Kral’s frown deepened. “Blowing the tunnels would seal Kolchak west of Baikal too, not just us.”
Dalek shrugged. “Perhaps Admiral Kolchak has lost the ability to think rationally. Or maybe he plans to make for Mongolia by horse or sleigh.”
Kral rummaged through an attaché case and pulled out a map. “Come. We’ve a telegram to send. Semenov.” The name came out as a curse. “I trust him even less than I trust Kolchak. He’s the one who’s been delaying our supplies from Vladivostok. Kolchak’s supplies too. I’m surprised Kolchak’s asking him for help.”
“Desperation makes strange bedfellows.” Nadia and Filip, for example, but thinking of those two filled Dalek with guilt. If Dalek hadn’t assumed she’d gone off with Petrov, could Filip have found her before she’d disappeared forever into the Siberian snow? He’d let his best friend down, and a loss like that was unforgivable. Almost as unforgivable as the admiral’s telegram. “Kolchak doesn’t have many choices left. His army’s disintegrating, and the Reds are advancing. What I don’t understand is why the Japanese put up with a bandit like Semenov.”
“Oh, that I understand.” Kral grimaced. “All the massacres Semenov’s men perform give the Japanese an excuse to move farther and farther into Siberia, to keep the peace. It may be a chaotic country, but it has its resources—and Japan needs more resources. They’re using us, too, as an excuse to stay, so they have little incentive to speed our evacuation.”
“Then who are we telegraphing?” The British or the Americans might be more trustworthy than Semenov, Kolchak, or the Japanese, but most of them were farther east, nearer Vladivostok. To get to them, the legion would have to go through Japan’s sector and through Semenov’s territory.
Kral shoved his map back inside his case. “The only people we’ve consistently been able to depend on are our brothers in the legion. There’ll be some legionnaires closer to Baikal. We’ll tell them what to expect.”
Dalek coded a message and sent it to General Syrový, the legion’s eye-patch-wearing supreme commander. Then they waited. Waited for permission to use one of the few still-functioning engines. Waited to hear what would happen when Syrový’s force made contact with Semenov’s bandits. Waited for news of how quickly the Red Army was forcing the White Army east. Waited for word of his best friend’s missing wife.
The engine was available again the next day. It took them only two stations, but at least they moved in the correct direction. A group of legionnaires farther east captured 1,300 of Semenov’s men and took control of the railway. But even with the success of their brothers around Lake Baikal, the packed trains crept eastward no faster than a crawl over the ice-covered tracks. The Red Army continued to force the White Army to retreat. And the last problem—Nadia—remained unsolved.
***
“She’s been missing for how long?”
“Since January.”
The man Filip spoke with frowned. “That’s a long time.”
“Yes, I know.” At every town and every station, Filip searched the depot for messages from Nadia. So far, he’d found none. He’d asked every Red Cross or YMCA volunteer he’d seen if they could locate a missing person, but none had been able to offer any clues. “Have you any news of someone by that name?”
The man scribbled something on a sheet of paper. “No. But I’ll let you know if I hear anything. You’re with the Sixth Regiment?”
“Yes.”
Filip left the Red Cross office. They were packing, preparing to go east. Just like the legion. Most of the Czechs and Slovaks were already past Lake Baikal. Only the Fifth and Sixth Regiments remained to the west of it.
If Nadia had made it to Vladivostok, he assumed she would have written to him. If she was elsewhere to the east, she might be dealing with roving warlords and packs of criminals. If, on the other hand, she was still to the west of him, she’d be dealing with Communists, chaos, and civil war. He’d started praying again, begging God to protect her since he himself had utterly failed at that task. But faith was more than prayers—it was also action and decisions.
Filip went to see Kral again. “Brother Major?”
Kral shook his head. “I already told you, Sedlák. Unless you have a credible lead, I need you here, not chasing a missing person all across Siberia. I’m sorry for your loss, I am, but I’ll not allow you to risk your life unless the chances of finding her improve significantly.”
How had Kral known he didn’t have any leads? Perhaps it was written on his face. Maybe after being at war together for four years, Kral could read his mood as well as Filip could read Kral’s.