Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“I have reason to believe that Savinkov’s ambitions extend far beyond supporting the White Armies’ campaign on the Volga,” Timofey declared, his eyes flashing. “I believe his further goal is to gain control over the national assembly, where he and Zhelezin are assembling a sizeable bloc of delegates through bribery and threats. Their ultimate aim, I believe now, is to seize power for themselves. Remember, the S-R party won more seats than any other party in the 1917 national elections. Their bloc might gain a majority again.”

“But how could they use that to seize power?” Ned scoffed. “They don’t command an army like Denikin or Kolchak. And Savinkov is hardly the sort of leader capable of arousing the masses. He may be a conspirator par excellence, but he is a thoroughly uninspiring politician.”

“But so are Denikin and Kolchak. The only White leader with genuine charisma is the Maid,” Timofey asserted. “That is why I think Savinkov and Zhelezin intend to ingratiate themselves with Zhanna, hitch themselves to her star, and then usurp her position at a critical moment to gain control of the Siberian army.”

Ned rose to pace back and forth across the cramped room.

“I just don’t buy it,” he told the former priest, stopping suddenly to look him in the eye. “First, Kolchak and Denikin are not so easily brushed aside. And even if they were, Zhanna is a good judge of character and nobody’s fool. She would never let Savinkov manipulate her.”

“Yet she has already taken the first step by accepting Savinkov’s offer of armored cars and artillery purchased from the French,” Timofey noted. “She has also agreed to cooperate with S-R partisan cells as her forces advance up the Volga. And she has done both over the objections of Baron Wrangel, and despite her own suspicions of Zhelezin.”

“What sort of suspicions?” Ned probed.

“I was present at Zhanna’s first meeting with Savinkov and Zhelezin. Savinkov made quite a positive impression,” Timofey explained. “When he spoke about what it felt like to be in exile, and why he had returned to Russia, he completely won our hearts. ‘Exile means banishment, emptiness,’ he said with those soulful eyes of his. ‘It is to have your heart dug out with its long roots…’ But Zhelezin—how very different…”

“How so?” Ned interrupted.

“At one point, someone asked about the vast sums that would be needed to rebuild Russia after the war. Without blinking an eye, Zhelezin proposed to sell off what he described as ‘surplus’ art treasures locked away in Russian museums and former palaces. He assured us that their loss would hardly be noticed by anyone, and went on to name certain categories of art popular in the West that would command the highest prices. The man is either completely and utterly immoral or else he is quite insane.”

“What did Zhanna say to that?” Ned inquired.

“Nothing at all,” Timofey replied. “But I couldn’t remain silent. I asked Zhelezin what else he intended to sell off that did not belong to him. Would he sell the gold reserves to foreign bankers? Or peddle off Primorsky Province to the Japanese? Or make trade concessions that would impoverish ordinary Russians?”

“His response?”

“What he said chilled me to the bone,” Timofey answered, bending forward with his elbows on his thighs. “With a pitiless look, he told me: ‘As a counter-revolutionary, you will never succeed if you observe the rules of morality or are influenced by high-sounding principles. I do what is necessary to win. Only losing is immoral.’ Captain, that is why I worry so deeply about Zhanna’s cooperation with Savinkov. For all her insight and vision, the girl fails to recognize that the Bolsheviks are not the only source of treachery we face.”

“I see your point,” Ned answered. “Do you know of any further meetings scheduled with Savinkov or Zhelezin?”

“In a few days, Kolchak will dispatch George Guins as confidential envoy to reach terms with the S-R Party over its future role in government. I plan to attend those talks.”

“Where will they be?” Ned asked.

“I expect to know tomorrow,” Timofey replied. “But as I can’t see you then, I suggest you speak with Staff Captain Ivashov.”

“But Ivashov is in Omsk. How would he know of the meeting?” Ned demanded.

“No longer,” Timofey replied. “For the past week he has been encamped on the Volga with the Maid. I’m told that Ivashov has been acting as Dieterichs’ go-between with the French, who back the S-Rs. Tell me, did you know that at one time Ivashov was also an S-R?”

“He told me he fought with the People’s Army,” Ned answered. “He said nothing about being an S-R." But nor had Ivashov disclosed, until Yershov, that he had once marched with Chapayev’s Twenty-Fifth Rifles. Ned stroked his chin. “Are you certain of that?” he asked.