The Margin of Evil! (30 page)

'
Where', Nina said.

'
Solyvchegodsk
[20]
!'

'
So how did you get here from there?'

'
If you let me 'Fuck' you, I'll tell you', Djugashvilli said.

'
Forget it,' she said and made to get up and go.

He grabbed her arm,
'I went hunting in the forest!  They know I always return and, if you really want to know, I worked my ticket on an English merchant ship.  Anything else you want to know,' he said indignantly.

'
Why are you here anyway? You're a Georgian and a Bolshevik, you're not a Latvian!'  She hissed.

It was the way he said it that confirmed her opinion of him.
The swarthy little man from 'The Caucasus' gave her the creeps. Nina Milstein knew that she wasn't the only one that felt that way about him. She thought she would try her luck talking to Peter, when Gardstein picked up a fork and tapped the side of his glass. The chatter went quiet. Nina moved to a place next to Piaktow and waited to hear what Gardstein had to say. She found it difficult to settle because, in some deep way the Georgian had rattled her. Whenever she turned around she always ran into his steely gaze. It bothered her. She turned her attention back towards their leader.

As usual Gardstein heaped praise on all of them.
It had been yet another successful strike into the heart of capitalism. It was up there with Copenhagen, Amsterdam, Vienna and all the other European cities they had robbed and murdered in. As far as Gardstein was concerned you ran on until your luck ran out. It was as simple as that, the criminal world was a giant casino to be played in; you laid your hands down, bluffed and then reaped the rewards of your deception. But now, they were going to follow up the Hatton Gardens 'Raid', and Gardstein always liked to call them 'Raids', after all they were pilfering from 'The Coffers' of capitalism, in aid of a far more noble cause, Lithuanian Statehood. This 'Raid' was going to be their most ambitious 'Raid' yet. Gardstein explained to them what they were going to do ...

Sitting in
'The Privy', and squinting her eyes. Nina Milstein frantically wrote down the details that George Gardstein had presented them with.

Nina slipped out of the house
and on to the street. She made her way down to the end of the street. She carefully made sure that she was not being followed. Despite all of her careful preparations, she saw that the 'Georgian' had proceeded to follow her. Obviously, the 'Georgian' had a hunch, probably based on tonights and other conversations, and it seemed that he was desperate to prove it.

Nina Milstein, breathing hard, scurried down dark alleyways and up empty streets.
It was the early hours of the morning. Occasionally, she passed the odd person hurrying off in the other direction. But she kept her head down and well into the shadows. Darting in and out, when she felt sure that the coast was clear.

In the game
of cat and mouse, as the mouse whether against friend or foe, Nina Milstein was both expert and adept at running the gauntlet. Over the previous weeks she had memorised every inch of London's East End, she knew the alleyways, allotments and gunnels. Not to mention her encyclopaedic knowledge, of roads and canals.

T
onight the night was cold, but the thing that aided her the most was the lightness of her feet. Tonight at Gardsteins soiree, Nina knew that they, she and Djugashvilli, had both pricked each other's consciences. Now, he was also out there in the night, he was out there somewhere, she knew that Djugashvilli was not so far away, she could sense it; but, if she could get to her rendezvous, if, she would be safe. She waited. Nina looked up and down the street, satisfied that all was clear, she slipped into another alleyway.

It happened all too quickly.
Had she been complacent, she didn't rightly know. A hand came out of the darkness, and grabbed her by the neck, yanked her up onto the tips of her toes. In the darkness she could make out Joseph Djugashvilli's face and smell his smelly tobaccoey breath.

'
Thought you would get away with it,' he said and then slapped her across the face. He reached out, pulled up her skirt, and tried to fondle her vagina. All the time Nina tried frantically to resist.

With a sup
reme effort she pushed him back and kicked him as hard as she could in the genitals. Breaking free from his vice like grip, Nina dashed back the way she had come, turned the corner and ran straight into a London 'Beat Copper'.

'
Hello, hello, hello! What `ave we got 'ere,' the Policeman said.

She pointed desperately into the alley.
The Constable shined his torch into the darkness and its beam picked out the shape of Joseph Djugashvilli.

'
Alright you ... come 'ere',' he said.

The Georgian she
epishly walked out of the alley and out into the street. Nina sensing an opportunity, waited to see what would happen next.

The
'Copper' addressed Djugashvilli. 'We don't tolerate this kind of behaviour round 'ere ...'

Nina gasping, spoke up for the Georgian,
'I know him, I'm sorry, he does not speak any English sir, he was just going home and so was I. If you could I would appreciate it if you could walk him home.'

'
Alright, Madam!  If you just clean yourself up with this 'ere handkerchief, I'll walk this man home.  Where does he live,' the Policeman said.

'
Oh, he lives in Shoreditch your honour,' Nina Milstein made to return the Policeman the loaned handkerchief.

'
You can keep that, plenty mores' where they came from,' he said. With that he grabbed Djugashvilli by the arm and headed off in an easterly direction.

Nina sat down on a doorstep and cleaned up her face.
Close shave with the randy Georgian she thought. Then the penny dropped, she was pretty certain about this, 'Djugashvilli' had not guessed that she was feeding information to 'The Okhrana', he just wanted, as the English say, 'To get 'His End' away'. Nina was still not sure of the 'Georgians' motives though. Without further ado she set off in the direction of her rendezvous.

It was a little while later, whilst Joseph Djugashvilli was being escorted home by the Police Constable, that Miss Milstein kept her appointment with her handler.

The Rolls Royce Silver Ghost swept into Bishopsgate and then stopped.  Nina got in and off it sped into the night.

Twist
's office phone rang. Since the previous day he'd been expecting the call.

Auguste Gerhardt
's voice was on the other end of the line. It said, 'Get your men down to eleven Exchange buildings in Houndsditch.  Make sure they`re armed!  Word has come to me,' the Russian, abruptly, rung off.

Twist picked up the phone again.
He then told the exchange to put him through to the Houndsditch station. Once the phone call had been made Detective Inspector Reggie Twist grabbed his coat and then went outside to where his car was waiting. On the way down he passed by the armoury and drew out a Webley Revolver.

On the journey out east, Twist thought about the recent conversation with Gerhardt.
The Russian came out with the usual clap trap, that he had received information that the Gardstein gang had rented number eleven with the sole intention of smashing a hole through the wall, so that they could burgle the neighbouring jeweller.

The very cautious Reginald Twist smiled, he felt like
'the cat that had got the cream'. Unbeknownst to him or Gerhardt, an occupant of 'The Exchange' buildings had already reported that persistent banging was coming from number eleven. The local police station, acting on his instructions that if anything out of the ordinary was reported, then they were to report it to him immediately, but as usual the report had got caught up in the administrative back log. Twist would deal with that at a later date. Right now he wanted to catch these' Bold', villains and he didn't want a repeat of 'Quicksilver' Gardiners week long delay on the forwarding of the statements to him from the Hatton Gardens robbery. This time detective Inspector Twist was going to be at the helm.

At the st
ation briefing; Inspector Twist instructed the nine men gathered there exactly what they were going to do. Sergeants Bentley and Bryant were to knock on number elevens front door. Therefore Sergeants Woodham and Tucker were to be held in reserve, just in case the gang tried to break out and make a run for it. Choate would be in the alley out the back, just in case they exited in that direction. Bentley and Tucker would gain entry to ascertain what was going on inside the shop. Their excuse for entry was a neighbour had made a complaint regarding, the unsociable nature of the noise coming from number eleven.

However, what Reginald Twist did not let on to those gathered at the Houndsditch Police Station briefing was, there was a distinct possibility that the occupants of number eleven were likely to be armed.
He said that they might be armed. Twist also, said to those present that if anyone wanted to draw a firearm they were to go ahead and do it right now. Some of those, the older officers, present declined the offer on the grounds that what separated the English 'Bobby' from his European counterparts was that he could do his job as well as anyone else without resorting to the use of a firearm. Others, the younger constables, drew out Webley revolvers.

On foot they all headed off towards the Exchange buildings.
Other constables had been sent on ahead to evacuate adjacent buildings. As Twist knew only too well - and keeping it to himself - the Lithuanians were a ruthless gang that had no qualms about committing the most heinous of crimes. As Gerhardt had told him, hostage taking was a preferred option, especially when this gangs backs were firmly up against the wall. In short the Gardstein gang were nasty.

Walking briskly
they passed many passersby, it was moments like this that made Reg Twist proud to be a copper. There was always the possibility that Gerhardt's informants, whoever they might be, might have got it wrong! Anything was possible! But his Policeman's hunch told him that this time it was the real thing. His feelings had never let him down, so why should they fail him today. The 'Gardstein Gang' was going to be brought to account; this would send out a clear and stern message to all the other disparate Foreign Revolutionaries who wanted, or were thinking about, breaking the law to suit their own phoney nationalistic ends. That His Majesties Police Force meant business and it would leave no stone unturned in the pursuit of justice. By now they had arrived at their destination.

Neither one of them was to know, Constable nor
criminal, that history was going to be made on December 16
th
1910. And they were all going to be remembered, written into East End mythology along with 'Jack the Ripper', as heroes and villains of 'The Peace'.

Chapter Nineteen

There was a second knock on the door. Svaars looked towards Gardstein. They made eye contact they both knew what had to be done. Maybe they could play for time, maybe they could do something. There was a louder knock on the front door, George Gardstein unlatched it, and opened the door slightly.

Sergeants Bentley and Bryant were standing outside.

'May we come in Sir?' Sergeant Bentley said.

Gardstein didn
't know what to do; he was gripped with panic, so he just stood there. He was going through the various scenarios and options that were still left open to him. It wasn't good, at that moment there seemed to be no way out. The only thing he could do was to play for time. He signalled to the two policemen that he could not understand them and he would go and get someone who could speak English.  He shut the door and waited.

He said to Svaars,
'Take Djugashvilli and Piaktow, and get the hell out of this house. I'll follow in a few minutes. Wait for me at the end of the garden' Gardstein knew, even when he gave the orders that, out of loyalty to him, Svaars would never leave his side. He went on, 'Look the games up, just get out of here. I'll hold them off. When you get out of here, go back to 100 Sidney St and lie low. When the coast is clear make your way up to Wivenhoe ... you got it?'

Fritz nodded; he placed his arm on Gardstein
's shoulder. There was another knock on the door, followed by, 'Are you still in there, Sir? 'Of course he was, he reached for the Dreyse and took the safety catch off. He stood in the darkness at the foot of the stairs and waited for the inevitable.  It was not long in coming.  The door, slowly, started to inch its way open.

Even though it was still dark, the outside street was lighter than the inside of the house.
Gardstein stood there in the shadows; he could hear the constable clearing his throat. The two of them were coming clearly into view. His hand firmly gripped the Dreyse, but before he could do anything there was a very loud bang, followed by another one. It all happened so quickly, Sergeant Bentley pushed the door slightly ajar and then made to enter the house followed by Bryant. However in that split second Fritz Svaars, who by now was standing at Gardstein's shoulder, had seized the initiative. Without hesitation, and unseen by the still panicking Gardstein, he fired and hit Sergeant Bentley in the chest. The force of the shot threw Bentley into Bryant. The second shot had caught the second policeman quite off guard. The sergeant only had time to shout, 'Christ ...' before he too was hit. The third Policeman Woodham instinctively recoiled away from the doorway after he was hit in the arm and took cover underneath the window sill. As the two policemen lay dying out in the street, the occupants of the house wasted no time in making for the back garden.