‘Since then there have been many police arrests of rebels, and more outbreaks of violence. Our Russian hosts are terribly upset, and I am very glad we were on the other side of the city when the attack took place – for the thought of witnessing such a horrifying spectacle makes me shudder.’
– From the diary of Alice Grayson
The Ciniselli Circus, St Petersburg
The circus auditorium was plunged into pandemonium. All around were gasps and screams as people realised what was happening. The students scattered around the auditorium were on their feet; a cascade of leaflets were flung into the air; someone yelled out: ‘For freedom!’ and then there came the crack of a bullet being fired, zipping high over the heads of the crowd.
The uniformed guards had already leaped forwards, screening the Tsar and his family from danger. Behind them, Sophie caught a frenzied glimpse of the girls in their white dresses, clinging to each other in fright, whilst Alexei had already been gathered up in the arms of his enormous manservant. Below them the orchestra kept on playing, as if uncertain what else to do. In the ring, the horses whinnied and reared up, as their riders rushed to grab for their reins.
Horror washed over Sophie. She remembered how the Chief had advised her to avoid public gatherings. She remembered what her mother had written about how Tsar Alexander II had been assassinated out in the street, and she remembered how the Russian minister, Stolypin, had been shot only a short while ago, in the midst of a crowded theatre. But surely Mitya and his friends could not really be planning to assassinate the Tsar . . . could they? She remembered what Mitya had said: I have no objection to taking action, as long as you are certain that no one will get hurt.
She found she was on her feet: all around her, the crowd was standing. Men were appearing all over the auditorium – tall, burly men, who just a moment ago had seemed like any other members of the audience, dressed in evening coats and top hats. But now they were grabbing the students, tearing their weapons from their hands, pushing them down to the ground. Sophie realised that this must be the Okhrana – the Tsar’s secret police.
It was the students who were panicking now. One or two made a dash for the Imperial box, but others were running desperately for the exits, pushing spectators roughly out of the way, doing anything they could to avoid capture. One grabbed a young woman, pushing her in front of him as though to use her as protection from the police, and she let out a shriek of terror. Somewhere below them, another gun went off, to more screams from the crowd.
Across the auditorium, Sophie saw Nikolai being wrestled into submission by two enormous policemen; the gun he was holding ripped from his grasp. Mitya was dashing towards the door, another policeman close on his tail. But Viktor was nowhere to be seen.
She felt frozen to the ground, but she could feel Nakamura’s fingers gripping her arm. ‘We have to get out of here – it’s not safe!’
Turning, she realised he had already scooped up a weeping Elena in his arms; and that Boris had done the same to Luka, who was struggling and demanding, ‘Put me down!’ though Boris was paying no attention. ‘Follow me,’ he said gruffly, making for the doors, Nakamura hurrying close behind him. Sophie glanced back for a moment at the chaos unfolding beneath them. Children were crying, people were screaming, the orchestra had abandoned their instruments and were frantically helping the rest of the performers get the frightened animals out of the ring. Everywhere, people were making a run for the exits: there was going to be a stampede.
Vera was still standing stock-still, staring at the place where Mitya and Nikolai had been. ‘What was he doing?’ she murmured. Sophie took her gently by the arm and pulled her after Nakamura and Boris. ‘Don’t worry,’ she found herself saying, in as soothing a voice as she could manage. ‘He ran – I saw him. He got to the door. I’m sure he’ll get away.’
But she spoke with more optimism than she felt. There were policemen everywhere: she could scarcely believe there were so many. What chance did Mitya have of escaping arrest?
Boris and Nakamura led the way through the crowds, going so fast that Sophie had to half run to keep up with them, dragging Vera along beside her as quickly as she could manage. Out in the street there were yells and the shrill of police whistles, and the thrum of heavy boots on cobbles. Motor engines roared, and somewhere, Sophie heard another scream. Where were Lil and Carruthers, she wondered. Were they safe? Should she go back and look for them?
‘Hurry!’ Nakamura instructed her over his shoulder, and she pulled Vera onwards. Lil and Carruthers were agents of the Secret Service Bureau: they were more than capable of looking after themselves. Her duty was to help the family get to safety.
She was panting with the effort of keeping up with Boris and Nakamura whilst dragging Vera along with her. By the time they at last turned away on to the quieter back streets the sound of engines and voices had faded into the night. Now there was nothing but the gentle plashing of the canal, and their own feet, hurrying in rhythm over the bridge, towards home.
‘What happened?’ Vera said breathlessly, still dazed.
‘Why was Mitya there?’ came Luka’s voice, thin and small from against Boris’s shoulder.
‘There was a plan . . .’ Sophie tried to explain. She looked from Vera, to Boris, to Nakamura. ‘I overheard the students talking. Viktor said he’d received orders from someone important, who’d given them a task to do.’
Vera stared at her, bewildered.
‘But Alice . . . why didn’t you say anything?’ asked Boris.
‘I don’t know,’ said Sophie wretchedly. Vera’s face was so full of sadness and pain that she could hardly look at her. It was dreadful enough that Vera had already lost a beloved daughter – would she now lose a son too? Mitya might not have been holding a gun himself, only a handful of leaflets, but Sophie knew that simply being there, in a green students’ cap alongside the other revolutionaries, would be enough to see him arrested, sent to prison – or worse. Why hadn’t she spoken up, or tried to stop them? ‘I didn’t realise – I had no idea it would be something like that . . .’ she said.
‘How could you possibly have guessed? To attack the Tsar and his family . . . they must be mad,’ murmured Nakamura, shaking his head.
‘But that’s just it. They said they weren’t going to hurt anyone. They talked about making people sit up and take notice. But they were quite clear that no one was going to come to any harm.’
Her voice faded away. Her thoughts kept flashing back to the gunshots, the screams, the policemen wrestling students to the ground. It struck her suddenly that it could not have been a coincidence that the audience had been full of policemen, disguised as ordinary guests. The Tsar’s Okhrana had been ready to pounce the very second the students had revealed themselves. That could mean only one thing, Sophie realised: they had known the attack was coming.
Someone had tipped off the secret police – and all at once, she felt sure she knew who it was. The student attack; the Okhrana in the audience; the chaos and mayhem; the mysterious Mr Gold – it was all connected, and the thread that linked it all together was the Fraternitas Draconum.
The House on the Ulitsa Zelenaya, St Petersburg
The second they were inside the house, Boris put Luka down and then turned back towards the door. ‘I’m going out again. I have to find him,’ he declared.
Sophie saw that his face was grey. He was just as horrified as his wife – perhaps more so, she realised. He had spent his whole life working by appointment to the Tsar: in a flash, she thought of the portrait of the Tsar’s children hanging in the hall and then the girls in their white dresses, clutching each other in terror. The same girls for whom he had spent years lovingly crafting perfect music boxes.
‘I can’t believe that any son of mine would do such a thing,’ he choked out.
‘He only agreed to the plan because he was told no harm would come to anyone,’ Sophie tried to reassure him. ‘I heard him say so myself.’
But Boris didn’t s
eem to hear her. He was headed to the door, but Nakamura stepped quickly in front of him, stopping him short. ‘Boris – you mustn’t. There will be police everywhere on the streets. They will be rounding up anyone they suspect – you might end up arrested yourself, and then what would Vera do?’
‘Besides, if Mitya managed to get away then he might come here, looking for your help,’ Sophie added.
‘Or the police may come looking for him,’ went on Nakamura gravely. ‘In which case, we will need you here.’
Boris looked from one to another of them, and then sighed, his shoulders slumping. ‘Very well. Come, I’ll help you take the children up to bed,’ he said heavily to Vera. ‘I must keep myself busy somehow.’
Together, they hustled Luka and Elena upstairs, and Nakamura and Sophie were left alone. Suddenly the house felt very quiet. The clock on the mantelpiece showed that it was almost midnight. The Count and Alina must have long since retired to bed and now silence lay heavy over the house, as thick as a feather eiderdown.
Sophie peered out of the window at the dark and empty street. There was nothing to be seen: only the smallest ripples disturbed the waters of the canal, and ink-dark shadows were broken by the faint light of a single street lamp, hazy with mist.
Nakamura came to stand beside her, and as he did so, the thoughts she’d been turning over in her mind ever since they’d been watching the circus seemed to unravel themselves. ‘What if it was all a set-up?’ she said. ‘What if Viktor was tricked into planning the attack – by an agent of the Fraternitas?’
Nakamura looked astonished, and rather confused. ‘But . . . how could that be?’
Sophie quickly explained what she’d heard Viktor say to Miss Russell, and his mention of Mr Gold. ‘The Count said that “Gold” was the code name for someone important in the Fraternitas. What if it’s the same person, and he was the one who gave Viktor his instructions?’
‘But why would the Fraternitas want the students to attack the Tsar?’ asked Nakamura, puzzled. ‘From all you’ve told me about the society, their principles hardly match with the students’ ideas of freedom and revolution and democracy.’
Sophie shook her head. ‘It’s not as simple as that. The Fraternitas are agents of chaos. It’s more about causing trouble than anything else. Suppose they tricked Viktor into organising the plot at the circus – then tipped off the Tsar’s secret police, knowing how harshly they’d punish the revolutionaries?’
Nakamura was frowning. ‘In order to stir up both sides against each other, you mean? And to make trouble flare up in St Petersburg?’
‘Exactly,’ said Sophie. It might sound like a wild idea, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. It would even explain what Viktor had been doing in her room – she’d assumed he was looking for something to steal, but perhaps Mr Gold had given him the task of hunting for the notebook and spyglass?
‘But why?’ asked Nakamura again. ‘How could trouble in St Petersburg possibly benefit the Fraternitas?’
Sophie thought for a moment. ‘Because Russia is an important ally of Britain and France. If there was trouble here – violence, assassinations, even a revolution – Russia would no longer be able to help their allies if there was a war. They’d be too busy dealing with their own problems. That would leave Britain and France weakened. It’s like the Count said about the secret weapon, the one the notebook talks about. The Fraternitas are doing whatever they can to upset the balance of power in Europe – and in doing so, to help spark off war.’
She shook her head. For as long as she’d known of the existence of the Fraternitas, they’d been working secretly, pulling the strings to try and engineer war in Europe. She knew that they believed they could benefit financially from a war, making money by manufacturing and selling weapons. Everything they did seemed to lead back to that single terrible goal.
Nakamura gazed out of the window too, his face grave as though he was thinking very hard about what Sophie had said – and the quiet house seemed even heavier with silence than before. Then Sophie went on: ‘The part I still don’t understand is why Viktor was trying to talk to Roberta Russell, of all people. Especially when she obviously didn’t understand a word he was saying.’
‘Could he have mistaken her for someone else?’ suggested Nakamura.
‘Yes, perhaps. But he knew her name – and he knew she was a journalist. He really seemed to believe that she knew Mr Gold and would be able to pass his message on . . .’ She drew back from the window, seeing several figures crossing the bridge over the canal. ‘Look – someone’s coming!’
But as they came closer, she realised that they were neither members of the secret police hunting for Mitya, nor escaping students seeking refuge. She hurried to open the front door. Coming up the steps were Lil, Carruthers, and two other people – a tall, fair girl who towered over even Lil by several inches, and a slim, dark-haired boy who had something long and sinuous draped over his shoulders, which Sophie realised – rather to her surprise – was a large snake.
Carruthers was the first through the door. ‘For heaven’s sake, let me in quickly,’ he said without ceremony. ‘That thing won’t stop hissing at me.’
‘Oh, Sophie! I’m so glad you’re safe!’ said Lil, running up the steps after him. ‘I’m sorry we’re so late – the circus was in chaos. But we’re here now. This is Hanna and this is Ravi – we brought them too. I hope that’s all right – they’re awfully good sorts, and we’ve told them who we are and what we do.’
‘Some of what we do,’ added Carruthers, in a warning tone.
‘Hanna, Ravi, this is my dearest friend Sophie. She was at the circus tonight, in the audience.’
‘Hello!’ said Hanna, looking around the cosy dark little hall. She looked rather familiar, and Lil explained. ‘You might have seen her in the ring – she’s Miss Hercules.’
Ravi bowed low, and Sophie recognised him too – although he looked quite different without his grand snake-charmer costume. ‘I hope you don’t object to my snake,’ he said, in a very polite voice. ‘This is Shesha, my python. He was excited after tonight’s performance and did not wish to be left behind.’
‘We’ve got a terrific lot of things to tell you,’ Lil ran on.
‘Come this way – into the parlour. We can talk there.’ Sophie hustled them through as quickly as she could and closed the door behind them. Nakamura was putting more wood on the fire, and if he was surprised to see four strange people coming into the room – one of them wearing a python as though it was a scarf – he didn’t show it.
‘You must be Captain Nakamura,’ said Lil, rushing over to him at once. ‘You won’t remember me, but I was on the airfield in Paris. I’m Lilian Rose – and this is Captain Carruthers.’
‘You’re Sophie’s colleagues,’ said Nakamura, shaking their hands and then bowing. ‘It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.’
‘These are our friends from the Circus of Marvels,’ Lil went on. ‘Hanna – and Ravi.’
‘I saw you both performing this evening,’ said Nakamura. ‘Truly, a spectacular entertainment. It is only a pity that it ended in such a terrible way.’
‘It was awful!’ exclaimed Hanna. ‘We could see it all happening above us. And the animals went wild of course. We had quite a job to calm them down.’
‘Was anyone hurt?’ asked Nakamura.
‘Not badly – not as far as we know. There were a few injuries – people who fell trying to escape. And one policeman was shot in the hand. It was lucky the police were there! They must have had a tip-off that something might happen. Fanshawe was furious with them. She said they should have told us so that we could cancel the show and people wouldn’t have been in danger.’
Nakamura looked like he was going to ask another question, but Carruthers interrupted, looking impatient. ‘Er – don’t you think we should talk about all this in private?’ he said in a meaningful voice, looking at Sophie.
Sophie frowned at him. ‘If you’re talking
about Captain Nakamura, then he isn’t going anywhere,’ she said with determination. ‘He’s been my only ally here in St Petersburg, and he’s just as involved in all this as anyone else.’
‘Very well,’ said Carruthers, flinging himself down into an armchair, as if to suggest there was no sense trying to reason with anyone. ‘What’s important is that we get to the bottom of what’s going on here.’
‘We think Rogers – that fellow we saw – was involved in the attack tonight,’ began Lil, as she took a seat beside Sophie. ‘He knew it was going to happen. And he smuggled a whole crate full of guns into the city, on the circus train – rifles, revolvers, ammunition. When we first saw them we thought they must be circus props for a Wild West act, or something of that kind.’
‘But there is no act like that at the Circus of Marvels,’ said Hanna, looking mystified. ‘There would be no reason at all to have a box of guns on our train.’
‘None,’ agreed Ravi, while the python twisted itself along one of his arms, hissing to itself. Carruthers inched a little further away from him with a shudder, whilst Nakamura watched, fascinated.
‘The guns must have been for the students,’ said Sophie. ‘That was how they got their weapons past the checks on the door – they were inside the circus already. I suppose that’s what Rogers was talking to Viktor about.’
‘Who’s Viktor?’ asked Carruthers at once.
‘He’s a student at St Petersburg University and he’s part of the revolutionary group who staged the attack at the circus tonight – in fact, he’s the ringleader. But I think it was a set-up. I think Viktor was tricked into organising the attack and the police were tipped off on purpose.’
Spies in St. Petersburg Page 17
