The Margin of Evil! (37 page)

'
How long have you known?' Georgii asked.

'
Almost from the beginning,' the Georgian said.

'
How?' Georgii said in a tone of almost disbelief.

'
A letter from Goldstein came into my possession. It stated quite clearly that I was the subject of an investigation by Sverdlov.'

'
Why him of all people,' Georgii asked.

'
We have never got on. I suspect he wanted me out of the way. You have to remember Georgii that up until the Fanya Kaplan incident, the party was free of infighting. But there were those in the party that, shall we say, were looking for the excuse. Kaplan's bullet, believe you me, played into a lot of peoples plans and schemes!'  Stalin faced Radetzky with a long hard piercing stare. 'I, too, am not entirely blameless. I, too, have plans.'

Getting himself together,
'Now hang on! Where do I fit into this, 'Georgii said.

'
Quite simply, as you put it, you fit into this because after Sverdlovs death, you were the person who was, unwittingly, going to carry on their investigation. They, Trotsky and Gerhardt needed someone that they could trust. They didn't want a party incompetent. Believe you me, men like you Georgii, are worth their weight in gold.  You were the person who was going to finish it off. And when you had done it, they were going to finish you off. Your old Okhrana boss effectively, when he took you on, had already planned your demise.'

Using all of his powers of concentration, Georgii was desperately resisting the temptation to let the room go into a spin.
But at the same time he had loads of questions to ask.

'
So am I right in saying, that this letter from Sverdlov alerted you to Trotsky and Gerhardt's plot?'

'
Yes,' the Georgian said.

'
Am I also right to assume, that the letter, and probably the eavesdropping here, led you to Goldstein?'

'
Yes!'

'
Am I also right, that you know I know a lot more about you and that I could walk out of here; get the letters, come back here, make an appointment with Lenin? If I did that your career would be in tatters and by tomorrow night you would have been taken out of here to a place of execution and summarily shot!'  Georgii paused.

'
You could do that Comrade Radetzky. Yes I know that you know that I'm a Kevshor; yes I know that you know about my connections with certain businessmen. But what makes you think that you could walk out of this office alive?' Stalin twisted around his chair to reveal a holster on his belt. 'Georgii, I have told you on many occasions, and in this conversation, that I can always use a good Comrade like you. You heard your associate Gerhardt has already sold you down the river. He believes, by flattery alone and through some misguided loyalty you hold for him, that he has you in the palm of his hand. Let's face it, so far he's been right!'

This time the Georgian fixed Georgii with a warm smile.
  'But I know people through and through and I have experienced the feeling of betrayal on many occasions. I would wager that you are not going to betray me, if anything, you are going to come over and work for me.'

'
Wouldn't it be easier just to kill me?'  Georgii said.

'
It would, but you're missing the point. I've been watching you for a long time. I've seen you from the marshalling yard, I have been to your dingy rooms; I have had Yezhov watch you down at the Cheka office. The point is, I need you to work for me. None of the other 'Blockheads', could I trust to do what I want you to do. And at this stage I'm not altogether sure what I want you to do! But rest assured I'll find something,' Stalin reflected.

'
Do I have a choice in this,' Georgii said.

'
No! I don't think you do. You are caught between a rock and a hard place.  Georgii they will kill you and, if you piss me off, I will kill you. Time is running out for you! Now, you could make a start by handing over Sverdlovs file; that's if,' Stalin paused for a moment then carried on; 'Come on! Do you really want to end up sleeping with 'The Worms'?'

'
No I don't; but if what you are saying is true and I have no reason to doubt that it is. I need a chip to bargain with. Whether I deal with you or Gerhardt ... You`re right, I do have the information and I have left instructions, as to what shall happen to that 'Embarrassment of Delights' should anything happen to me!'

At this moment, the real truth was, Georgii hadn
't left any instructions on what should happen, in the event of his life, prematurely, being cut short. But he was confident in the fact that whatever was to going to happen to him, was not going to happen just yet.

'
Georgii, let's look at it another way! You need friends. I think it's fair to say that I represent the lesser of the two evils. Not only that, I am offering you a way out; this is what I propose, and part of what I'm asking you to do, is as a personal favour to me. I want you to hand me over Sverdlovs dossier. It will be safe in my hands. The second thing I want you to do is something of a more altogether secret nature ...'

Stalin told him about
Peter the Painter and then showed him the letter. Even though the Georgian told him of the events in Sidney Street, he was, as his nature always dictated, selective with the truth. The story told to Georgii was on a strict, 'Need to Know' basis.

Finally
he said. 'Georgii I want you to find this man and kill him!'  He opened his top desk drawer and passed over an old black and white photograph.

On his way out,
Georgii showed his identity papers to the guards at the main Kremlin gate. He walked out onto Red Square. He stopped and thought. It was now September; he looked around him and let out a long breath that turned into a sigh and then morphed into a shrill whistle.  He thought and his mind went into reflective mode.

Georgii knew there was only one place wh
ere he could sit down and think and it wasn't around here. He set off on his long walk.

Most walkers will tell you
that, when they set off in that long determined stride, their pace is the thing that distinguishes them from mere pedestrians going about their business; and that sometimes, whilst they are walking, they will drift away into some otherworldly state, or to 'Some Other' imaginary place. As it was, Georgii Radetzky headed off to the river, which was only a stone's throw away. It had served him well as a child and he had no reason to doubt it would serve him well today. The river had always been a good friend; it was always its company he sought out, especially when time was needed to think. Once on the bank, and careful having made one or two discreet manoeuvres in the event of his having grown a tail, he walked briskly on and down to the docks.

An hour and a half later, he was sitting on the river bank looking across to a small mudflat on the other bank.
Evenings were still warm for that time of year, but give it another month and winter would start drawing in. Georgii looked up and down the river. There was almost no traffic on the river these days. Wooden hulks had disappeared during the long hard winter of nineteen eighteen and nineteen. Even the metallic parts, iron keels, brass nuts and bolts, windlasses and capstans had vanished during those nights of hardship. He watched the eddy's of the current as it turned and twisted on its journey to 'God Knows' where.

Georgii Radetzky
's mind turned back to the conversation with Commissar Stalin.  There was no doubt in his mind and he had met cold ruthless people just like him before. Stalin differed from the rest, there was no doubt about that, but even though he was a crook, Georgii had already established that via 'The Kevshor' connection, he came across as a completely plausible likeable fellow. Whereas Trotsky and Gerhardt did not. He had to admit that he had never liked that pompous, arrogant shit Lev Trotsky and he was still numbed by Gerhardt's betrayal.  It hurt him and it hurt him bad. But he was under no illusions about Stalin, he would tuck him up in a shallow grave when he had no further use for him. But which of the two, in his mind, was the lesser of the two evils.  Trotsky or Stalin?

There was also the case of where on earth was Royston O
'Reilly. He must find him, maybe, and this was only a thought, he could get Anna and Pyotr to find him. Georgii would do it himself, but it was clear from some of the 'Commissar for The Nationalities' comments that he had been under close surveillance. There was also that Agent Provocateur to consider. The incident outside Lefortovo prison still resonated sharply in his mind. That man had an uncanny habit of turning up when he was not wanted. Riley's timing was always spot on.

There was also the weather to consider.
If he was to get out of Moscow he had to do it now. But how was he to do it, in this respect he was utterly clueless. Then the answer stared him in the face.

From upriver a steamboat headed down and passed within twenty yards of him.
As Georgii's mind turned over he thought that maybe he, or even better O'Reilly, whenever they tracked him down could make discreet enquiries and they could make their getaway down the river. As he mulled it over Georgii Radetzky thought that it definitely made more sense than getting away by train.

Train was risky and now there was a strong rumour that war might actually break out between Russia and Poland.
Maybe they could all get away down river and make it down to one of the Black Sea ports. There they could claim political asylum.  The Royal Navy was known to be down there aiding 'The Whites'.  The more he thought about it the more the idea of escape by river appealed to him. It was time for him to make an executive decision. That's what they would do; they would all escape by river.

As he arrived back home, in th
e semi permanent twilight light that lights up the Moscow skies during that time of year, Georgii Radetzky was feeling much better. In fact the change that had come over him since his meditations, down by the river, had almost expunged any of the pain felt from Trotsky and Gerhardt's betrayal.

He would deal with them later
and he knew exactly how he would stitch the pair of them up. Georgii would do this with the help of his new Georgian, benefactor. Better the devil, ha, ha, you don't know, he thought!

Georgii Radetzky grabbed a candle and then went upstairs.
He let himself into the writer's old apartment. He looked around, the place was almost bare. The 'Living Space', thankfully, had not been reallocated, and over in the corner was the thing he was looking for.

Back in his own room, he shut the door, and then placing the machine on the table.
Georgii got a sheet of paper and placed it in the typewriter. An hour later he looked at the fruits of his labours. He held the paper up to the gaslight. Perfect he thought. He went to bed. Next morning he told Rezhnikov to phone the Kremlin and tell them that he would not be going in to work. Back in his room he got another sheet of paper out and then he started to type. By evening the job was done. He stood up, looked out of the window and gave his body a good old stretch.

Georgii turned around and looked down onto the table. In front of him, were three identical
files. With a great feeling of satisfaction he picked each one up and examined the contents. Outwardly they all looked the same, but even though the three, pretty much said the same thing, they were, and this was deliberate, slightly different. Placing each file back on the table, he knew that the contents of each file had the potential to blow Bolshevik Russia apart.

Stali
n was going to have two of them and the third one that nobody was to know about. That one, was going to be Georgii's insurance policy for the future. The third file, or at least the knowledge of its existence, was going to get him and his wards out of Russia.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Royston O'Reilly was having the time of his life that summer with the Kevshors. In fact he was enjoying himself so much that ideas of escape and repatriation and, especially Georgii Radetzky, were soon relegated to the back of his mind.  If any of his former 'Mucker's' from Liverpool had seen him, they would have been astonished at the change that had come over Royston O'Reilly.

His Kevshor bosses found him, even though he had no Georgian roots, to be a hard worker.
They also found him to be reliable.  Two qualities that seemed to be in short supply, during that long hot summer of 1919. Whilst his old associate Georgii Radetzky had slowly boxed himself into a corner; Royston O'Reilly had gone from strength to strength. That is until he came across the paranoid Aslan Rustaveli.

Aslan Rustaveli did not li
ke Russians and it is also fair to say that he did not like strangers. Especially 'Scousers' from Liverpool; whom as far as he was concerned had inveigled themselves, even though he couldn't prove it, fraudulently, into that most sacred of Georgian organisations 'The Kevshors'. Most people in that organisation considered Rustaveli to be an amiable nut; they simply gave him a wide berth.

In the beginning both of them had got on fine, they were given menial jobs to do; such as the settin
g up and taking down of markets and other menial work. It had been noted that whilst O'Reilly excelled in his duties, the surly Rustaveli did not. The warm friendship started to go cold. Aslan Rustaveli started to resent his 'new' best friend's good fortune. O'Reilly's good, luck began to grate on 'The Georgian' to such an extent that Rustaveli decided that there was no alternative, but to plot the Liverpudllians demise. As far as he was concerned the Englishman was getting undue reward and attention, whilst he got nothing.