Duncan Kyle - The King's Commisar

'. . .My God, they looked frightened!'

'. . . Wouldn't you? Did you see who drove the car, though? Parfeny, yes. Oh, you know him, yes,

'course you do. Head of the Railwaymen's Punitive Detachment. Real swine, wouldn't want him driving me."

'. . . They say Professor Ipatiev was given only six hours' notice to get out. Six hours, that's all.'

'. . House is too good for them. It's like a bloody palace! Big white place up on Vosnesensky Avenue the one with the archway. And Nicholas still has servants with him!'

I sat very quietly in a dark corner, absorbing it all, astonished at how easy it was to learn. I heard that the Family was now guarded by detachments of men from two local factories. I rose when they began to go over it all again; from the excitement in their voices they'd spend the night repeating it all endlessly. In the street outside I stood for a moment, wondering at the whereabouts of the places they had spoken of: Ipatiev's house and Vosnesensky Avenue. But they were not difficult to find. The city of Ekaterinburg buzzed with the knowledge of the Romanov's presence, and I quickly realized many in the streets were sightseers bound for the house. I simply followed. No one was allowed nearer to the house than the other side of the Avenue: There was a high palisade built of logs before the entrance, close against the building so that nothing could be seen, and a few armed militiamen stood in the roadway moving along the many passers-by. I looked as long as I could. It had been a house of some style, but was a prison now and unmistakably so. Guards in the streets, guards at the gates, guards no doubt in the house itself. Around me, in the talk of the townspeople, there was nothing but hostility. Why keep the Romanovs alive? Why not shoot them now? It was all talk of that kind. I thought of the quiet courage of the Tsar, of his refusal to go with Dutov when he could so easily have done so. I thought of the marvel of that hour I had spent with the Grand Duchess Maria. No, not Maria. Marie.

Then I thought of the paper - Zaharoff's paper - the paper that was supposed to be vital to so many: with a value of millions in money plus the weapons for an army; and on top of that, God alone knew how many human lives!

The Tsar had signed it, he'd told me so! And everyone was waiting for it; everyone from Ruzsky to Lenin and Trotsky; everyone from my own humble self to Zaharoff and my Sovereign, King George. Many men's worlds hung upon that piece of paper!

As I trudged along towards my meeting with Ruzsky, my thoughts whirled. Oh yes, everyone wanted it; but only I knew where it was, the Tsar and his son excepted. Well, I would keep it so, keep it above all from Ruzsky until I understood his purpose more clearly. For my tumbling thoughts were now presenting me with strange notions and stranger conclusions.

Lenin and Sverdlov had sent me to Siberia to bring the Tsar out. And I had done so, or nearly. If I hadn't been stopped at Omsk, had not been sent back to Ekaterinburg , t hen both I and the entire Imperial Family would by now be halfway to Moscow.

The questions drummed in my mind: Had I really been stopped by the rivalry between provincials and metropolitans? Could it really be true that the men of Omsk and Ekaterinburg took no notice of Lenin and Sverdlov?

Or was it something else? Did those devious and clever men in Moscow actually want the Romanovs to be held in peril in Ekaterinburg rather than safe in Tobolsk or Moscow? And then I saw it, or thought I did. The Germans were the key; camped as they were, menacingly and in army strength on Moscow's doorstep. Suppose there were negotiations; suppose the Germans were demanding that the Imperial Family be surrendered to them; suppose Lenin and Sverdlov had no alternative but to agree? Yes, suppose all that - what then if Moscow did not want to hand over the Romanovs? Oh yes, now it was simple enough. Send me to bring them (and kill two birds with one stone!) and then arrange for the Romanovs to be detained by wild men in far Siberia, and say to the Germans, Oh, we're trying to persuade the local Soviet, but they won't even listen.

Was it all conceivable?

Certainly it was. That explanation fitted all the complexities, answered all the questions. Yet I could barely believe a word of it. Too outlandish, I thought. But as I approached the Palais Royal Hotel I was resolved to play matters close in future. And to learn more of Ruzksy. He was waiting in the shadowed street behind, and was not a sight to give any man hope: drink in him, and bearing and manner scruffy. Yet when he spoke, it seemed his mind was more or less clear - and entirely concerned with the paper.

'Have you got it?' he demanded.

I shook my head. 'It had to be left with the Tsar. Then -when the train was halted - there was no chance to ask him.

'Precious little chance now. But we've got to get it.'

'We?' I said harshly. 'You're the one who must recover it.'

'You imagine he'd give it to me? He knows me, remember. No, you're the only one he'd trust.'

I did not tell Ruzsky the Tsar's view of me now. Instead: 'I could give you a note to him,' I said.

'A note of hand?' Ruzsky laughed sharply. 'If the guards search me and find it, what then? I'll tell you I'm the bearer of clandestine messages between you, who tried to take the Tsar to safety, and Nicholas himself. And my life then would be worth nothing!'

We regarded each other warily. At last I said, 'What will happen to them?'

Ruzsky shrugged. 'Do you care?'

'Yes. I care.'

'My guess is that there is a majority of the Soviet in favour of killing them.'

'Cold-blooded execution?'

'It is a difficult question. There is a lot of discussion. Good Bolsheviks should not molest women and children, some say. But others say this is the German woman, and that's different.'

He knew more of the circumstances of imprisonment than I. 'Is there,' I asked him, 'any chance of freeing them?'

He gave me an amused glance. 'White horses to the rescue, you mean? No, my friend. They're as good as dead, that's my view, unless they have value in bargaining. And yes, that they have, but only with the Germans.'

'So?'

'So they will be there for a long time, unless a rescue is attempted. In that case the guards will pull triggers at once. There are White Russian armies loose in Siberia and you may be sure of one thing, my friend: neither Nicholas nor his son will be allowed to fall into White hands. There are still some who would restore the Throne.'

'You have suggestions, then?'

'Yes, wait.'

'And do nothing?'

He gave me a look. 'Be patient. What is there to do? If he'd signed that paper you could have been off to England now, but you didn't force it!'

T couldn't force it. But it seems to me I might just as well set off for England, anyway. I have no position here. You have, though. Whatever's to be done, you'll have to do it!'

'I told you, be patient! Remember the purpose. It is not to save the Tsar's neck, it is to get his signature on the paper. Don't forget that. The paper, signed, and off to Moscow and London.'

'I wish I knew what was in it!'

'You know enough,' Ruzsky said roughly. 'Remember this: the only thing that will save the Romanovs'

necks is that paper, signed and on Lenin's desk.'

'If Lenin wants it he can -!'

He shook his head. 'That's not the way of things. Think, man, can you see Lenin coming here, in person, to bicker with men like Beloborodov and Goloshchokin and even be refused? By yokels like that? And then have word spread through the country that Lenin himself betrays the Revolution by talking to the Tsar. No, not in a thousand years. So it comes back to you, whom the Tsar may trust. He'll certainly trust no one else! If you leave now, his death-warrant is signed.'