Chapter 38: From the Highest Place (2)

There is no hope for this rotten country unless the whole of it is torn down and turned over.

Countless Russian revolutionaries genuinely believed this, and the present state of affairs, with the Tsar growing more popular among the people by the day, was anything but desirable.

Of course, there existed a minority, the moderates, who asked whether it wasn’t a good thing that the workers’ lives were actually improving and that fewer people were going hungry.

But even they did not believe that Nicholas II, that fool of a tsar, could truly repair this rotten country at its foundations.

Russia was rotten in its very structure, rotted through past any point of return.

The problem was not simply the Tsar; from the Orthodox Church down to the nobility, every last one of them had rotted through.

“Do you all understand? Things cannot go on as they are. Russia may look as though it is improving, but this will come back to us as a far greater tragedy!”

“Comrade Savinkov is right. Back home the spark of revolution is guttering out. Put our faith in Nicholas II? Not a chance!”

“But even so, killing the Tsar….”

“No! Only when the Tsar is gone will the rotten truth of Russia rise to the surface.”

The revolutionaries had always believed that Nicholas II, the fool of a tsar, would be the firewood that fed the spark of revolution into a blaze.

Yet strangely enough, on the surface at least, he was setting Russia to rights to a degree that made a man wonder how it was even possible.

It could only be coincidence, but he had even gone so far as to stamp out the Grand Dukes, those living embodiments of graft and corruption.

Still, the nobility and the Orthodox Church were hardly forces the Tsar could sweep away simply by deciding to sweep them away.

The more Nicholas II thrashed about like this, the longer Russia would stagnate in a state that was neither one thing nor the other, and in the end more people would suffer for it.

“That is precisely why I said we must not be played by a conman like M.”

“…Comrade, surely even so, that is….”

“Am I wrong? Because of that man M, the very momentum of the revolution is draining away!”

And then, just at that moment, a thread of a chance arrived.

No. Chance is too small a word for this.

“Comrade, take a look at this.”

What had come into Savinkov’s hands was a letter that had reached him through the overseas comrades’ network of contacts, passing by way of three separate waypoints.

The sender’s name was R.

Some knockoff of M, he thought at first, but the items enclosed in the envelope were, every one of them, no ordinary thing.

A detailed sketch map of the interior of the Alexander Palace.

The Tsar’s weekly schedule.

The changing times and deployment chart of the palace Imperial Guard.

And above all, rolling about at the bottom of the envelope, a fragment of sealing wax stamped with the Tsar’s crest, the kind said to be used only within the imperial house these days.

“This is….”

These were things no one but an insider of the imperial house could ever have obtained.

The letter itself was brief.

[I am a man born the son of a Siberian peasant who has now become the Tsar’s favorite. The world curses me as a conman, but I ask you to understand that all of it is nothing more than an act. I climbed to this position in order to bring down this rotten dynasty from within, and I am now planning the deed, so that I may offer up this life of mine for the revolution.]

Savinkov’s heart began to race.

R…. It could be no one but Rasputin.

He knew the name Grigori Rasputin well enough.

The mad monk of society and the Empress’s favorite, and among revolutionaries a name that stood as the very symbol of the imperial house’s corruption.

And this man had in truth been a comrade from the very start, a comrade who had slipped into the palace for the sake of the revolution?

[But I have found that I cannot carry out the deed alone. I can open the door from the inside, yet to actually put it into execution I will need a number of comrades.]

Rasputin’s plan was astonishingly concrete, and it showed the foresight to see what would come afterward.

[Once the Tsar is removed, only the sickly Tsesarevich remains, and so the Romanov system will collapse of its own accord. This is the path along which the least blood is spilled. The blood of one single tsar should be enough to bring down the tsarist monarchy.]

So a poor peasant’s child had walked into the palace, endured the insult of being called a conman while keeping up the act, and had been preparing a revolution right under the Tsar’s nose?

Savinkov could not suppress a shiver at this revolutionary tale that no one had ever imagined.

“Are you certain? That this truly came from Rasputin?”

“Look at the palace sketch map and the guard deployment. Nobody could draw that without seeing it from the inside. And with the Tsar’s crest in sealing wax on top of it, what room is there left for doubt?”

Savinkov read the letter through once more.

The handwriting was rough.

It was written there that he had scrawled it carelessly to avoid being traced, and this slapdash hand, set against the precision of the evidence enclosed with it, only lent the thing more authenticity.

Had it come from a conman, the penmanship would have been the first thing dressed up.

He had even followed it up by saying that he had lately become the Tsesarevich’s personal physician, sending along one of the Tsesarevich’s own belongings as proof.

To doubt any further would be an insult to that splendid comrade.

Having resolved upon the deed, Savinkov went first of all to Chernov.

They had long known of each other, though they could hardly be called close; but this was no time to weigh such feelings.

“Comrade Chernov, our chance has come.”

Chernov’s reaction on seeing the letter and the evidence was a little different from what he had expected.

Rather than the raw excitement of a man who had seized his opportunity, a meticulous analysis followed at once.

“I cannot verify the accuracy of the palace sketch map, but the guard changing times roughly match the records of our own informants. And this sealing wax….”

“It is used only within the palace. This is the first time I have seen one with my own eyes.”

“And a personal effect of the Tsesarevich on top of it… very well. At this level, it would be stranger if it were a forgery.”

Chernov set down the letter and adjusted his spectacles.

“Understand, however, that I am not the man who goes to the scene and throws the bomb. My role is to furnish the theoretical justification. I will have the logical grounds fully prepared, establishing that the assassination of the Tsar is an unavoidable choice for the sake of Russia’s future.”

“That is enough. The execution was always my share of it.”

Chernov would establish the theory, and Savinkov would translate it into action.

If Rasputin opened that passage for them, the deed could not possibly fail.

A few days later, the reply Savinkov sent to Rasputin carried his agreement, along with word that he would come to Petersburg.

Astonishingly, the answer that came back was more meticulous still.

[We will make contact at my residence. For safety’s sake, disguise yourselves as businessmen come to offer me a bribe and to beg a favor. Ten men a day come here to press bribes on me, so no one will suspect a thing. Naturally, I have gathered every one of those bribes as funds for the revolution, so use them for the deed, and take whatever remains to see the revolution through to the end.]

Astounding. That even the taking of bribes had been a means of raising funds for the revolution.

[There is one condition. Until the moment we meet, we must pretend not to know one another. There may be eyes of the imperial house in my residence. I too have staked my life on this, so I would be grateful if you would grant me this much caution.]

Savinkov could not help but marvel as he read.

Of course. A man who means to kill the Tsar ought to be this thorough.

Savinkov felt nothing but fresh shame for the man he had been, the one who had cursed Rasputin as a conman.

“So we make contact two days after we arrive in Petersburg….”

“He says that, as a precaution, he will act as though he does not know us until we actually meet, and asks for our understanding.”

“Thorough. I like it very much indeed.”

If this plan succeeded, they could sweep away not only the Tsar but M, that thorn in his side, and cleanly at that.

“Nicholas II… I bear you no grudge, but please, die.”

For the sake of this country, and for the completion of that great work called revolution.

* * *

Around the time letters from the Socialist Revolutionary Party’s radical wing were piling up thick in Rasputin’s residence.

Rasputin still did not doubt for a moment that his world would go on forever.

Day after day noblewomen came to fawn over him, and petitioners hung on his every word and diligently offered up their bribes.

At the palace he still wore the mask of a devout holy man, offering prayers before the Empress, and calmly dispensed his preposterous advice on affairs of state to the Tsar.

“Your Majesty, the Lord has commanded that we covet not the lands of the Far East.”

“Ohh, just so. Truly, there is truth in what Rasputin says!”

Watching the Tsar nod along, Rasputin smiled to himself.

To toss out some scrap he had merely overheard somewhere and have the emperor marvel at it. Was there any life in the world more delightful than this?

“Holy Father, I’ve put this in order for you.”

He could carry on this way because the faithful little boy who idolized him was forever bringing him such useful material.

Rasputin took the papers with a smile and dropped them carelessly onto the desk in his study.

He must have figured there was no need to trouble himself, since I would sort it all out for him anyway.

“Misha, a child as good and as clever as you is certain to grow into a great man one day.”

“It’s only because you’re here, Holy Father, that I study so hard.”

“Hahaha! Yes, yes. If you never forget that loyalty, I may arrange something fine for you later on. A marriage, say… to one of the Princesses?”

He didn’t know I was an illegitimate son, so in his own mind he was paying me a kindness, but keeping my mouth from twisting was work enough on its own.

-Guy’s supposed to be a holy man and he still doesn’t know who you are. Guess the Lord didn’t bother filling him in on that one?

Right? Truly a splendid and upright man.

“Really? Holy Father, you’re amazing.”

“Hahaha, indeed. One quiet word of recommendation from me and His Majesty the Emperor would consent on the spot. You need only tell me later which of the Princesses you like best. That much I can certainly grant you.”

It was absurd, but I put on the most moved expression I could manage, and Rasputin, smiling with satisfaction, stroked my head.

We had been talking a good while when Rasputin happened to glance at the clock on the wall and waved a hand.

“Misha, off home with you for today. I have an important guest coming.”

“Oh, yes. I understand, Holy Father. Then I’ll come again next time.”

I had rigged it all in advance, so Rasputin would be expecting businessmen bringing an enormous bribe.

Of course, what was actually coming was nothing of the sort, but a man for whom taking bribes was a daily routine would not feel the slightest thing out of place.

I bowed politely and left Rasputin’s residence.

Section Chief Yakov, who had been waiting outside, studied my face and asked carefully.

“Well?”

“…I think it’s true, Section Chief.”

I let out a deliberately deep sigh.

“I already told you the suspicious documents keep piling up in his study. But today, among the ones I got a peek at… there was one with His Majesty the Tsar’s route of travel written on it.”

Yakov’s eyes went cold and still.

“If that is so, we can put this off no longer.”

“You had that secret entrance built, Section Chief, so I think we could check from there. He said a guest is coming today, so if that guest turns out to be someone suspicious….”

“Understood. If they are true revolutionaries they will search the grounds thoroughly before entering the house, so we shall go into the secret passage and wait there.”

I watched Section Chief Yakov turn away and vanish toward the passage, then slowly followed after him.

An hour later.

Two men stepped into the drawing room of Rasputin’s residence.

In expensive overcoats and carrying briefcases, they were, to anyone’s eye, the very picture of wealthy businessmen.

“Ah, welcome, welcome! Come in, sit and make yourselves comfortable.”

I could hear Rasputin greeting the pair with a hearty, good-natured laugh.

Peering through the small hole that had been bored in the wall, I could see Savinkov’s face fill with admiration.

If he believed all of this was an act, that was the only reaction he could possibly have.

To play a greedy man with an appetite for bribes so flawlessly.

There was no imagining just how deep the man’s mastery must run.

“Now then, what can I do for you?”

“Yes, in truth we hoped to seek the Holy Father’s counsel on a matter of business….”

“Business, is it! Good, good. Come this way. We’ll talk at our ease in the study.”

Rasputin led the way to the study in high spirits.

Once Savinkov and Chernov had shut the study door, it was the revolutionaries who came to the point first.

“May we speak of it here and now?”

Rasputin leaned back in his chair and nodded.

“Of course, of course. It is safe here, so speak freely.”

“…We intend to proceed exactly as your letter set out. When would be the proper day for the deed?”

Rasputin’s eyes wavered, ever so slightly.

The deed? What deed?

“…Haha, well, there’s no need to rush, is there? Let us come to the particulars slowly….”

“Agreed. The Tsar’s route of travel is already laid out in the material you sent, so the most suitable point would be….”

The Tsar?

Route of travel?

For the first time, the feeling of what in God’s name are these people babbling about showed plainly on his face.

Anyone could see that Rasputin’s expression was far from ordinary, but Savinkov took even this for part of the act.

“Have no fear. Before coming in we looked the area over carefully and confirmed there was no ambush. No one is listening here but us….”

In that instant.

Crash!

The wall of the study swung open and armed men came pouring through.

“Nobody move! Okhrana!”

Section Chief Yakov’s murderous roar shook the study.

Savinkov’s face went white.

Chernov let his briefcase slip from his hand and backed away.

And Rasputin sprang up from his chair with a cry that was near enough a scream.

“Wh-what is the meaning of this! Section Chief Yakov! Have you lost your mind? Do you want to be sacked! Shall I go this very day to Her Majesty the Empress and tell her what you’ve done!”

Instead of answering, Section Chief Yakov strode to the desk in the study and hauled open the double-bottomed cabinet.

What spilled out of it was a bundle of letters and documents Rasputin had never once laid eyes on.

A sketch map with the Tsar’s route of travel marked on it.

A detailed timetable for the assassination plan.

And, on top of it all, a record of correspondence apparently exchanged with Savinkov.

“Section Chief! Here it is! Concrete evidence of a plot to assassinate His Majesty.”

“Wh-what? Why would that be in there… no, what in the world is this…!”

“Rasputin, do you mean to keep up the act to the bitter end, even now!”

At the section chief’s blistering shout Rasputin only blinked, blank-eyed.

“Holy Father… how could you do such a….”

“M-Misha! No! This is a conspiracy! You must tell His Majesty! These Okhrana dogs have cooked up a plot to throw me in a cell, I tell you!”

Rasputin shrieked convulsively at the tearful voice of a small child utterly shattered by the true face of the man he had idolized, trusted, and followed.

Now, what should I say to that?

“Holy Father… there’s just so much evidence here.”

The nerve, talking like that after being caught in the act.

You wrote every bit of this yourself, didn’t you, you commie assassin.

~~~

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