The Cotton Spies
CHAPTER 44
Plasov, the Foreign Office Commissar, growled a greeting at the two British officers and their interpreter Bedi as they entered the room. Plasov then deliberately switched his attention back to reading the paper he held in his fist. Edrich looked at Hutton who returned the look with an exaggerated raised eyebrow. With a grunt Plasov signed the paper and put it to one side. Plasov stared from Edrich to Hutton and back again with a scowl contorting his face. Slowly and deliberately Plasov picked up what looked like a telegram from his desk. Plasov trembled with anger as he dangled the document in his fingers and barked.
‘I have a report here,’ he waved the paper, ‘that says an army of British troops from Meshed in Persia has invaded Russian territory. This British army met our soldiers east of Ashkhabad. Our brave comrades inflicted severe casualties upon this invading army of British soldiers and their counter revolutionary allies who were then forced to retreat back into Ashkhabad,’ Plasov looked up and waved the paper aggressively at the two British officers before he shouted. ‘No doubt part of a British scheme to expand their Empire,’ he looked down at the paper without changing tone or waiting to catch his breath, ‘which is failing and will continue to fail.’ He threw the telegram down on his desk. ‘You come here to my office, sit in my chairs and at the same time your army is invading my country. Why should I not have you shot?’ He took his watch out of his pocket and added casually, ‘in five minutes time.’
Edrich sat through the tirade from the Russian with a gradual sinking feeling in his stomach. Perhaps it would be better to be in Kashgar. Honesty he decided was the best policy in this situation. ‘I know nothing of these events, Minister. I have no knowledge of any of our troops from Persia invading your country.’ He turned, ‘do you, Captain Hutton?’
‘No, Colonel Edrich, I certainly do not. I cannot believe it.’ The negative reply from the latter was as long drawn out and as emphatic as Hutton could manage.
Plasov smiled but not humorously and shook his head. ‘Of course the captain has to agree with his colonel because he is his superior. Oh well two British officers say they do not believe what I say. Two people who have been here in Tashkent for a few days incommunicado with the outside world. And I,’ he waved his hands in the air, ‘a poor simple Russian has to believe them rather than a report from our own troops received yesterday by telegram. I must believe you two because you are British?’
Edrich and Hutton had both flushed at these remarks. Edrich fought hard to control himself and he could feel Hutton beside him shift in his seat. Edrich sensed that Hutton was going to say something, so to forestall him he said quickly, ‘how do you know they were British troops, Commissar Plasov? I served in Persia until recently and we had enough troops to police the south of the country but never enough to invade anyone. May I also remind you that we are still fighting the Germans in Europe and our armies there have the highest priority for men – we have none to spare for an invasion of Russia.’
‘How is it known the soldiers fighting us were English? Easy, the shell casings we found after your army was driven from the field by our men had English words on them.’
‘Are you sure, sir?’ said Hutton eagerly trying to support Edrich and remembering to relay his question through Bedi. ‘They might have been German shells. Your chaps may not know the difference between English and German because they both use Roman script. They could have been confused.’ Edrich cleared his throat for Hutton to shut up before he said anything else. Hutton took the hint.
Plasov was enjoying himself. He sat in a relaxed fashion with his hands clasped gently resting on his desk. ‘No confusion captain, we know the difference between the two languages. Do not insult us. Take my word, they were English shells.’
‘That does not mean that the soldiers who fired the shells were English.’ Edrich kept himself as relaxed as possible.
‘It doesn’t?’ Plasov looked genuinely mystified by this statement. The man leaned forward and put his head in his hand whilst he rested his elbow on the desk and stared at Edrich, ‘how so?’
Edrich was not sure whether the man was mocking him. Edrich played what he hoped was his trump card. ‘I know that British guns, shells, rifles, bombs indeed a whole range of ordinance were sent from England over a long period to help Russia in her fight against the German,’ he paused, ‘invader. They could have been fired by,’ Edrich nearly said the Germans but thought better of it, ‘the soldiers you are calling counter revolutionaries.’ A thought suddenly struck him, ‘the shells that were found could have come from America.’
Plasov rubbed his mouth with his hand. ‘Time will tell, colonel about the shells. Once we know we will let you know one way or, ‘he paused and then sneered, ‘the other.’
Edrich knew that he had given the other food for thought but was not enamoured of the man’s last words.
Hutton decided to add his thoughts. ‘Commissar Plasov it could be that the soldiers who fought against you might be mercenaries. These mercenaries could have been in the British army at one stage, but they may have joined your enemies for more money than we can afford.’
‘Oh yes a very possible and likely scenario captain,’ Plasov laughed and shook his head before staring at Edrich. ‘Now, colonel what are you doing here in Tashkent? Are you part of this invasion of Russian territory by British forces? Are you the advance guard for a force of British or Indian troops that are now massing on the border?’
Edrich thought, you cannot have ever been to the border Commissar Plasov if you think we could have much of a force there. Then, chum there are the Chinese who dislike foreigners more than anyone else, so there is no way that the Chinese would allow British troops in Sinkiang. ‘No, we have no troops in China, or in Afghanistan waiting to come here, Minister Plasov.’
‘You will refer to me as Commissar, Comrade Plasov or Comrade Minister,’ thundered Plasov. ‘So if you are not the spearhead of an invasion then I ask you again - why are you here?’
‘Comrade Plasov the intention of His Britannic Majesty’s Government, of whom I am the representative, is to find out what the Bolshevik Government of Tashkent intend to do with the German POWs and the local cotton crop.’
It was Plasov’s turn to go scarlet and his voice quivered with anger. ‘The term Bolshevik may not be applied to me because I am, and proud to be, a Revolutionary Socialist. The term for our government is the Tashkent Soviet, which is a revolutionary council under the direction of the Soviet Revolutionary Council based in Moscow which consists of several allied parties. Please remember to use the correct term when addressing me and my government.’
‘I am sorry, Commissar, I was unaware of the difference. Please excuse my ignorance.’ Edrich hoped that his contrition would placate the Russian - but it failed.
‘What business is it of England’s what we do with German POWs? That is between the Soviet Government in Moscow and the Germans in Berlin. It is an affront to ask me,’ Plasov snarled.
Edrich thought hard before replying. ‘Minister, the only reason my government asks about this matter is that it is worried that the German POWs on their way home through Turkestan might cause trouble if there are unsupervised. Any trouble that the Germans might cause may result in the Asian Moslem tribes tarring all Europeans with the same brush. The tribal trouble might then spill over from Turkestan to Afghanistan, Persia, China, India and indeed everywhere causing major death and destruction.’ Edrich felt his last statement weak but to openly state that the Germans might be part of an invasion army might make the man opposite apoplectic.
‘The Swedes have provided Captain Anders to the Red Cross and he looks after the welfare of the German prisoners and Major Bohr from Denmark the Austro-Hungarian Imperialists. Both will continue to do their duty until the prisoners are returned home.’ Plasov said clearly indicating by his manner that the discussion about the POWs was at an end.
‘Well as to the cotton, Comrade Minister, my government will be willing to buy what you have and they hope that y
ou will promise not to sell it to the Germans.’
‘As we are no longer fighting the Germans we see the current war as now being between the Imperialists. The cotton will be sold to whosoever can pay for it and remove it.’
Plasov sat quietly waiting for a response from Edrich but the latter decided to say nothing. It seemed an eternity before Plasov spoke again. ‘I will be communicating with Moscow about you and your party, Colonel Edrich. I do not want any of you to leave Tashkent without my authority. If you try to leave you will be shot. Do you understand this?’
‘I understand what you have just said, Comrade Minister. However I must protest your threats. You have seen our bona fides and you know that we are official British Government representatives.’
‘Colonel, a representative of the previous government wrote your so-called bona fides. A government that was filled with criminals. Such a document is therefore worthless, some would say less than worthless because it allies the British with the former criminal regime. This latter fact alone can have you shot. You have no papers from your own government, do you?’
Edrich squirmed in his seat. He realised now that the Indian Government should have provided the mission with official papers addressed to the revolutionary government not the old imperial government. The trouble was he realised was that he was accustomed to making unofficial intelligence trips on behalf of the Indian Government. He had made several such trips in the ten years prior to the outbreak of war and the Indian Government had always turned a blind eye to accepting responsibility for such missions. Edrich had always accepted India’s feigned ignorance of what he did although both knew he was on secret intelligence missions. One role he performed on such trips was mapping unknown or unexplored parts of a country that could be used by India for military purposes. Edrich’s drawings, paintings and collections of local fauna and flora though they ostensibly contained nothing of military interest served another purpose. Edrich had a knack of drawing things of a military interest e.g. a fort, but hiding it amongst surrounding trees or hills. Camouflaging something in such a way Edrich hoped made it easy for a conscripted soldier on patrol somewhere who looked at his work and saw the trees, or the mountains, but not the veiled military object behind them.
Local government officials he had dealt on his trips were non-European and as he had lived for over twenty years in the east he felt he understood how to deal with them. One thing for sure no local official that he had ever met had threatened him with death because his papers were not in order. This mission Edrich now realised was very different other than he had as usual had no official standing. He was dealing with Europeans whose country was in chaos thanks to the beginnings of a civil war and as a result the Russians were likely to be utterly ruthless with those they thought of their enemies. Edrich cleared his throat but his voice cracked as he said. ‘No, Minister.’
‘Mr Compton, the United States agent, had the right papers so I will not be shooting him.’ Plasov was clearly enjoying himself. ‘You are official representatives of the British Government if our Soviet Council in Moscow tells me that you are.’ He added peremptorily, ‘you may go.’
Edrich and Hutton stood as Plasov switched his attention back to a pile of papers on his desk from which he selected the top one.
‘Comrade Minister,’ said Edrich. ‘Sir Walter Robbins our former consul in Kashgar is part of our mission to you. Sir Walter has been delayed but he is expected to arrive, any day. May I present him to you? I suggest this because he has visited Tashkent several times and is known here. If you allow us both to return then he can allay some of the disquiet you are undoubtedly feeling.’
‘I do not know him but I am a reasonable man. Is he like you two a military officer?’
‘No.’
‘Then I will meet him. Good bye.’