'
Tuesday night I want you to meet me near the main railway yard on the Southside of town at four thirty. Bring some field glasses, and some warm clothes with you. What you will see will really open up your eyes. 'With that Gerhardt got up and left. Georgii followed shortly afterwards.
The next day was Thursday
and it was one of those drab Moscow days. On the way to work Georgii noticed that the mood on the street was worse than ever. Ironically later that morning he was dispatched with a group of Red Guards to quell a riot outside a bread shop. The usual form was to shoot first and ask questions later. They arrived at the scene to find the area deserted. The bread shop was nothing more than a smouldering ruin. The surrounding streets were deserted. Georgii decided that the best thing to do was to conduct a house to house search. He knocked on the first door. There was no reply. Georgii instructed two guards to force the door. Inside the house the group moved through rooms crammed full of old men, women and children. They were all bunched up and huddled together. No one seemed to know anything. These were the leanest of times and nobody wanted to volunteer any information at all. Instinct told him that these 'Comrades' were all lying. He also detected an undercurrent of seething malevolence in each building that they entered. He could have evicted the inhabitants; he could have ripped up the floorboards and strip-searched the women and children. But intuition told him that he would have been putting all of their lives in grave danger. They returned to the Militsya Station where he expected to receive a 'balling out' from Trofimov. He got no such thing. Something of greater significance had crept onto the agenda.
'
Comrade Radetzky, two boys have been reported throwing horse dung at visiting dignitaries going into and out of the Kremlin. I want you to go down there and bring these little rascals to justice. Do not come back until you have arrested them!' With that she pointed her finger towards the door. Georgii left. He departed for Red Square.
En-route, Georgii asked himself some hard questions based on the morning events.
The dark and dirty expressions on the faces of the people appalled him, as did their living conditions, and why did people stay in a city where death loomed around every street corner. Where the government, acting in the name of 'The People', had outlawed all personal liberty: free speech, free press, freedom of association and political plurality, freedoms that had been won during the last years of Tsarist state. Looking back on it now, the last years of Nicholas's reign seemed like a long gone 'Golden Age.' Where did it all go wrong he thought? The sad thing was, if he expressed any of these thoughts in public, it would have led to summary execution, followed by a shallow grave.
Georgi
i had now arrived at Red Square. He headed towards the Kremlin. There seemed to be some commotion going on near the main gate. Georgii hurried over. There was a strange looking man waving a revolver at two teenage boys. A guard was holding them by the scruff of their necks. Georgii arrived at the scene just in the nick of time. There was no telling what this gun-toting-maniac might do.
'
Monsieur Comrade! These two young men are a disgrace to this fledgling, 'Socialist' state. They have humiliated me publicly. I will have you know that I am the 'General Secretary' of the 'French Marxist Internationale'. Never in all my days, have I been subjected to anything like this! Never! I shall complain to the highest authority! I demand that these two are harshly dealt with! Do I have your word on that monsieur!?'
'
You have my word that I shall deal with this in the proper way. Now, will you put that revolver away?' Georgii said.
'
Do I have your word on that?'
'
As I said I will deal with this in the proper way! Now will you stop waving that thing around, you`re making me nervous!'
The man snorted
and walked off in the direction of the river. Georgii turned around to face the boys.
'
Now ... will you tell me what's going on?'
He dismissed the guard and the three of them walked off in the direction of the Militsiya station.
They talked along the way.
'
We were only having some fun,' the taller of the two boys said.
'
We were throwing snowballs at each other. When this posh man wearing a funny hat came up to us ...' The second lad said.
'
He pointed with his umbrella at that lunatic, and said he would give us meat and bread if we would throw the horse dung that he gave us, at that Frenchman.' The taller of the two boys said.
'
We threw the dung and then the madmen pulled out a pistol and said he would shoot us. We made a run for it and ran straight in to the fat guard!, the smaller boy said.
'
He sent for help and took us over to face that foreign speaking lunatic!!'
'
The monsieur ranted and raved until you got here. He gave us a right old ear bashing.'
'
You know this monsieur is not going to let it go, don't you? The pair of you, no mistake about it, are in serious trouble,' Georgii said.
'
We know that and we are genuinely sorry. Not for him, but were sorry that no one seems to have a sense of humour in Russia anymore,' the tall boy said.
'
Can you describe the man that got you to do it?'
'
He was definitely foreign, he was very smartly dressed. He looked very posh. Spoke Russian with a heavy accent.'
'
So where's the food he promised to give you?'
'
The fat guard had it away,' the shorter boy said.
'
How do you two survive?'
'
We're not Besprizorniki! We're too old,' the tall boy said.
'
We are both cleaners. I work at the Abattoir and he works at the City Mortuary,' the short one said.
'
That's interesting,' Georgii said, 'I would like to ask you some questions about something else. But that can wait'
They g
ot to the Militsya station and Georgii took statements from the two boys. He also had a mini conference with his boss. She was all in favour of locking the two up until a trial date could be decided on. But Georgii reminded her that all the city prisons were full. Life in Lefortovo
[11]
was pretty much like the Bastille of 1792. The firing squads had to be fed, like the guillotine had been just over a century before. It was decided that the two boys would be released on bail, on condition that they both report to the Militsya station every day. He explained to the two boys exactly what would happen.
On the station steps Georgii, acting on an impulse, decided to ask the boys one more question.
'Does the name Isaak Goldstein mean anything to you?'
The two boys looked nervously at each other, the shorter one said,
'No we've never heard of him before ...'
The taller boy said,
'Look we'll report in every day, but we have got to go!!'
Georgii Radetzky watched the two boys scurry off down the street.
He also knew that the two boys were lying. One minute they were happy, full of the joys of spring, next minute they were sad and withdrawn. There was a lot to be said for good, old, police intuition. Nine times out of ten Georgii's always right.
On the way ho
me, he decided that tomorrow he would pay the two boys a small visit. It was time that he had a good look around the city abattoir. He also decided that Anya Trofimov was going to furnish him with a letter of introduction. But before he did all of that, Georgii Radetzky knew he was going to be facing another sleepless night.
The City Abatt
oir was a grim looking building. It was set in the middle of wasteland. It made the mortuary look like a five star hotel. It was also a small fortress, barbed wire covered the walls. Guards manning machine guns were positioned on the roof and walls. Georgii surveyed the scene in front of him and then walked towards the gate. The Red Guards watched him walking towards them.
'
This place is off limits,' the guard shouted.
'
I want to see the Commissar in charge of this place. My name is Georgii Radetzky. Here are my papers.'
'
Cheka eh, you have no jurisdiction around here, this is a restricted area.'
'
If you could read you would see that. I also have a letter of introduction,' Georgii said, knowing that he had hit a raw nerve.
'
Wait here,' the guard said in a surly tone.
After what seemed like an eternity, the guard returned and ushered him into the compound.
Georgii looked around him. Lorries were unloading and loading, administrators were filling in ledgers. Carcasses were weighed in and out and at every stage the guards scrutinized.
'
Come with me!' The surly' guard said.
He led Georgii into what seemed like a semi-refrigerated building.
In the far corner there were some stairs that led up the side of the wall to an office that was positioned so it could observe the comings and goings down below. They climbed the stairs and the guard knocked on the door. A small balding man looked up and waived them in. The guard introduced him waved and then left.
'
Comrade Radetzky, pleasure to meet you. Marko Mendolovitch at your service. What can I do for you?' the little man said.
'
I'm tracing the last movements of an associate of yours,' Georgii said.
'
And who might that be,' the man said.
'
Isaak Goldstein.' Georgii examined the man's face closely. He thought he could see a bead of sweat forming on Comrade Mendolovitch's brow.
'
No I don't believe I know that name. Now, if you don't mind I'm a busy man and I have a lot of work to do. The city has to be fed you know.' He looked down at the ledger he was filling in.
'
Black-marketering is punishable by death! And I have the evidence on me that will put you in front of a firing squad if you don't cooperate with my enquiries! So I will ask you again what you know of a Comrade Isaak Goldstein!'
'
Guard,' Mendolovitch shouted.
The guard waiting outside answered the call.
'One minute!' Georgii said. 'I want you to look at this!'
Mendolovitch picked up the copy of the Cheka report that Radetzky had spent half the night drafting.
He looked at both sides quickly and then ushered the guard out. Mendolovitch now looked worried.
'
I talk to you and I'm a dead man!' he said.
'
If you don't talk to me you`re still a dead man! The games up!! So tell me about Isaak Goldstein?' Georgii replied.
'
Then what? You will hang me out to dry I suppose!'
'
That depends on you, and what you tell me! 'Georgii thought everybody's card around here was marked. Some people in this city just had a little bit more time than others. 'So tell me what you know about Isaak Goldstein. His connections with you, and your connections with him, and this group of organized criminals called 'The Kevshors.'
'
I met Goldstein six months ago. He said that if I did not cooperate with him, he would shop me to the authorities for dealing in black-market meat. He said that he knew my scam! If I did not cooperate, I would be denounced as a 'Parasite' married to a 'Non Person'. For Christ's sake! It was the height of the 'Red Terror', my wife was minor nobility! What was I to do?' He produced a photograph of himself with his two children, and another of his wife's family posing for a photograph with the family of Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolayevich. 'They even knew her real family name!! All would be well if I cooperated with them. All would be well for me as long as I did what they asked,' the little man said.
'
What did they ask of you?' Georgii said.
Mendolovitch told him of the scam.
It was actually quite simple. Cuts of meat from fresh corpses would be substituted for the real meat. The exchange would take place inside the abattoir. That meat in turn would be shipped out with existing orders, which in turn would be siphoned off when it reached its destination, by others waiting on the inside. He presumed from there the meat would find its way, somehow, onto the black-market.
'
Easier said than done; everything went well for a while. I supplied meats to the former nobility and supplied meats to the black-market. Then about three months ago, Goldstein said that a new gang of organized gangsters had moved in and they wanted a piece of our action. I was reminded of the incriminating evidence that he held. I had no choice but to substitute more corpse for meat.'
Georgii
's stomach was churning and the ceiling began to spin. Somehow he managed to keep the rising tide of bile down. Then he asked the question.
'
Did you kill Goldstein? You had everything to gain from his murder!'