Rue Blanche
Paris, France
January 1912
The persistent, gentle rapping on the door continued until Vladimir Lenin finally reached the door and pulled it open. The light of the overcast sky silhouetted the small man in front of him, making it difficult for Lenin to recognize him at first. Then he smiled and offered his hand to the man he hadn’t seen in nearly eight years. “Comrade Constantin Verontov! Welcome! Please come in!”
Lenin escorted his old colleague into his small apartment on Rue Blanche and called out to the other occupant of the apartment. “Comrade Mozger, look who just showed up at our door.” Mozger arose from his seat and went to shake the newcomer’s hand. “By God, it is you! We got your letter weeks ago! When did you get out of prison?” he asked.
“I left Solovetsky Island about three months ago. My God, it is good to be free! Nearly eight years in that godforsaken place! I hope I don’t look as bad as I fear I do. Believe me comrades, as often as my body felt broken in the prison camp, my spirit never faltered.” He looked at the two and tears began to stream down his face. “Forgive me; it is just so wonderful to see you two again!”
“Come,” offered Lenin. “Join us for a little dinner. We will have much to discuss and to catch up on.” Leading their guest into the small kitchen area, Mozger pulled out a clean tablecloth and the three men sat down at the table to dine on a simple meal of beef and potatoes. Constantin ate ravenously as he listened to his colleagues. The animated Lenin talked nonstop, updating Constantin on the progress of the Bolsheviks. “We are making slow but steady progress,” assured Lenin. “Better to have a small cadre of disciplined followers than a large, unwieldy ‘democratic’ lot. Revolutions are not built with input from everyone. Party discipline must be strict and firm!” He confessed that he no longer worked on the revolutionary journal Iskra, but had begun instead to edit a new radical newsletter called Vperyod!, or Forward! He then began to describe the various activities involving the Bolsheviks. These activities included organizing strikes, paying off policemen, publishing and distributing their newsletter, and moving party members throughout Europe.
Finally, Constantin broke in. “Comrade Lenin, where do you get the financing for all of this? All of this must cost a fortune.”
Lenin looked over to Mozger, and they smiled at one another. The grinning Mozger answered him. “We steal, my friend. We rob banks to raise our financing. After all, stealing from capitalists is not really stealing! The ends justify the means.”
Constantin looked up with a stunned expression on his face. He saw his colleagues smiling mischievously back at him. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but you two hardly look like bank robbers to me! We, well … aren’t we more intellectuals than ruffians? I mean, I can’t picture any of our comrades as bank robbers. Has anyone been caught?”
Mozger smiled. “Of course, Comrade Lenin and I only oversee operations. Our followers, well, we’re still relatively new at the game. But we’ve had first-class instructors who have been teaching our people how to do it. They also teach us how to make bombs, to extort people, and various other handy skills.”
“Who in God’s name teaches you these things?”
“Who, indeed! The masters themselves. Our teachers are the vors. In return for their tutelage, we give them a cut of the plunder. It has proven to be a very beneficial relationship. You must have had many dealings with vors at Solovetsky Island.”
“Yes, I did. They are the most ruthless vermin on this planet. They are like an entirely different race of creatures, and we have the misfortune to inhabit the Earth with them. How can you stand dealing with them?”
“Comrade, when you want to cause terror, you go with the terrorists,” interjected Lenin. “That’s why they are so perfect for our purposes. They are feared by all, and they teach us well. They are so ruthless that no one, I mean no one, would ever stand up to them.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily say that,” replied Constantin, with a smug look on his face. “I know someone who put them in their place.”
“What?” exclaimed Lenin and Mozger almost simultaneously. “What on Earth are you talking about?” exclaimed Mozger.
“It’s true. On Solovetsky Island, in the prison camp, one of my fellow prisoners, named Moryak, he not only stood up to them, but he actually dominated and intimidated them! The vors were genuinely afraid of him. He is fearless, I tell you! And he is a great man! Do you know who he is? He’s the man who led the mutiny aboard the Potemkin. He is an extraordinary man. He’s an intellectual, a revolutionary, and a savage animal — all rolled into one man!”
“Moryak?” asked Mozger. “The ‘Sailor’? I think I may have heard of him. The rumors have it that he actually killed several vors at Solovetsky.”
“Those aren’t rumors, Comrade Mozger. I saw this with my own eyes. He kills and then he sleeps like a baby. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that he saved many of the political prisoners’ lives with his courage and his power over the vors.
“Hmmm,” Lenin thought out loud. “A man like this would be very useful to us. Is he a committed revolutionary?”
“I believe so. I would also classify him as a world-class cynic. Then again, if I had spent two years in solitary confinement, I believe that I would be a cynic also.”
“Will he ever be getting out of prison?”
“He should be released in a couple of years. That’s the other thing about him. He works constantly — physical work, I mean. At first, everyone thought he was crazy, but he manages to always get extra rations because he works so hard. For a man in prison, he is extremely fit.” Constantin thought for a minute before he continued. “He is a frightening man in many ways. He almost seems to enjoy killing.”
Lenin sat quietly with his hand on his chin, deep in thought. Finally, he spoke. “Comrade Verontov, correspond with this man and keep in contact with him.”
“He is not allowed any mail, either in or out of the prison.”
“Then write to another one of the prisoners and have them pass him a message. Tell him he is welcome here when he is released. Yes, a man with these talents would benefit our organization very much indeed!” He looked over at Mozger. “Imagine that. A man, an intellectual, who actually beats up and then kills vors. A man who makes vors fear him! I would very much like to meet such a man!”
Mozger grinned back at Lenin. “So would I, comrade. So would I.”
After they dined, the three walked over to the fireplace and sat down. Constantin, in his eagerness to learn what had gone on in his absence, couldn’t stop firing questions at his two colleagues. “Tell me about the party, Comrade Lenin. What are we achieving in St. Petersburg?”
“Great things indeed! Great things,” said Lenin with enthusiasm. “We are small but growing. We even have six members of the Bolshevik party as elected members to this fourth Duma. Our influence grows."
“I wish I were so enthused, comrade,” replied Mozger in a cynical tone. Lenin shot him an annoyed look. “In this regard, you are too trusting,” Mozger continued. “I warn you, I am still somewhat concerned.”
“Concerned about what?” inquired Constantin.
“Malinovsky, for one thing,” said Mozger, referring to Roman Malinovsky, one of the six Bolshevik deputies to the Duma. “He drinks too damn much and has a big mouth.”
“You’re too hard on Comrade Malinovsky,” countered Lenin. “I think you resent the fact that he’s a genuine working-class man, unlike the three of us, I might add. He certainly has some rough edges, but he is a true representative of the working class, the proletariat. We need him there. He lends much credibility to our revolution that is led by the workers of Russia.”
“Well, he’s only part of the problem,” snapped Mozger. “He’s only one of several in our party in St. Petersburg that I don’t trust. Many of them live beyond their means and to me that indicates that they’re taking payoffs and bribes from the police. I wouldn’t be surprised if many are on the Okhrana payroll as informers!”
“You are a cynic, Comrade Mozger. I can certainly vouch for the veracity of Comrade Malinovsky. Now, this conversation is over. I’m sick of having you slander Malinovsky. For your information, if anyone is caught in the act of betraying us, the penalty will be death, do you understand?” His voice rising slightly, he continued. “Loyalty to the party is everything, including from you, comrade. If you feel you cannot continue to give me your loyalty, you are free to leave. Now, having said this, I am tired of you trying to paint Comrade Malinovsky with the brush of decadence and disloyalty. This stops now!”
Several seconds of awkward silence passed as Mozger stared down at the table in front of him. He gradually lifted his eyes and stared at the other two. Slowly shaking his head, he began to talk in a soft voice. “Of course, you have my undying loyalty. I apologize. This won’t happen again.” The rare occasions when Lenin displayed anger toward him were difficult for him to accept. He desperately sought his leader’s approval. “My life has been dedicated to the party and therefore to you. I need only remind you two of the past life that I gave up to join the party as proof of my commitment. Rest assured, I’ll never question you again about Comrade Malinovsky.”
Lenin stood and smiled at the other two. “Good then. Come! Let’s take a walk and tell Comrade Verontov about some of the recent achievements that we have accomplished. By the way, did you know that Stolypin was killed by one of our party members, Comrade Bogrov?
“I didn’t know that,” replied the impressed Constantin. “We had no details of his death.”
With a smile Lenin added, “See the great things our party can achieve? We had Comrade Bogrov trained as an assassin by the vors! Yes, we’re small, but we’re growing. The future belongs to us!”