“That’s going to complicate things, I suspect,” said Mokrenko.
“How’s that?” Turgenev asked.
“I’d be really surprised if Kostyshakov hasn’t given the word and been training the rest of the battalion to take no prisoners. It’s what I’d do in his place.”
“Sure, makes sense,” agreed the lieutenant.
“Now picture what happens when one of the rescue force is about to eliminate, say, this Chekov person, and Grand Duchess Tatiana tries to save him.”
It wasn’t hard to imagine. “Shit. Ugly.”
“She might or might not,” Natalya said. “The relationship between those two is complicated. But I have no doubt at all that Olga would stand between Dostavalov and a charging tiger, unless he overpowered her to stand between the tiger and her.”
Turgenev nodded slowly, then said, “And even if the rescue force can kill those two guards without harming the girls, what do the girls do at seeing their loves shot down? This is going to be tough enough for the rescue force without having to carry two of the Romanov girls…”
“They’re big girls, too,” Natalya interjected.
“… two of those big Romanov girls,” Mokrenko continued, without a pause, “while those girls are crying and screaming and kicking and biting, doing everything, in fact, except cooperating.”
“Where do these men sleep?” asked Turgenev.
“In the basement with the other guards,” she answered. “Of whom, by the way, there are about a hundred in each building. I couldn’t be more accurate than that, sorry.”
“Would they be missed?” Turgenev asked, adding, “No need to apologize; we haven’t been able to be any more accurate than you.”
“You’re not going to kill them, are you?” Natalya asked. “They’re really very nice men. War heroes, too, in fact. Also, there are two sailors there who care for and guard Tsarevich Alexei. They’ve done so since well before the revolution. Devoted to him, actually. Klementi Nagorny is one, Ivan Sednev the other. If you opened up a dictionary to the word ‘loyal’? There would be a little picture of Klementi Nagorny and right next to it one of Sednev. What about them?”
“Worse and worse,” Mokrenko muttered, then quickly added, “and no blame to you, Natalya. Without the information you’ve gotten… well… this thing would be a lot closer to impossible.”
Turgenev asked, “Is there anything else you can add to our rope and cloth diagram, Natalya?”
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “Not without getting out a tape measure and acting very suspiciously.”
“Fine. We’re kicking this up to higher. Rostislav Alexandrovich, let’s roll up our diagrams, put them on a sleigh, and go see the big boss.”
“There’s another problem, though,” Natalya said. “The tsarina. I don’t know if she’s actually that unwell or just playing for sympathy, but you’ve got to account for the possibility she’ll need to be carried.”
“Oh, great,” said the lieutenant, letting his forehead fall onto the fingers of his left hand. “I don’t think any of us considered that. And I suppose the tsar and their children would never leave without their mother?”
“Not a chance,” she replied.
Great Lake Shishkarym
When Turgenev and Mokrenko arrived on their sleigh at the forward assembly area, they were unsurprised to see a zeppelin there, disgorging men, equipment, and supplies, but shocked almost speechless at the size of the thing.
“You know, sir,” Mokrenko said to the lieutenant, as he pulled the reins to bring their pair of Yakut horses to a stop, “as much as anything I’ve ever seen, that airship tells me the Germans are just too dangerous to leave free. We’ve both seen how good they are, tactically, in the field, but that thing shouts that they think too big, dangerously too big.”
“First name and patronymic, Rostislav Alexandrovich, first name and patronymic.”
“Sir, we’re among our own. I won’t forget when we’re in Tobolsk, but it would be too hard to explain here.”
“All right, then, Sergeant Mokrenko. But we can’t, either of us, forget once we leave here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mokrenko stood up in the sleigh. He looked around and saw Panfil and the rest of the 37mm cannon section working with a couple of the stouter looking Yakut horses to move around their guns and limbers. Couple of days practice still needed, I think.
He was pleasantly surprised to see every man clad in white from head to foot. That makes fine sense.
Elsewhere, his own friend Kaledin seemed to be doing much the same with sleighs and pairs of the Yakuts. Not far from the lake’s edge, a very informal looking encampment was surrounded by a dozen burly guards. No one inside looked familiar. Indeed, they looked like a collection of random citizens, and none of them looked too happy about being there. I wonder…
Turgenev caught sight of the commander, Kostyshakov, walking to their sleigh. “Bring the sleigh,” he said to Mokrenko.
With a shake of the reins, and a pull to one lead, the Yakuts padded off, turning themselves and the sleigh in the direction of Kostyshakov. When they were about ten or so arshini from the commander, Mokrenko pulled back, making the horses stop. Then the two of them stood and saluted, while Turgenev reported that he and Mokrenko wished “to speak to the commander.”
Kostyshakov made a come here motion with his fingertips, saying, too, “Come on, Maxim, I’m not all that formal.”
“Well, yes, sir; I know, sir,” replied the lieutenant. “But I’ve got a problem and I’m not sure how to deal with it.”
“Right, come on, let’s go to the tent. There’s hot tea there and…”
“Sir,” said Mokrenko, “if I may ask, who or what are those people over there being guarded?”
“Local civilians, hunters, that kind of thing, Sergeant. As soon as we landed the first group and got organized, I mounted up as many as knew how to ride and sent them out on a long sweep to drag in anyone who might have seen us or the zeppelin. Some of them are still out hunting, too, especially in the area between us and Tobolsk. But for about ten miles around here, there shouldn’t be anyone free but maybe for the odd ghost.”
“I see, sir. Thank you.”
“Sergeant Mokrenko,” said Turgenev, “I think you should come with us. You’ve got insights the commander should have.”
“Yes, sir,” agreed the sergeant, once again flicking the reins and causing the horses to walk sedately in the direction of the tent.
On the way, Turgenev related the problem with the four men, Chekov, Dostavalov, Sednev, and Nagorny. He thought he saw Kostyshakov’s face tighten a bit at the mention of the possibility Tatiana Nicholaevna might be emotionally involved with one of them. It was only a momentary dropping of the curtain, though, so the lieutenant couldn’t be sure.
Still interesting, if I really did see that.
In the tent, Daniil drew tea for the three of them. Lumps of sugar sat on a small tin plate. “So what are you suggesting?” he asked of Turgenev.
“Sir, the possibilities seem to me to be three: One, ignore the problem. This I cannot recommend. Two: Kill the four of them. Especially in the cases of Nagorny and Sednev, this I also cannot recommend. Three: We kidnap the lot and hold them.”
“Well, no,” Kostyshakov agreed, “we can’t ignore it. I’m inclined to say kidnap them if you can; kill them if you must.”
“Yes, sir, we’ll try that, then. The other thing is the Nemka.”
“What about the tsarina?” he asked. Few Russians really liked “the German woman.” “I’ve met her, you know. She’s not so bad, really, just very shy and fully aware she’s not much liked, without the first clue of what to do about it.”