The Cotton Spies
CHAPTER 53
Bedi entered Edrich’s room and picked up his bag then without a word he led Edrich down the stairs then via the lounge to the gentlemen’s cloakroom. Bedi and Edrich passed no one on their journey. The cloakroom was empty because, as Bedi had found out, its attendant always ate at this time of the evening in the kitchen - nobody replaced him. Once in the cloakroom Edrich opened the bag and removed its contents. Edrich put on an Austrian army jacket and a pair of German field grey uniform trousers. Bedi who was listening at the cloakroom door whilst Edrich changed gave him the all clear signal. Edrich looked comical but Bedi refrained from smiling. Edrich climbed through a window and dropped to the ground before he stood up with his back firmly pressed to the wall. He waited and listened. When Edrich heard nothing he put on an Austrian Army cap which Bedi had purchased in the market. The cap was slightly too big so Edrich had to tilt it slightly to see under its peak.
As soon as he heard Bedi close the window Edrich walked the few strides into the hotel courtyard, stopped and watched. On one side of the courtyard at right angles to the main part of the hotel were stables where Edrich could hear the horses moving. In the courtyard three motor cars and a lorry were parked in a row. In one of the motor cars Edrich could see a man sleeping at the wheel whilst another car was being cleaned by a man working at a snail’s pace. Opposite the stables Edrich were the kitchens and through its lighted window figures flitting back and forth.
Edrich was just deciding on the most surreptitious route out of the courtyard when he heard a noise. The man cleaning the car had thrown his dirty water on the ground and had begun to walk towards the stables swinging his squeaking bucket round in his hand. Edrich waited until the man had disappeared and then swung his haversack up onto his shoulder so that it hid his face from the stable side and started through the courtyard. Edrich walked with his knees bent in an effort to make him appear smaller to anyone who might be looking.
At the end of the courtyard was a tree that looked out into the wide service road that ran at the back of the hotel and the adjoining properties. Noiselessly Edrich reached the shelter of the tree from where he could see that the road was dusty and rutted by motor and horse drawn vehicles. Edrich heard then watched the car cleaner traverse the courtyard without a glance in Edrich’s direction. When the man stooped out of sight to clean the running board Edrich stepped out from underneath the tree. He turned right and set off towards the main road that he could see about a hundred yards away. Edrich walked past gardens and stables and saw only one man grooming a horse but the man was too engrossed in his work to notice the oddly dressed figure.
When he reached the end of the service road Edrich stopped. He now pulled the cap peak as low as he could before he looked at his boots covered in dust. Edrich took a rag from his pocket and as he wiped off his boot he casually looked towards the corner of the road that led to the front of the hotel. He could see a couple of men lounging against a wall on the far side staring down the street towards the hotel entrance. On the nearer corner were three men in animated conversation though one was clearly looking towards the hotel.
‘Captain Hutton, follow me, please.’ A man dressed in navy blue trousers, a khaki jacket and a grey cap said as he walked past. ‘Please don’t talk to me,’ the man added in heavily accented English out of the side of his mouth.
Edrich followed the man along the road passing Russians, Sarts, Austrians and Germans none of whom gave him a second glance. The pair eventually entered the old walled native part of the city where Edrich had difficulty keeping his eyes on his guide because of the crowd that thronged the streets and his cap peak kept falling over his eyes. Eventually they came to an open square packed with people selling everything from fruit and vegetables to clothes. The guide led the way to a corner of the square where the press of people was less and where there was a café selling tea.
At one end of the cafe three tables pushed together around which were seated men nearly all of who wore all or part of a German soldiers’ uniform. Edrich could not speak German but recognised that was the language being spoken round the table. Most of the men were listening or trying to listen to a slim faired haired man with pince-nez glasses; the man wore the uniform of a captain of the Imperial German army; strapped to his waist was a revolver. Two men, displaying revolvers beneath leather jackets, stood guard behind the captain. The captain stopped speaking and sat down to drink tea and look at papers.
Edrich’s guide led the way to a corner that had a ledge where sat Captain Anders writing something in a notebook. Edrich’s guide went and spoke to Anders who stood up and spoke to the guide before flicking through his notebook and marking something in pencil. The guide sat on the ledge whilst Anders beckoned to Edrich.
‘I expected Hutton.’
‘Hutton is ill.’
Anders motioned at the Germans sitting round the table. ‘That is Sailer the man in the complete German uniform,’ the Swede said quietly. ‘Sailer is going to try and persuade some of the men here to join the Bolsheviks. You and our friend here are Czech if anyone was to ask. Your friend will do the talking if there is any to be done. You’re here to see me because Bohr the Empire’s POW officer is out of town.’ Anders was leafing through his notebook before he stopped on a page and made a mark he then looked up, ‘I recommend you keep your head down and as soon as Sailer finishes speaking you leave.’
Anders moved off and went round the men sometimes marking something in his book and sometimes not. When Anders reached Sailer the latter stood up and began to argue with Anders; soon every German joined in the argument some seemed on Anders side others on Sailer’s. Sailer turned and said something to one of his revolver bearing guards and the man moved forward and seizing Anders by the arm led him away from the table and pushed him out of the café. Anders put his notebook in his haversack and after nodding at some of the men standing beyond the perimeter of the tables he disappeared into the square.
Sailer and some of the men continued their argument till eventually all but the former sat down. As Edrich sat, waited and watched more men gathered round the table till eventually he could not see Sailer unless he stood. One of the late arrivals said something to Edrich’s guide who replied. The newcomer said something to Edrich, and then repeated it.
‘Six,’ replied Edrich in Tibetan.
The newcomer nodded as though Edrich’s greeting was exactly what he was expecting because he smiled an acknowledgement before he turned towards Sailer. Suddenly Sailer was standing on a chair and was beginning his oration; as he spoke he pumped his arms and gazed with a sweep of his head and eyes round the men gathered at and around the tables. Edrich counted forty-eight men. Edrich pushed his cap forward onto his forehead and put his elbows on his knees with his hands covering as much of his face as he could. When Sailer’s gaze arrived in his direction Edrich moved his body so that the man standing in front of him obscured Sailer from him. For the next half an hour Sailer’s hectoring voice resonated round the café sometimes supported by shouts of approval at others with silence. Suddenly there was a commotion emanating from the square and without thinking Edrich stood up.
The source of the commotion was a party of men led by a German infantry captain whose uniform was complete though worn. The new captain shouted first at Sailer and then at the men round the tables. Edrich was pulled back into his seat as the whole mob of soldiers began to shout and then to push one another.
‘Beckelmann,’ said Edrich’s man handler who now grasped Edrich by the arm and guided him into the square as surreptitiously as he could. The shouts and arguments of the Germans filled the square which rapidly emptied of all non- Germans. Without a backward glance Edrich’s escort strode purposefully out of the square en route to the hotel with Edrich just behind him.
When the road past the rear of his hotel was reached Edrich stopped and slipped into a doorway. His guide strode to the next corner turned left, crossed the road and disappeared. Edrich waited and surveyed the scene but he saw no
obvious police trackers lurking on any corner and assumed they had moved closer to the hotel’s front entrance. Edrich watched men with watering cans sprinkling the dusty street in an effort to keep the dust down. After a look at his watch and another survey of the scene he stepped out of the doorway and turned down the service road. When he reached the rear of the house next to the hotel he stopped. The house’s garden was divided from the road by a low fence along which were dotted trees and bushes. Edrich climbed into the garden and went to the wooden shed tucked up against the wall dividing the house from the hotel. Edrich retrieved the bag of clothes that Bedi had hidden amongst the garden debris of old pots, broken tools at the back of the shed. Edrich changed his garb, checked the road and seeing no one he crept to the tree in the hotel’s courtyard and waited. The car cleaner was gone but there was a man standing in the courtyard facing the hotel smoking a cigarette.
Edrich lit a cigarette noisily. The man turned and appeared to study the courtyard then having done that he did something to his turban Edrich quickly went and stood by him. The two men then walked towards the hotel puffing on their cigarettes deep in conversation in Punjabi. On arrival at the back door although the cigarettes were only half smoked they were happy to throw them away. The man who attended the lavatory was sitting in his usual spot outside that place and just inside the back door. He looked up in surprise when he saw Edrich enter with Bedi.
‘Here you are,’ Bedi handed a packet of cigarettes to the attendant; ‘the colonel did not like them at all,’ Bedi looked at the colonel and repeated it in Punjabi.
Edrich pulled a face, made as if to spit which he followed by phlegm generating sound at the back of the throat.
‘You can keep the money I gave you for them.’
The attendant laughed but peered suspiciously at Edrich. ‘I didn’t see him go through the back door. I could get into trouble.’
‘No, you will not!’ Bedi shook his head violently. ‘The colonel left whilst you were hunting that clean towel for me in your cupboard so you didn’t see him leave. Finding towels is your job isn’t it, not looking at who goes outside for a smoke.’ He mopped his brow and handed the towel back.
‘Why is he carrying a bag when all he’s doing is having a smoke?’
‘Europeans have strange habits,’ replied Bedi looking bewildered.
The attendant went to say something but thought better of it and looked round to see if anyone was watching him – there was not. Edrich and Bedi walked away from the cloakroom locked in conversation and entered the lobby to be greeted by a puzzled hotel manager. The manager looked at Edrich suspiciously wondering at his sudden appearance from the direction of a rear door.
‘It is nice to smoke outside, said Edrich, ‘but you are the manager so I suppose you can smoke wherever you want. Here,’ the manager took a look round before accepting the proffered cigarette
‘Thank you, colonel, Sir Walter and Mr Compton are eating in the hotel’s restaurant and they are expecting you.’ The manager looked at Bedi dismissively and the Indian turned on his heel and left.
The Anglo-American pair was sitting by an open window and had already started their meal. ‘We’ve decided to start out late meal without you, colonel,’ said Robbins balancing rice on his fork.
Compton added in a loud voice. ‘And you colonel were working on reports I gather. That must have been most enjoyable for you and the reason you are late.’
‘Yes, I quite forgot the time.’ Edrich looked at a man sitting at an adjoining table who was trying both to eat and to lean as close as he could to the group’s table. The man, Edrich observed, almost lost his balance twice in the short time since he’d arrived.
After dinner they left Compton in the hotel bar smoking a cigar whilst Robbins went back with Edrich to his room. The room again was checked for listening devices before they began to discuss recent events. Although Edrich had counted of forty-eight men at the café because of the state of the men’s uniforms he felt it was hard to know if they were all Germans or included some Austrians. Edrich didn’t admit he’d forgotten to ask Anders, who would have known, whether the men present were a mixture of nationalities or all Germans but he told Robbins of the shouting match between Beckelmann and Sailer.
‘So there is tension amongst the German,’ Robbins said nodding with pleasure, ‘good’.
‘What happened with Comrade Plasov?’
Edrich was told that his presence had been missed and that as head of the mission he was expected to attend all future meetings with the Foreign Commissar of the Tashkent Soviet. The crucial thing that occurred at the meeting was not the discussions about cotton or the POWs, but finally Plasov said that a communication to India was acceptable provided it was transmitted en clair. A key question to be solved was to whom Robbins and Edrich should address their communication. In the light of their dubious position in Tashkent the pair decided to write directly to the Viceroy asking for official Government of India status for the mission. Writing directly to the Viceroy might further reinforce the mission’s claim to be political rather than military. The Viceroy would surely tell Simla that he’d got a telegram from the pair.
As to content the pair debated was whether they should raise the question of the invasion of Russian Turkestan by British troops in the telegram. They knew that Plasov would get a copy of any message they sent so if Edrich and Robbins did not mention the British invasion Plasov probably would want to know why not. The invasion was to be mentioned in their telegram but if and when a response came from India Robbins wondered if the Viceroy might deny the invasion. The pair began to speculate on what would happen then.
Edrich offered, ‘from what we have heard about the Bolos they are likely to shoot us.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Robbins said pensively. ‘Massacring natives is one thing murdering British Officials is quite another. I think they’ll think twice before they do that.’
‘I hope so, Sir Walter. Of course if the Bolsheviks do expel us I wonder if they insist that we return to Kashgar or whether we have to go out through Persia.’
‘That may depend on whim, timing or the weather.’ Robbins stood and turned to go and then stopped, ‘we’ve discussed what you’ll write and you can send it off straight away. We can’t take any chances about Plasov changing his mind. I have to do something now which at this moment I prefer not to say what it is – as you said sometime “Ignorance is bliss”.’
Edrich would have preferred to know what Robbins was actually going to do but accepted the other’s secrecy. As Edrich watched Robbins disappear from the room he wondered if Compton was going with Robbins and that was why the latter had gone into the bar rather than going home. Edrich waited a few minutes then stood by the window just in time to see Compton and Robbins emerge walk up the road with their six police shadowers behind them. Edrich looked down at his own shadowers all of whom were staring up at his window. Edrich almost waved but instead closed the curtain, sat at his table and began to write the telegram.
To: His Excellency the Viceroy of India - Lord Denbigh
From: Lieutenant Colonel Edrich – British Mission to Tashkent
We beg to inform you that all members of the mission have arrived safely in Tashkent.
Comrade Plasov the Tashkent Soviet Foreign Minister awaits instructions from the Moscow Government as to whether the mission can be granted official status.
Cotton though available here awaits Moscow’s instructions on what can be done with it. These instructions we expect to be - sell to the highest bidder. It should be pointed out that moving the cotton by rail is not currently possible because of cessation of train services to the west. The only movement of cotton for Russian internal use has been by caravan.
We have been informed that German POWs are to be repatriated and we assume this will be simpler than expected because their numbers have diminished through illness so that only twenty five thousand remain in Turkestan. Many of POWs work to help the local government an
d economy a few help the local government keep order.
It is claimed here that British troops have been involved in fighting the Bolshevik troops further west from Tashkent, along the railway line. We have stated to the local Soviet that we have no knowledge of British involvement and that we are sure that this is a false claim.
Compton the American consul in Tashkent is supportive in our dealings with the local government officials.
Edrich showed the telegram to Robbins over breakfast who gave it his approval. Edrich with Bedi walked down to the town’s telegraph office after eating. The office held no customers when the pair entered but there were several clerks -a mix of tribesmen and Europeans - who were working at desks whilst two armed Europeans stood idly chatting to each other. The office went quiet as soon as Edrich and Bedi approached the counter.
Bedi explained to a nervous Turkic clerk that he wanted to send a message to India and handed him the message. The counter clerk took it gingerly and disappeared into an office at the back of the room followed by one of the armed guards. Voices could be heard in the room before the door opened and a tall lean European wearing a white shirt without a collar and black trousers came out carrying the message and disappeared into an adjoining office again followed by the armed guard.
After a few minutes the second office’s door opened and a European in a part German and part Austrian uniform stood holding the message and looked at them. The man was of medium height with sandy receding hair and like nearly all the POWs that Edrich had seen in Tashkent he was thin. The man said something over his shoulder and the first European reappeared and they spoke for a few moments in what to Edrich sounded like German. The red headed man nodded and moved to the counter while the armed guard who had disappeared into the office reappeared and moved close to the counter as if to eavesdrop.
‘What do you mean bidder?’ The redhead pointed at the word that related to the purchase by the British of the cotton. He spoke in a heavy German accent.
Edrich explained what he meant by the word and then spent the next half an hour explaining many of the other words and phrases that he had used. From time to time the redhead made notes. When the redhead seemed satisfied he disappeared into his office where the white shirted European and the guard joined him. The Sart who had served them had meanwhile re-appeared but refused to answer any questions. After an age the office door opened and both Europeans returned to the counter.
‘This message is to the Imperialist British Governor we cannot send it,’ the white shirt man said.
The redhead followed up this with, ‘down with all Imperialists.’ His partner nodded vigorously and clenched his fist that he waved in the air.
Edrich drew himself up and looked the white shirt man in the eye and said in his most commanding voice. ‘Comrade Plasov has told me that I can send a message. Please telephone him and’ he was just about to add “he will confirm my story,” when he stopped himself and said, ‘tell him I am waiting here whilst his orders are being disobeyed.’
‘No, I will not do that,’ the white shirt said in what, to Edrich, sounded like a voice riddled with uncertainty.
For the next half an hour the office was filled with the sound of argument about whether the Bolo pair would agree to contact Plasov’s office about this matter; Edrich argued in English with the redhead, Bedi in Russian with white shirt. Suddenly the two telegraph officials stopped and after a whispered conversation without a word to Edrich they returned to their office and shut the door with a crash.
Bedi asked the Sart, who had originally served them, and who had resumed his place at the counter what was happening but the man refused to answer. The sound of raised voices could be heard emanating from the officer then there was silence for a few minutes before the office door opened and the two Europeans emerged and returned to the counter. The redhead told Edrich that the message would be sent on payment of the appropriate fee. Promptly Edrich paid and it was with a feeling of relief that he and Bedi left the telegraph office and took a therapeutic walk round the town. It was late afternoon when they arrived back at the hotel where Edrich reported to Robbins.
‘Would you believe I went down to the telegraph at about nine o’clock and left about half past twelve? All I wanted to do was send a telegram and in plain text.’ Edrich gasped still out of breath from his march. ‘I needed a walk so I spent the afternoon strolling about observing the POWs: selling fruit; moving furniture; painting houses and shoeing horses. They do not look like a threat to India. What about you?’
‘I secretly met someone last night by arrangement through Compton. This was my first and hopefully last, attempt at cloak and dagger stuff – I’m just too old. We had some concoction in this cafe we went to and whatever it was thankfully it made me go to the toilet almost willingly. Whilst pretending to be sick in this ghastly place I met the man Compton wanted me to meet. I met the man for barely more than a few minutes I just could not cope with the smell,’ he pulled a disgusted look on his face, ‘it was awful. This man wanted to talk about soldier stuff. So I said he needs to talk to you - will you takeover this undercover work?’
‘Of course, can I ask who this person is, Sir Walter or is it to be a complete surprise?’
Robbins started to laugh and shook his head at his own forgetfulness. ‘I am most terribly sorry, William. I’d forget my head if it wasn’t stuck on. Nicolas Sokolovsky is the man you are to meet. Have you heard of him?’Edrich shook his head. ‘Well he is a Russian archaeologist who specialises in the Silk Road. He has visited me several times in Kashgar and I stayed with him when I was here in 1912. Nicholas is from a Russian noble family. He was luckily absent during the revolution and counter-revolution that occurred in Tashkent last December. If he had been here at that time he thinks he would have been murdered. Since Nicholas returned from an expedition in May he has been keeping his head down to avoid being noticed by the Bolsheviks. Because of his background Nicholas is anti-Bolshevik and he tells me that he is secretly in touch with the Sart military leadership. He told me this afternoon that the Sart leaders, who apparently retired to the country after their counter-revolution failure, only need a bit of bolstering to try again. Nicholas is also in touch with some Russian anti-Bolsheviks who he thinks will throw in their lot with the Sarts in order to overthrow these Bolos. Nicholas needs to talk to you because he feels this group will need British military help. I told him that only you can properly advise them.’
‘If he is an archaeologist what has he to do with military activity?’
‘Nicholas is a very intelligent man without, I grant you, military experience. However he is: a good organiser; a clear-headed thinker; a natural leader; has wide contacts; is anti-Bolshevik and is widely travelled outside and inside Russia. Go and see what he has to say and then decide what action we can take.’