Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

He located the man, a young RRSC first lieutenant, in the locomotive’s control cab with the Russian engineer, his crew, and a pair of middle-aged American railway men. The foreign presence in the cab was highly unusual, as Kolchak’s Minister of Transport jealously guarded the prerogatives of Russian locomotive personnel. According to the work rules negotiated between the Ministry and the RRSC, all Allied military trains required Russian crews. But while this might be reasonable for ordinary cargo, the American railway men insisted on having their own engineers up front whenever the train carried American heavy arms, gold bullion, or other sensitive cargo.

Ned waited for the duty officer to jump down from the cab before he stepped forward to introduce himself and present the orders by which he and Ivashov were to occupy a private compartment on the stretch from Irkutsk to Omsk. For this was the very same train assigned to carry both the long-awaited wireless apparatus and its team of wireless technicians to Omsk. But while Ned had dispatched an urgent cable from Irkutsk seeking permission for Zhanna and Boris to ride along, there was only the narrowest of chances that it had been granted. Ned crossed his fingers before addressing the duty officer again.

“Lieutenant, two more passengers will be traveling in my compartment besides Staff Captain Ivashov and me. They are a couple of Russian civilians whom we are escorting to Omsk under orders from General Volkov, the governor of Irkutsk.”

But to Ned’s dismay, the duty officer, a burly Minnesotan seconded to the RRSC from the Great Northern Railway, pursed his lips and wagged his squarish head.

“Sorry, captain, can’t do that,” he replied. “This is an Americans-only train. The only Russians permitted on board are the crew you saw in the cab. And they aren’t allowed to set foot anywhere else on the train till we reach Omsk.”

This was an obstacle Ned should have anticipated but hadn’t. He felt a knot form in his stomach as he contemplated the risks of waiting at Angarsk for another train or returning to Irkutsk. Neither alternative was acceptable. He had to get the others aboard this train, right now.

“I have written travel orders authorizing Staff Captain Ivashov to accompany me,” Ned answered in his best command voice, generally reserved for pulling rank. “He is my liaison officer at the Omsk Stavka and has always ridden with me aboard trains like this one,” he lied.

“Let me see those orders,” the Minnesotan snapped. Ned fished an envelope from the inside pocket of his tunic and handed over one of the documents it contained.

“Okay, your Russkie captain can climb aboard, but not the others, unless you have orders for them, too,” the railway man announced in a matter-of-fact voice as he turned to leave.

“That’s unacceptable, lieutenant,” Ned countered. “I’ve been with the RRSC in Siberia since September and I’ve never had this problem before. What’s so different about this train?” Though Ned knew the answer, he hoped to gain an advantage by shifting the burden of proof to the lieutenant.

“Special cargo, sir. We have orders from Colonel Barrows at AEF Headquarters in Vladivostok to take extra precautions. That means Americans only. With all due respect, sir, this is my train and those are my orders.”

“But my orders are also from Colonel Barrows!” Ned insisted.

“You’ve got your orders, and I’ve got mine, sir. Unless you have papers to cover the two extra Russians, I can’t help you.”

“All right, lieutenant,” Ned persisted, drawing a deep breath. “Tell me the name of the consignee in Omsk for the special cargo.”

“Can’t do that, either, sir. Confidential.”

“Then I’ll tell you,” Ned answered, stepping close to the duty officer and thrusting his face within a few inches of his. “The cargo is a wireless apparatus consigned to Colonel John Ward of the British Middlesex Regiment at Omsk, in care of Captain Edmund du Pont, RRSC. That would be me.”

Ned withdrew a bill of lading from his envelope and handed it over.

“Now, lieutenant,” he continued, “do you want me to hold the train here in Angarsk while I send a cable to Colonel Barrows to clear this up? If so, I intend to hold you responsible for the delay, and for exposing me and my passengers to the risk of attack by Bolshevik agents while we remain stuck here.”

“You can’t hold the train, sir. We’re on a timetable,” the Minnesotan objected.

“Then I suggest you look the other way while Staff Captain Ivashov and I bring our two Russians on board. And if you still don’t believe I am who I say I am, how about if I name the six wireless technicians who boarded your train in Vladivostok?”

The railway man seemed frozen with indecision. Now Ned pulled a third document from the envelope and read aloud: Coburn, Bailey, Herzog, Malpeli, Schwartz, and Dean.”

The railway man turned pale.