The Cotton Spies

by Simon Glyndwr John

CHAPTER 65

  Edrich sat back and looked at his sketch of the street scene he could see from his window. He was drawing a cart and its harnessed horses being unloaded. The horses were wrong, it was their legs - no it was the proportion of leg to body which was wrong. Why couldn’t he get horses right he asked himself because I’ve: sat on them; driven them; shoed them - well once anyway he had helped the ferrier in the village when he was very little. No, he decided I can do everything but draw them, he erased part of the fetlock of one of the two horses in his sketch then drew some lines, shook his head, erased what he had just drawn plus more of the fetlock. He thought he heard a gentle wrapping upon his door then it became harder and louder. Edrich put down his pencil and his pad onto the table beside him and turning towards the door invited whoever was knocking to come in.

  Robbins entered the room looking over his shoulder as he ushered in a man, not a Sart, definitely European. Edrich decided the newcomer looked Slavic because the man had high cheekbones, long straight dark hair that was swept back and a drooping moustache of a type that Edrich had never seen in England.

  ‘This is Mr Zukoff, said Robbins, ‘he tells me he came from Meshed, works for Colonel Statham and that he has been here in Tashkent for two weeks.’ Robbins turned and looked at Zukoff, ‘he speaks Russian and Persian. Russian is in my opinion his native language but perhaps we should talk in Persian.’ He switched his attention to the Russian and addressed him slowly in Farsi, ‘why have you not been to see us before?’

  ‘One thing that these Bolsheviks have adopted from Czarist times is the need for a police force that follows anybody and everybody they suspect of anything. You British fall within that category. I have taken the precaution of watching you and seeing how the Bolos keep tabs on you - usually it is three men. If you walk anywhere all three follow you by walking. When you go anywhere by carriage the spies also hire one. You normally get your carriage from outside the hotel. There is inevitably a second one carriage waiting empty behind the one you have taken, and that makes it easy for them to do their job. However on one occasion a second carriage was not immediately available so one of the watchers confiscated an old man’s bicycle and he followed you. So I suggest that if in the future you need to avoid being followed walk to a place where only one carriage is available because if there is no bicycle for them to confiscate - you can lose them.’

  Robins and Edrich smiled at each other before the latter said, ‘good advice thank you. Now tell us more and prove to us what you claim.’

  ‘As far as the Bolshevik authorities go I am a Persian merchant. Tonight I stay in this hotel and tomorrow I must return to Meshed and report to Colonel Statham.’

  ‘We have a man along the corridor who spies on anyone who comes to see us.’

  Zukoff blushed. ‘This hotel allows certain things to occur if the price is right, my last hotel did not. The women I bought are discussing with your corridor spy various options, provided your officer does not make her another offer.’

  ‘Another offer? Women? Hutton?’ Robins looked shocked which made Zukoff smile.

  ‘Don’t worry it’s all about money. Your officer will not be tempted.’

  ‘Won’t the women get into trouble if anyone finds out? The man could identify them,’ said Robbins sounding appalled.

  ‘When I left them your concierge’s tongue was hanging down to his knees and his eyes were not fixed on anything except one of the women’s chest.’ Zukoff smiled,’ the other will offer to watch this room.’

  ‘You have a Russian name?’ Edrich snapped wanting to get things going sooner rather than later.

  ‘My Russian father started traded in Persia forty years ago which was where I was born to my Persian mother. I lived many years in Russia but my home now, according to my papers, is in Tehran. As a trader I travel throughout Turkestan and Persia.’

  Robbins looked across to Edrich who stared at Zukoff. Edrich had met Statham when they had both attended a course to learn Pashtu in 1898. Edrich recalled the man with difficulty and wondered how the years had treated him. ‘Describe Colonel Statham for me please.’

  ‘He has a very red face like a tomato, he has many freckles. He is about the same height as you; bald on the top but the rest of his hair is a copper colour. It is hard to guess his age but it will be over forty yet not over fifty. He does not speak Russian we only converse in Farsi.’

  The colour hair now Edrich remembered and smiled at the thought that like all redheads Statham skin did not go brown merely pink or red. The man might have seen a photograph of Statham but one could not tell from a photograph what colour a man’s hair was. In addition it was rare for a British officer not to have his hat on when a photograph was taken – the Indian or Persia weather saw to that. Zukoff’s Persian seemed excellent to Edrich and that for some reason left him undecided over whether he would take the man at his word.

  ‘Perhaps you would like me to take a message to Colonel Statham?’

  ‘Perhaps, it would be very dangerous for you.’ Edrich stared into the man’s eyes that locked onto his own.

  ‘What do you think?’ whispered Robbins in English. ‘Genuine? Bogus?’

  Edrich held his gaze on Zukoff. ‘I believe him. He’s suggested that he take a message to Meshed for us and his description of Statham is accurate. If he isn’t genuine then he’s a good actor. What do you think?’

  ‘Nothing too sensitive,’ suggested Robbins.

  ‘I would give him what we think Meshed needs to know. We could write in ink a letter to his wife and write our message using lemon juice as the secret ink.’

  Robbins then switched to Russian and asked, ‘How would you carry our message?’

  ‘Do what I have done before tuck it into my hat or, my boot. I might possibly sew it into a coat. I’ve done this before for Colonel Statham.’

  ‘Some people who have been to see us have been shot do you not worry that that may happen to you?'

  ‘Colonel, these Bolsheviks are my enemies, they might kill me whether I take a message from you or not. Hopefully your floor spy is otherwise engaged but I suspect, not for much longer.’

  The two Britons went and stood in a corner and discussed what they should do. It was during the conversation that Robbins suggested they ask more questions such as why he was working for the British and whether he had contacted anyone else in Tashkent.

  ‘I am working for the Turkestan Union which seeks help from the British for the overthrow of these Bolsheviks. So I am working with, not for, the British. In order to get that British help I volunteered to find out information on what is happening in Tashkent for your Colonel Statham in Meshed. I have traded with a Persian, Zair Khidar, who told me he carried a message to Meshed recently from Consul Compton.’

  ‘We better check this chap’s story with Compton. Meanwhile ask him to return to his room and we will contact him later.’

  ‘How do you get in and out of Russia so easily? You have a Russian name and that I’m sure makes the Bolos suspicious.’

  ‘I wear, as you see Persian, clothes. I have Persian papers and the requisite Russian documentation stating I am Persian. Many people, now in authority, cannot read – certainly not Persian – then I try and speak Farsi and stumble with my Russian when I deal with the authorities.’

  The American consul was pleased by Edrich’s visit and surprised by his questions about Zukoff. The two men sat in the garden drinking tea as Compton explained that almost as soon as he had arrived in Tashkent he had been contacted by a Persian called Zair Khidar. People in Tashkent, whom Compton trusted, had vouched for Zair. Compton therefore accepted Zair as a friend to an extent that he had entrusted him with a letter for Meshed that contained information on the cotton situation in Tashkent and the suggestion that the British and French send missions to join him in the town. Zukoff had subsequently arrived with a letter from Meshed saying that Statham had forwarded Compton’s suggestion to India and asking him for information on the number of POWs in Turke
stan and the numbers of troops the Bolsheviks had. When Edrich asked whether he could see Statham’s letter Compton laughed and said that in the current climate of terror in Tashkent as soon as he had read the letter he had destroyed it.

  Compton spent several moments swatting flies then aware that Edrich was watching him he caught two flies such was his hand speed. After sprinkling his hands with water from a pitcher sitting on the garden table Compton rubbed them together before he wiped them dry on his handkerchief. ‘I hate flies,’ he said, ‘the only good one is a dead one.’

  He put the handkerchief away and took a sip of his tea. ‘Abenkov and Sokolovsky know Zukoff, and his father. The father is a former officer in the Russian army and served in Persia, so he is Royalist. The son also served in Persia in the Russian army then he took advantage of his connections to leave the army and begin trading in Persia – I doubt if he is pro-Bolshevik. He did contact me a few days ago to ask if you were genuine. We do have to trust someone and I think this is someone we can. If Zukoff is not what he says he is, then we will all be in desperate trouble.’

  ‘How can you ever be absolutely sure of who anybody is in the situation we are in,’ replied Edrich. ‘You never mentioned Zukoff to us why?’

  There was silence as they both mulled over the last sentence then Compton said. ‘I’m sorry I had not spoken to you about Zukoff but to be honest I thought he had come to see you already and you were keeping quiet about it. I thought it best to say nothing because I believe in compartmentalisation or the fewer the people who know something the better. Zukoff represents a government to whom my government, I think, would support. Therefore part of my relationship is dealing with the British in Meshed through him and part is the unofficial American Government’s independent relationship with the FTU, if indeed it has one. It all makes it complicated.’

  ‘Good point. But why would he come to you first though?’

  Compton stared trance like at his right boot as though it was made of gold then still with glassy eyes he said quietly. ‘Well of course he had the communication for me from Statham and he knew nothing about your mission, or if he did the stuff about whether you were genuine was a red herring. I haven’t told you everything about my role here as I do work for my own government - not the British. I can, I think, given the situation explain my task here. The one you know which is to try and stop the Germans getting their hands on the cotton by buying it if necessary. The other is to see that any support required by anti-Bolsheviks is channelled to them somehow. That is why I talk to Zukoff.’

  ‘How is this help to be channelled - directly or indirectly?’

  Compton pursed his lips as he thought for the right words to use. ‘My government is being very careful how it handles these Bolsheviks and how it is seen to handle them. Many people use the term, “Perfidious Albion” to describe the country of your birth, Bill. Now don’t get angry,’ he said holding his hands up at Edrich, ‘sometimes it is convenient for other countries to use that common perception of your country for their own ends. Let me explain. President Hickson and America in general is looked on as a non imperialist country unlike Great Britain who is suspected of having designs on Turkestan.’

  ‘That’s nonsense, said Edrich.

  ‘I know but that is the perception here. Therefore because of that perception we know that your party here in Tashkent is being looked on as possibly the forerunner of an invasion. Obviously I am under less suspicion than you, despite having as many policemen follow me as you, and that gives me more latitude to do things. One of those things is to communicate, when allowed, with our embassy in Petrograd, our people in Moscow and our people in Peking. That communication may not necessarily be through official channels. You, Bill, on the other hand have had difficulty communicating with your people as you told Bolotnikov earlier.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Now one of the things I have been told to do by my bosses is to provide you with the aid that you, as the representative of Perfidious Albion, might channel to our mutual friends here.’

  ‘What aid? Why not tell me this before?’

  ‘Money, arms and other supplies are needed by soldiers. Why not tell you before? Well I only got orders recently from our embassy in Moscow. It seems they did not know you were here nor what you were doing. I’m not sure by the way that your fellows in either Moscow or Petrograd know why you are here either. The crucial thing from the American point of view is that we will supply the various things that I’ve just mentioned but the anti-Bolsheviks must think that they are coming from you, the British.’

  Edrich sat back and forced an ironical laugh and shook his head in wonderment. ‘And you call us Perfidious Albion - politics.’ There was a pause before he added, ‘what about my government providing help?’

  Compton switched his gaze from his boot to a fly, which landed on the table he grabbed for it but missed. ‘Blast, should have got him. If they can get things to you fine. At the moment though, I doubt that they can do so. If they try to ship stuff through Persia then that has to come through territory controlled by the Bolsheviks.’

  ‘Well one can’t really get much from Kashgar because first, the Chinese may not allow it and second, to transport supplies from India to Kashgar and then onto here would be a logistical nightmare.’ Edrich said thoughtfully rubbing his chin with his hands.

  ‘I believe that the only way that we can get supplies to our friends is to smuggle them in via Siberia. Siberia need I point out is relatively close to America. However before we start doing anything I need to ask you Bill, as a military man, is Abenkov capable of leading an army against these ruffians?’

  ‘He talks well. He is imprecise about the troop numbers he has available. I’m not sure I believe him when he says he has thousands. Abenkov admitted that all his recent postings were as a garrison soldier. Commanding a garrison is hardly the ideal background for the type of war people seem to fight here.’

  ‘You mean up and down the railroad?’

  ‘Yes, I just feel uneasy about him. I am sorry I cannot give you a better military perception of the man.’

  ‘I understand. It conforms to what I think. Now Sokolovsky I think is the real political strongman but he can’t overthrow these Bolos without an army. So what do you think we can do?’

  Edrich thought long and hard. ‘When I met Sokolovsky he said Abenkov is the man for the job. We have to accept Abenkov in that light. The only other alternative might be a Sart, I was actually given the name of one of the Bismachi leaders, Akbar, but obviously he I have yet to meet.’

  ‘Abenkov has been a professional soldier, which is more than can be said for some of these Bolos, so surely that must be in his favour?’ Compton raised his eyebrows.

  Edrich laughed. ‘I certainly hope so. What about the Bismachi Sarts? Have you had any contact with them?’

  ‘Not yet. I think we need to contact them directly if we can otherwise we do it through Sokolovsky?’

  ‘Not through Abenkov?’

  The American snorted. ‘He doesn’t see the Bismachi as real soldiers despite the fact that they are in the field and he isn’t. As a result, and as you might imagine, Abenkov is not very popular with the Sarts whereas Sokolovsky is. Abenkov claims to have the Sarts in his army but I’m not sure. If we are to have a chance to overthrow these Bolos we need both Europeans because of their knowhow; Sarts because of their local strength and their current experience of actually fighting against the Bolos.’

  Edrich remarked, ‘well Abenkov told me his feelings about the Sarts which mirrors what he told you about them. I would prefer to go out and meet the Sart leader, Akbar, myself - but that won’t be easy in this police state. So do I need to set up another meeting with Sokolovsky ask him to get me an introduction to our potential allies.’

  ‘Yes. You need to realize that these Bolos would be suspicious of any Sart you met however you did so. It would put both of you in danger.’ Compton drew an imaginary dagger across his throat.’
/>   ‘I have no doubt on that score,’ said Edrich nodding towards Compton’s throat cutting action.

  ‘Changing the subject back to Zukoff, what information will you entrust him with?’

  ‘The actual number of POWs that there are here, broken down by nationality. India had the view that there were over three hundred thousand here, now we find out it’s between twenty five and thirty thousand depending to whom you are talking. Anyway those statistics should ease India’s worries over a German invasion. More important perhaps, I will be giving them as many details on the cotton stock as I can. You know more about that than me.’

  ‘It is hard to judge because the crop has not been measured as thoroughly as it normally would be because of the civil war. My best estimate is that it lies between three quarters to one and a quarter million bales.’ Compton added a look that said “I bet that surprises you.” If I take the lower figure,’ he shut his eyes and moved his lips silently, ‘that equates to a hundred and seventy thousand tons. Not all of that of course will be for export,’ he sniffed, ‘perhaps half. But if the Bolos are short of cash – it’ll be more.’

  Edrich whistled, ‘that is a lot of cotton and it will make a lot of ammunition. Robbins and Hutton will obviously take that information with them back to Kashgar but who knows Meshed may be able to get the information to Simla before the chaps can via Kashgar. What I won’t entrust to Zukoff are the troop numbers that Abenkov claims he can put into the field until I have more proof. What we also don’t want to do is to give Abenkov a large sum of money or a large number of rifles until we have more facts. In this climate he might abscond with the money or sell the rifles to whoever offers the best price.’

  ‘If your last sentence turned out to actually happen then my State Department and your India Office would have our guts for garters.’

  ‘I doubt we would be alive for them to do that, old boy.’

  ‘What about you? What information are you going to send to your people?

  ‘I thought that I would not send the same information to my people just in case the code I have been using has been compromised.’

  Edrich looked worried, ‘do you think it has?’

  ‘Not really, Bill, but if Zukoff gets arrested and they discover your message they might compare my coded message with that, then we are all compromised.’

  Edrich murmured his agreement before he stood up. ‘Denys, I must go. I have a few things to write so the chaps can take them with them. Will you come to dinner tonight to wish the others farewell?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Come in Captain Fernee. Bad news I am afraid. We have had a message from India. You are to return to Ashkhabad.

  Fernee looked and felt disappointed. In the near distance the first shell of the morning fell. The Turks were advancing closer and closer to the city. ‘I’ll miss all the fun, sir.’

  Oakes smiled. ‘Yes you will. However having seen lots of your so called “fun” in my life I would grasp this opportunity, captain.’

  ‘When do I go?’

  ‘This afternoon - here are your orders.’