The Cotton Spies

by Simon Glyndwr John

CHAPTER 69

  The road was busy with traffic and the pavement with pedestrians as the three Britons set off to the Danzansky restaurant. As the three men had agreed, before they left the hotel, they stopped and chatted frequently turning three hundred and sixty degrees to see if anyone was trying to approach them unobtrusively. Edrich felt the whole thing was stupid and regretted having told the others about the cryptic cotton message and what it might mean. The three Britons were delighted to see the secret policemen who were following them at their usual distances. As Robbins pointed out such was Bolshevik ruthlessness that if they were assassins they probably would not care if they shot some of their own men by accident. Edrich replied that if any assassin fired and hit one of the policemen who were thirty or forty yards away then all three Britons were probably safe as the shooter was clearly a poor shot.

  Edrich was walking silently with Hutton about a hundred yards short of their restaurant when he noticed a horse drawn cart pass them on the far side. Edrich was sure that he had seen the driver before but he could not think where.

  ‘You see that cart on the other side of the road, Hutton; just about to pass Sir Walter, I am sure I know the driver. Do you?’

  Hutton turned to squint at the cart. ‘I can’t tell from here, colonel. All I can tell is that he is a European wearing German army trousers.’ With that Hutton signalled Robbins by pointing at the cart. Robbins stopped and stood poised and watched the cart move slowly down the street.

  ‘We forgot Captain Hutton that as we both are armed that one of us should be with Sir Walter at all times - wave for him to join us.’

  As Robbins joined them there was a commotion back down the street. The three men turned to see the cart they had just watched, turn round and come towards them. Two cars then swept past the cart and began to accelerate towards the Britons throwing up clouds of dust. Edrich inadvertently crouched as the cars sweep past, but the car windows were shut. Edrich saw Bogdanovich sitting in the first car and Plasov in the second car, neither looked out of the windows. Suddenly Edrich was aware that Robbins was squatting down beside while Hutton had disappeared behind a convenient tree. The cart was coming closer.

  ‘Get behind the tree with Hutton now, Sir Walter.’

  Robbins moved with a speed that belied his age. Edrich himself began to move towards another tree further up the road undoing the flap of his service revolver as he went warily eyeing the approaching cart. The cart suddenly pulled up in the road about thirty yards from the tree under which Hutton and Robbins stood. Edrich watched the cart’s driver light a cigarette whilst behind that cart shouts of frustration from the drivers of the horse drawn vehicles behind it thundered through the air.

  Two soldiers on horseback shouted abuse at the driver as they trotted past the parked cart and one then started to dismount. Suddenly a car that had been going in the opposite direction swung round in front of the parked cart so violently that it almost overturned and just missed the two horses. The man in the throes of dismounting was nearly thrown but managed to cling to the saddle while the other horse reared up on its hind legs depositing its rider on the ground. Edrich saw that the car’s window was open and a gun was being pointed through it. As the car began to move the riderless horse kicked it and the car swung further out into the road so that the protruding gun jerked skywards and began firing bringing a shower of twigs down onto the road. The horseman who had been dismounting had somehow re-gained his seat but his horse in a panic burst into a gallop that brought it alongside the car. The gun disappeared as Edrich with open mouth watched the car and horse race down the street with seemingly neither under the control of its driver or rider.

  In the meantime the parked cart broke into a gallop zig zagging past Edrich and up the road to the consternation of vehicles coming the other way. The cart driver lost his cap and cigarette as he fought to control the horses and apply the brake; the cart finally stopping in the distance. The soldier who had been thrown from his horse was screaming in pain and writhing on the ground. The whole road was full of human shouts and screams, horses neighing, and vehicles honking. Edrich looked towards their attendant police followers some of whom were picking themselves up from the ground, others reappearing from behind trees and parked vehicles. Almost as one they all began running towards the three Britons. Edrich quickly buttoned his holster and moved over to Robbins and Hutton.

  ‘Anyone hurt?’ Edrich asked regretting instantly his question as he saw blood trickling down Hutton’s face. ‘Where are you hit, Hutton?’

  ‘On the head, ‘said Hutton dolefully, dabbing at himself with a handkerchief Robbins had produced from his pocket.

  The phrase used by Hutton puzzled Edrich until Robbins chimed in with; ‘Captain Hutton was hit on the head by a branch brought down by the gunfire.’

  ‘You should always keep your cap on, Captain Hutton,’ said Edrich relieved enough to make a joke at Hutton’s misfortune.

  ‘I do sir, but I fell over a tree root when I was trying to shelter behind the blasted thing. It wasn’t a branch Sir Walter, I hit the tree with my head.’

  ‘Oh God what now,’ said Robbins angrily. The three Britons were now surrounded by eight of the men who kept them under surveillance; the ninth was limping up to join the others with blood seeping through a torn trouser leg. The policemen were arguing at the tops of their voices with one another. When Edrich asked Robbins for a translation he was told that the men were arguing first about who had jurisdiction and second what they should do about it. A few minutes after the argument had begun a uniformed policeman arrived. The uniformed officer uttered one word and that triggered all the plainclothes men to round on him ferociously and after that, the uniformed man stood mute.

  ‘The ordinary police say this is their responsibility. The secret police say it is theirs because we are politicians of the Imperialist enemies whilst our military police chaps say they should be in charge because you and Hutton are soldiers. We could be here for a long time, colonel.’ Robbins barked hands planted on hips.

  ‘I could do with some water on my cut and some food,’ said Hutton to no one in particular.

  ‘Keep bleeding, please Hutton,’ Edrich’s remark received an astonished look from Hutton. Edrich realising what he had just said continued, ‘it may help get us to the restaurant.’ Edrich turned to Robbins, ‘tell them please, Sir Walter, that our comrade is clearly hurt and that we should dress his wound. Tell them we will do that at the restaurant and await their decision. Also point out we did not fire any shots ourselves and that this has nothing to do with us.’

  Sir Walter addressed the various policemen then one man clean-shaven and wearing a smart Homburg hat that looked incongruous with the rest of his mismatched army uniform started shouting and gesticulating at him.

  ‘He is accusing us of firing the first shots, ‘said Robbins out of the corner of his mouth as he faced up to the man. ‘You take your gun out of its holster, Hutton?’ Hutton shook his head whilst continuing to dab his wound with a reddening handkerchief.

  Homburg hat ranted on even when told that nobody British had even un-holstered their gun. Edrich need no interpretation to understand that the man did not believe that statement. ‘There is a simple way of clearing this up. Ask him if he will allow me to remove my gun from its holster and then the bullets from it. Can Hutton do the same?’

  What seemed at interminable discussion took place and as it did so the three Britons watched the street traffic get back to normal. Eventually Hutton and Edrich emptied their revolvers of their cartridges Edrich sniffed the barrels of both guns before passing them over to Homburg hat. The man sniffed and clearly did not know why he was doing so nevertheless he passed on the guns till all the men had a sniff. That done Homburg hat asked Edrich what the sniffing established and was told that it meant that they had not been fired.

  ‘Can we go to our restaurant now,’ said Robbins to Homburg as the latter returned the revolvers to the two Britons, ‘dress our friend’s wound an
d eat.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Homburg to everyone, and possibly his own, surprise.

  ‘You might suggest to Homburg here, Sir Walter that it might be an idea for one person from each force go and report to their chief. We will promise only to go to the restaurant now, always stick together whilst we are there and go straight back to the hotel once we have eaten. At the same time they could give their bosses some idea of the car that shot at us.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Robbins said and repeated it to Homburg who listened as did the other men without a word until he had finished. An animated discussion then broke out between the policemen, which seemed to go on interminably as they tried to decide which one should have the privilege of making a report. Reporting to senior staff was not popular, remarked Robbins as he translated various snippets of conversation for Edrich’s benefit. At one stage the uniformed man tried to join in the conversation but Homburg said just one word to him and the man reverted back into a catatonic state. Eventually Homburg told the British party they could go to the restaurant.

  Compton was waiting for them in the restaurant. ‘I was watching them interrogate you. When I saw them let you come here I thought I’d order for you in case they changed their minds. I heard the shots, so what actually happened? Captain Hutton you were hit.’

  ‘Just a scratch,’ Hutton said honestly. ‘Throbs a bit. Still where’s there’s no sense there’s no danger.’ Hutton tapped his head gently and grinned.

  Edrich thought Hutton’s words accurate but decided not to say so. The three Britons then told Compton what had happened; the latter listened in silence except for the occasional whistle. Towards the end of their story their food arrived and all four men tucked in ravenously.

  ‘It sounded like they used a machine gun,’ said Compton with his fork half way to his mouth.

  ‘A Lewis gun, Denys.’ Edrich said once he had finished chewing a piece of mutton.

  ‘How would they get their hands on a Lewis gun? That is a British weapon not a German, Austrian or even a Russian one,’ Compton said before thrusting the fork into his mouth.

  ‘We supplied the Russians with a lot of weapons over the past three years. Not too wonderful being shot at by our own ordinance.’

  ‘I found being shot at was unpleasant in itself no matter what weapon was being used or where it was manufactured,’ Robbins looked annoyed, ‘here’s our friend.’

  Homburg hat marched up to the table and after a slight hesitation he handed Robbins a note before without a word he turned and walked away.

  ‘I thought that he would arrest us,’ said Hutton stating what the other two were also thinking.

  Robbins read the note before he handed the note to Edrich and Hutton to peruse.

  That done Robbins turned to Edrich. ‘Commissar Plasov summoning us to a meeting immediately – he can’t expel us quicker than tomorrow as Hutton and I are going then anyway.’

  Robbins indicated with his chin and Edrich on turning round saw that Homburg with two men in leather jackets were waiting by the door. The body language suggested that the three were unsure whether to come over and drag the Britons out by force or wait for a few minutes.

  ‘I think we need to go now,’ Edrich said.

  ‘Gosh, no pudding,’ sounded Hutton whose voice’s timbre mad the others laugh.

  ‘Well maybe Mr Compton here will eat them for us,’ Robbins observed as he stood. Edrich and Hutton followed suit busily thrusting the remnants of their food into their mouths.

  ‘Good luck,’ Compton said as he watched the three Britons wend their way to the door. ‘I’ll keep my eye out for you I promise.’

  Colonel Statham marched into General Barber’s office carrying an envelope as if it was red hot.

  ‘We have some more news just in from Brigadier Fishlock in Kaaka,’ he handed Barber the report.

  ‘Open it and summarise it for me, Statham, I am busy.’ said Barber handing the report back.

  Statham opened the envelope took the paper out and scanned it quickly. ‘It seems that our chaps were surprised by a sneak attack by the Bolsheviks two days ago. Fishlock says our troops gave a good account of themselves but our so-called allies were found wanting.’ He paused as he read before speaking again, ‘it seems that some of the wounded were shot from the rear whether accidentally or deliberately is not clear. Twenty of our chaps were wounded including Fernee and we had one death.’ Statham paused, ‘Captain Mawle.’

  Barber picked up a pencil and stared at it for a moment. ‘I’m sorry about Mawle. What about Fernee how bad is it?’

  ‘Apparently according to the doctor it is only a slight wound and should be right in a few days; he had a burst of fever which was worse than the wound. Anyway he and all the wounded have been evacuated to Ashkhabad.

  ‘Fernee’s a bloody intelligence officer he’s not a fighter what was Fishlock doing getting him involved in the fighting?’

  ‘Brigadier Fishlock was desperate, sir.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ he paused, grunted and nodded his head. ‘I think I will not have my officers idling their time away, particularly Fernee so if it’s only a flesh wound he can do some work. Get an order off to him and tell him that he’s going to be my representative with the Trans-Caspian government if necessary from his hospital bed.’ Barber waved Statham out of the room.