Fall of Giants

“I’ll be quick,” said Walter. The train would depart when Walter said, but the Russians did not know that.

The carriage was in a siding at the Potsdamer station, and it took him only a few minutes to walk from there to the Foreign Office at 76 Wilhelmstrasse in the heart of old Berlin. His father’s spacious room had a heavy mahogany desk, a painting of the kaiser, and a glass-fronted cabinet containing his collection of ceramics, including the eighteenth-century creamware fruit bowl he had bought on his last trip to London. As Walter had hoped, Otto was at his desk.

“There’s no doubt of Lenin’s beliefs,” he told his father over coffee. “He says they have got rid of the symbol of oppression-the tsar-without changing Russian society. The workers have failed to take control: the middle class still runs everything. On top of that, Lenin personally hates Kerensky for some reason.”

“But can he overthrow the provisional government?”

Walter spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “He is highly intelligent, determined, and a natural leader, and he never does anything except work. But the Bolsheviks are just another little political party among a dozen or more vying for power, and there’s no way to tell who will come out on top.”

“So all this effort may have been for nothing.”

“Unless we do something to help the Bolsheviks win.”

“Such as?”

Walter took a deep breath. “Give them money.”

“What?” Otto was outraged. “The government of Germany, to give money to socialist revolutionaries?”

“I suggest a hundred thousand rubles, initially,” Walter said coolly. “Preferably in gold ten-ruble pieces, if you can get them.”

“The kaiser would never agree.”

“Does he have to be told? Zimmermann could approve this on his own authority.”

“He would never do such a thing.”

“Are you sure?”

Otto stared at Walter in silence for a long time, thinking.

Then he said: “I’ll ask him.”

{IV}

After three days on the train, the Russians left Germany. At Sassnitz, on the coast, they bought tickets for the ferry Queen Victoria to take them across the Baltic Sea to the southern tip of Sweden. Walter went with them. The crossing was rough and everyone was seasick except Lenin, Radek, and Zinoviev, who were on deck having an angry political argument and did not seem to notice the heavy seas.

They took an overnight train to Stockholm, where the socialist Borgmastare gave them a welcome breakfast. Walter checked into the Grand Hotel, hoping to find a letter from Maud waiting for him. There was nothing.

He was so disappointed that he wanted to throw himself into the cold water of the bay. This had been his only chance to communicate with his wife in almost three years, and something had gone wrong. Had she even received his letter?

Unhappy fantasies tormented him. Did she still care for him? Had she forgotten him? Was there perhaps a new man in her life? He was completely in the dark.

Radek and the well-dressed Swedish socialists took Lenin, somewhat against his will, to the menswear section of the PUB department store. The hobnailed mountain boots the Russian had been wearing vanished. He got a coat with a velvet collar and a new hat. Now, Radek said, he was at least dressed like someone who could lead his people.

That evening, as night fell, the Russians went to the station to board yet another train for Finland. Walter was leaving the group here, but he went with them to the station. Before the train left, he had a meeting alone with Lenin.

They sat in a compartment under a dim electric light that gleamed off Lenin’s bald head. Walter was tense. He had to do this just right. It would be no good to beg or plead with Lenin, he felt sure. And the man certainly could not be bullied. Only cold logic would persuade him.

Walter had a prepared speech. “The German government is helping you to return home,” he said. “You know we are not doing this out of goodwill.”

Lenin interrupted in fluent German. “You think it will be to the detriment of Russia!” he barked.

Walter did not contradict him. “And yet you have accepted our help.”

“For the sake of the revolution! This is the only standard of right and wrong.”

“I thought you would say that.” Walter was carrying a heavy suitcase, and now he put it down on the floor of the railway carriage with a thump. “In the false bottom of this case you will find one hundred thousand rubles in notes and coins.”

“What?” Lenin was normally imperturbable, but now he looked startled. “What is it for?”

“For you.”

Lenin was offended. “A bribe?” he said indignantly.

“Certainly not,” said Walter. “We have no need to bribe you. Your aims are the same as ours. You have called for the overthrow of the provisional government and an end to the war.”

“What, then?”

“For propaganda. To help you spread your message. It is the message that we, too, would like to broadcast. Peace between Germany and Russia.”

“So that you can win your capitalist-imperialist war against France!”