CHAPTER 59
Edrich slipped through the back door of the hotel. He could see the lighted windows of the kitchen reflected into the area where now two cars and two horse carts were parked. Edrich watched the kitchen staff running busily about the place shouting, talking and laughing; nobody seemed intent on looking out of the windows. One man was smoking outside the kitchen door and when he had finished he dropped the butt and went back inside. Edrich slowly moved further into the courtyard and looked at all the hotel windows but no one appeared to be keeping a look-out. Where possible he kept the vehicles between him and the kitchen as he inched to the courtyard entrance. The main courtyard gates were shut this time but within them was a pedestrian door that was unlocked. Just as Edrich opened the door a voice spoke to him from the behind the tree close to the stable wall. The voice spoke in English.
‘Have you a match?’
There was enough light for Edrich to see that the man before him met the description Robbins had given. ‘They are English ones and they blow out in the wind.’
‘Colonel Edrich.’
‘Yes, Mr Sokolovsky.’ They shook hands and Edrich joined the man under the tree. ‘I have a cigar that Sir Walter asked me to give you.’
‘I only smoke Havana cigars and this is not, so I will have a cigarette instead. May I have a light?’ Edrich tried to light the man’s cigarette but after three attempts he gave up and handed the box to the Russian who succeeded with the first match and inhaled deeply. The two men stood in silence for a while Sokolovsky enjoying his smoke. The two men watched the courtyard intently but apart from a groom who appeared from the stables and two kitchen men who had a drink squatting outside the kitchen door nothing untoward happened.
Sokolovsky broke the silence. ‘I will keep the meeting short because of where we are. I am in touch with General Abenkov who is looking to remove these Bolsheviks. He does not know Sir Walter, but I can vouch for him.’
‘What support does he have here and how is it organised?’
‘I think he will be the best person to tell you. All I know is that he has been a commander of the garrisons at Kokand and at Merv. He has had no fighting experience against either the Austrians or Germans in the recent war. He tells me that there are many European supporters of our late Tsar who will follow him. He tells me that the Sarts also look to him for leadership but he does not think they make good soldiers. The fiasco of last November when thousands of Sarts were defeated by a mere handful of Bolos soldiers showed that. He thinks a few Europeans well led by him will soon have the Bolos on the run.’
‘How many people, is many?’
‘It is difficult to be accurate. Because of my background I know more about the Sart, also known as Bismachi, forces than the European numbers. There are thirty to forty Sart bands in and around Turkestan. The leader of the biggest band is Irgash who controls much of the land round Kokand and has several thousand in his band.’
‘What do they believe in or why do they fight?’
Sokolovsky made a noise in his throat that indicated he wasn’t sure how to answer that. ‘I suppose freedom from Russia because the Sarts do not trust Europeans. That lack of trust is hardly surprising when you consider what Lenin said at the end of last year - “Organise your national life in complete freedom.” When the Sarts here in Tashkent tried it a month after those words were uttered, they were massacred. Kokand thought it had achieved independence but as soon as the Bolshevik army of Europeans was strong enough in February back it came killing as many natives that they could - some freedom.’
‘How many Sarts are there, how many are fighters and what do they need, Mr Sokolovsky?’
‘I think there are about seven million Sarts in Turkestan of whom about a million and a half million are nomads. The number of Sart soldiers I estimate no less than ten thousand and no more than twenty thousand made up mostly of nomads. To answer your earlier question the Sart bands have different goals: religious; political; anti-European; economic; plunder and murder. As always they need money, arms and training. The problem is what happens here is that people seem to fight for one side and if that side gets beaten they just switch sides.’
‘What about Bokhara that seems to have re-captured its freedom by force of arms?’
‘I wonder for how long. In would not be surprised if at some stage it suffers the same fate as Kokand and that means a lot of people will be murdered by the Bolos.’
Edrich wished he could write notes during the conversation. ‘General Abenkov what arms does his European army have? What is his proportion of cavalry to infantry or artillery? How does he intend to supply his army?’
‘Questions only the general can answer. I suggest that we arrange for you to meet him as soon as possible. I do know he wonders how much help he can expect from the British. The only question is how you meet him. I am not being followed, to my knowledge, neither is the general – perhaps the Bolos think he is too old to bother about. Do you have any suggestions?’
Edrich rubbed his chin. ‘I paint. Perhaps the general is an admirer of paintings. What I suggest is that I set up my easel somewhere and the general comes with you and accidentally sees me working. You and he can discuss my work’s merits and demerits.’
‘Where?’
‘Ordinarily I do not paint houses or streets. Perhaps I can paint the government house.’
‘You’ll have to get permission.’
‘I will try. Then I will let you know when. Do you have any news on the situation outside Tashkent? We heard from Plasov the Foreign Commissar that British troops have been involved in fighting along the railway against the Bolsheviks, what have you heard?’
‘Just that, though whether it is true I do not know. As for the rest this is what I understand: to the east there is a rising at Semirechie against the Bolsheviks; in the north, Cossacks have cut off the route to Orenburg; of course to the west the railway line is cut. So our Bolshevik government is virtually surrounded by its enemies - which bodes well for us.’
Edrich made a noise in his throat to indicate he was thinking, ‘what is your role in all this?’
‘Because of my background which is as both an archaeologist and scientist I have spent much of the last twenty or so years travelling in all parts of Turkestan. I am known and I am friendly with the Sart tribesmen particularly with the Kirghiz. I am therefore the link between anti-Bolshevik Europeans and the Muslims.’
‘Why are you anti-Bolshevik?’
The Russian dropped his cigarette and ground it out with a boot. ‘I am of noble birth, albeit minor noble birth. The only reason that I have not been shot is because my knowledge of Turkestan is useful to the government. Indeed only today two Bolsheviks, who I knew when they belonged to a different political party, came to see me.’ The Russian lit another cigarette, ‘they came to ask me about a route from here to the Caspian via the desert plateau of Ust Urt. They told me that if they could do that then communications with other Bolsheviks will be re-established.’
‘What did you say?’
‘The truth, if I lied and said travel is not possible and they find out then,’ even in the dark Edrich could see the man draw an imaginary knife across his throat. ‘Needless to say I would prefer that not to happen.’
‘Very understandable.’
‘I think our time is up and I must return home.’ The Russian extended an arm and Edrich shook the hand at its end. ‘I await your communication, colonel.’ Sokolovsky surveyed the surroundings for a full minute before he disappeared through the pedestrian door into the road.
Edrich scanned the courtyard and the hotel windows for watchers; he saw none. He crept to the back door which opened and Hutton stepped outside.
When he saw Edrich Hutton shouted, ‘blast no matches.’ Hutton then went back inside and loudly began asking the attendant for matches. The door opened and Robbins ushered Edrich inside.
Just as Edrich, Robbins and Compton were approaching the Foreign Commissar’s office the following day they hea
rd singing in German. Compton pulled the two Britons to the side of the road and the three men halted as a parade of troops passed them by. The first two groups of men were Bolshevik soldiers with their ragged mix of uniforms. Bringing up the rear of the parade was the third group singing powerfully in German were soldiers in leather jackets.
‘Those Germans are the pick of the Bolshevik soldiers and their mere presence I feel keeps the Bolsheviks in power,’ said Compton with a mixed look of admiration and apprehension.
As Edrich and Robbins watched the Germans swing past in unison suddenly from the other side of the road a German officer ran out to the leather clad soldiers. Edrich recognised the officer as Beckelmann. Beckelmann tried to stop the leather-clad soldiers and shouted at them coming up close to the columns and waving his arms about. One of the marching soldiers knocked Beckelmann’s arm away a second soldier pushed the Beckelmann so hard in the back that the officer fell over. A German soldier ran from the side of the road and shouted at his Bolshevik fellow countrymen before helping Beckelmann to his feet. One of the German Bolsheviks began to unfurl his rifle so the soldier hustled Beckelmann to the pavement where some angry Russians started shouting at Beckelmann and his helper.
‘Police,’ said Compton indicating the shouting Russians, ‘they don’t like Beckelmann talking to any Germans who have joined the Bolsheviks. I think they must be worried that he might persuade some of the Germans back to the straight and narrow.’
‘Why haven’t the police arrested them,’ queried Robbins as he watched Beckelmann and his rescuer move away from the Russian police.
‘I think that if they were to arrest him then the rest of the German POWs could cause our Bolsheviks serious trouble. The Bolos are hanging on by the skin of their teeth – they don’t need more enemies.’
Plasov still had not heard from Moscow as to what he should do about the British Mission despite this he seemed to be in an equable frame of mind when the joint British-American party joined him at his desk half an hour after the latter had watched the Bolshevik parade.
Compton as planned opened the proceedings. ‘Commissar Plasov, the German POWs.’
‘Not the Austria-Hungarian POWs as well? You have been at war with them since last December or have you forgotten them?’ Plasov looked at the two Britons and smirked.
‘No, I have not forgotten them and we will ask about them later,’ responded Compton.
‘Do you ask about the German POWs, not for their sake, but because you see Germany as a threat to your trade? Is it about the money you might lose if we sold our cotton to Germany or another country instead of you selling your crop?’
‘Yes, I am interested in the cotton not falling into the hands of our enemies.’
‘Your enemies are no longer ours. Our former friends, now allied to you, have invaded us and that changes everything.’ Plasov switched his gaze to Robbins and Edrich.
Before Compton could reply Edrich spoke, ‘we know nothing of any invasion of Russia by British troops as we have discussed before. As Consul Compton has said we are interested in POWs so,’ he looked at Compton, ‘I am sure the consul is happy to include the Austro-Hungarian prisoners.’ After Compton indicated he was happy Edrich continued, ‘may I ask how many Austrians and Germans you intend to recruit in your army? Should you not be allowing them to go home?’
Plasov exhaled and regarded Edrich with a bored look. ‘Colonel Edrich many of the German and Austrian POWs long to return to their Imperialistic homelands to spread the Revolution. Many of them fired by the revolutionary spirit, they have found here, are happy to fight with us against the Counter Revolutionaries. When our enemies are defeated those men will go home and then we will support them against their local Imperialists.’ Plasov picked up a pencil from his desk and began to tap his hand with it. ‘Any Austrian or German POW who does not support our aim will be allowed to return home immediately communications have been re-established with the Caspian. I must point out that I have talked to Captain Beckelmann, about your mission.’
‘You deal with him?’ Robbins asked.
‘Yes, don’t look surprised Sir Walter. He is the representative of one section of the German POWs and he has the right to talk to me now that Russia and Germany are no longer at war.’
‘But he is a soldier of a nation at war with you former allies.’
‘Colonel Edrich, he is a POW and I might add that I know who he is and therefore what his status is. He quite rightly questions what you are doing here and why you are so interested in the German and Austrian POWs. And I have given you my reply except to add that Majors Bohr and Anders are the people we deal with over the POWs not you. That is the end of that matter.’
‘But Commissar,’ Compton leant forward in his chair.
‘I said, Mr Compton, I am not prepared to discuss that matter any further. We will now discuss the invasion of Turkestan by the British which the British Mission, seated before me, claims to know nothing about. What I have decided is to produce a prisoner from the fighting to prove to you that an invasion has taken place.’
‘You have one?’ Robbins glanced nervously across at Edrich.
‘Not here yet, but one is on the way to me.’ Plasov sat back looking pleased with himself and looked to see the reaction of the people sitting opposite The American and the British sat stone faced at the news which if true, the latter realised, would put their lives in danger.
‘Afghanistan,’ said Edrich breaking the silence and playing a card he had held in reserve until such a time as this. It was information that had come originally from Anders via Hutton and a change in subject was definitely needed now. ‘I gather that there are German and Austrian POWs serving with the troops you have on the Afghan border. May I ask what your intentions are there?’
Plasov began to get angry then held himself in check. ‘If the British were to invade Turkestan, Afghanistan is a potential invasion route.’
‘Do you believe that the British want to invade, Commissar?’ Compton said in a voice that suggested that only a numbskull would believe such a thing.
Plasov laughed. ‘I believe that Britain would try anything to acquire Turkestan and make it part of the Indian Empire. Are they not already invading us from Persia?’
Robbins leapt in quickly. ‘Really, Commissar, India is much too far away from Turkestan to even think that Britain would invade you. Until recently Britain has been your ally and it still remains friendly to Russia so I do not think that suddenly we would develop designs on this province. We are still busy still fighting the Central Powers to worry about expanding our Empire. I do not think our Government wants either to acquire Afghanistan or use it as a passage for troops.’ Robbins looked at the Commissar in the eye as he added, ‘the Emir of that country is currently friendly to Britain a status that would change immediately if we were to try to send troops through his land.’
‘I am sure that President Hickson would not approve of Great Britain invading Turkestan anyway,’ interjected Compton. ‘I am also certain that the British Government would take note of the President’s wishes.’
‘We shall see if you are right. Now I have an order from Moscow for the members of the British Mission. All members are to return to Kashgar. They have one week to leave.’
‘I protest most strongly,’ said Robbins before Edrich could say exactly the same thing.
‘Your protest is noted Sir Walter and I reject it. You may be spies or the advance guard of an invasion force. As such I could have you shot. The support people you brought with you, with whom we have no quarrel, must also go home because we are short of food. So unless you, Mr Compton, have anything else to ask me I suggest that the others return to their hotel and start to organise their departure.’ Plasov raised his eyes questioningly at Compton who shook his head whereupon the three allies stood and with a cursory nod at Plasov that he did not return, they left.
The Cotton Spies Page 60