Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“What do you mean? How could I possibly help unless I were to stay here, or…” Suddenly it dawned on him why Barrows had invoked Cousin Pierre’s name.

“Army life can be pretty hard on a family, Ned. Believe me, I’ve been there. A career in the armaments trade might not be a bad idea for a young man in your position, given your experience in Russia and your contacts at the Stavka.”

Barrows saw that the fire in his pipe was nearly out and struck a match to relight it.

“I don’t know about that, colonel,” Ned replied uneasily. “People have such odd expectations of me once they hear my family name. I wouldn’t want people to think I was trading on it, if you know what I mean.”

“It wouldn’t be trading on your name if you generate real value by what you do. And I know you would, no matter what field you enter.”

Ned let out a short laugh.

“Don’t tell me that Cousin Pierre has gotten to you, too,” he remarked.

“Not him,” Barrows answered, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he formed a smile. “Ed Buckner. Ed happens to be an old friend of mine. But let’s leave all that aside. When do you plan to leave? Have you received your orders yet?”

“What orders?”

“Holt wants to see you back at the War Department as soon as you can get there. It seems that everybody in the government with an interest in Russian affairs is eager to talk to you. You’ve done a splendid job here, and all seems to be forgiven regarding your unauthorized excursions with the Maid.”

“Well, they’ll have to wait a while,” Ned answered with a deep sigh. “I have a few things to finish here first.”

All at once the colonel’s face turned serious and he shot Ned a look that meant he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I suggest you wrap it up by the end of the day, latest. There’s a good reason why I’m asking you to leave so quickly.”

“What sort of reason?” Ned asked in a wary voice.

“Do you remember when your friend Ivashov got himself arrested?” Barrows answered.

“Certainly. And I’d bet a month’s pay that the S-Rs were behind it.”

“Well, you’re probably right. It appears that the S-Rs are still gunning for him. The Stavka’s security people picked up a couple of S-R bomb-throwers outside Ivashov’s flat yesterday. Under interrogation, they confessed that they were there to kill him.”

“Who sent them?” Ned demanded, feeling the blood rush to his head. “Was it Zhelezin?”

“Zhelezin is too smart to leave his fingerprints on something like that,” Barrows responded. “But last night, the Stavka’s men picked up two more S-R types, a man and a woman, keeping watch outside your building. Have you noticed anyone following you lately?”

“No, but I may have let my guard down a bit. Why, do you think they’re after me, too?”

Though Ned found it hard to believe he was in danger, he resolved to be more vigilant.

“Now listen, captain,” Barrows continued, laying his pipe on Ned’s desk and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “As you, more than anyone, ought to appreciate, the Maid’s legacy is a very potent factor in Russian politics right now. There are people on both left and right who want to bury that legacy with her. They don’t want those who were closest to her, people like you and Ivashov, pumping up that legacy and making a saint out of her. They want you silenced.”

“I see,” Ned replied. “But can’t I have a day or two to wrap things up?”

Ned thought of Ivashov, Neilson, Colonel Ward, his wireless crew, and others with whom he had worked closely. He couldn’t just leave them all without saying a word. He also wanted to find Father Timofey, and he wanted to determine whether Zhanna’s patrol might have been betrayed. And finally, there was Yulia…

Without looking at Ned, Barrows reached into an inside tunic pocket and brought out a wad of American currency, along with a Russian train ticket and a German steamship ticket.

“You have until dark,” he told Ned as he laid the money on the table. “As soon as the sun goes down, go to your flat and pack a handbag for your trip. Then make your way to the train station by a circuitous route to be sure you’re not followed. I want you to board the 7:05 train for Petrograd. Once you arrive, head straight for the port and find the Duchess of Mecklenburg. It shoves off for Lübeck tomorrow morning. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” Ned replied, though gritting his teeth at it. Surely, Barrows was erring on the side of caution, now that the AEF was being withdrawn. After all, Ned had spent most of the past year at the front without suffering so much as a scratch. If he were in danger, certainly he would have sensed it by now.

* * *