The Margin of Evil! (22 page)

Chapter
Fourteen

The two Germans had packed their bags and were waiting in the front room of the Dacha.
Mikoyan then instructed them to follow him outside. Two cars were waiting, the doctors were told to get inside. Mikoyan then returned to the porch and could be seen giving instructions to the guards. He then returned to the car and they set off through the forest.

Apart from the sound of the car engines the journey was conducted in silence.
They drove off and, after a journey of forty minutes, they arrived at a clearing. Here they were instructed to follow their hosts through the conifer forest. Snow still hung on the branches of the surrounding trees. The whole place was silent. There were no sounds of bird or beast alike; the only sounds were made by the party as they trudged off through the forest. After about half an hour, they emerged again onto the railway line. There they waited in the stillness.

The single railway line stretched off into the distance.
It cut a straight line in both directions. They stood and waited. Mikoyan checked his watch and looked off into the distance.

Faintly the whistle of an approaching train could be hea
rd. But, whereas the first time there had been a 'Red Guard' standing on the track ready to flag it down, this time there was no guard to wave a lantern. The Germans picked up on this but said nothing.

As the train approached Mikoyan faced his wards and said.
'Comrades here`s the Moscow express. The area has been cleared of 'Bourgeois' vermin. It is now safe for you, our esteemed guests, to get on with your journey.'

'
And, believe me, it is not too soon. Don't think you have heard the last of this,' Schroder snorted. Gottschalk nodded in agreement.

The train slowly screeched to a halt.
Once it had stopped Mikoyan signalled to the guards to pick up the doctors suitcases and they all climbed aboard the train.

Once onboard they walked down the train.
Carriages were packed with old men women and children. The two doctors noticed that there were no, young or middle aged men aboard. But this was the time of Trotsky's war communism, men of fighting age had been conscripted, usually at gunpoint, into 'Red' and 'White' armies; or, if they had had enough of fighting in the 'Great War', they had quietly simply, disappeared into the depths of the forest where no one would find them.

Mikoyan turned an elderly couple out of their seat, the rest of the carriages occupants watched, or pretended not to, in silence.

'Comrades, this is where I leave you,' he clicked his heels and said, 'have a safe journey!' With that he was gone.

The two doctors uneasily sat down.
They were only too aware of the fact that all the eyes of the carriage were fixed upon them. The train began to pull away, the light had begun to fade and within half an hour the outside world was once again shrouded in darkness. The train rumbled on into the night.

The curiosity of the carriages occupants soon abated.
The sound of talking, nervous at first, soon returned. Laughter was heard, a baby cried whilst its mother tried to quieten it down. Everywhere the doctors looked they could see the effects of malnourishment and civil war.

'
Do you know what Schroder.  When we have completed what we have come here to do, and I might have said this before, I am never coming to this god-forsaken land again.'

Hear, hear Herr Gottsch
alk,' the other said.

Under the belief that the train was speeding towards Moscow, the two doctors were completely una
ware of the fact that the train was actually heading off in the other direction. Ignorant of this fact the two of them fell asleep.

Go
ttschalk was the first to awake.  He had completely lost track of time and he shook Schroder violently. The train was slowing down.

'
What's happening,' Schroder said.

The train halted
and they could hear voices coming from the direction of the locomotive. Gottschalk pulled down the window; he leant out and looked up ahead. There was a tree lying across the line. The driver and the engineer were down on the track and were busy remonstrating with a group of men on the track. He pulled the window back up.

'
Well they`re not 'Bolshie's',' he said. Two shots suddenly rang out. Alarmed the two doctors looked at themselves and then at everyone else. You could feel the wave of terror sweep through the carriage.

A minute before the track had been empty, now it teamed with armed men, but they were not
'Bolsheviks', so they both assumed that they had to be, 'White' regulars.

Then it started - t
he gunshots.  They would start and stop. Closer and closer they came. Then it stopped.

A tall distinguished looking man came
up to the two doctors and said, 'Come with me.'

Grudgingly the two men grabbed their holdalls and followed the man.
Once on the track, the shooting started again. The man headed off into the forest. Armed militia lined the path. The men could no longer hear the shooting; they were not to witness, the 'Cold Blooded' murder already going on onboard the train. Fully resigned to the fact that death was only around the corner and that they only had minutes left to live; both men trudged determinedly on into the darkness. They came to an open space, a small clearing. Car headlights lighted it up. Armed men stood around the perimeter. In the centre was a large hole. The doctors rightly judged it was to be their grave.

Two shot
s rang out into the night and then there was silence. The corpses were stripped and all identification was removed. The orderly set up his trestle table and set to work removing heads, hands and feet. The torsos were flung in the grave, and many miles away, the pieces of Gottschalk and Schroder would be left for the wolves.

A
'White' officer emerged into the clearing. He issued instructions to those present and then he walked down the path towards the train.

Back on the train
'White' guards prodded the corpses with their bayonets. They had had strict instructions that no one was to be left alive.

By the time the officer neared the train he could see the flash of the camera.
The photographer was doing as requested. Soon the world would know about this massacre of women, children and the old.

The train was sent on its way
and silence returned to the forest. Thirty minutes later the only witnesses left would be the giant conifers and maples. Nothing but silence ...

A mile awa
y deep under the forests canopy, the 'White' soldiers gathered around their leader. In light of recent events, if anyone witnessed what was about to happen next, maybe, and only maybe, they might not have been wholly surprised.

The officer clicked his fingers
and the detachment of 'White' guards stripped off their uniforms to reveal their 'Red' army strip underneath. Once the old uniforms had been collected up, their leader signalled for them to leave the scene of the crime.

As far as he, Anastas Mikoyan, was concerned it was a job well done.
'The Boss', would be, well pleased, or so he thought.

'
You did what? Then you misunderstood me, my friend. Is it not bad enough that this country, or what is left of it, as I am speaking to you, is fighting for its very survival? In the north we have the English and the Americans, in the south we have the English and the French, and in the east we have the Japanese. You have to go and make the mistake of gargantuan proportions. Do we want the German government to side with our enemies?  Do we? Get out of my sight before I end up doing something that I might, later, regret! Get out!'

Mikoyan left
and Stalin was left alone. He lit his pipe and looked out of the window. Down below he could see Zinoviev and Kamenev talking to the young good-looking Bukharin.  He watched for a minute and then turned away from the window. He opened the file and looked at the page. Someone, or persons unknown had obviously got there first. He had not noticed at first, but when two pages appeared to not make any sense and fast-forward; was clear, even to his meticulous eye, what had happened. Some of the files contents had been removed.

He thought on.
The people that he had left behind to oversee Sverdlov's flat, had told him on the nights second visit, that a different doctor had called that very morning. Also they had reported that this doctor had stayed an unusually long time. So much so that they had made the excuse of interrupting the doctor, just to see exactly what he was up to. But who was this mysterious 'Locum' doctor, if he was a doctor. What was this person up to, that was what he needed to know? There was a knock on the door.

'
Comrade Lenin wants to see you right now. He's in his study.'  The messenger left, Stalin wondered why he had been summoned to his quarters. His inner voice, 'The Voice of God', was telling him to tread carefully.

The voice inside his head was saying,
'Beware of 'Bourgeois Editors', dressed up in 'Revolutionaries' clothing.'

In the hallway, his secretary called over,
'This arrived for you, it was left for you at the 'Troitskie Gate'. Stalin looked at it momentarily and then stuffed it without a seconds thought into his coat pocket.

He knocked on the door and waited.
The voice on the other side bade him to enter. The 'Great Man' was sitting at his desk. Trotsky and Dzerzhinsky were flanking him.

'
Take a seat Joseph.' Lenin said.

He looked at Vladimir Iilyvich.  H
e could see that 'The Leader of All the Russian Soviets' was looking tired and haggard. He could also see that the colour had drained out of his body, the face now looked sallow, the knuckles were white and the lines on the brow were long and drawn. From where the Georgian sat it looked to him that the 'Leader of The Revolution' was not long of this world.  Deep within it was very hard for him to suppress the feeling of satisfaction that the 'Botched' operation had been a great success.

'
Joseph, I have some bad news to tell you. I'm afraid that Comrade Sverdlov is dead. He died last night in Oryol.'

'
What are we going to do? Yakov Mikhaylovich was, and is, irreplaceable. I was exiled with him during the war at Turukhansk. I knew him well.'

'
I know Joseph, I know. It is a tragic loss for all of us. But the revolution must go on, we have so much more to achieve. We haven't even scratched the surface yet off all we need to achieve. This brings me to why I have asked you to come here.'  Lenin cleared his throat; his voice had descended into little more than a hoarse whisper. 'I want you to organise Comrade Sverdlov's funeral for me. But it will be a funeral with a difference; it will be a state funeral,' Lenin said.

Stalin looked around him.
Trotsky and Dzerzhinsky just stared at him, both said nothing.

'
If there is anything more that I can do, just let me know,' Stalin said.

With that he got up and made to leave Lenin
's office. He picked up his coat and was halfway to the door, when Trotsky's voice spoke.

'
Funny you should say Comrade 'Koba', there is. You can stop listening in on other peoples telephone calls; you can stop all your subterfuges, you can stop all you're ...'

Stalin turned around
and faced the three of them. Lenin was holding his head in his hands. Suddenly he looked up.

'
Comrades please! This is neither the time, nor the place to talk of such things. Please show some respect for the dead! Please!!'

'
But I think it is Comrade. This man has accused me of subterfuge. What subterfuges, tell me? Surely an accused man has the right of reply?'

Stalin realised
, since Lenin had tried to defuse the situation, the initiative had passed to him.

'
Yes it is true that I listen in on some conversations; but not ALL! You want to know the reason! Then I will tell you! There are so called Bolsheviks, Revolutionaries that are known to all of us, that are no more than bourgeois scum. People like you Trotsky, who claim to serve the revolution, but only serve themselves!'

'
Enough, I will not have dissent in the party. Remember at this moment Comrades are fighting for the very survival of socialism! I will not let dissenters within the party throw away all that we have achieved,' Vladimir Iilyvich said.

'
Then I propose comrade Lenin that we all speak with one voice. Here and now we outlaw all dissent and factionalism within the party! But can Comrade Trotsky prove that everything that I have done has been to the detriment of the revolution?  I think he cannot and he knows that he cannot! Gentlemen if you don't mind, I will now take my leave.'

With that he left Lenin
's study and hurried back to his own office. Locking the door behind him and, disappearing into the wall, he scurried like a rat right back to Lenin's study. He had a feeling that there was going to be a lot more fallout from this meeting. He was pretty sure that he had only heard the half of it. He was right, but this time he would listen in on the conversation from the safe vantage point on the inside of the wall.