Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“And the wireless network can be used to inform us of any urgent intelligence that the British or American governments might collect regarding Bolshevik movements?” Admiral Kolchak pressed.

“Most certainly,” Ned replied with the false certitude required to drive home his point. “Even better, we could set up wireless receivers at key listening posts along the Urals and Volga fronts. Any useful information intercepted from Bolshevik transmissions could then be relayed to Omsk. It’s quite remarkable what valuable material can be gathered that way.”

The Admiral nodded gravely and scanned the faces of his subordinates. Soon their heads bobbed up and down in synchrony with his. Ned felt the vise grip around his chest loosen by degrees. Of all the Russians, only Lebedev seemed resistant.

“Who then will be responsible for installing these listening posts, as you call them, and operating the network?” the Chief of Staff demanded. “We will need to approve this person, of course, and appoint someone from the Stavka as liaison. And it will be best if your person speaks Russian.” Ned noted with relief that Lebedev used the future ”will” rather than the conditional “would.”

He saw a satisfied smile spread across Colonel Ward’s face, as if the man had just drawn a winning hand at cards.

“The matter has already been arranged,” the colonel declared. “Captain du Pont will be project leader on the Allied side. He will be based in Omsk and will operate under my authority. We can write it into our agreement, if you like.”

“I understand that the Stavka has already assigned a liaison officer for our joint intelligence operations,” Ned pointed out. “Staff Captain Ivashov and I met in Irkutsk earlier this month. I expect him back in Omsk shortly.” Only after he had spoken did Ned notice Ward quietly shaking his head as if signaling him to stop.

“Ivashov, Ivashov,” Lebedev murmured upon hearing the name. Turning to a young major at his right elbow, he asked, “Isn’t he the one who came to us from…”

“From the People’s Army, general,” the major replied, his face clouding over.

“Yes, I recall now,” Lebedev said. “He came to us on a recommendation from Kappel, and shortly afterward we sent him off to…”

“Irkutsk,” the major reminded him.

“Perhaps not a suitable choice, this Ivashov,” Lebedev replied to the major with a sour expression.

“Actually, I think Staff Captain Ivashov would be a splendid choice,” Ned responded, falling silent when the Chief of Staff glowered back at him. Only then did he recall Ivashov’s prior service in the People’s Army and connect it with the Stavka’s campaign to purge liberal officers from Siberian ranks. As much as he might want to help the staff captain, Ned realized that his word would carry little weight in Ivashov’s favor.

“Very well, then,” Ward joined in, glossing over the issue of Ivashov’s appointment, lest it hold up the wireless project further. “Are we sufficiently agreed on the main points of the project to make it official?”

“I believe so,” the Supreme Ruler responded. Ned heaved a quiet sigh of relief and sensed a similar feeling among all the Russians present, except Lebedev. “And when may we expect the wireless equipment to arrive?”

“In a few weeks, Your Excellency. As soon as it reaches the dock in Vladivostok, I will dispatch Captain du Pont to collect it at Irkutsk.”

“General Lebedev, please hand me the papers,” Admiral Kolchak ordered his staff chief. “I am ready to sign them. And afterward, let us raise a glass to the success of our new joint venture. It has been a long night and I expect our colleagues may have grown thirsty…”

* * *

The next day, Ned rose before sunrise to take an early breakfast. The streets of downtown Omsk smelled of an early city winter, with odors of coal smoke, rotting leaves and engine fumes mingling with the aroma of hot rye bread baked in basement kitchens. Not far from his flat, he found a workers’ café and sat down to a meal of strong tea, buckwheat gruel and a boiled egg. Afterward, he checked in at the American consulate and spent the morning learning about the political situation at Omsk and the fighting along the Urals Front. In the afternoon, he set out to explore the city in a hired droshky.

The following day, he reported for duty at the Russian Railway Service Corps offices. To Ned’s dismay, the RRSC crew seemed a rather dull lot. He dreaded the prospect of spending a large portion of each day among them, supervising Allied telegraphy along Siberia’s principal rail routes and coordinating shipments of Allied munitions to the Siberian Army’s arms depots at Omsk, Chelyabinsk and Yekaterinburg.