“Pokorný? What is it?” Kral’s face was calm; he wasn’t going to chastise Dalek for leaving his post, at least not until after Dalek explained himself.
“I intercepted a telegram from Kolchak to Semenov.”
Semenov’s name brought a frown to Kral’s lips. Semenov was nominally on their side—he opposed the Bolsheviks, and he received a generous stipend from the Japanese. But rumors of massacres performed by Semenov’s men were so common that there had to be some truth to them. “What did it say?”
“It seems Kolchak is unhappy that his train is stuck behind so many legion trains. We’re slowing his escape from the Red Army. He suggested Semenov prevent our movement east, even if he has to blow up bridges and destroy the Baikal tunnels.”
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.
Filip had deserted once before. But leaving the Austro-Hungarian Army had been justified; he’d been following his conscience. Leaving the legion would be different, a betrayal. The rational part of his mind told him that staying with the regiment was his wisest choice. Nadia, at least, would know where to find him. Still, moving to the east, no matter how slowly, cut at his heart. What if he was leaving Nadia farther and farther behind?
“Have the men load up,” Kral said. “We’re leaving.”
“Already?” They’d only arrived a few hours ago. Their trains hadn’t moved so quickly in months.
“Yes. We’ve been assigned two engines, so we can escort Admiral Kolchak to Irkutsk.”
“You can’t be serious.” Dalek had told Filip all about the telegram and the conspiracy between Kolchak and Semenov.
Kral frowned. “I wish I were joking. But I’m not.”
“Kolchak hates us. Why would he want us to escort him to Irkutsk?”
“Because the Red Army is on his heels, and he has enemies everywhere. He needs protection, and we’re the best fighting force in Siberia. And there’s more. We’re also escorting the imperial treasury.”
“The gold?”
“Eight boxcars with 650 million rubles in gold bullion.”
Filip glanced around. No one else had heard. “That will make us a target. And why should Kolchak get the gold? It belongs to the Russian people.”
“So you think we should leave it for the Bolsheviks?”
“No. But I don’t like the idea of risking our lives so Kolchak can escape with the wealth of the Romanovs. He’s a crook.”
“That may be true, but we have our orders.”
Filip shook his head, not in disagreement, just in frustration.
“Cheer up. Maybe she’s in Irkutsk waiting for you.”
Hope surged through Filip’s chest. “Do you think so?”
Kral sighed. “I have no idea where your wife is. But she’s not here, so you may as well press on.”
Filip nodded and went to spread the word. They were moving east with one of the most hated men in Siberia on their train, and with enough gold to attract every bandit, mercenary, and outlaw within five hundred miles.
And without the woman that more than anything he longed to find.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Nadia, Tanya, Sokolov, and Fedorov had stumbled onto the portion of the White Army that General Kappel commanded. When Omsk fell, most of their equipment had been captured by the enemy, so they weren’t well supplied. Nor were they fighting the Bolsheviks.