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Chapter Thirty
 he train roared past the little railroad stop at Klebny. No passengers were scheduled to deboard there. It was a stop where one could make connections north to Tver, Novgorod, and ultimately Petrograd. Zina Dumatskoy was on that train. She stared blankly out the window at the nondescript landscape with a profound sense of despair and hopelessness. She was only vaguely aware of her surroundings -- time and place. Occasionally, she was somewhat conscious of a burning sensation around both her wrists. But that sensation made no real impression upon her, barely making a mark on her consciousness. What did leave an impression was the eventual sight of sporadic fires in the landscape. Peasants on various farms were burning debris or warming themselves, or cooking after a long day of labor. The misty dusk of the day allowed the fires to stand out sharply for Zina's lazy vision. The sight forced ideations into her mind. She remembered the large pot that she used to use to cook potatoes, onions, and cabbage. She remembered throwing ten Tarot cards into the pot. She had lit the cards and they burned in the pot. They were the cards from the last reading she did. Uchitelnitsky had telephoned her from Aleksandrov late Saturday night, March 9.
"Listen carefully, Zinochka, I'll make this brief. Things here could not be better. I want you to take the first train tomorrow."
Zina hesitated. Then she said that she would do it. After she hung up the telephone, she got her Tarot cards and did a reading. The question she posed was whether she should go to Aleksandrov to be with Uchitelnitsky. Never had the cards delivered a more resounding NO to one of her questions. All ten cards were entirely negative. Among them were the Hanged Man, the Devil, and finally, the Death card. Try as she might to interpret each card in a positive fashion, the result was hopeless! So she decided to throw the ten cards into the empty cooking pot and burn them. She threw all the rest of her cards into the pot, too.
Zina was beside herself with a combination of anxiety, fear and excitement. She had convinced herself to disregard the cards and never use them again!
It was nearly midnight when Zina called a taxicab, bundled up Sasha, and went to Anya's apartment. Anya was at the Red Rooster working. Zina woke up the entire Kariryev family.
"Tonya, I'm letting my Sasha stay here, with Anya, with you, just for a while, just a few, ah, days. I just called Anya at the club. She's delighted, ecstatic at the possibility of being with my Sashenka, my darling for a time. I must follow up on a lead to find my husband."
Zina spoke extremely fast. The bleary-eyed Tonya took Sasha and involuntarily kissed and hugged him. Sasha, who had been crying all the while during the taxicab ride to Labaznaya and before that at Zina's apartment during the burning of the Tarot cards, seemed relieved to be in Tonya Kariryev's arms. Zina kissed and hugged her son, cried, and departed. The taxicab was waiting for her. Zina had not telephoned Anya about bringing Sasha to stay in Labaznaya. She lied to Tonya.
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 n 3/4/22, the small team consisting of an engineer, a crew chief, and a crew of four laborers set out from Moscow in an old flatbed military truck covered with canvas. The laborers rode in the back with the supplies and equipment. The crew chief drove, the engineer sat next to him in the cab of the truck. The team was hired by Cheka under the auspices of Uchitelnitsky. It was headed for Aleksandrov.
Due to the elaborate, highly documented, and quite apocryphal report concocted by Uchitelnitsky, he convinced his Cheka superiors that there might be remnants of the fabled Tsar Ivan Grozny Library at Aleksandrov; and even more importantly, that the German government had learned of its possibility and was about to send spies there to investigate.
Uchitelnitsky placed much emphasis in his bogus report on highly specific engineering information supposedly provided by the engineer, Danilov, who was mentioned in the Ludwig Edelmann correspondence to Professor Holtz which was taken from Marburg by Comrade Flobov when he killed the professor. Uchitelnitsky went so far as to cite in his report letters that he had fabricated between Danilov and Holtz, Holtz and Dmitri Dumatskoy, Danilov and Dumatskoy. Uchitelnitsky's Cheka superiors were entirely convinced by his report. At any rate, that was what they led Uchitelnitsky to believe. What won them over, they told him, more than anything, was the threat of Germany uncovering the library, if it existed, before the Soviets. Uchitelnitsky emphasized Holtz and Danilov being émigrés -- therefore traitors; and Dumatskoy's continued dealings with Holtz and the project after he was forbidden by his boss, Olga Shpion in the Education Department, from doing so.
The team arrived in Aleksandrov, set up operations, and went to work. The monks at the monastery were powerless to prevent the excavations. After three full days of work, the engineer on the project, Zhikhadko, telephoned Uchitelnitsky in Moscow to report something had been found that Uchitelnitsky would be very interested in seeing. Uchitelnitsky had a driver take him to Aleksandrov two hours after the telephone call.
By 2:00 a.m., Uchitelnitsky sat exhausted in the small monastery library. Exhausted yes, but also filled with the most heightened feelings of excitement, wonder and joy that he had every in his life experienced. He had just finished the last sip of a 1910 Chianti produced by the famed Brolio estate owned by the heirs of Baron Ricasoli. Uchitelnitsky had raided the monastery's superb wine cellar for the gem. The Abbot, of course, had no choice but to offer his esteemed guests, "Carte Blanche" while they were there. Uchitelnitsky's associates were less complex people than he was. Those six were asleep by about 11:00 p.m.
The excavation team had unearthed ten wooden boxes lined with gold leaf. Each box had the Russian imperial seal, the two-headed eagle, engraved on the top panel. Each box was the same size: 15 inches by 20 inches with a depth of one foot. Each box weighed over 50 pounds. Sand was used to pack all around the contents of each box for extra protection. Seven boxes contained ten books; two boxes contained eight books; one contained seven books. The books were of various sizes: the largest being 12 inches by 16 inches, the smallest being 5 inches by 7 inches. A leather bound single sheet of vellum found in one of the boxes listed the titles contained in each box. Uchitelnitsky checked each book and verified that, as stated on the contents sheet, there were ten boxes and ninety-three books. He then checked his copy of the Johann Fichte list that Holtz had sent to Dumatskoy. The Fichte list contained 409 titles. All 93 titles found at Aleksandrov were on the Fichte list! Sixty-one books were in Greek. Of those, 25 were printed on printing presses, the rest were hand-written. Thirty-two were in Latin, of which twenty-one were made on printing presses. There were no books in Russian.
The following morning, Uchitelnitsky, a hangover not withstanding, woke up early and set to work examining the precious discovery more closely. The pages of the books were made from vellum. Roughly half were stained with grape purple and printed in silver ink. The rest were stained with crimson with the texts in gold. All the books were of the highest quality, and in remarkably good condition. They had been resting in those boxes in the narrow underground corridors beneath the monastery for nearly 3 1/2 centuries! Many of the authors were unknown to Uchitelnitsky. Some books were compilations by groups of writers, where only the title was given, such as: Findings of the Law Courts of Rhodes During the Reign of Governor Georgias. Many books were religious in nature: meditations on church dogma: interpretations of biblical passages; and the lives of various saints, both Roman and Orthodox Greek. Some books were chronicles on the everyday life and current events of Rome, Florence, Constantinople and Athens during various periods of the 16th century.
The books found in five different boxes that excited the heart and soul of Uchitelnitsky, the scholar, the teacher of Greek language and culture were extraordinary, indeed. There were 43 books in all: Homer's the Iliad and the Odyssey, each in Greek and Latin; four works by Plato, each in Greek and Latin -- the three dialogues dealing with the Socrates trial, imprisonment, and death: Apology, Crito, and Phaedo, as well as the Republic; Aristotle's Poetics in Greek and Latin; two works by the Latin poet, Horace: seventeen iambic poems collected under the title of Epodes, and a book of satires, his second such collection, which were written between 65 and 8 B.C.; Dante's Divine Comedy, four comedies by Aristophanes in Greek and Latin; tragedies in Greek by Aeschylus, Euripides, and Sophocles numbering ten books; and eight books in Greek by Neoplatonist writers: Philo of Alexandria, Numenius, Plotinus, Porphyry, and Proclus.
By 11:30 p.m. that night, Uchitelnitsky again sat in the monastery library. He was almost through another bottle of rare Ricasoli Chianti (1913). He had before him on the desk a copy of the Neoplatonist writer, Porphyry's exegesis of allegorical interpretations of Homer. It was that part of the book where Porphyry addresses the cave of the Nymphs in the Odyssey. That was the single, largely complete essay in the explication of a Homeric text, or even a literary text, that had survived from antiquity! The essay had been known to scholars for centuries, even Uchitelnitsky and his students at the university, and used in part for a Greek lesson by Uchitelnitsky for Zina Dumatskoy.
The thought of Zina's naked beauty, bathed in the rays and warmth of the sun god, Apollo, standing at the entrance to the cave of the Nymphs on Ithaca, filled Uchitelnitsky's heart with boundless love for her. He had at his disposal then, there in the monastery of St. Aleksandr, the means to spending a life of love, learning, and travel with Zina in the land of their dreams. At that moment, sitting in the ancient library, he knew what he had to do! How to do it, carry it all off, was something he did not know at that time.
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 omrade Flobov, driven by car, arrived in Aleksandrov about noon on Friday, March 1, 1922. The Cheka hierarchy had made their affirmative decision on the library project as suggested by Uchitelnitsky the previous day. They would be informing Uchitelnitsky of their approval; and the dispatch date of March 4, for the excavation team early on the morning of the first.
Flobov was a report writer of some prowess, too. Uchitelnitsky's report to the hierarchy had convinced them to approve sanction of the Tsar Ivan IV library excavation. Concurrent with that, Flobov, who suspected Uchitelnitsky of some ulterior motive, had submitted a report of his own, accusing Uchitelnitsky of "Bourgeois Tendencies" and therefore, Uchitelnitsky's behavior merited being monitored closely regarding the library business, if anything was found. Flobov suggested that Uchitelnitsky was weak enough to succumb to the possibilities of having a fortune in his hands and keeping it for himself rather than turning it over to the State. Flobov cited tenants from Lenin's monumental pamphlet, What is to be done? Although written in 1902, it was still regarded by purists as Bolshevik dogma. Flobov questioned Uchitelnitsky's adherence to many key principles outlined in Lenin's text, such as:
- The importance of centralization -- Uchitelnitsky was too often operating as a maverick; he was power-hungry, conceited and elitist in his working of cases.
- Ideological unity -- his "cover" as a Greek scholar and his life-long love of ancient texts and languages, particularly non-Russian, raised serious doubts as to his belief in and devotion to the party line.
- Strict discipline -- Uchitelnitsky was "soft", Flobov argued. He had not "liquidated" any enemies in some time, preferring to delegate the work to operatives under him such as Flobov himself. And he had lately become emotionally involved with the wife of a man being investigated as a possible enemy of the state -- Dmitri Dumatskoy.
So Flobov arrived in Aleksandrov in advance of the excavation team, a fact of course, unknown to Uchitelnitsky. Flobov secured a room on the third floor in a house with a view of St. Aleksandr's monastery. He approached his mission from the premise that Uchitelnitsky would find the library, or part of it, and attempt to steal it for himself. Back in Moscow, Flobov arranged to have Zina Dumatskoy's movements watched carefully. Flobov reasoned that Uchitelnitsky would need a vehicle of some sort, probably a truck, and perhaps some workers to transport the library somewhere. Uchitelnitsky would probably not trust any members of the excavation team enough to bring them in on his plans. Uchitelnitsky might need receptacles in which to pack the library, and perhaps some type of covering to conceal everything. Flobov spent the following two days talking to anyone in Aleksandrov and vicinity who could be hired to help Uchitelnitsky. Flobov introduced himself as who he really was: A Cheka Internal Affairs Operative, in effect -- a policeman who polices the police! All those in Aleksandrov who spoke to Flobov understood the gravity of the situation and were respectful of it. They all vowed their unconditional cooperation. Flobov, of course, did not go into the details of his mission. He didn't have to. Cheka was by 1922 known to most citizens who had anything to lose or gain within the State.
The operative who was following Zina called Flobov from the Belorussia Railroad Station on Sunday morning, March 10. He reported that she bought a ticket for a train to Aleksandrov that would be leaving in less than an hour. Flobov told the operative, Comrade Terzhakian, to purchase a ticket and follow her to Aleksandrov. When she arrived, Uchitelnitsky met her at the little railroad station and took her with him to the monastery, where they spent the entire day, and the night -- much to the silent objections of the monks, who again, were powerless to do anything about it. The excavation team did not question the presence of a woman. Uchitelnitsky was in charge of the operation and his decisions were not open for debate.
Flobov and Terzhakian sat in the former's room late into the night trying to determine what Uchitelnitsky's plan might be.
"Would he be bold enough to use the excavation team's truck to take his booty to a safe haven?" Flobov said to Terzhakian.
"And why not? It would save him from dealing with anyone in this town, I'll wager," answered Terzhakian.
Flobov's eyes gleamed maliciously, "Would he kill the excavation team? Does he have it in him?"
"How many?" Terzhakian checked his notebook. "Six. And why not? You know, it doesn't matter after one ... one hundred ... two hundred. I'll wager I'm right!"
Flobov started to laugh. Terzhakian looked serious. Then, he burst into laughter too. Terzhakian was 24, but experienced. "A fine Bolshevik specimen, a Cheka-man," was Flobov's assessment of him. The two had worked together on many occasions. Besides, Flobov liked Terzhakian's exuberance and sense of humor. Terzhakian was originally from Yerivan in Armenia.
"By now, he has probably had her a hundred times. If he is half the man he thinks he is. She's quite a succulent pie, don't you think?" Again Terzhakian had a very serious look on his face.
Flobov laughed a deep, full laugh. Then he answered the younger man,"Such a way to speak of a woman! Even a potential enemy of the state. A hundred times, is it, my fine young Dionysos?"
"Why yes! I'd be, who? Dio ... what ... anyway ... why you laugh? I'd be up to it. You can wager on that!"
"Well, it will be the last hundred times he has had her. Mark my word: He will make his move tomorrow, and we will have him!"
On Monday morning around 9:00 a.m., Uchitelnitsky called the excavation team into the library of the monastery and told them that they had found what Cheka was looking for, and that the ten boxes of books should be loaded into the truck and driven back to Moscow Cheka headquarters at 1:00 p.m. An hour later, everything was in place and the truck was ready to roll. Uchitelnitsky ordered the monks responsible for food and drink to prepare a fine lunch for the team to celebrate a job well done. The team did not question the order. They relished it. While the six men ate and drank inside, Uchitelnitsky and Zina simply went out to the truck, got in and drove off.
The truck headed west, presumably toward the Polish border, which was 600 miles away; or to a Russian town where Uchitelnitsky possibly planned to use as a safe haven. At any rate, Flobov, who followed along in a car provided by Cheka Aleksandrov, was prepared to let Uchitelnitsky drive for some distance, in order to prove conclusively that he was stealing the library.
For some time, Uchitelnitsky and Zina were rising upon the crest of one of the waves of which that part of the highway was composed. On several occasions, on the ridged and gouged road, Zina flew up from her seat like a cork, and was almost lost out of the truck. Uchitelnitsky crushed his foot down on the accelerator and Zina had to cling to the safety strap and other available finger holes. After about 125 miles, Flobov believed he had the proof he needed. He told the driver to pull up parallel to the truck as soon as the road was straight enough and clear of oncoming traffic. When the time was right, Flobov's car pulled up parallel to Uchitelnitsky's truck.
Uchitelnitsky glanced down at the car that was next to him on the road. He recognized the man sitting on the passenger side of the car rolling down the window and leaning out pointing a revolver at him. The man had a black eye patch over his left eye. Two top gold teeth gleamed as the sunlight hit them. The man was smiling maliciously.
It was Comrade Flobov! Uchitelnitsky let out a blood-curdling scream that woke Zina sitting next to him in the cab of the truck. He momentarily lost control of the wheel, and the truck ran off the road to the right. Flobov put the finishing touches on Uchitelnitsky by firing a bullet into the front and rear tires. The truck hobbled to a complete stop. Flobov, Terzhakian, brandishing a revolver, and the Cheka driver, with a sub-machine gun, rushed out of the car and up to the truck. Uchitelnitsky and Zina both had frenzied looks in their eyes.
"Do something! Do something!" Zina screamed at Uchitelnitsky. He began to hyperventilate. His look turned crazed! He was too frightened to move.
From the road, Flobov began yelling,
"In the name of Cheka for the all powerful Soviets -- I say: come out of the truck! I am arresting you both. Easy, now ..."
Zina grabbed her handbag, and pulled out a small pistol, Drugo's old pistol that Anya had given to Zina to protect herself against Ostavlyavich. She began waving the pistol wildly. It went off by accident. A bullet flew through the front window of the truck.
As soon as Zina began waving the pistol, Comrade Terzhakian yelled, "Look out, she's got a gun!"
The driver with the sub-machine gun opened fire into the truck, hitting Uchitelnitsky in the shoulder and neck. Zina dropped her gun and threw herself on Uchitelnitsky. The battle was over.
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 ires were burning in the landscape. Burning sensations were active on Zina Dumatskoy's wrists. She sat in the train heading for Moscow. Tight handcuffs were causing the discomfort on Zina's wrists. She glanced at the handcuffs as though she was aware of their presence for the first time. Her eyes were swollen from crying. But at that moment they were dry and vacant. The seat next to her was empty. Comrade Terzhakian sat on the aisle seat. He watched her almost constantly partly in the line of duty, after all, she had attempted to shoot at three Cheka Operatives; and partly, because he found it difficult to take his eyes off her because of her beauty, even at that moment of her profound despair. Uchitelnitsky had been badly wounded, but he was expected to recover. He was in the next car behind Zina, guarded by Comrade Flobov. Both Uchitelnitsky and Zina would probably be spending many years in prison.
Zina continued to stare blankly out the window. Once again, her thoughts were empty. The handcuffs burning her wrists, the presence of Terzhakian watching her every move, were nowhere to be found in her mind. Absent too, was any notion of her son, Sasha, his welfare and his subsequent care; or her husband, Dmitri and his possible whereabouts.
About 12 miles from Moscow, the train began to slow down until it gradually, for some reason, stopped. The change in speed and motion made an impression on Zina. A short distance from the railroad tracks, perhaps half a train car's length, Zina saw a rather large nightingale lying motionless in a clearing in the field. Clouds moved away from the sun and the body of the dead bird was illuminated for Zina like an actor in a spotlight on a stage. The sight transfixed her, and her heart began to pound. In the background of that scene, in the distance, something dark was approaching in the sky. The pounding of Zina's heart sounded to her like the flapping of the wings of a huge bird. The train car window was shut tight. The dark mass grew more enormous as it approached, seemingly coming straight toward the bird! It hovered above the nightingale and beat its huge wings furiously. Zina felt as if all the air was being driven out of her lungs by the furious flapping of those huge wings. She couldn't breathe. She clutched at her throat. Terzhakian moved over to her and tried to help, wondering what was wrong. Zina pressed her mouth directly on the window. She took deep breaths, as though trying to suck air from that window and the outside beyond it, as though that would give her back her life. She truly felt she was losing it. The dark mass devoured the nightingale illuminated by the strong early spring March sunlight. A face was recognizable within the dark mass. Zina shuddered all over in horror as she realized she was looking into a mirror! That was her face within the dark mass with the blood of the nightingale smeared all over it! As the dark mass flew out into the sky, Zina knew it was her spirit flying away and it would never come back.
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