten by these Marxist thugs. A lot of, innocent lives were lost on that day.

  That night a Local City Militia formed. They rounded up the Bolsheviks, and their sympathisers, whom had subjected their clergy to this public humiliation. They herded them into this house - the 'Bolshevik' HQ. Once all were inside, they bolted the doors and sealed the windows. Then they burned the house down. Never again did the 'Bolshies' try to pull a stunt like that. The following Sunday the Churches reopened and, as the tugboat captain said, suffice it to say so far they had remained open.

  But of course, they were biding their time, on several occasions they had tried to reassert their authority. Every time they did, 'Party' members started to disappear, only to reappear, with alarming regularity, as bloated corpses, washed up along the shores of the Volga. The Bolsheviks have now learned, as Constantinou pointed out; that over reaction towards centuries old practises in Tver gets you nowhere. So, temporarily, they have backed off; realising that to have continued would only have served to damage, 'The Peoples Cause' further.

  As surrogate father and mother to Anna and Pyotr; Yulia and Georgii, were now entering the happiest time of their lives. O'Reilly soon picked up with a local widow, and the four of them were left on the tugboat, which was now propped up on stilts by the side of the frozen river. Nineteen-nineteen slowly passed into nineteen twenty, and January into March. But Georgii, and his newly adopted family failed to notice that change was in the air, they were simply having too much of a good time. Life was still hard, but they managed to get by. Yulia informed Georgii that he was going to become a father. Life for all of them was truly bliss. Then one morning Constantinou arrived and asked Georgii to take a walk with him, down by the Volga.

  'Georgii, spring will soon be upon us. I have to get the tug back in the water and I have to get back to work. Now tell me what your plans are?'

  In all that time Georgii had not really given it much thought. He knew that the Red Army was pushing the Poles out of the Ukraine and, if it carried on, the 'Red Flag' would soon be flying over Warsaw. But he had not really given it much thought. The four of them, even though they subsisted in virtual poverty, were the happiest they had ever been.

  'Do you know, I haven't given it much thought,' he said.

  'Well I have,' Constantinou said. He went on, 'I have arranged for you to travel into the forest with some 'Green' friends of mine. They owe me a few favours, seldom do I ever get the opportunity to call all of these favours in; but they have readily agreed, at no cost to you, to take you to Poland. You will all blend-in well with their party. You leave tomorrow night.'

  'But what about the war? I've heard it said that the 'Red Army' will be in Warsaw within a couple of weeks. Rumour has it that they are already massing at the Vistula.'

  'Don't you worry Georgii? First they have to get to Warsaw, and my contacts tell me that the Polish army is retreating in good order. Come on Radetzky! You were in the war! What does that tell you?'

  Georgii knew only too well. It meant 'Counter Attack,' and 'The Reds' were falling into Pilsudski's trap.

  'There is something else Georgii! Remember I told you the story why 'The Bolshies' keep a low profile in Tver? They've sent a new Commissar here. This one is a lot different from the rest,' Constantinou said.

  'What's his name,' Georgii replied.

  'Her name you mean!' Constantinou stared back at him and then carried on. 'It's someone I believe that you have met before! Her name is Trofimov and, from what you've told me in the past, you have had run-ins with her in the not so distant past.'

  Bloody woman, Georgii thought, follows me everywhere. He refocused his attention back on Adrastos Constantinou. Who seemed to be doing a pretty good job at reading and anticipating his thoughts?

  'Apparently her reputation for ruthless efficiency precedes her. The locals are getting worried, and they are liquidating their assets and moving into the forest,' the skipper said.

  'Is she here?'

  'Not yet, but my sources tell me that she will arrive towards the end of the week. By then, you and your party must be gone ... and so must I. You leave tomorrow night'

  'That doesn't leave us much time,' Georgii said.

  'You're going to have to manage in whatever time is left. I want to be gone from here by tomorrow. Don't worry Georgii, I will take you to the people that will take you on to safety.'

  They shook hands. The burly Greek slapped Georgii on the shoulder and then walked off. Georgii watched him go. He was still standing on the river bank long after the Greek had disappeared from view. He turned and faced the river. It was always the same; he thought, just when things were going well, something or someone comes along and takes it all away. In fact Georgii could not remember when he had last felt as deflated as he did on that cold day by the river. Before the war he had been a career agent in the Okhrana feted by Politicians and Royalty alike. He had worked closely with Auguste Gerhardt and the latter had steered his career or, as it later transpired, manipulated it or so he thought, in the right direction. Then July nineteen fourteen came and everything, the whole world, and Georgii Radetzky along with it, changed. As he watched the ice flowing down the river on its long journey towards the Caspian Sea, he continued to reminisce. Then full-on war. Because of his position, in the table of ranks, he had joined up as an officer. Georgii felt that he had done 'his bit' for 'Mother Russia' and his efforts had even been recognised by 'The Stavka'. They sent him to work for Alexei Brusilov. As he watched the pieces of broken ice smashing into each other; he thought that they might as well serve as a metaphor for his own insignificant life. In his mind he went back t
o the events of nineteen fifteen-sixteen; the bout of Malaria, and then his thoughts returned to the previous year's conversation, when the 'Old Cavalry Man' had inadvertently turned up at his lodgings. 'We could have won Georgii, we could have won!' 'If 'Bloody Only'', he thought.

  As the voice in his head faded away, he became aware that someone was calling his name. He turned around and looked up the river path. The one that led back to the old city of Tver; his eyes fixed upon Yulia; Pyotr and Anna, they were walking towards him. They were waiving their hands, trying to attract his attention.

  'Sometimes Georgii I'd swear that you drift off into another world,' Yulia said.

  'Now, you won't be the first, or the last person, to say that,' Georgii joked.

  They were all standing there, laughing on the river bank. Curiously, and Georgii was to recall this, many years later, their laughter seemed to echo all around them. Laughter was complete anathema, these days, in the Socialist Soviet Peoples Republic, or whatever it was called.

  Georgii chatted with them and then told them about his frank chat with Captain Constantinou. Surprisingly, and all through his life he had been guilty of this, wanting things to stay the same for a little longer. They seemed to expect and, not only that sympathise with what he had to say. Furthermore he was surprised to find out that Pyotr and Anna had also got wind that a new Commissar was coming to town. But the two little urchins fell about laughing when they heard and, as Anna said, 'not 'The Granite faced Old Slag!'

  'Trofimov eh, Georgii; you sure you don't want to stay,' Yulia said jokingly, nudging him in the rib, and giving him a wink at the same time. She took him by the arm. 'Look! We can't stay here forever. There's no way 'The Bolshies' were going to let the 'Good' citizens of Tver off the hook. We've both worked for them and we both know what they're like! They are nasty and cruel ... you know it, and I know it,' she said.