‘Well, he’s minister for war, isn’t he? What more do they want? They’ve got the Russian treasury, too, so I would have thought they’d be pretty pleased with the way things have turned out.’
‘He never took his eyes off that gold, you know,’ said Valentine.
‘Who didn’t?’
‘Your cousin. All the way to Samara and then to Chelyabinsk. That was some smart work, there. If it hadn’t have been for Sofya they would have got away from me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘While the treasury officials were busy looking for somewhere safe to hold the gold, the West Siberians got it out of the station. Mikhail had a hand in that.’
‘What had Sofya got to do with it?’
‘I knew nothing about it,’ Valentine said. ‘Not until she came to say goodbye. She said they were leaving unexpectedly for Omsk and wanted me to let you know if I saw you. Of course, I tumbled to what her brother was up to straight away and sort of attached myself to the party. In an unofficial capacity, of course.’
‘What party?’
‘The treasury officials. They’ve been with the gold reserves ever since they left Petersburg. Regardless who had it — Bolsheviks, Czechs or your cousin’s cronies. They’ve been traipsing all over Russia trailing their families after them. How is she, anyway?’ Valentine suddenly asked. ‘She’s a capital girl, don’t you think?’
Paul stared across the table at him, marvelling at how much Valentine had changed his tune. On the train from Petersburg, he’d have just as soon pitched Sofya out onto the track.
‘I’m told things haven’t been too good here,’ Paul said, changing the subject.
‘There is a certain uncertainty,’ Valentine agreed. ‘Factions at each other’s throat, that sort of thing. There’s been a good deal of trouble at night, you know, tit-for-tat murders… transfers to the Republic of the Irtúish, as they say…’
‘Transfers to what?’
Valentine smiled grimly. ‘Oh, that’s what they call it when they make a hole in the river ice and stuff the bodies through…’
Paul shivered.
‘Mostly, of course, they just leave them on the streets.’
‘What do you think will happen?’
‘Whoever’s strongest will take control,’ Valentine said matter-of-factly. ‘While Boldyrev’s here the Directory of Five will probably stay in control since he’s one of the Five. Not that they have much power. The Council of Ministers runs Omsk. Inasmuch as anyone could be said is running it.’
‘But Boldyrev’s not here,’ Paul said. ‘We stopped in Petropávlovsk so Kolchak could meet with him. He was on his way to the Ufa front.’
‘In that case,’ Valentine said, mouth full and pouring the tea, ‘the reactionary element might take the opportunity to liquidate the SRs. The French and the Japanese say that’s what Knox is trying to engineer, given that he’s apparently made some rather intemperate remarks about the situation here. I can’t see it myself, but I doubt he’ll step in to stop it if it happens. Of course, the Japanese have their own agenda.’
‘What have the Japanese got to do with it?’
‘They’re more or less running the show in east Siberia — Vladivostok, Harbin and such places… It’s pretty common knowledge that they’ve got designs on carving out an empire for themselves. They’re using an awful fellow by the name of Semenov to do the dirty work for them. He’s some Cossack ataman or other, running riot between Baikal and the coast. They say it’s only the Legion and the Allies in Vladivostok who stand in his way.’
‘What about the Bolsheviks?’
‘Dead letter out east, old man. At least while the Allies and the Japs are there. Semenov will overreach himself, though, sooner or later. He seems more intent on rape and pillage than political power.’
Paul shook his head. ‘It’s all a bit beyond our remit, isn’t it?’
‘Sorry?’
‘What Cumming sent us out to—’
‘C, old man,’ said Valentine, ‘C.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake!’ Paul shouted. ‘Who on earth do you think is listening to us in this God-forsaken place?’
Valentine sat up. ‘Look here, Ross,’ he said, adopting an officious tone for the first time since Paul had known him, ‘rules are rules. It’s like bull in the army. It may seem pointless but it’s there to teach one the right attitude.’
‘Oh? You’ve been in the army, have you?’
‘Well, no…’ Valentine admitted. ‘But the service is not so very different, is it?. One must always be vigilant, regardless of circumstances.’
There was a whole world of difference, Paul felt like saying, but he knew he’d be wasting his breath. He drank his tea, looking at Valentine and his ridiculous beard over his cup.
‘I’m not arguing,’ he said. ‘It’s just that sometimes I wonder what I’m doing here.’
‘Say no more about it, old man,’ Valentine replied, in a conciliatory mood of a sudden. ‘You’ve had a rough time of it these past weeks, I dare say. I can see it might look as if you’ve been blundering about in the dark but things have been achieved. As you said, things are shaping up as London would like.’
‘Are they?’
‘Certainly. And with Kolchak in control, if it come to that, haven’t we got the best chance of defeating the Bolsheviks? Putting the country back on its feet?’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Of course. I thought him a capital chap.’
‘You’ve met him?’
‘They gave a banquet for him when he first arrived. All the government dignitaries, and Stavka of course…’
‘And you as well?’
‘All part of the job,’ Valentine assured him. ‘Keeping one’s ear to the ground, that sort of thing. I admit I steered clear of Knox, though.’
‘That’s all well and good,’ said Paul, ‘but where does it leave us now? The Allies, I mean, now the war is over. And the Legion?’
‘Frankly, old man, in the Service it’s never all over. I suppose you can go back to whatever it was you were doing before you joined up. As for me…’
Valentine let the rest hang in the air. So Paul might draw his own conclusions, he supposed. Actually he didn’t have any. He didn’t care what Valentine did when it was all over; wouldn’t mind a jot if he never laid eyes on the man again. He was more concerned with himself, wanting it all to be over so that he could get back home and at the same time not wanting to leave until certain things had been settled. And things that were nothing to do with Kolchak and the Allies. Or Valentine, for that matter.
‘And the Legion?’ he said again, to get the conversation and his mind off Sofya and back on the matter at hand.
‘The Czechs and Slovaks? I should imagine what they are going to have to do is hold the line while the Whites raise a decent Russian army. That’s what Knox wants. Then I suppose they can either evacuate through Vladivostok as planned or, once the Red Army is rolled up, take the short route home to their new country.’
Paul dunked his bread in what was left of the dripping. It sounded easy. But it wasn’t, of course. He knew for a fact that the Legion was sick of fighting. They might be prepared to do it on their own behalf but not for the sake of the sort of reactionary regime that someone like Kolchak might lead. They had more in common with the revolutionaries than with the sort of government the admiral would head.
‘Ward told me,’ he said to Valentine, ‘that Knox expressed the opinion that he’d be just as happy to see Gajda in control as Kolchak.’
‘The Czech colonel?’