The Red Staircase

by Gwendoline Butler

  Dr Gurien mopped his brow. ‘Had you not said that, I must have gone.’

  ‘No.’ I felt incredibly calm. ‘It is quite impossible for either of you to go. I could not get you into the Summer Palace.’ I heard Somov give a whistle of alarm. For the first time he and Gurien heard that name, and it silenced them. ‘Just deliver the letter,’ I said.

  If I was to be helped, then Patrick and Edward must be the men to do it. I had told them, as Ariadne would certainly have alerted Peter. As I drove off I thought that whatever happened, Peter could not be far behind me. And Jakob and the German might already be there.

  A sky the colour of pewter, grey roads, fresh fallen snow on the roofs, are what I remember of the drive. Every so often I passed a peasant cart jogging back home from market. There were very few cars or carriages on the road, and those there were I easily overtook. I thanked whatever gods had given me the chance to learn to drive. (It was Peter, Peter, who encouraged you, a hard little voice said inside me. He was both for me, and against me).

  Very soon I saw the roofs of the palaces of Tsarskoe Seloe appearing through the trees. To my relief all appeared peaceful and quiet. I must be in time.

  The soldiers let me through with a cheerful smile. They knew my face. But I had to put a question to them, and while I was wondering how to phrase my query so that I did not alarm them, one of the men poked his head into my car and with a broad peasant’s grin said: ‘Your servants have gone inside, Excellency. I saw them myself, and gave them a wave.’

  ‘How long ago?’ So my question was answered. Jakob and the German had arrived.

  He looked vague. Time meant little to him. ‘One hour, or half that, perhaps. Long enough for me who had just come on duty to get cold feet.’

  Not so very long, then, I thought, because in this climate the body temperature dropped rapidly. ‘Where did they go?’

  The young soldier looked surprised, and then pointed. ‘Why, to where the Tsarevitch is. They were taking him your present as we were instructed to expect. Fair bent their backs, it did too.’ And he laughed.

  ‘Can I leave my car here?’ I asked. ‘Just inside the gate?’ I could see Dolly’s car there already, so I knew how Jakob and his companion had travelled.

  ‘Yes. I’ll watch it,’ he said with childlike pleasure. ‘How beautifully it shines. So does the other one. I can see my face in both. What it is to be rich.’

  I walked away, trying to move with unconcern. Everything must look normal, and no one must be put on the alert by my behaviour.

  If I could remove any explosive device concealed in the pagoda without anyone seeing me, I might still save Peter and, incidentally, myself. Because who would believe me innocent after my trip to Moscow?

  As I walked towards my usual entrance I could see the bleak alternatives that confronted me. The explosion might take place at any minute, before I could stop it. That was the first and most likely happening. My ears were strained for the noise even as I walked. Secondly, the whole device might blow up in my hands the minute I touched it, taking me with it. This also seemed appallingly likely. The very best I could hope for was to get away with the explosive and throw it away somewhere in the snow-covered countryside … But it was no use planning; I had to come to that decision as I drove out. I had to meet the situation as it unfolded before me and deal with it as best I could.

  For a moment, I considered going back to the gate and telling the sentries. But I knew what would happen. They would question me slowly, send for someone in higher authority to question me again, and by that time anything could happen.

  All my senses seemed sharpened. Behind me I could hear the ring of the sentry’s boots on the iron-clad earth; I could smell the smoke from the chimneys of the palaces that lay scattered across the park; I could even smell something that seemed to emanate from my own body – and it smelt like fear.

  There was a shout from behind me and I swung round to see one of the young soldiers lumbering towards me, a gun in his hands.

  ‘Stop, or I fire!’

  I stood absolutely still, terrified. I didn’t know what the soldier had discovered, or what this command meant. And he was laughing as he ran. I thought how terrible, to be my friend one minute as I passed his sentry post, and then to rush at me ready to shoot, all grins. Such inconsistency seemed absolutely in line with what I had seen of the Russian character.

  ‘What is it?’ I managed to say in a cool voice.

  He waved the gun. ‘The young Heir’s toy. He was playing soldiers with us, and he left it behind. Will you give it to him?’ I suppose he saw my pallor then. ‘I hope I didn’t frighten you, Excellency. Just a joke, you know.’

  I accepted the toy. ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Only a joke. I knew that.’ But I also knew that if I had run or screamed, he might very well have shot me in earnest. Things were balanced very finely in Russia; by now I could have been dead. One incautious movement to cause him alarm, and a shot would have rung out. With an appearance of calm, I walked on, but I was badly shaken.

  When I got inside the palace there was no one about. I was standing in a small lower hall from which a flight of stairs led to the boy’s room. It was a side entrance with which I was thoroughly familiar, and it was often deserted in this way.

  Now I looked at the gun, it was manifestly a toy, a good-quality one, of German make probably, but still clearly no more than a little wooden rifle. But the bayonet at the end was of sharp metal.

  I went quietly up the staircase. It led to an upper hall lined with tall cabinets filled with Chinese porcelain. I was young and ignorant then, and thought the china, the figures and bowls and vases, ugly. But I had no doubt they were priceless.

  I was walking quietly but very fast, when I saw a man standing in the recess between two great cabinets. I knew him at once for my German servant.

  He was standing, quite composed, as if he had every right to be there. So unobtrusive and natural was his appearance that if I hadn’t been expecting him, I might have ignored him. But he was in my way. I knew I had to get past. I had one advantage: as yet he had not seen me, nor did he expect to see me.

  I took one soft pace forward. He had muscle, but inside me was a consuming anger.

  Quiet as I was, some noise must have alerted him, because he came out of his hiding place and saw me. He looked surprised, and I, because I was very, very angry, smiled at him. He understood my smile, because his movement towards me was unmistakably one of menace. He knew why I had arrived.

  ‘Touch me and I’ll scream,’ I said. I drew the gun in an automatic gesture of protection.

  Just for a moment it halted him, but he soon saw it was no more than a toy. I had underestimated him. One hand was clapped across my mouth, and the other got a stranglehold on my throat and started to squeeze. He pressed his body hard against mine, thick sinewy limbs engaging mine, and the smell of old, tired sweat and tobacco. His weight pushed me backwards. I think he was prepared to kill me. The world about me was going black, and I was gasping, choking, drowning. It was in a desperate attempt to get free that I brought the toy rifle up and plunged the point of the bayonet into his side. I felt it go in.

  His eyes opened wide, he looked surprised, then the pressure eased on my throat, his hands dropped away and he fell to the ground.

  I thought he might even be dead. Perhaps I had killed him. But I didn’t stay to check, because in terms of what I was doing this was only an interim engagement.

  At the end of the corridor were the boy’s apartments. There was no sailor on duty outside, he was probably out walking with his young master and the tutor. I guessed what Mr Jakob and the German servant had planned. Probably from other sources than me they knew the ways of the Palace, but from me, and transmitted through Peter, they knew of the afternoon tea-parties when the parents visited their precious son. The present I had planned so innocently for the boy, the little Chinese pagoda, was to contain an explosive to be ignited by the timing device so that Jakob and the German coul
d be gone before it went off. What with the tutor’s pipe and the Tsar’s cigarettes, the smell of the smouldering fuse would be masked.

  I opened the door. Inside, the room was empty of boy, tutor and animals. But my present, the Chinese pagoda, a gleaming gold and red, stood in a window enclosure.

  Kneeling before it was the man Jakob. He was in the act of replacing a wooden panel in the base of the cat-bed. Above was the quilted cushion, and rising above that, the pretty structure of curving roofs and bells. I think I hated him as much as anything for turning such an enchanting object into one of horror.

  He looked up and saw me, and rose slowly to his feet, dusting down his hands. His face looked more sallow and pinched than ever.

  ‘Putting the finishing touches?’ I said. ‘I suppose it wasn’t safe to do that as you travelled. You used my sister-in-law’s car, I presume?’

  I suppose it was stupid to show my hatred so clearly, but I couldn’t stop myself. Besides, there was a streak of blood on my skirt.

  ‘I didn’t know who you were before,’ he said. ‘I know now.’ His eyes took in the bloodstain.

  ‘Yes. In his own way and in his own good time, my husband lied to us both.’

  ‘No lies,’ he said proudly. ‘Not to me. I do not expect the truth. Only to be given a task.’ And he couldn’t stop himself looking at the cat-bed. ‘So you have turned traitor?’

  I didn’t answer; my whole mind focused on what to do next. But to whom was I a traitor? Myself? My husband? Or to the cause of anarchy to which Peter belonged? Jakob would kill me if he had to. I could see it in his face.

  ‘You can’t kill me and leave my body here,’ I said. ‘There is already a dead man outside. The place would at once be searched and the bomb found, even if you got clean away. Your whole plan is already wrecked.’

  ‘In an hour the boy and his tutor will be back from their walk,’ he said in his prim little voice. ‘In another hour after that his parents will arrive, and then the bomb will go off. The fuse is already in place. There is a clumsy delaying device which you know since your scientists devised it quite effectively. I shall be out of here and so will you.’ From his pocket he drew a revolver and pointed it at me. ‘You do not think I would come into this rat’s nest without some protection?’

  ‘You can’t shoot me, you can’t afford to. I’ve told you that. The noise, a scream from me – and someone will come running. I’m surprised we’ve been alone so long.’

  ‘Even in this place people can be bribed. Or perhaps I should say, in this place above all.’

  I thought he would shoot me, he was ruthless enough. I was frightened; I didn’t want to die. But you can always pretend.

  He walked straight to me and poked the gun in my chest. In an instinctive and spontaneous movement, I brought my arms up and put them round him so that we seemed to embrace.

  It was probably the only gesture I could have made that could surprise him. I think he was not used to being close to women. I felt it in the instinctive stiffening of his body.

  Then I saw his eyes widen and lose focus, his mouth drew itself into a grimace, and his breathing altered. I could see his yellow, crooked teeth: sure token of a sick childhood. No wonder his skin was so sallow. The hands holding the gun went limp. Moving my arms down, I took both his hands in mine. They were deadly cold.

  ‘Let the gun fall,’ I said. I think he had no choice but to obey. ‘There is pain like cramp around your heart, isn’t there? Don’t answer, I know. I feel it in my own hands.’ He stared at me balefully, speechless. ‘I feel as though I am giving you warmth now. Take it from me. The pain is passing now. No, don’t try to speak.’

  He was almost leaning against me. I was surprised how light and frail he felt.

  ‘You’ve had that pain in the past and know all about it. Now it’s gone, but it will come again. And again.’

  In slow, slurred words, he said: ‘I don’t fear to die.’

  ‘You don’t fear death, but the dying you do fear. Of course you do. I eased the pain now. That can happen sometimes. I can do nothing about the death, but the dying I can help. I promise I’ll make a bargain with you: remove your explosive, and I will help you die.’

  He looked at me like an animal that has been badly whipped and now sees a show of love being offered; he could hardly believe it.

  Moved by compassion, I wiped the sweat from his forehead and mouth with my handkerchief. How could I judge from what a pain of neglected, wretched growing-up, from what depths of misery and poverty, both his sickness and politics had come? ‘I’ll help you,’ I repeated. Not without urgency, and with one eye on the pagoda.

  The room was very quiet, for the double windows and the heavy silk curtains prevented any noise from outside getting in. ‘So there is a God, after all,’ I heard him say. ‘We are not left alone in the universe, to make our own way. Help can come.’

  ‘Then you will remove the explosive,’ I said. ‘If you feel like that, then you must. Now. Quickly. And we will leave.’ I stood back from him and bent down to pick up the gun, but I didn’t threaten him with it. Threats were now of no consequence. ‘Come, Jakob,’ I urged.

  For answer, he held out his hands; they trembled without stopping.

  ‘Too dangerous?’ I said. ‘You mean you couldn’t do it? Physically you can’t touch the thing? I’ll do it, then. Show me what to do.’

  I went over to the Chinese pagoda. At the base a panel of wood slid out. Once it had been screwed into position, but these screws had been loosened so that the piece of wood moved at a touch. The job had been neatly done.

  I undid the screws and then pulled the panel out. Then I looked back at Jakob. ‘Please help me,’ I said.

  ‘I no longer know how to act,’ he muttered. ‘You have destroyed my faith. You have taken away what I did have, but what have you left me in its place?’

  In front of me, I could see a small dark metal box resting on the floor of the toy pagoda. It was taped into position and from it led a long snake of what looked like narrow cord, which was attached to yet another box which ticked. Already I could smell the chemicals in reaction, smouldering like a fire about to blaze. I think I knew as I looked at it, though it had been carefully and neatly done, that it was the work of someone who had learnt about explosives from books and not from practical experience. Jakob was only an amateur after all. It made it all the more dangerous.

  From the edge of the box a pale grey sort of paste seemed to be oozing. It had an unhealthy sheen on it.

  Gritting my teeth, I put my hand on the cord and gently tugged. It did not move. But to my horror, some sort of oil had rubbed off on my hand. I stood up and looked round for a knife or a pair of scissors. In my field of vision there was the boy’s work table and the tutor’s desk. But I was trembling. I tried to remember exactly what Dr Gurien had told me.

  Then Jakob moved awkwardly over to the table, picked a penknife off the blotter and came over to where I stood. He pushed me aside and sawed at the cord. Either the knife was blunt or the cord tough, he seemed to saw helplessly for minutes; then the cord parted and he wrenched the box from its position and held the explosive to his breast. I wondered which would explode first, his labouring, wounded heart, or the bomb. ‘Haste,’ he gasped. ‘It’s unstable.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said with all the breath I had left in me.

  Before we left, I bent down and slid the painted panel into its place. Perhaps after all, the boy could enjoy his toy.

  If my body had followed its instincts, I would have rushed screaming from Jakob and his burden. As it was, we walked sedately and side by side all the way I had come. I was even able to notice that the German had gone.

  ‘Thank God, I didn’t kill him after all,’ I breathed. But he represented another danger. Perhaps he was waiting for me somewhere.

  ‘No,’ said Jakob with contempt. ‘He will save himself. If he can walk, he will survive.’

  No love lost there, I thought, and was glad, because if I didn�
��t know quite what I felt about Jakob, I was quite certain that I hated the German.

  To my amazement, the guards saw us through politely, even assisting me into my car, although what with the blood on my skirt and the look of death on Jakob’s face, we must have looked a strange couple. And so no one stopped us leaving, or even seemed much interested. I drove slowly for a few hundred yards, and then stopped the car in the protection of a belt of trees.

  ‘Your husband, does he … ?’ began Jakob.

  ‘No, I didn’t tell him where I was going,’ I said. ‘But I expect he knows by now.’

  ‘Then he will follow.’

  ‘Yes, I have thought of that too.’ I started the car again. ‘The first and most important thing is to get rid of that box you are holding.’

  ‘Throw it away. Best of all ways, into water,’ said Jakob shortly, not wasting a word. His breathing was bad.

  Everywhere in this part of Russia were lakes and water. I knew I had only to drive on and I would come to one of the canels that cut across this stretch of country.

  I passed a peasant cart drawn by a donkey, and then a boy with a flock of geese. Ahead I saw the dull sheen of ice. I drove towards it. At first it seemed close, but although I drove fast I never seemed to get very much nearer. Distances are deceptive in the snow. ‘Not long now,’ I said reassuringly to Jakob, although heaven knows, I was sick with fear myself.

  He didn’t answer directly, but presently I heard him mutter: ‘So it is over at last,’ and he gave a long, deep sigh.

  ‘It may be for you,’ I thought, keeping my eyes on the road. ‘But for me it is only just beginning.’

  On these flat roads it was possible to be aware of movement both ahead and behind for some distance. I now became aware that there was a motor-car behind me and another in front driving towards me. A little prickle of alarm stirred in me.

  Beside me, Jakob was quiet, still clutching his terrible burden. It could go off at any moment, but I had been travelling fast and I was now running parallel with the frozen canal, which lay at the bottom of a steep slope so that as I drove I could look down on the frozen surface. There were no houses near, no railway line, and such traffic as might pass on the road at the time of the explosion would surely be protected by the slope? I hoped to be well away myself. It seemed an ideal spot to dump the bomb.