The Last Train to Kazan. Stephen Miller

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      ‘Bloody, bloody…What the hell does this mean? “Awaiting shipment all pelts. Seven boxes. Will transport on receipt.”’

      ‘He’s posing as furrier’s agent.’

      ‘Ahh.’

      ‘He would be told to cancel the order.’

      ‘My God…’

      ‘Lloyd George is afraid of a similar revolution as has befallen Russia. That’s the reason for the British refusal. They were quite clear about that. Truthfully, Majesty, an upheaval is a real possibility, even I am forced to admit.’ For the first time when Wilhelm rounded on him, von Hintze made himself keep speaking. His hand was trembling. He pressed on.

      ‘If we go forward with the scheme, and even supposing we save the family, if it somehow becomes known, the public response –’

      ‘There will be no talk of a revolution in Germany,’ the Kaiser insisted. ‘It’s absurd! Not when we’re winning!’

      For a moment von Hintze stood there. His eyes wandered to the great illuminated map and then back to the Kaiser. There was no effective way to get through to the man that today’s attack was in reality Ludendorff’s last desperate gamble.

      ‘It doesn’t matter about the talking of revolution. You can forbid all you want and there will still be talk in the streets. It’s clear. You can’t have that family here. You can’t have them in Germany,’ Ludendorff said, his gaze swivelled on the Kaiser.

      ‘I cannot abandon my own flesh and blood. I will not do it!’ the Kaiser hissed. The force of it bent him over at the waist. Across the room he saw the bulk of Hindenburg shifting in his chair. He had a field telephone headset hanging around his neck, and he took it off and handed it to his aide.

      Von Hintze jumped in. ‘Even if we were able to go forward, there’s so little we can do, Majesty. With the approach of the Czechs the wires are severed in places, and any communicating takes longer and is less secure.’

      ‘So, he will have not received his orders?’

      ‘He does not know whom to contact, Majesty, and under the pressure of events it’s likely that the revolutionists will execute the Tsar.’

      ‘It’s probably already happened,’ Ludendorff sighed.

      For a moment the Kaiser looked at him blankly. ‘But…our agent, he will still continue with the mission, won’t he?’

      ‘He will await instructions, Majesty.’

      The Kaiser looked at him. ‘You mean he will wait there, surrounded? My God, who are these men?’

      ‘They are soldiers, the same. They are all soldiers,’ Ludendorff said flatly.

      ‘A very unusual breed of officer,’ said von Hintze.

      ‘My God,’ the Kaiser said. His eyes were full of tears, and he wiped them away with his sleeve. ‘I’m giving him the Pour le Merite! Who is he? At least I want to meet his family and give them my thanks for producing such a noble son. He signs it “Todmann” – that’s only his code name, yes? Well, I know you’re not supposed to tell anyone, but…’

      ‘I can tell you very little about him. Colonel Nicolai keeps it all secret. He has a designation number, 3J64-R,’ von Hintze said, looking at a paper. ‘The R is for Russia, so –’

      Wilhelm reached down and pulled a blank order form from one of the staff officer’s desks, bent to his pen. ‘What is it again?’

      ‘“3J64” is good enough.’

      The Kaiser scribbled out the order to grant 3J64-R, whoever he was, the honour of the Pour le Merite, and the benefits that would go with it.

      ‘I tell you, if we had a hundred more like this one, you and I would be having lunch in Paris this afternoon,’ Wilhelm said, looking up at Ludendorff. ‘And I tell you, I can’t bear to think about Nicholas being hanged in front of a mob in Red Square. I can’t allow such a thing,’ he said to him.

      ‘Do you want to be in Nicholas’s situation? The British aren’t fools. They see the danger. Spend all this…’ He waved an arm back at the room of staff officers. ‘…to win a victory, and throw it away by saving your cousin?’ Ludendorff said, outrageously direct. He was exhausted, von Hintze saw. ‘You can’t allow yourself the luxury of saving them…All Highest,’ Ludendorff said. It was impossible to tell whether he had nearly forgotten to add the honorific at the end, or if he was being sarcastic.

      Wilhelm looked at him for one long withering moment. Then he returned to writing out the award order. Von Hintze realized that after all their talking the Kaiser had still taken no decision about the ‘special case’.

      ‘Should I be so fortunate as to make contact with him, what should I say, All Highest?’ he said, looking at Ludendorff, who sniffed.

      ‘If he’s surrounded what can he do? Tell him to stay in place and wait for instructions,’ the Kaiser said angrily. ‘When we prevail,’ said he added, signing the order, ‘then there will be negotiations, and if we have custody of the Imperial Family, then, you know…a secret overture might be made. It would be in everyone’s interest to be discreet. They say Nicholas is a butcher, they say I’m a butcher. If Jesus were Kaiser they would say he was a butcher. It’s just more Socialistic agitation. Cowards!’ the Kaiser snapped.

      ‘Good,’ said Ludendorff, turning and leaving for the table. He intercepted von Hindenburg and waved him back to his seat. There were more telephones buzzing now, and cadets were adjusting unit designations along the jagged lines that ran across the great map. Covered by the gigantic barrage, their storm troopers were advancing to encircle Rheims.

      ‘You know, they don’t understand,’ the Kaiser said to him. ‘It’s the hardest, the most excruciating duty for a War Lord. To consign brave men, the very life’s blood of the Fatherland, to send them out to their death. At the same time I am unable to help my own poor family.’ He shook his head. For a moment von Hintze thought he might be weeping.

      ‘And this one,’ the Kaiser said, waving the slip of paper that would grant 3J64-R a life-long pension. ‘This “Todmann”, he’s just an unknown man. A solitary, faceless, nameless human being. We’ve asked him to accept a life of shadows, to accept torture and an anonymous death if he is discovered. This man is a martyr,’ the Kaiser said, pressing the paper into Hintze’s hands. ‘The bravest of us all.’

      An aide had stepped up. He held the Kaiser’s long cloak. It was to shelter him on the drive up to the observation post where he would be able to see the artillery. The Kaiser put on his pickelhaube, adjusted the strap beneath his chin, turned to allow the aide to settle the cloak about his shoulders.

      ‘There’s no room for weakness,’ the Kaiser said to von Hintze. ‘If you’re still having qualms, Herr Minister, get over them. Anything else can wait,’ he said sharply and moved towards the door. A command was shouted, the staff officers briefly fell silent, came to attention, and once the Supreme War Lord had left they went back to their maps and telephones, managing the attack that was designed to bring victory to Germany.

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