Bulletproof Jewels Chapter 24: A very clever civilian, an anastasia fanfic

I am so sorry I took so long to update but as I said, finishing the prequel is my priority right now, admittedly not for you my dear readers because it is not as popular, but for me, personally, because I need it to get the backstory and personality of the characters better here in this story and also cause I want a mostly light counterpart to this dark story.
Some of you might become a little confused if you reread this because I have changed several small events and dates for certain events in the story and all of that because of a single detail I completely missed the first time: July 19th 1918 was a Friday, and no Jewish people would have been around outside after it became dark just closing their shops, so Olga and Alexei would not have been able to meet the kind stranger who advised them that day or even the day after. To solve this problem I just made it so they spent around two more days in the town surviving out of charity before they met him and then they found Sergei, Anastasia, Charles and Valeriy on the night of the 21st, which means Alexei was taken on the 23rd. Turov is still made aware of the kidnapping on the 24th because I decided to change how much time it would take for him to find out. To be honest, the kidnappers were not going to wait a day to start their blackmail attempt and the Cheka had no reason not to warn the literal person in charge of "fake" Romanov sightings immediately. Olga does arrive later to Perm on the 27th though.
I could have definitely eliminated that anecdote, since I borrowed it, like many events, from "The Pillars of the Earth" anyway and that was literally the only reason it was there in the first place, but it was a very interesting and valuable interaction both in that novel and in this fic, one that I personally love. I also made it so the man´s advice had a profound effect on Olga´s worldview, even though it took a while for her to notice, so it would have changed even more details in the long run for me to take it out. So yeah, I preferred to move the timeline even though there are many reasons it is kind of important for some events to happen quickly, but it was just two days anyway so it is fine lol.
Some more details I missed at first but already edited as well:
+ I had Turov mention sending red guards to look for Olga and Alexei in the stations of Leningrad when the city was still called Petrograd back then. I am a clown lol.
+ I made Olga think about how King George had refused them asylum back when their situation wasn´t desperate, when in fact, they never knew. In real life they all died thinking it was the British government alone and not the King who had refused them. This may or may not make for a good dramatic reveal scene later on… stay tuned.
I am not even that picky, I am willing to overlook any inaccuracy or impossible event for the sake of doing whatever I want with the story, but completely unnecessary inaccuracies just being there with no purpose?! I get perfectionist, ok? lol

Here is the new chapter, enjoy!
Or… enjoy? ;)

July 29th, 1918.

Vladimir Konstantinovich Gorlinsky.

Their contributions are unquestionably necessary, but sometimes, I find it hard to respect certain civilians, as smart as they may be. I must admit I didn´t like comrade Turov very much at the beginning. He is the very definition of a civilian.

While I was fighting in the Russo-Japanese War, he was solving murder cases and tracking down common criminals. As I organized mutinies, the life of Igor Pyotrovich went on as usual.

While I fought the tsar´s army, he kept working as a private investigator for those who could afford one.

While I was serving my time in Siberia, his life remained as comfortable as ever.

While several other comrades and I struggled to keep the movement alive in exile, he was still investigating murders and tracking down common criminals.

His life remained undisturbed even as we planned to storm the Winter Palace last October.

The only resource Igor Pyotrovich Turov ever offered the party before he was tasked with this investigation was capital. What could be more cynical?

I didn´t like his dishonesty either. Claims to be a loyal Bolshevik and yet knows only the basics of Marxist theory. I still have the impression he is slightly opportunistic and that the loyalty to the party he so much brags about depends on the success of better comrades.

Despite my reservations, he did most of the job and I only contributed to the mission with my new men and the speed in which I can get them to follow orders. I always inspire respect, and in some ways, fear.

I was injured on the right leg while fighting the counterrevolutionaries of the south that were trying to capture Yekaterinodar. I had been recovering here in Moscow for several weeks when I received the notice I would not be able to return to the front.

As a general, it was painful even to know my men would be left under a stranger´s order, but at least I have requested the transfer of my recently deceased friend´s son from the eastern to the southern front, putting him forward so he can get a promotion and become the one in charge of them. The young man is a bit strange and somewhat insufferable at times, but unlike Turov, he has been completely devoted to the cause pretty much since birth and is the furthest opposite from a civilian there could be. Even more, he is one of the few soldiers who, I bet, could fulfill both the role of a military expert and that of a political commissar successfully. With ten more men like him, the war would be won in days.

I guess I was needed more for this office job. It might be a bit duller in comparison, but my leg hasn't fully healed yet anyway. I still need a cane to walk properly, and my white hair and mustache only accentuate my fragile appearance despite being well built even at 56. And yet I would never wear anything but a khaki soldier uniform, black leather boots, and a green coat if it gets chilly outside. Only the cap with the red star at the front completes my daily attire.

I am visiting Turov´s office today. He is slightly older than me and way skinnier, but taller. His eyes are hazel, as opposed to my own blue ones, but at first it was hard to tell. He is always wearing glasses, and like any good civilian, he dresses in black trousers with gray straight lines, shiny shoes, a white shirt, a black vest, and a tie. If it gets cold I guess he may put on that black coat he always hangs on the hat tree one sees just entering the place where his office is located.

His secretary Dina answers when I ring the doorbell. She is a tall and skinny brunette with bright green eyes in her late thirties who is now wearing a simple brown dress. It is really none of my business, but I think she and Turov might be having an affair.

I greet her and enter the living room as she fetches Turov for me. I sit on the couch and marvel at how quick it all was.

I was put in charge of a special-assignment unit consisting of several hundred local red guards, most of them party workers. They would be operating along with the Cheka, over which I have authority.

The first thing I did after learning of the case and the mission I had been tasked with was to order the liquidation of all the prisoners the threatening letter had asked for. A radical decision I first had to ask permission for, as there were little less than 70 men and women on that list.

My course of action was also dangerous, but it would have been more so to appear weak and malleable to the whims of blackmailers. As the sword and shield of the revolution, the Cheka needed to show strength. It needed to show they would not be bullied by anyone, not even those with cards to use against us. Nothing would have been more dangerous than weakness, not even the former tsarevich being ransomed to the monarchists, a different type of problem we could have dealt with later.

I informed Turov of my decision on the 24th of July, the very same day we met. He was infuriated, which only increased my initial antipathy towards him.

"Fool!" He cried in a womanish way I still laugh about in private. "All brawn and no brains! What makes you think they won´t go through with their threat? What if they ransom the tsarevich to foreigners and he is sent away? And how are we going to get in contact with the kidnappers now, with nothing to allure them?! Is there at least a chance one of them hasn´t been killed yet?"

I was left with no choice but to inquire with the Cheka about it. In the meantime, Turov examined the prisoner list yet again. He kept telling me how surprising its contents were. He had investigated the identities of the people it asked for, and they seemed to come from all walks of life. Anarchists, common criminals, a Menshevik, and one or two Kadets, among others, but most of all members of that moderate Socialist Revolutionary branch, the Right SRs. They did not belong to any particular social group or party. Some of them must have been nothing but relatives of true enemies of the revolution, taken by the Cheka only to investigate their family members. Some were just entitled bourgeois landowners who had resisted the seizure of one or two dwellings they used to call theirs.

If we didn´t have a specific party or criminal syndicate as a lead, we had nothing. At that point, we were growing further and not closer away from finding the truth. To make matters worse, I felt completely useless.

"How can I help you in the meantime, detective Turov?" I asked him once. "Do you want me to ask the Cheka to interrogate any Socialist Revolutionaries arrested recently? They may know someone involved in the plot, maybe…"

"Stop bothering me", the smug know-all replied. "That is how you can help me."

When Turov leaves his office, he and I toast to our success again in the living room, clashing the two small glass cups of vodka Dina provided us with. I think about what we have gone through these past few days as we chat. We resemble friends now. Despite our initial clash and our differences, we were forced by the circumstances to work together.

Wall designs. Who would have thought? But a detail that was insignificant to my eyes, and yet apparently not to those of the detective, helped us solve the case.

In the background of the photograph where the former tsarevich holds the newspaper, an impressively complex and elegant pattern carved on the white wall can be discerned. Turns out that for some reason, a reason related to his profession is my best guess, Turov had a photo album collection of the most prominent country house mansions of the nation as well as its interiors.

"Want to be useful?" The detective asked. "Help me look for that wall, will you?" He then handed me over half the albums.

I can´t say I liked his conceited tone, but I did as I was told.

Now, we searched for more than an hour and only found a single house with walls vaguely similar to the one in the picture, and even though it was worrisome at first, for Turov this was enough to do magic. The names of the designers had been carefully written down in the side notes of the album, and all the detective had to do was consult the census records, which he had fortunately been provided access to.

Once we found the address I telegrammed one of the posts of my unit and ordered my men to detain the designer temporarily. I took a cab and got there a bit earlier than them.

Luckily for us, the man in question hadn´t left the country yet, as he planned to do. After a brief interrogation, he consulted his diary to provide us with the locations of all the mansions he had designed.

After making sure the designer remained under the Cheka´s custody, just in case, I put my men to work and went back to Turov´s office. The place where the former heir was being held would be found in no time. A sacked, damaged, abandoned, and sad residence that had belonged to a family of landowners before the revolution.

By the evening of the 25th of July, only one district Cheka had sent a telegram back confirming they had not yet executed all the prisoners on the list that happened to be arrested there. The survivor´s full name was Igor Borisovich Cherepanov. A middle-aged Kadet who had belonged to the Duma. The Constitutional Democrats or Kadets were nothing but spineless centrists, most of which would have loved the prospect of an English-style constitutional monarchy. This… other Igor, had stupidly decided not to leave the country, not even after we had taken over and suppressed his already-dying movement, banning all their newspapers.

I telegrammed the Cheka again and asked for the prisoner to be spared, doing so solely for the detective´s sake. I genuinely considered it pointless. Very soon we would know where the former heir was being held and I had more than enough men, weapons, and ammunition to overwhelm any resistance from the kidnappers. Turov, however, suspected the plot involved the angry family members of several people who had been arrested, and he wanted to lure one of them to work as an informer so we could investigate the kidnapers in question and make sure all their accomplices were arrested.

I bet my comrade Igor Pyotrovich just wanted to impress Sverdlov and Lenin. Well… if that is what he wanted, he succeeded, but back then all I knew is that the case was turning out to be far more complex than I ever thought possible. When I first received the mission, my mind immediately concluded that the kidnappers must have surely belonged to the Black Hundreds, the far-right monarchist movement. Sore losers. That is what I thought of them.

Despite my now-friend's confidence in his "Outraged Relatives Leaving Political Differences Behind to Come to the Prisoners´ Rescue" theory, I personally couldn't conceive how in Marx´s name all these polar opposites had managed to work together as efficiently in so little time. And how had they even found out about the former heir´s escape? How had they known where to look? It seemed crazy impossible and scary at the same time. All those people leaving their differences behind to plot against us? Turov had a simple explanation:

"Don´t be silly, General Gorlinsky", he almost scolded me while we were resting in the living room, smoking. "I am in no way implying that the prisoners´ relatives came together in a happy reunion full of friendly political debates with tea and cookies included all in order to hatch a plot to blackmail the Cheka by finding the secretly spared tsarevich they somehow knew about for whatever reason."

"Former tsarevich", I corrected him.

"All I am saying is that maybe a member of some sort of gang or even complex criminal organization with experience doing these sorts of things, and by that I mean kidnapping and extorting people, randomly came across the party the boy was traveling with and decided to take advantage of the opportunity presented to him", Turov shrugged. "Maybe they had connections to the families of the prisoners as well. I am thinking of one of my men in particular. I don´t know if I have told you this, but one of my guards was killed recently." He paused when he saw my reaction. "Yes", he puffed his cigarette. "And I suspect another one of my guards did it, because I haven´t seen the suspect, Bogdan, ever since," Igor then sighed melodramatically. "I tried to find out more about him, but you have no idea of how many criminal records were burnt during the riots of February and March. He was probably a gang member who planned to steal weapons from the armory to sell them later or something."

"It won´t happen with the men of my new unit", I assured him. "Mine are all from the party, real revolutionaries."

"Eh, don´t be so sure", he waved his hand in dismissal. "What is a real revolutionary anyway? Someone who defies authority. You know how it is".

No, I do not "know" how it is. We are not anarchists. We have plans to improve people´s lives, reasons as to why authority should or should not be defied. His comment infuriated me back then, as it confirmed my preconceptions about him. The fact he kept exposing his bourgeois sensibilities by lamenting the destruction of the relatively efficient Criminal Police and thousands of its records didn´t help.

"No contact between the different political factions involved necessary", he continued. "They weren´t the brains".

"But if the kidnappers were nothing but common criminals, why demand the release of those prisoners?" I ask. "Why not simply request money in exchange for him?"

"That is what we need to look into", he replied. "We need complying witnesses, and for that, it would be better if you stopped suggesting we violently break into the country mansion as soon as we find it".

I interrogated Igor Borisovich Cherepanov myself. He was a widower, his eldest son had been killed two years ago fighting the Turks, his next child, a daughter, had fled with her husband and children to Finland, and his two youngest sons were missing, although I tried to extract a confession from him because I suspected they had actually escaped south to join the Volunteer Army, or worse, that they were spies for them. I wasn´t particularly successful and must admit my slaps and punches only managed to take the prisoner´s ability to speak away for a few minutes. I didn´t tell Turov this, of course. I didn´t think he was particularly squeamish or feared he would file a complaint against me. I still don´t, but he would have definitely said something like "I told you so."

Igor´s youngest child was nothing but a flirty unmarried teenage girl who had found work as a cook at a restaurant after the revolution, so other than his two youngest boys, I only suspected his third child and second eldest son.

Boris Igorevich Cherepanov was in no way a Kadet.

We would, in time, be made aware of his story. The young man is 27, the same age as my recently deceased friend´s son. Gleb. I still wonder whether the two boys ever met while they were students at Imperial Moscow University, which is now known as the Moscow State University. The subject has never been brought up, although it is likely they never did. Gleb was a prodigy and star student, while Boris dropped out due to his morphine addiction.

While still in school, Boris got deeply involved in a Socialist Revolutionary organization. He was a firm believer in his cause, not like those Right Socialist Revolutionaries who went on to ally themselves to the ineffectual and reactionary Provisional Government. Their different political leanings caused a rift between father and son. A dramatic situation seemingly taken from a Tolstoy novel.

Unfortunately, like many other Left Socialist-Revolutionaries, Boris was part of the July uprising against the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk peace treaty. It is unbelievable there are so-called revolutionaries who still believe nationalism is a virtue.

When the Brest-Litovsk agreement was ratified in March 1918, Left SR delegates pettily withdrew from the Council of People's Commissars, the Sovnarkom, leaving the government mostly in our hands, as they still continued to participate in the Congress of Soviets.

Later, during the Fourth Congress of Soviets, they lobbied to have the treaty nullified and for the war with Germany to continue. Nothing came out from this because Bolsheviks were the majority.

Not content with this, the Left SRs sent agents to assassinate Count Mirbach, the German ambassador in Moscow, which put the safety of our new and fragile government in jeopardy. After this, soldiers loyal to the Left SRs started refusing orders and defying us, until they outright revolted.

Even Felix Dzerzhinsky, the head of the Cheka, was detained for a while. They made a mockery out of our institution, which is why I was so insistent on not allowing this sloppy attempt at blackmail to go unpunished.

The rebels, Boris among them, outnumbered loyal soldiers in Moscow. For some reason, even the city's workers seemed unwilling to defend the Bolsheviks. The Left SR troops were very close to successfully sweeping into the Kremlin and arresting Lenin. Everything seemed lost, but fortunately, they were not as organized as the Red Army was.

In the aftermath of the embarrassing event, most Left SRs including Boris were treated with leniency we wouldn´t have indulged any other party with. After all, they had been our allies for a very long time before that ugly affair took place. Once the show trial was over many even retained their positions in several institutions and remained part of their respective Soviets. A necessary evil. Boris didn´t even get a slap on the wrist. He is, to this day, a member of the Cheka.

Disillusioned with our government, however, and apparently not completely strangled from his arrested father either, Boris had more than enough motives to participate in the disgraceful blackmail plot while retaining his position and ability to sleep at night.

Having obtained a very recent picture of Boris from his father, I sent it to the Cheka headquarters, and the young man was arrested soon enough, by the morning of the 26th, as he walked out of the mansion where the former tsarevich was being held.

It didn´t take much persuasion to convince Boris to tell us the whole story. We had his father. We had him alive. We even allowed him to see him before I started the interrogation. They sobbed and apologized to each other countless times for having been distant. The scene was moving, even for me.

We were incredibly lucky. Unlike most of the people related to the prisoners the blackmail list demanded were released, Boris was indeed involved with those guilty of keeping the former tsarevich hostage.

The main kidnappers were, as the detective had suspected, members of an old criminal organization that illegally sold drugs and alcohol, or at least a semi-poisonous substance the criminals fabricate themselves that acts as a surrogate for it. Either way, the most desperate drunkards couldn´t care less.

The criminals call themselves the rysi, and some even have tattoos on their backs of that Siberian cat. Not very smart if you ask me, as now we will be able to identify most of them with no trouble.

Very recently, after we started restricting them, they started selling weapons as well, and so, had people infiltrating the red guards to steal them from the armory as we suspected. They also had experience robbing and kidnapping members of wealthy families for ransom already, so it is no wonder Bogdan, the infiltrated rys in question, didn´t waste the opportunity presented to him.

The rysi were the ones who contacted the families, friends or allies of the prisoners and, in exchange for a sum of money they could pay later by indebting themselves to a criminal organization that would definitely not have forgotten the sum owed to them, the names of their loved ones would be added to the list in the blackmail letter that, at the time, seemed to guarantee the freedom of the prisoners. Too bad I was smarter than all of them combined.

This explains why the prisoners belonged to so many different groups, some of them political. They could have still been active but had not been in contact with each other. This was a true relief.

Among the few political members of the rysi were Boris and a couple of anarchists, although the latter is doubtful.

I don´t like anarchists very much. Soon after the February revolution took place, the tsarist police were disbanded and replaced by city and workers´ militias. It was then that anarchist members in several of those organizations started robbing people by pretending to be searching them legally. Some other militiamen began robbing under the guise of expropriating property in the name of one party or another. Most were in fact doing so for their own gain. It was not only anarchists or people claiming to be anarchists who committed these types of robberies, of course. Men from all walks of life took advantage of the chaos. Criminals, anarchists, Social Revolutionaries, deserters, new criminals who would have never done the same in different circumstances, and I am ashamed to say even a few undisciplined Bolsheviks might have participated in that foolishness.

Either way, the guise of anarchism was and still is a favorite among criminals, so much so that it has become hard to distinguish a true anarchist from a criminal pretending to be one, and I can´t say I believe genuine anarchists have a right to be outraged. Who are they fooling? Many of them are criminals without a well thought out plan for doing what they do.

Their values prevent any sort of serious organization because anyone can say they disagree and do whatever they want in the name of freedom. What a childish and ineffectual ideology! The people must be guided on the right path for their own good.

It is no wonder they are now a disorganized and dispersed group with no power at all left, at least not in Moscow. Refusing to obey anyone in power is their sole consolation. Well, apparently, blackmailing people they hate also is.

Boris turned out to be a very loyal and loving son. He immediately agreed to name all of his coconspirators and give us all the information he had on them.

Turov wanted him to go back into the mansion where the boy was being held and sneak him out discreetly, in part so we could carefully identify him before shooting him, as several of the guards had become emotional by the prospect of killing some other child. Then my men would storm into the house before the kidnappers realized the boy was missing and arrest the survivors to interrogate them. The two were now different missions the detective wanted to deal with separately.

We were successful in both, and only one of my men and four of the rysi were killed or wounded during the shooting.

Boris said it would be hard, as there were always gang members inside and around the mansion, but I assured him that if anything happened, he would be protected by my guards, who would be hiding right outside.

Boris came back with the boy, but he also brought Bogdan along.

I wasn´t able to recognize the former tsarevich at first, not even using pictures for guidance, but Boris and Bogdan assured us it was him.

Bogdan. He is the man Turov suspected of having infiltrated the guards, of having murdered his own commander, Davydov, in order to kidnap the former tsarevich and take him to the rysi. The detective had very good reasons to suspect him. Bogdan and another guard had been searching for Alexei under Davydov´s command just a day before the first threatening letters were slipped under the Cheka buildings. Not only that. The bodies of Davydov and the other guard had been found the morning of the day the blackmailing began, and yet Bogdan didn´t show up to work again nor was his body found anywhere. Boris even confirmed Turov´s suspicions.

The fat and ugly old man had a story though. Bogdan claimed to have been threatened by the rysi to do something for them. He claimed that the other guards had both been killed, not by him, but by the people traveling with the Romanovs. He dramatically recalled having been terrified of both the monarchists and the rysi as he escaped the shooting with his life and the former heir in his arms.

He didn´t have a rys tattoo, Bogdan argued. It was true. Neither did Boris, who was only a recent ally of the gang, although he had also bought morphine from them before with regularity.

I didn´t believe Bogdan. Turov didn´t believe Bogdan. But after almost being caught, the stinky rat had been spooked into learning his lesson. My display of strength at the beginning had fully worked. The snitch also had lots of useful information he was more than willing to provide us with, so after a brief discussion with Turov, we agreed to have him back without even punishing him first.

Bogdan knew more about the rysi than Boris. So much for having been threatened.

Our new informer knew about its members. He knew about many other secret criminal and political organizations they had frequently interacted with.

He knew which of the criminals had been in contact with the different political groups. They already had a big web of supply and demand, which is how they had managed to contact so many people as quickly with the purpose of formulating the prisoner list. Bogdan knew where those underground organizations kept the weapons they had bought from the rysi. He knew where they kept their propaganda.

The reason they hadn´t ransomed the former tsarevich to the monarchists and had instead chosen such a strange and uncertain way to make money is that Bogdan, being a loyal Bolshevik at heart, had convinced them his idea would produce more earnings. It is rubbish of course. The rysi simply wanted to squeeze the milk cow as much as they could before giving up on the boy for good, but were indeed planning to ransom him or at least extort one or two monarchists by making them believe they were willing to.

Boris knew about this, and after we promised to release his father, gave us all the information he had on the would-be buyers in question. Having captured the former tsarevich, Turov easily managed to design a trap for them by finishing what those criminals had started, only we were definitely not planning to do "business" with anyone. The dying Black Hundreds might not have had the boy, but several of their members surely paid for trying to. Three members of a Cossack host who planned to rescue him paid as well.

By sparing Bogdan and negotiating with Boris, Turov obtained more than he could have even bargained for. My men ended up arresting more than 80 individuals of diverse allegiances, several of whom were active threats we stopped just in time from following through with the plots they had against our state. All of them enemies of the people though. That is for sure something they all have in common, even the family members who were desperate enough to pay the rysi for their loved one´s name on the prisoner list. Nothing justifies caring more for a single person than the good of the people.

My men and I will probably arrest more once we are done with the interrogations. About 160 is my best guess granted that each prisoner names two suspects.

Earlier today Lenin thanked us by sending a congratulatory telegram saying any resources needed we would have, and that our promotions were secured, which is precisely what Turov and I are celebrating.

As quickly as we had lost him, the tsarevich was back in our hands before the sun even rose on the 27th. They may be rare these days, but I am a man of my word, so I released Igor Borisovich after giving him a stern warning about his politics. Everyone got what they wanted, although we will, of course, keep an eye on both Boris and Bogdan from now on.

At the end of the day, Turov might be a civilian, and not as committed to the cause as he likes to think he is, but the detective is also incredibly smart. Managing to find the tsarevich less than two weeks after he was lost is no small deed. He is a valuable ally and friend.

July 30th, 1918.

Time has flown and just now have I turned to look at the clock and noticed it is three hours past midnight. Turov and I have spent the night celebrating and talking about our families and friends, telling each other silly anecdotes about them. We haven´t drunk much, not really. A couple of small glasses is enough for me, and Turov can´t take more than two. We have eaten way more of those patties Dina makes.

"What a moving thing Boris did for his father", I comment. "Don´t you think? It made me miss mine. He was a shoemaker, I was a mischievous boy believe it or not. I would break his newly made shoes on purpose."

"I never got along with my own father", Igor shrugs as he takes a patty from the small wooden table between our two armchairs. "A mean drunk. I definitely wouldn't have done the same Boris did for him".

"Neither would I", I say. "But not because I didn´t love mine. I genuinely did. I just wouldn't have sold my ideas away for anyone. If I thought the Bolsheviks were betrayers of the revolution as this Boris seems to think, I would have never helped them. Not in a thousand years, not ever."

"Never?" Igor raises his eyebrows in disbelief. "Not even if you were interrogated by yourself, general?"

"Never", I glare at him, suddenly reminded of his worst traits. I quickly change the subject. "I hope I have not been an indulging enough father to guarantee such devotion from my own daughters".

I wasn´t joking, but Turov laughs for some reason.

"What do you think, General Gorlinsky?" Turov asks. "Did your friend Stephen betray the revolution as well?"

Yesterday night, a letter arrived from comrade Stephen Vaganov´s son informing me of the passing of my friend. I have been saddened by the news all day long, and only Lenin's telegram has managed to cheer me up.

The letter is somewhat old, from the 18th of July, which is understandable considering the war going on. I don´t understand the detective´s comment though.

"Why would you say that?" I frown.

"Oh, please, comrade Gorlinsky!" Turov exclaims. "So, just a minute after Gleb left his father alone someone broke into the office and shot him… really? Do you really believe that story?"

"Stephen might have been a distant father, yes. He spent a lot of time away from his son, sure. He did it because he was dedicated to the cause, but so was Gleb, and the boy would have never…"

Turov laughs again. This time, I become irritated.

"That is not what I was implying", Turov cackles louder, putting a hand on his stomach. I change my mind. I despise him. I will never stop despising him. I don´t care about how smart he is. Igor seems to have noticed my rage, because now he is trying to compose himself and stop laughing. "Don´t be mad, comrade Gorlinsky, just think."

"Think what?" I am beginning to lose my patience.

"Your comrade was part of the execution squad that liquidated the former emperor and his wife, and just a day later he dies under the most unlikely circumstances, now why could that be?"

"A Romanov sympathizer living nearby took his revenge."

"Maybe, or maybe your friend killed himself."

I am about to argue against the detective´s preposterous idea when we hear a knock on the door.

The newcomer is received by Dina, and the fact he is allowed to enter the living room reveals he is one of my guards.

"General Gorlinsky", my man salutes. "The tsarevich…"

"Former tsarevich", I correct him.

"He is dead".

"Already?" I raise my eyebrows.

"Just minutes ago".

"The body?" Turov inquires. "I was thinking of having an autopsy performed just in case."

"Two guards already went to drop it off on a common grave", the guard admits in an apologetic tone. "We didn´t know there were other instructions."

"Damn you, child!" I exclaim, and as I lean forward to stand up, the guard flinches.

"It is fine," Turov seems calmer. "Can you tell those guards to bring it back once they return?"

The young red guard nods and leaves.

"This is more for us", Turov explains, "to have the body labeled in the morgue in case we ever need it. It would be an interesting curiosity for me as well".

"Yes, but… well, you might be right", I wave my hand dismissively. Either way, we informed comrades Sverdlov and Lenin of the former heir´s liquidation in advance. As we sit here, our leaders have one less nuisance to worry about. "Shame we managed to obtain no more information on the sister and her accomplices though!" I lament.

"We have her possible locations", my optimistic comrade soothes me. "Let's recap, shall we? There is Crimea…"

"Didn´t your informers say she is not with the extended family?"

"That information is old, it barely travels these days, and she may be keeping a low profile either way. It is not like our spies can enter Ai-Todor and have a chat during tea time with the dowager empress and her daughters to see for themselves whether the woman is there".

"You are right", I say. "Do you think we could ask for permission to send some disguised assassins?"

"Too dangerous with the Germans there", he argues. "I am not trying to re-start the war by doing something that could be considered an attack on their territory, besides, if we did that, why not kill all the Romanovs left there and be done with it? The sons of the former grand duke Alexander Mikhailovich and the former emperor´s sister are technically more dangerous alive than any of the female children of Nicholas anyway. They actually have a claim to the throne".

"Absolutely", I sigh. "If she is in Crimea I am afraid the only thing we will be able to do is inform Lenin".

"If she is there. If not, I am thinking she could have gone back to Perm."

"I didn´t even come near that conclusion after any of the inquiries," I say, leaning forward, surprised. "Now, why would she do that?"

"Think about her as an acquaintance, Gorlinsky, I know what we just did requires us to think of the Romanovs as deer, but do you know any women her age?"

"Well, of course, my daughters". I have talked to Turov a lot about my family since we met. He is a shameless womanizing bachelor even in his late fifties, but I married quite young to my childhood sweetheart and have remained faithful throughout all these years. I love her and my three daughters almost as much as I love the cause. Unlike comrade Stephen, I took my family with me abroad.

"What would your eldest daughter do if the youngest was kidnapped and she knew where the kidnapper had gone with her?" The detective asks.

"She would tell me."

"Let´s assume you are dead and there is no one else that could help her", Turov rolls his eyes condescendingly.

"Well, I guess she would follow the kidnapper".

"Touché. She may have returned to Perm".

"But why Perm? Why not look for her brother in Moscow if this is indeed a case of a loving relative?"

"She had no clue where the criminals had taken the former tsarevich and might have thought him a lost cause, but she did know exactly where her sisters were being kept".

"Well then, we have to team up with the Cheka in Perm. Sending them some of our guards would help them enormously. My men already know what they will be looking for".

Turov grunts, which now makes me roll my eyes. He is so ambitious. This little rivalry he has in his head with the Perm Cheka is hardly professional. I bet he hasn´t even sent them a telegram or letter informing them of our progress, some of which might be vital to their case. They may still think the former heir is missing.

"So it is settled then", Turov sighs. Even he knows there are things more important than himself.

I have come to realize there is something else I don´t like about Turov. The fact he is not my subordinate.

I return to the apartment I am staying at late. I can´t sleep. Turov´s implication haunts me. Could Stephen really have done that? Have I put him on a pedestal all these years?

Did Stephen Vaganov feel remorse about having killed that bloody tyrant and his German bitch? In Marx´s name… why? He wasn´t even made to shoot his daughters!

Or maybe… maybe that is precisely it! My friend killed himself because he was ashamed of having followed through with the order to spare Bloody Nicholas´s spawn!

I can´t help but turn on the light and open the drawer to search for that damned letter. I need to read it again.

Comrade Vladimir,

I know it must be strange to receive a letter from me, as we never really talked much before, but I know you and my father were close.

It is with the greatest sorrow that I am informing you my father was shot and killed earlier today. He was in my office, where I usually worked whenever I wasn´t in the laboratory. Recently he had taken a liking for it though, as it is very cozy and comfortable, especially when trying to concentrate, so he was beginning to use it more than me. His death was completely unexpected. We were together, discussing my impending departure and arguing over what to do with the house among other things. I left the room just for a few minutes to check on my mother only to hear a gunshot. The murder is still being investigated, but so far they have found no signs of forced entry.

You have no idea how much my mother and I have suffered. She is still very ill, you see. We thought she was getting better, but Dr. Egorov says there is little hope for a full recovery. I am thinking of sending her to a hospital in Moscow to protect her from the whites, as I don´t know what they may do to her after what my father did. That might mean I won´t be there during her final moments though. I don't know what to do and if you don't mind me sharing, I feel alone.

By the time this letter reaches you, you will probably have heard of the execution of the tsar and the removal of his family to a place of greater safety. This is a lie. The tsar was shot along with his entire family. My father was part of the execution squad. I was patrolling outside the house where it happened. Looking up, I could even see the window of the cellar in which they were all killed. I saw the flashes of light.

The daughters' screams were so loud I had nightmares last night. A few other guards that were outside with me confessed to similar feelings of distress today as we were talking about it.

While the execution was still going on, comrade Medvedev, who was part of the squad as well, went outside, passed by, and asked us if the shots could be heard. I thought he was joking at first. Even mama heard the shots from our house across the street. When I went back home she was so anxious and agitated I started worrying for her heart.

I didn´t see them take the bodies out, as the executioners were very secretive about it, but looking through the window, I got a glimpse of some of them inside the room. They were being covered by sheets. After it was all over, Medvedev returned and described to us how the doctor, the maid, and two waiters had also been shot. He said the heir was still alive and moaning a little when he came back into the cellar, but then Yurovsky had gone up and fired two or three more times at him, which was enough to kill him.

Long after I had returned home, the other Stephen Vaganov knocked on my door. I don´t know if you are aware of him already, so I am telling you just so there is no confusion. Stephen is Ermakov´s assistant and papa´s second cousin. He told me that my father had asked for me to help them dispose of the bodies. I hesitated. I was far too busy caring for my mother, but he immediately replied they hadn´t asked for me to come, only for advice, as the acid they were using didn´t seem to be working as well as they thought.

I told him that the best chemical for dissolving bodies was actually

I always skip this part. I could hardly believe it when I first received it, but four entire pages of the letter are wasted explaining in great detail why a magic acid I don´t remember the name of fucks the so-called "organic" shit and whatnot. Half another page explains why the first acid they used was slow. What made him think I would understand any of that crap? The point is he went to his laboratory, and working throughout the rest of the night, provided the executioners with a better acid. Next!

It was hard to leave my mother alone in her sorrow, but they really needed help.

The next morning I talked to some of the other executioners. They told us that the daughters had suffered terribly before dying because they had jewels sewn in their clothes that made the bullets bounce off whenever they were shot at. They couldn´t even pierce them with the bayonets. The oldest were shot in the head, but the youngest had to have their skulls crushed using the backs of the rifles. It must have been a complete nightmare to witness and I feel sorry for my father just thinking about it. Please don't judge him too harshly for this.

Why makes him think I would? This kid is soft.

I know it could have been done in a much more humane way. I am still trying to figure out why they killed the servants. I have inquired with the Ural Soviet about it but received no response. I feel bad for the sick boy in particular, but it was necessary. We couldn´t keep moving them because sooner or later the family would have been rescued, especially given the shameful way in which some of the guards fraternized with them. The counter-revolutionaries were moving closer and closer and any of the Romanovs could have been used as a figurehead for their reactionary government, even the women.

The Romanovs lived fulfilling and happy lives. They lacked nothing and were treated better than they deserved up to that day. Now they are gone but gone for a reason, not due to senseless butchery. A revolution is a simple thing. The slow, cruel, and unyielding violence of the old order is not. Who mourns the miners shot at the Lena goldfields? Who remembers the Kishniev pogrom? Who grieves for the thousands of childr

Dear Marx. He and I are on the same side. A better question is, who exactly is Gleb trying to convince?

It is the people´s turn to rise from their misery. As I write to you I am preparing to leave for the front to fight the Czech. My hands are shaking, yes, but I feel nothing but peace when I think of the future. The men leaving with me come from all walks of life. Their stories have many times made me shed tears. Some have grown up in rags and their uniforms are the first new garments they acquire in years. Some seem so happy for their small children, who will grow up in a world without hunger or pain. I met a woman working at the

Moving stories, the next few pages, but not what I need to read again right now.

I hope I am not being too familiar, but still, I can´t help but share with you a beautiful poem from the poet Sergei Esenin:

Come, Russia, proud wings plying,

a different order found!

And different steppe is rising

where different names resound

Where does this man get the idea I enjoy poetry? Yes, he is being too familial.

Enough of pain and ruin and praising infamy indeed. Russia has already awakened. I was also inspired to write my own poem after I observed the way the red guards, no longer under anyone´s yoke, elected their own commanders at

I stop reading. One poem was bad enough. Does he think I am his writing partner? What does he want me to do now? Reply with suggestions?

I must confess not all my comrades in the army feel as I do. Many are pessimistic. They have a problem with the commissars in particular. Too strict, they say. We cannot make everyone happy, but I have been trying to improve their morale, to make them see how important structure is. I would appreciate any recommendations you might have to give in order to deal with these sorts of situations.

Now that my father is gone, I hope you take some comfort from the fact I am more willing to kill and die for what he believed in than ever. He died, but not for nothing.

Your friend had a deep affection for you and admired everything you had done for your country, so if there is anything you need, I am indebted.

Yours,

Gleb.

The paper is stained by tears. He thinks his father died only after having successfully eliminated the tsar and his entire family. He finds comfort in the idea Stephen fulfilled some important purpose when he only got the job half done.

Gleb must never know. I hope his transfer cheers him up instead of depressing him further. He seems to have gotten attached to his brothers in arms rather quickly.

Sorry to the ones I succeded in making them love Alexei or already did before but it is very worth it to keep going I promise.

To be fair, as I am no expert, I don´t know what month of 1918 exactly political commissars being sent to units in order to make sure the Red Army and its many ex-tsarist officers were loyal became a thing but let us say for the purpose of Gorlinsky´s inner monologue occurring this chapter that in this "world" they were already around, at least in theory, by late July. Same with special assignment units that appeared somewhere around 1918-1922. They were already there in theory in this timeline, ok? lol

I updated because it had been long, people had been asking me to, and I did promise I would update every time I reached certain milestones in my other story, but I remind you this is still on hiatus.

From now on I will try to set myself more realistic milestones in my other story though, so I can update this more frequently. Because I am working on the first revolution in my other story, which is full of stuff happening and thus a bit harder to write about and needing of longer chapters, I will be posting one chapter here and one chapter there intermittently for a while starting now. I am so sorry for this short "exposition" chapter where none of the main characters appear and the cliffhanger from last chapter isn´t resolved, but another one is coming soon after I update my other story! A good one!

Here is a small preview that hopefully will soothe you for the time being:

The girls´ plan won´t go as intended and two characters who had been separated for a while will meet again. Theorize in the comments if you like (Don´t worry I am not going to pettily change what is going to happen if by chance anyone guesses right lol).