by Simon Boxall
The penny dropped and Julia started to see. Reilly's ramblings were starting to make sense. At their next meeting things became clearer.
'Also my informant tells me that the investigation has started up again, but this time it is not being led by a 'Central Committee' member, it is being led by a former Okhrana operative, now working for the Cheka, his name is Georgii Radetzky; Julia said that she had never heard of this Georgii Radetzky. Reilly said that he did not know that much about him himself, but he was considered good, if not a little unorthodox; but he was, and the powers that be knew this, a man who could get the job done. Not much else was known about him except that, during the war, he had served as an adjutant to Aleksei Brusilov.
'Jesus Christ!' Julia exclaimed, 'So they've brought in a heavyweight!'
'My source tells me that this man, Radetzky, likes to work on his own. By all accounts he's a bit of a loner. I suspect that they have selected him because, when he worked for the 'Ancien Regime', he had a lot of them arrested. I know for a fact that he arrested Trotsky back in nineteen hundred and five. So, judging by the recent turn of events and the way we know they think, that when the jobs done they will regard him as expendable.
'Two birds for the price of one! An old score settled,' Julia muttered.
'Quite so! Be that as it may, I want you later in the week, to take a look at this Georgii Radetzky. I want you to go to a Kremlin soirée I've managed to get you into. Its Lenin and Trotsky, talking about ... the 'Future' and 'The Way Forward, anyway it`s some claptrap like that!'
Indeed Julia saw her quarry, he didn't notice her. She also noticed Joseph Stalin, and the way that he and his sycophants kept themselves apart. He was certainly different to how she remembered him back in Petrograd. Now he seemed almost invisible, but he was there alright; right there in the here and now.
From there it was quite easy to keep an eye on him. But Reilly wanted her to get closer, he wanted her to get to the heart of the investigation. Once again she was helped by the hand of fate.
By early summer it appeared that the authorities were beginning to lose their grip on what was going on in Moscow. It was of no surprise that people did not want to stay in the city. By night people walked out of the city and on into the forest. Julia assumed that the people; fed up with four and half years of war, broken promises and starvation, just wanted to go home and get back to the commune. Why should they stay? It seemed in that early summer of nineteen-nineteen, that the 'Civil War' could have swung either way; one minute Deniken was marching up through the Ukraine and on, so they said, to Moscow! Why should they stay? The blackmarket was rife, if you could afford it and Julia Kilduff didn't need Sidney Reilly to tell her, that organised crime was operating here with impunity. She too had heard the rumours that the Black Markets here were being run by 'Fat Cat' Georgians with good Bolshevik connections. In the meantime Moscow braced itself for the oncoming 'White' onslaught.
Her masterstroke had been when she had found out that Georgii Radetzky had been transferred to command the Nizhny Novgorod gate. She went back to the local Soviet and managed to get a few a strings pulled and, within a few days, she found herself working, albeit it on the wrong shift, on Nizhny gate. The day she got to know him was the day that her life had changed, but Georgii Radetzky was not to realise this until quite sometime later ...
There was nothing else for it. She told Pyotr and Anna what they had to do, they were to make all speed and get to the safety of the river. There she would find them, once she had found Georgii. But they were not, under any circumstances, to hang around here. They grabbed their few possessions and headed off in the direction of The Vistula. Once they had gone Julia, in spite of her aching back, made all speed after Georgii. He must have, by now, been gone at least an hour.
In fact, unbeknownst to Julia Kilduff she had made good time. But in the heat of the moment, she had made a crucial error. She had let her heart govern her mind. Not only was she locked in internal debate as to the rights and wrongs of her actions when she walked past the hidden Georgii Radetzky, she was quite oblivious to it all. But then that might not altogether have been a bad thing. Because five minutes further on, her sixth sense, told her that she was no longer alone in this area of the forest.
But by that time it was too late, 'If you don't stop Yulia Klimtsov ... I'll shoot,' a voice shouted.
Yulia stopped right in her tracks. She would have known that voice anywhere, it was the voice of that 'Greaseball,' Sidney Reilly. She turned around, he had his forefinger raised up to his lip.
'This is what I want you to do,' he whispered.
Chapter Fifty Two
The call signal sounded again. Dominik waited a minute. Cautiously he poked his head up and peered over undergrowth. In front of him, maybe twenty yards away, a young boy was standing where before there had been no one. Ducking down Dominik Falkowski tugged three times at the cord which was firmly attached to his leg. Then he gave it an extra tug, this signalled to his fellow countrymen that it was now safe to stand up.
The young boy signalled to them to come over. The boy smiled and indicated for them to follow him. They walked through the forest for, maybe, thirty minutes, in fact Dominik had been timing them on his wrist watch and, according to him, it took them twenty nine and a half minutes to reach their rendezvous.
The meeting place was a small clearing in the forest. In front of him there was a group of three people. Now four with the addition of the young boy, or man, Dominik couldn't work out whether their contact was a boy or a young 'Midget' man. Whichever way, he was small, very, very small. In the centre of the clearing there was a tree stump, and on it sat a small man smoking a pipe. The man did not have an unfriendly face, indeed his eyes seemed to sparkle and smile at you. He was dressed in the usual military coat, as Dominik Falkowski duly noted, the man was dressed in current period apparel: cavalry boots, riding breeches and carried a holster on the hip. The man looked up and beckoned the group of Poles over. He spoke for a moment to the boy and then eyed up Falkowski 's party.
On closer inspection, Dominik saw that the man with the pleasant eyes, had quite a badly pockmarked face, small pox probably he thought. When he spoke Russian it was with quite a heavy accent, unlike any that he'd ever heard before, but, at least, the man made himself understood. Judging by the respect the others in his group paid him, he most definitely was the leader of their party; the opposite number that Dominik had been told to deliver the message too. Then he must be his Excellency Comrade Commissar Stalin; that General Pilsudski had told him to deliver, 'the most important of' messages too.'
The man with the pockmarked face took the package from Dominik. He then got up, and moved over to the far side of the clearing and showed the package to another man, Dominik watched the two men, he watched 'The Commissar', carefully open the package, pull out the contents, it appeared to be a document or a letter, the two men spoke. This Comrade Stalin was reading it to the other and, whilst he was reading, they would stop and he assumed they were debating the letters contents. The two must have stood there, in conference, for about twenty minutes. Whilst the light in the forest faded, whatever the contents, every now and then whilst the men weighed up its contents, they would occasionally look over, nodding their heads towards the group of Poles. But as they were out of earshot Dominik was in complete ignorance as to what they might be talking about. Elsewhere, in the clearing, the other man and the boy had disappeared on several occasions, only to reappear a few minutes later lugging several large rectangular boxes. The two other men, whom moments before had been vigorously discussing the contents of Pilsudski's communiqué, walked over to Dominik. They turned and spoke in Russian to the man and the boy. They started opening the boxes. To his horror Dominik could see that the boxes contained a belt fed, Lewis machine gun. He shouted to his colleagues to draw their guns.
'No point Polski, they only contain blanks! It had been agreed that this was going to be ... now let me see ... this was going to be a little ...
your going away present ... But today is your lucky day ... I have other plans for you,' the leader with the pockmarked face said. He then added, 'But don't, 'Polski', let me down, or tonight you will be sleeping with the worms!'
Until now Dominik had not, really, given it a second thought. Of course he'd known about the risk; that he and his fellow countrymen had been taking, when they had been asked, by Pilsudski, to wear Red Army fatigues under their Polish army tunics. Now it was dawning on him, that he had been set up, not only had he been set up, but he had been set up in a very big way. What was there to do? The 'Pocked Marked' Russian had asked him to go back into the forest and find a man, a defector and a woman and, possibly, two children that might be accompanying them. The young boy was going to accompany them and two of his party were going to be held hostage until he returned with them. So Dominik Falkowski led the remainder of his party, along with the young boy-man, back into the forest. The light was starting to fade. They walked back the way they had come. After about ten minutes they fanned out into a skirmish line. Dominik thought that the fading light might well work to their advantage. They started to climb a densely wooded ridge, when one of his men on his right indicated that they were not alone. They all went to ground in an instant. Dominik crawled over to where the soldier had positioned himself. The soldier pointed over into the darkness. Once his eyes had adjusted, he noticed the faint outline of a man sitting on the forest floor. The man was facing them, he was partially lent up against the bough of a large tree, and he seemed to be expecting them. Dominik crawled back and signalled to the others in the party to come over. Then he'd told them what the order of engagement would be, the boy would stay here until they had captured, and then once the order was given the others would all fan out, and surround the would-be defector. Judging by what the Russian had told him back in the clearing, this had to be their man. But where were the others?
It only took a split second for Georgii to make up his mind. But in that second he knew that it was the right thing to do. Yes he could have killed each and every one of them if he`d wanted to, but the voice of experience was telling him, that others would follow, and after them still more would come after him. Georgii was on the wrong side of safety, he had no choice but to give himself up. He threw his gun out into the open and lent up against the tree. He waited for them to come.
'Don't shoot! I surrender ... my guns over there!' Georgii got up and dusted himself off then walked out to face the armed party. His hands were held up high.
'That's him,' a voice from behind said.
Georgii turned around and he could see that little maggot Yezhov dressed in children's clothes, standing waist high to the others in the forest undergrowth.
Georgii couldn't resist and said. 'Been performing favours ... for your master, eh?'
Yezhov retorted with one of his sickly smiles. 'Time to go traitor, 'The Boss' doesn't like to be kept waiting!'
Georgii's hands were bound behind him and they walked off through the forest. After about twenty minutes they all returned to the clearing.
'The Boss' had resumed his perch on the tree stump and was puffing away on his pipe when Falkowski's party broke into the open.
'Long time no see ... Georgii Radetzky,' he said. Getting up and walking towards him he said, 'You wouldn't believe the headaches that you've caused me!' As he faced him. 'So where are the others in your little party,' he asked.
'What other's,' Georgii replied.
He pistol whipped Georgii Radetzky across the face and said, 'Get down on your knees!'
Stalin watched Georgii Radetzky drop to his knees. Then he went over and talked with Nikolai Yezhov and Sergo Ordzhonikidze. A moment later 'The Commissar for The Nationalities,' faced Radetzky again and said, 'You've got something that I want. You know what it is, and I want it now!' Addressing the Poles, 'Have you searched him?
'He only had these,' the leader of the Poles said. Falkowski threw down the pistol and the coat.
Stalin walked over and picked up the coat. Out of his pocket he produced a 'Swiss Army Knife', and then set about, carefully, ripping the back seam of the coat apart. He put his hand inside of the gash and then pulled out the file.
'Well, well, well ... what do we have here Mr Okhrana man? What do we have here?' Stalin returned to where Yezhov and Ordzhonikidze were standing and leafed through the tatty file.
The three of them walked towards Radetzky.
'You can stand up now! Undo his hands and ...' the 'Commissar' did not have time to complete his sentence.
'Stay right where you are, and drop your weapons! Don't any of you move,' the voice behind him said.
'What the fuck,' Stalin muttered.
The Lithuanian moved from behind and kicked the weapons away. He brandished a Mauser C6 pistol and said, 'You don't remember me do you?'
Stalin looked at the man and said, 'No I don't remember you, and what the 'Fuck' do you think you`re playing at?!'
'Then you should Koba. Just as well my memory is long and yours is short. But let me refresh it for you.' Turning to the Poles, 'You men can go.' Falkowski's party walked off into the forest; a moment later they were gone. The Lithuanian faced the Georgian and said, 'Let me nudge your memory a little. Does the name Peter Piaktow mean anything to you? Huh ...' He then turned and faced Georgii, 'Stay put Comrade Okhrana man!'
Stalin stood there in half stunned silence. He pointed his finger at Piaktow, but whatever he was trying to say, he just couldn't get out, all that came out was a hoarse kind of whistle, a soft, 'youoooooooh!'
'Does Sidney Street, mean anything to you,' the Lithuanian added, 'I bet it's all coming back now! Isn't it.' Pointing to the still kneeling Georgii Radetzky, 'You were working in the Russian embassy at the time! You tell him,' the Lithuanian said pointing towards Radetzky.
Georgii struggled to remember and then blurted out, 'I was a case officer in 'The Okhrana' at that time ... But I've forgotten, it was a long, long, time ago!'
'I haven't forgotten what you, and that 'Dirty' Georgian, did ... Peter Piaktow doesn't ever forget!'
The Lithuanian could see that Stalin and Radetzky were both stupefied. He, was loving every minute of it! 'That's what I took from the 'Good Olde' English 'Bobbies!' Piaktow dropped his trousers and showed them his scars. 'That's what I took!' Turning to face Joseph Stalin, he could see that the colour was draining out of the Georgians face. 'What about the girls? Heh! What about, Fritz and William? They need to be avenged! And they will be avenged right here; right now,' he screamed.
'What about them,' Radetzky's voice said.
Joseph Stalin watched in amazement as Piaktow turned to face Radetzky, Piaktow was holding the Mauser with both hands. The Georgian could see that the Latvian was only seconds away from using it.
'What about them,' Radetzky said, 'What about them! My understanding was there was an informer in The Gardstein gang and it could have been you!'
'You're a liar,' the Latvian said.
Stalin still looked on and was astounded by the brazen cheek of the man who only moments before had stared death right in the face. 'Unfortunately she was better looking than you,' Radetzky said.
'You're going to die ..; Prick! Get down on your knees!!'
The Commissar for The Nationalities' watched the Latvian brace himself, but it never came.
Chapter Fifty Three
Yulia had been watching everything from the safety of the undergrowth. It was almost dark.
In front of her she had watched the whole story unfold. She had watched Stalin rip Georgii's coat apart and she had watched him find the concealed file. She had watched in equal, amazement as the Lithuanian, now turned Latvian, had come from behind and she watched him hi-jack the proceedings. She had watched as each person shouted at the other, the accusations and the counter recriminations. She found it hard to believe that anyone, like Piaktow, could bare a grudge and for so long. More importantly, Yulia Kilduff was amazed at the apparent 'Coolness' of Georgii Radetzky, but she had de
cided that, this time, there was going to be no going back. She wasn't going to let her heart get the better of her, not a second time.
A bright flash illuminated the clearing, instantaneously a roar of thunder followed.
All the players faces were briefly illuminated, then there was silence ... a muffled thump followed.
Yulia heard Sidney Reilly's voice say, 'Nobody move! Stay exactly where you are! Yulia get the file!'
She clambered down and walked towards the file. It only took a second, but it was a scene that she, and all of the clearings occupants, would never forget. Georgii looked at her, like Stalin had only moments before, he tried to speak, but nothing came out. Yezhov and Ordzhonikidze stood there expressionless. The Latvian lay face down and was completely motionless. She stepped over his corpse, picked up the folder and then disappeared into the undergrowth on the far side of the clearing.
Still kneeling on the ground, Georgii Radetzky was now squinting his eyes, he said a short prayer to himself, and awaited the inevitable. It never came. He saw the flash and heard the loud bang, Georgii watched as Piaktow's body crumpled up in front of him, he watched the blood, slowly, drain out of Piaktows corpse.
In horror he had watched Yulia Kilduff emerge from a thicket, pick up the file and then coolly disappear back into the undergrowth. Not even a cursory nod of recognition and the bitch was carrying his child. Once she had gone, there was only silence. He just stared at the forest wall. Then he felt a hand pick him up. It was the hand of Joseph Stalin.
'Come on Georgii ... let's go home,' the Georgian said. Sergo Ordzhonikidze handed Georgii the remains of his coat. 'Leave the Lewis gun, let's get out of here, it's too dangerous to hang around any longer,' Stalin said. The four of them left the clearing.