“Slade was posted to Russia,” Lord Eastbourne began.
“I’m aware of that. He told me before he left.”
“What do you know about Russia?”
“I know that Russia is a land where Europe blends with Asia.” Since Slade had left for Russia, I had read up on it. “It covers millions of square miles, and its population includes Mongols, Slavs, Turks, and Tatars. Their written language is the Cyrillic alphabet. The state religion is the Orthodox Christian Church, which I understand combines Roman Catholicism with pagan rituals.”
“Those are some basic facts,” Lord Eastbourne said in the condescending tone that a schoolmaster uses toward a clever little girl. “Allow me to tell you a little more. Russia began, during the ninth century, as a handful of principalities in the Ukraine, controlled by tribal chiefs. It was invaded in the thirteenth century by Mongols. Russia was united under Prince Ivan the Great, who drove out the Mongols in the fifteenth century. He arrested, imprisoned, tortured, and executed anyone who opposed his rule. When he died, there ensued a period of uprisings and civil wars that lasted into the seventeenth century. A new dynasty, the Romanov, took over, and still reigns today.”
“I know. I have studied Russia’s recent history.” My habit of pride in my education compelled me to demonstrate my knowledge to Lord Eastbourne, and I hoped I could speed up this lesson on Russia so we could proceed to the matter of John Slade. “During the last two centuries, Russia has won multiple wars against Turkey and Persia. The result is that Russia captured the Crimea and gained other territory, along the Black Sea coast, the Bosporus, and the mouth of the Danube. It has incorporated Georgia and Finland, part of Armenia, and expanded westward into Poland and Lithuania. When Napoleon invaded it in 1812, Russia fought back so fiercely that he was forced to retreat. Russia became a major world power, an empire that extends from Poland to the Pacific Ocean, and the Arctic Ocean to the Persian Gulf. Today, Russia is Britain’s rival for control of the Middle Eastern territories. Its influence in those parts is a threat to Britain’s Indian Empire.”
“You are well informed,” Lord Eastbourne said, surprised into respect. “But please allow me to broaden your understanding. Russia is a backward, primitive country controlled by the present Tsar, Nicholas Pavlovich. He is a tyrant who has absolute power over his subjects. They have none of the rights or freedoms that make our own country great.”
He swelled with patriotic pride; then he turned grim. “Our relationship with Tsar Nicholas is complicated. On one hand, we are thankful to him for maintaining order in Europe. He has vigorously acted to crush revolutions and preserve the ruling monarchies. In 1849, for example, when Polish citizens of the Austrian Empire rose up in support of Hungarian rebels, he sent Russian troops to help Emperor Franz Josef put down the insurrection. On the other hand, we consider Russia a threat because the Tsar is bent on enlarging his domain. His army is almost a million men strong. India is a sitting target, its wealth ripe for plunder. Britain must prevent Russia from invading India and maintain her own influence in the Middle East.”
I knew all this, but I forced myself to listen politely. “Fortunately for us, the Tsar has problems at home, which have checked his ambitions. There is much civil unrest. The Russian leaders fear that subversive ideas from the West will bring about a cataclysmic revolution within Russia’s own borders. In order to control their own people, they created a secret police force known as the Third Section. The Third Section maintains surveillance on Russian citizens suspected of revolutionary activity. Its agents censor material printed in the press. They investigate crimes against the state, such as sabotage and political assassinations. They often provoke revolutionaries to commit those crimes, then imprison them or exile them without a trial.”
“This is all very interesting,” I said, “but how does it concern Slade?”
“Slade’s purpose in Russia was twofold,” Lord Eastbourne said. “He went there to establish contact with Russian revolutionaries, supply them with money, and do whatever he could to further their cause and weaken the Tsar’s regime. That he did, while posing as a Russian scholar and journalist. Second, he was supposed to put himself in a position to learn what the Tsar’s plans are regarding action against Britain. He achieved both purposes, although the details as to how are unclear.”
For three years I’d wondered what Slade was doing in Russia; now I knew, but I had yet to learn anything that pertained to the present.
“Slade managed to infiltrate the Kremlin-the Tsar’s palace,” Lord Eastbourne said. “He was our best agent in Moscow. He smuggled messages to us, reporting secrets from the highest echelon of the Russian government. But in January of this year, his messages stopped. So did the flow of all other intelligence from Moscow. We heard nothing until February, when one of our Russian informants showed up in London. He told us that Slade had turned traitor.”
My mouth dropped. Shock delivered after too many previous shocks rendered me speechless.
“Apparently, Slade had given the Third Section the names of his three fellow British agents,” Lord Eastbourne said. “The Third Section arrested and murdered all of them. Our informant said that Slade had begun working for the Tsar, as an expert on British espionage, foreign policy, and military strategy.”
I found my voice. “That can’t be! Slade would never betray his country or his comrades!”
“Our source is reliable,” Lord Eastbourne countered, “and his statement was corroborated by the team of agents we sent to investigate.”
“I refuse to believe it!” My whole body was shaking, so agitated was I. “Where is Slade? I must hear his side of the story!”
Lord Eastbourne regarded me with a sympathy that I found more ominous than reassuring. He took my hand and held it between his own, which were warm, dry, and strong. The intimate gesture filled me with dread, for I had often seen clergymen extend it to the newly bereaved. “Miss Bronte, I know you think highly of John Slade. I regret to inform you that Slade was executed for treason. Our team of agents ambushed him in Moscow and shot him.”
Even as I went faint with horror, disbelief and anger flooded me. I wrenched my hand out of Lord Eastbourne’s. “Slade is alive! I saw him last night! I just told you so!”
The sympathy in Lord Eastbourne’s eyes turned to pity. “Whoever you saw, it couldn’t have been him. Whether or not you believe he was a traitor, you must face this fact: John Slade has been dead for four months now.”
10
When I returned to Gloucester terrace, all I wanted to do was avoid everyone, shut myself in my room, think on what I’d learned at the Foreign Office, and try to recover from my shock. But George Smith met me at the foot of the stairs. “Where have you been?” He was clearly relieved to see me, but vexed by my absence.
“I had business to attend to.” I couldn’t tell him what business.
Mrs. Smith joined us, happy that I’d displeased George. “Miss Bronte might have told us she was going out. But she is a secretive, stealthy sort of houseguest.”
“Our appointment with Dr. Browne, the phrenologist, is at nine o’clock,” George said. “I was worried that you wouldn’t come back in time. Had you forgotten?”
“Oh, dear. I am sorry.” I had indeed forgotten that we’d arranged to meet with Dr. Browne, who examined the skulls of his clients in order to assess their characters. Phrenology was all the rage, and Dr. Browne so popular that this Sunday morning was the only time during my stay in London that he could see us.
“You evidently don’t appreciate the trouble my son takes to entertain you.” Mrs. Smith addressed me but caught George’s eye.
“Well, no matter, Charlotte,” he said, looking uncomfortable. I could see he’d begun to sense that his mother didn’t care for me. “You’re here now. Shall we be on our way? I thought we could visit the zoo afterward.”