Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

Ned licked his parched lips and gave a silent nod rather than risk being drawn into discussing military secrets.

“I suppose you might be asking yourself, why have I turned our conversation to the topic of Russia?” the industrialist went on. “The reason is that the DuPont Company has an abiding interest in the fate of Russia. Not only was the Russian Empire a steadfast member of the Triple Entente until the Bolshevik coup, tying up many German divisions on the Eastern Front, but we, like other American investors, own substantial holdings in tsarist and Kerensky[13] bonds. And the Bolsheviks, as you may remember, have repudiated that debt.”

Ned blinked at the disclosure.

“I see,” he muttered.

Pierre leaned forward now and rested his elbows on his knees.

“Of course, it goes without saying, when we made those loans to the Russians and allowed them to purchase munitions on credit terms, we thought their credit extremely strong. Indeed, considering the vast resources of the Russian Empire, the tsar’s bonds seemed the safest among all the warring nations. But none of us reckoned then that the Bolsheviks would seize power and default on Russia’s foreign debts. Today we take great encouragement that White Russian forces have risen to challenge the Red Army, and that an Allied intervention is underway. So, Ned, now you see why our company, our banking partners, and many other leading American companies, favor a decision to intervene.”

“And do you expect such a decision soon?” Ned asked, pretending not to know the answer.

“If my information is correct, it has already been made,” Pierre replied. “It seems that the President has at last bowed to the will of the American people, whom I believe support the White Forces by a wide margin. Until now, one might have thought there were two American policies toward Russia: the President’s public policy of non-intervention, and the State Department’s covert policy to divert support formerly granted to the Kerensky government to the Whites.”

These assertions confused Ned. Since his return to the Mainland, he had detected scarcely any interest in Russia among Americans he knew. While they might have expressed momentary outrage at the execution of the Russian royal family, and at the Bolsheviks’ mass murder of so-called class enemies, all eyes were turned now to American troops fighting on the Marne and the Somme. Russia was out of the war, defeated and largely forgotten.

“I have been home for only a few weeks and seem to be out of touch with popular opinion,” Ned conceded. “What has convinced you that Americans favor sending our troops to Siberia?”

“The New York Times editorials are in favor of it,” the businessman shot back, perhaps with too great an enthusiasm. “Henry Cabot Lodge argues for it in the Senate. Business leaders support it. Only isolationists, radical socialists like John Reed, and readers of The Masses oppose intervention. Why, the President could justify sending troops on humanitarian grounds alone, to combat famine and disease.”

“And what arguments do the opponents offer?” Ned asked.

“The usual starry-eyed utopianism,” Pierre answered with a dismissive gesture. “Readers of the yellow press seem to harbor a childlike faith in the Bolshevist experiment.”

“Well, if the President does as you predict, I imagine he will present a strong case to intervene,” Ned answered with a bland smile, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “He can be very persuasive when he wants to be. He sent our troops into Mexico, after all.”

Pierre gave Ned a sidelong glance, as if puzzled by the younger man’s apparent restraint.

“And I hope he outdoes himself this time,” Pierre declared, drumming a forefinger on the arm of his chair. “Because the last thing I want is to be accused a year from now of pressuring Washington to offer arms and troops to the White Russian Government in exchange for resuming payment to their American creditors. It’s the President’s decision to help the Whites, not mine.”

Ned winced. The DuPont Company had been in bad odor with the public for nearly a decade, since a federal court had ordered its gunpowder business broken up on charges of monopoly.

“Yes, I see how that might play out,” Ned agreed. “The muckrakers would have a field day.”

“Yes, and this company will not tolerate another Powder Trust[14] fiasco,” the older man declared, stiffening visibly. “But perhaps your question deserves closer attention,” he added after a moment’s thought. “Perhaps a stronger case could be made to the American public for intervention. And perhaps we should take our case directly to the press rather than stand by while the muckrakers seek to discredit us.”

And with that, a faint smile spread across the thin lips of the Armorer to the Entente as he rose to summon his secretary by means of an electric buzzer concealed under his desk.

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