The Dressmaker's Son (20 page)

CHAPTER 44

Misha came in the
house and threw his wet coat on the sofa before the servant could take it from
him.  She picked up the coat and addressed him.  “Sir, may I bring you
something to drink?”

 “Yes,” he
answered without turning from the fireplace where he was warming his hands.  “A
bottle of vodka and a glass.”

 When she
returned with the vodka, he poured himself a drink and gulped it down.  Then,
after refilling the glass, he sat down in one of the chairs by the fireplace.  He
was very frustrated.  His father-in-law had gotten him into the Secret Police,
but despite his threat to demote him, he was still a major, and as such was
responsible for the men under him.  That meant supervising raids, or breaking
up meetings, or anything else that was going on.  This didn’t leave him the
time he needed to really concentrate on finding little Misha.

      But today
he had made some progress.  Using the information that he had gotten from Mrs. Jacobson
and her daughter, he had gone to the railway station and spoken to the ticket
master whose name was Vadim.  He was able to figure out the schedule for trains
going from there to Helsinki.  Then they narrowed it down to which trains were
running the day that Rebekah had left.  Misha knew about what time she had left
based on what Mrs. Jacobson had told them.  He told Vadim that he was tracking
down a female kidnapper.  She was a dangerous woman who had taken the child of
a high-ranking military official.

Misha was recalling
his day.  The ticket master didn’t remember any such woman, but he was able to
tell Misha what time in the evening the train had left for Helsinki and which
stops it was scheduled to make along the way.  “But, of course,” he had added. “There
is no telling how the trains really run now. It is not unusual to have a
scheduled trip cancelled so that troops can be transported.”

 “I know it has
been a couple of months since that evening,” Misha said. “Is there any way you
can check whether that train arrived in Helsinki as scheduled?”

      “Well, not
really.  I would have to call the stops along the way and find out who was on
duty.”

      Misha
interrupted him.  “This is a government investigation, sir.  Your cooperation
will be well noted.  You will need to tell them that it was a very beautiful
woman and she would have been traveling with a little boy with big gray eyes
and blond hair.”  He reached into his pocket and took out some money.  “Take
this from me personally, please.  My superiors are counting on me to find this
woman and child.”

Vadim took the
money and smiled.  “Of course, Major.  It will be my pleasure to help. How
shall I contact you?”

“I will check back
with you in a day or two,” Misha replied and turned and left the station.

Misha's mind was far
away from his apartment when he heard Catherine's heels on the marble floors.  She
came in and was startled to see Misha sitting there.  “I didn’t hear you come
in,” she said as she bent over and kissed him on the cheek. “You look very
tired.”

“I am trying to do
my job and find Misha at the same time.  It isn’t easy.”

“Have you made any
progress?” she asked.

“Well, maybe a
little.  I know the train that she took to go to Finland.  I have someone
checking to see if anything unusual happened at any of the stops.”

Catherine sat down.
 “Well, that’s encouraging,” she remarked.  

“Yes, it is encouraging,”
Misha answered.  “But I was hoping for more.  I will check back with him in a
day or two to see what he found out.”  Then he looked at Catherine.

“I will stop at
nothing to find my son, Catherine, even if it means deserting my post.”

Catherine sat
silently.  She knew better than to argue with him about this.  To be truthful,
though, Catherine wasn’t as worried about getting little Misha back as she was
that when Misha found him and his beautiful mother, he might decide not come
back at all.  Things in Petrograd were getting worse, and Misha was constantly
speaking about the uselessness of the war, and what he called, “the impending
revolution.”  Just last night he had railed on about the Bolsheviks and how
they sought only to overthrow the czar.

“They are already
recruiting deserters to their cause and enlisting them in their service.  If
the revolution comes, and I fear it will, none of us will be safe.”

This frightened Catherine.
 She had always lived the life of luxury.  Her mind couldn’t fathom a different
way of life.

It was several
days before Misha could get back to the train station.  When he walked in, the
ticket master waved to him smiling.  Misha hoped this meant good news.

“Major,” the
ticket master started. “I have what I think is some pretty helpful news for
you.”

            “I’m listening,” Misha
almost growled.  At this point he had no patience for small talk.

            Vadim told Misha that
he had called several of the stops. When he spoke to the ticket master at the
Vyborg station, he remembered that day because that train was supposed to
continue on, but there were soldiers there who ordered everyone off the train
so they could use it to move the troops that had gathered there from the North.
 He said that most of the passengers went into the city to find rooms since he
told them there would not be another train that evening.  He remembered a woman
who asked him about the next train.  She was indeed very beautiful and went
into the city to try to find a hotel.  But he said she was with a little girl
about five or six, not a boy.

            “Could he describe the
little girl?” Misha asked.

            “I asked him, but he
said it had really been a busy night.  I mentioned the grey eyes and blond hair
and he said he thought the little girl had brown hair.  He remembered more
about the woman.  Said she was very beautiful and that she had the most unusual
eyes that were a blue-green color.”

            Misha’s heart almost
skipped a beat.  That had to have been Rebekah.

            “Did he see her again?
Did he know what train she took?”

            “I asked, Major, but he
said he was off the next day and didn’t see her again.”

“You’ve done a good
job, Vadim,” Misha said as he reached into his pocket and took out some money.  “Take
this.  And see if you can find out anything else.  I’ll check back with you
again in a few days.”

CHAPTER 45

Rebekah was
relieved to get her suitcase back after the guards had gone through it.  She didn’t
have much, but there were some clothes for Samuel and her and a few books.  The
other women in the cell were surprised that the guards had put Samuel in with
them, but delighted for the diversion.  The consensus was that they just didn’t
know what to do with him.

            There was almost no
contact with the prisoners in the other buildings; but, fortunately, Daniel was
also in Building Four  in a common cell with four other men, and they sometimes
saw him outside while working or at meals.

            The routine was
different in each building.  Many prisoners were sent to do hard labor and
returned exhausted in the evening.  The other women in her cell were mostly
given domestic chores such as cleaning, doing laundry, yard work, and kitchen
duty.
 

            The guards were smitten
with Rebekah, and immediately she tried to figure out how she could use this to
her advantage.  One guard, Ivan, seemed to pay more attention to her than the
others.  The other women in her cell teased her about him and said that she
could probably find a way out of the prison with him.  Rebekah really didn’t
see that possibility, but she could certainly befriend him and get what she
could.  It disgusted her that she had to resort to her looks to survive.

The prisoners
could receive and post mail, although it was all heavily censored and sometimes
arrived with words crossed out.  One of her cellmates explained to her that
outgoing mail was also censored.  Prisoners were only permitted to have a
limited amount of money so they wouldn’t bribe the guards.  They could also
receive money from the outside.  Rebekah had money that she had hidden in her
bra and was trying to figure out how she could write to Rachael and Jacob to
let them know that she was all right but in prison.  Her biggest concern was
that somehow it would be categorized as suspect wording by a censor and word
would get to Misha about a woman with a little boy.  There was no doubt in her
mind that he would never stop looking for Samuel.

Finally, she and
Daniel came up with a plan whereby he would send a letter to Martin at
Bloomingdale’s in hopes that he could figure out it was really Rebekah.  She
just wanted them to know that she was alive and Samuel was okay.  She wrote the
letter for Daniel to send and gave him the money for the postage to New York.  Martin
would see where the letter was from which in itself would tell him where she
was.  Rebekah knew he would take the letter to Jacob and Rachael.

Meanwhile, Rebekah
was assigned as a kitchen worker.  From early morning until after dinner she labored
helping with the cooking and cleaning, and sometimes serving the meals.  Most
of the time, Samuel came along with her.  Everyone working there took turns
keeping him amused.  It was amazing to them how easily he got along with new
people and how smart he was.  They would invent little games to keep him
occupied.  His favorite was the “potato game” where the cook would line up
several rows of potatoes and ask him how many were in each row.  Then they had
him multiplying one row by another and he would line up the new row.  Sometimes
the potatoes, or upon occasion onions, were lined up all over the place.  When
no guards were around, which wasn’t often, some of the women would give Samuel
extra food to eat.  “He needs to be strong,” one woman told Rebekah one
afternoon when she had given him a large piece of bread with butter which
really was from the food designated for the guards. “Someday he will help his mama
get out of here.”

“From your lips to
God’s ears,” Rebekah told her.

The guard who
seemed so smitten with Rebekah often stopped in the kitchen under the guise of
“checking that the workers were doing their jobs.”

He would stop and
talk to Samuel while he was playing his potato games.  One day he promised, “I
will try to find you a ball to play with, little boy.  Boys do not need to play
with potatoes.  Potatoes are women’s work.”

Rebekah overheard
and turned to the guard. “That would be so nice, sir,” she said.  “It is hard
for him with no toys at all.”

“Call me Ivan,”
the soldier replied. “And what is the little boy’s name?”

“Boychick,” she
answered. “It is a nickname that has stayed with him.”

“Okay, Boychick,”
he said smiling. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Boychick?” Samuel
asked after the guard left.

“I’m sorry,”
Rebekah said with a smile. “I think our papers had you as a girl, and I didn’t
want to give your real name.”

“That’s okay, Mama.
 Bubbe used to call me that all the time.”

At night she would
tell Samuel stories about America and how it would be when they returned.  “Bubbe
will be there now, and little Gabe is as big as you.”

“What about Uncle
Sollie?”  Samuel asked.

“Uncle Sollie will
be there,” Rebekah replied laughing. “Waiting to throw you up in the air
again.”

“I’m too big now,
Mama,” he answered solemnly. “But we can still play ball.”

Rebekah smiled. “Of
course, you can.”

“But, Mama?’

“What Sammy?”

“I’m having
trouble picturing Uncle Sollie.”

“That’s okay,
Sammy.  You will remember him when you see him.”

Sammy nodded his
head.  “You always know everything, Mama.”

CHAPTER 46

Mikhail sat
quietly at his desk listening to Beethoven on the small record player on the
table behind him.  As chief of the Interior Ministry of Russia, Mikhail oversaw
many branches of the prison system and police systems, including the Secret
Police.  Although there was a hierarchy in each area that stretched far into
the provinces, he was usually the one consulted for definitive answers regarding
prisoners.

            It was late and he was
tired.  His deputy minister had been ill for over three weeks, and it was
almost impossible for one man to keep up with the amount of work that needed to
be handled.  The good thing was that although there were so many piles, Mikhail
had them arranged by topic, which made it easier for him to prioritize the work.
 His assistant had strict orders as to how to arrange and separate the papers.  Each
stack started with a cover sheet placed on top stating the issue or specific
facility involved.  Those that required more immediate answers were first in
each file.

            He pulled forward a
stack with about fifteen files in it. The top sheet read: “Shlissel’burg Hard
Labor Prison Inquiries and Requests.”  Over halfway down the stack, he found an
inquiry from the head of the prison about the status of a particular prisoner.  It
seems there was a woman prisoner with a child.  The letter, dated February 8
^th
,
1917 read in part:

“She
arrived on a train that brought prisoners from several cities. She has a young
boy with her who she says is her son and appears to be about six years of age.  She
claims that she got on the train in Vyborg by mistake, and that she has no arrest
papers.  We searched her bags and found neither political papers nor the
standard papers each prisoner carries with them.  Presently we have her and her
son in Building Four in a common cell with four other women.

There
is no way to figure out if she is lying. She seemed sincere but when she
arrived, the guards tell me she seemed friendly with a gentleman named Daniel Belinsky,
who we know was arrested for his involvement in revolutionary matters.

Of
course, we cannot keep her here indefinitely, but do not know whether to
transfer her to one of the camps or set her free.

Mikhail leaned
back in his chair, put his hands behind his head and stretched.  “This is an  
easy one,” he said to himself.  “The woman obviously has political ties.  How
tragic that she has subjected her young son to such conditions.”  He thought
about his twin sons who were now about eight.  “I couldn’t imagine my boys in
any prison, much less one like Shlissel’burg.”  Then he wrote out a note
instructing the warden to move her out with the next group going to one of the
hard labor camps.  In the morning his assistant would make sure it was typed
and sent out.  He finished the stack of files and one other stack, turned off
his Beethoven and went home.