The clerk finished his message, put it aside, and motioned to the telegraph key. “Now this—” He stopped as another incoming message sounded, then he sighed and returned to his work, hunching over as if the new position might improve his hearing.
Behind them, Abramov rustled his papers. “The next instructions suggested we keep them nearby, on this side of the Urals, where there is plenty of bread. We could use them, should we wage war against the Germans again. Or against the White movement, for that matter. The local commissar is eager to recruit from their ranks.”
Dalek forced his hands to relax. The Reds wanted the legion to fight for them? Not a chance. The legion was just passing through Russia on its way to France. They weren’t here to fight the Bolsheviks’ opponents.
Orlov’s voice was quiet. “So that is what we will do. Use them to further the revolution.”
Another shuffle of papers, and Abramov’s voice again. “This one says to halt them here.”
Three different orders. Each more threatening than the last.
The clerk finished taking down the message and stood. Dalek watched as the clerk strode to Abramov. He feared the clerk would remind the official that a legionnaire was still in the office. Instead, he simply handed over the telegram.
Abramov shook his head after reading it. “This one says to disarm them.”
Disarmament? That would leave the legion vulnerable. He’d heard rumors about the bandits and warlords who roamed Siberia. The legion needed the ability to defend themselves when they were sent through that lawless mess. The Bolsheviks were either crazy, or they were becoming a serious threat to the legion’s survival.
“Shall I organize it, comrade?” Orlov’s voice carried a hint of enthusiasm.
“Not at this time,” Abramov said. “There are three thousand of them here, with more coming, and only two thousand of us. We have more artillery, but they have more cohesion. I prefer to avoid battle.”
“Yes, they were our allies in the past and could be our allies in the future.”
“We meet tomorrow to negotiate. We’re on friendly terms thus far, and I would like to continue that goodwill. The last thing we want is for them to turn against us and join the Whites. See what you can learn. Ask around, find out how many weapons they have and what their morale is like. And judge if they seem more inclined to support us or our rivals.”
“Yes, comrade.”
Another click of the heels, and then a blast of wind.
Dalek met the eyes of the clerk sitting beside him. The man’s smile suggested he knew exactly what Dalek had been doing. “Let me show you how the relay works.”
Dalek was no longer interested in telegraph equipment. Kral and the other officers would want to hear about the series of orders to the local Bolsheviks. But if the man was going to overlook Dalek’s eavesdropping, then Dalek was prepared to be a model of interest, no matter how mundane and detailed the man’s explanations were.
Chapter Nine
Filip led the men in calisthenics the morning after he and Nadia had seen the Cheka agent. He’d wanted to shoot the man. It was his duty as a husband to protect his wife. More than that, he was furious over what the agent had done. But revenge went both ways. Filip could punish the man for shooting Nadia’s family and letting one of his subordinates assault her, but what would that mean for the rest of the legion? They didn’t want to go to war against the Russians. The Russians were their Slavic brothers.
But Nadia. She’d been so frightened. And it was Filip’s fault. He’d asked her to go shopping, even when she’d been nervous. He’d never gain her trust if he couldn’t keep her safe.
As they finished their drills, Dalek made his way over. “His name is Vlad Orlov. He’s been poking around, asking questions.”
“You found that out already?” Filip had told Dalek about the Chekist and asked for information, but he hadn’t expected results so quickly.
Dalek shrugged. “He was the one in the telegraph office yesterday, so I asked my new friend, the clerk, all about him.”
“You say he’s poking around. What about?”
“Sounding out our morale and political leanings. And recruiting, indirectly.”
Filip huffed. “We’ve stated our neutrality in Russian affairs.” That was why Filip hadn’t already found and killed Orlov. “It would be nice if the Bolsheviks would give us the same courtesy.”
“That could explain the indirect part.”
“Anton heard they plan to send us to Arkhangelsk, stop the trains in the middle of nowhere, and preach the gospel of Bolshevism. If they get us hungry enough, it might start to sound appealing.”
“Appealing to you, Corporal Sedlák?” Kral stood nearby, his arms crossed. “Would you compromise your beliefs for a loaf of bread?”
It would take more than food to lure Filip to the Red cause, but that wasn’t the case with everyone. “Get a man hungry enough, and desperation will make just about anything palatable. Especially when he’s stranded on the single track to Arkhangelsk.”