Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“I, too, admire Zhanna’s spirit,” Ned added. “If I can be of any help to you and your niece in the next few days, Kirill Matveyevich, please call on me at the American consulate.”

Though he knew he wielded no influence at all with the governor, Ned was keen to learn how the episode would play out. If by some miracle Zhanna succeeded in reaching Omsk, perhaps he could at least look out for her safety. After all, any such visit would necessarily be brief—a perfunctory meeting with Kolchak or one of his ministers, and then a prompt return to her father’s house at Verkhne-Udinsk.

The men went on to finish their meal and retire to the parlor for tea and brandy. Fortunately, Kostrov’s Armenian brandy and an apology to young Borisov helped to take the hard edge off the words they had exchanged earlier. And Borisov responded in kind by softening his pessimism toward the war.

After leaving the house and boarding the sleigh back to the girls’ school dormitory, Ivashov disclosed to Ned with a sly smile that he counted Governor Volkov a personal friend, since his late father and Volkov had been schoolmates. Until now, Ivashov had disclosed the relationship to no one, so as not to place himself under obligation. But now he asked if Ned might like to join him at the governor’s office the next day when Zhanna sought her audience.

“Really? You could arrange it?” Ned asked as he pulled his fur hat down over his ears to ward off frostbite.

“Consider it done,” Ivashov answered before burrowing deeply under their shared pile of furs.

“But you seemed so opposed to Zhanna’s scheme during dinner. Is your intention to advance her cause or thwart it?” Ned asked, puzzled over the officer’s decision to intervene.

“To aid it, of course,” Ivashov answered with a raised eyebrow, as if surprised by the question. “Not that we are likely to sway the old man, I’m afraid. But I would very much like to see the expression on Governor Volkov’s face when Zhanna delivers her critique of the Stavka’s strategy. It’s not something I would dare say myself, of course, but it’s accurate, and it’s a message the Supreme Ruler would be well served to hear. So I will help her as much as I can.”

“What do you think will happen?” Ned persisted, taking Zhanna’s chances of success seriously for the first time. “Does she stand the slightest hope of gaining her introduction?”

“To be frank, I doubt it,” the Russian replied. “Even if he wanted to help her, Volkov must tread a fine line between serving Omsk and avoiding offense to the locals. So if the girl is capable of miracles, she had better conjure up one by tomorrow or she may never see the inside of Volkov’s office, let alone Kolchak’s.”

Chapter 7: The Governor-General

“Optimism is true moral courage.”

—Sir Ernest Shackleton

Musical Theme: Lieutenant Kijé, Symphonic Suite, Op. 60, II. Romance, by Sergei Prokofiev

LATE JANUARY, 1919, IRKUTSK

The next morning, Ned and Ivashov rose early to make their way across town to the White House, the Transbaikalian seat of government.

“Is she here yet?” Ivashov asked Governor-General Volkov’s assistant, in a breathless voice, after racing up the marble staircase to the reception room with Ned close behind. The assistant, a lanky flaxen-haired sublieutenant, appeared to know Ivashov well and greeted him warmly before giving Ned’s hand a limp shake.

“We have her waiting in another room so as not to be seen,” the assistant replied in a conspiratorial whisper. “Another article about her appeared in the press two days ago, and we have received sacks of letters recommending her from all across the province. She came alone this morning and I didn’t have the heart to turn her away.”

“Does the governor know she is here?” Ivashov ventured.

“Not yet,” the sublieutenant answered with a sheepish grin. “I plan to tell him when I go in shortly to deliver some good news, the better to soften the blow.”

“What good news might that be?” Ivashov inquired.

“The electricity is back on today. And the water is running again in the pipes. Neither has worked properly since the Dorokhin girl was here last week. Our best experts were unable to fix either problem, but suddenly, a few minutes ago, presto!”

“Well, at least you don’t have to worry that it was Bolshevik sabotage,” Ned quipped.

“I hesitate even to say it aloud, but I swear to you, Igor Ivanovich, from the very moment that Zhanna Stepanovna set foot in the building today, our water and electricity began to flow,” the assistant continued with a shrill laugh and an anxious glance to either side. “It’s positively uncanny!”

“Then you will recommend that the governor grant her an audience?” Ivashov asked with a hopeful look.