Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

But Ned was not ready to give up yet. There had to be a way to board the vessel or, failing that, to evade the thugs and return to catch another one later. Ten minutes passed. Then another ten. More carriages and freight wagons pulled up along the Duchess. Passengers stepped out into the dim electric lights along the wharf and mounted the gangplank. Before long the area of the apron to either side of the ship’s entrance was bustling with activity, as more droshkies pulled up to receive passengers from a ferry that was docking at an adjoining slip.

Now only a quarter of an hour remained before the Duchess was scheduled to depart. He would have to attempt getting past the men now or risk their catching up with him before he could board another ship. Ned reached into his pocket and put his hand around the pistol.

At the same moment, Ned heard a voice from inside one of the droshkies that had drawn up nearby.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” the voice asked.

A man of medium height and build in a British uniform stepped out of the shadows toward him. The voice was muffled but familiar, and Ned recognized the man as he stepped out from the shadows.

“Igor Ivanovich, thank God you’re here! I need your help! You see, I’m trying to board this ship, and…”

“And two dangerous-looking men are standing between you and the gangplank?” Ivashov answered, with a note of suppressed mirth in his voice.

“Well, yes!” Ned answered. “How did you know?”

“Because they’re my men, and they were sent to protect you, though you certainly haven’t made their job easy.”

“My God, why didn’t you tell me?” Ned protested, feeling as if he were released from the jaws of a vise.

“Because your Colonel Barrows told us to watch you from a distance, and not come too close.”

“Then no one is here to kill me?”

“Not here in Petrograd, to my knowledge,” Ivashov replied with a relaxed smile, as he took Ned’s arm in his and walked him toward the gangplank. “But we did catch a nasty couple outside your rooms in Moscow. Our officers are interrogating them now.”

“Who sent them? I need to know!”

“Zhelezin, I expect. If it’s any consolation, his people are after me, too.”

Ned cast an anxious look toward the gangplank.

“I’m sorry for leaving you in such haste. Will you forgive me for not having come to say goodbye?”

“Of course,” Ivashov replied, releasing Ned’s arm. “That’s why I caught the early train to Petrograd to see you off.”

Suddenly the ship’s purser blew his whistle and the men quickened their pace.

“Thank you, Igor. There’s so much to say, but with Zhanna gone, it all seems so very empty.”

“On the contrary, my friend. What Zhanna did, no one else could have done. And she could not have done it without you.”

“Or you, Igor Ivanovich. I’ll miss you both.”

“Come back some day, when we have better things to show you.”

The two men embraced, and then Ned exchanged salutes with the two Stavka men as he stepped off Russian soil onto the gangplank. A few moments later, the ship’s horn gave the signal and the Duchess cast off.

Chapter 23: Epilogue

“We may be in the Universe as dogs and cats are in our libraries, seeing the books and hearing the conversation, but having no inkling of the meaning of it all.”

—William James

Musical Theme: Novorossiysk Chimes (The Fires of Eternal Glory), by Dmitri Shostakovich

MID-DECEMBER, 1934, MOSCOW

Ned stood facing the large double bed in the master bedroom of his family’s suite in Moscow’s Metropol Hotel. The huge hotel and cultural center, built in 1905 and decorated in the Art Nouveau style, had been one of Moscow’s finest addresses until the October Revolution. After 1917, it served briefly as a residence for Bolshevik Party leaders, and then in 1920 was returned to its former owners. Within a few years, the Metropol regained its pre-eminent status among Moscow’s elite.

Laid out on Ned’s bed was his tailcoat for the reception that was scheduled to begin within a few minutes. He drew a deep breath and concentrated on fitting his gold cufflinks through the slits in his starched French cuffs.

Ned had issued the invitations on behalf of his employer, E. I. du Pont de Nemours & Company, for whom he served as Director of European Munitions Sales. The occasion was the presentation of credentials earlier that day by America’s new ambassador, David Prescott Barrows, to George Guins, the Russian Foreign Minister. Not entirely by coincidence, the event took place only a few days after the fifteenth anniversary of the Maid of Baikal’s death. Accordingly, Ned had invited a number of Russian military officers and government officials who had once been among the Maid’s closest comrades and supporters.