Читать книгу Hunt for Wunderwaffe. Immortal - Сергей Соловьёв - Страница 4

Telegraph operator Alexei Pyatakov was on duty at the Yuza apparatus, often looking at the tower clock, and slowly, even tediously ticking in the corner of the room. Today’s night of June 14 turned out to be restless, so I even had to beat off the telephone message, knocking on these keys by order of General Orlov himself. True, it became more comfortable to work than on the Morse key, Pyatakov was able to appreciate this.

Sadly looked around the walls of such a familiar room, covered, as if in mockery, with cheerful greenish wallpaper. Nevertheless, the bosses did not spare funds for the maintenance of their service, and even the furniture was an expensive walnut tree, with spring seats on chairs and armchairs, and leather upholstery. The sofa was especially good, so all of itself so enticing, with a rounded back, soft sides, which seemed to ask him, even begged:

“Sit down with us, soldier… Sit, rest. Or maybe you can lie down! Where will your telegraph go!”

As if yielding to such thoughts, he settled down in a comfortable chair, even stretched his legs. I already wanted to sleep, and it seemed that the hands on the dial just froze. He checked how the electric lamp worked, flicked the switch, liked how the light was knocked out from under the green lampshade.

“But, there is a service, but here, nevertheless, pulling the strap is much better than somewhere on Kushka,” Alexey said quietly, calming himself down, but now we have strong tea, but sweet… And, we also have a tea sausage to reinforce forces.

Here, in the corner, there was a refrigerator, albeit, at first glance, an unassuming black color. And for sure, there was cold, from ice loaded into the upper hatch. Well, ice, of course, like everyone else’s house, was stored in a deep subfield, covered very carefully with straw. And, the products were stored very well, that even their cook, Efim Sergeevich, descended tula only in a sheepskin sheepskin coat, health birch.

But, the thing was much more thorough, weighed five pounds, no less. Recently, by order of the elder, Pyatakov and Evstafiev moved this thing from one corner to another, they suffered. A little Alexei was not injured in this case, he almost crushed his finger. And, almost earned a slap in the face from the elder, sergeant major Ivan Fedorovich Dolgunov, a thoroughly and zealous person.

But now it was much more convenient to extract very useful things from it, for example, the same tea sausage. Here is her, angry, and Alexey got it now. Like bread from a bread bowl. He put these supplies in front of him on a white plate, carefully cut the sausage with a knife, and came out like in an officer’s buffet. Well, at least not worse. Bread, of course, is not sieve, as there, but also not bad.

“Here, eating is called sandwiches,” the telegraph operator even recalled the name.

It looked very beautiful, it even became a pity to eat. But, as they say, he overpowered himself, and slowly chewed it all, washed down with noble hot tea. Now, imitating Ivan Fedorovich, he ran his right index finger over his mustache and coughed authoritatively. But, unfortunately Pyatakov, the mustache did not grow very much, their density was weak… Still, he turned barely twenty-two years old.

And he ate, and immediately took off his sleep like a hand. I was already happily watching how the sun was shining outside the window.

And then, stuck the receiver. The paper tape twirled quickly on the table, covered with letters, apparently a very urgent and important message. Pyatakov grabbed a piece of cardboard, and began to briskly stick on the tape, quickly cutting it with scissors along the boundaries of words. First, it knocked out where the message came from: “Vagran station.” He did not know about such. Then, the addressee, from which Pyatakova threw into sweat:" His Imperial Majesty Nikolai Alexandrovich in his own hands.” Then, even worse: “Secret.” Alexey was already going to wipe himself with his sleeve, but quickly took out a scarf from the cuff of his uniform, and wiped his wet forehead. Glued and glued further, and soon, the message was ready. He put it in a large gray envelope and sealed it. It remained, the most unpleasant. According to such messages, according to the instructions, it was necessary to immediately report personally to Mr. Shcholkov. And this oh how I did not want Alexey Pyatakov!

Vasily Alekseevich Shcholkov was the permanent head of the Palace Telegraphs Department, and he lodged here, in a house nearby. Who did not know that Mr. Shcholkov had found the era of the optical telegraph, with its famous wooden wings, difficult to communicate. There was a whole system of such signs, and it was not easy to semaphore, Alexei was forced to study this picky sergeant major. Yes, the electromagnetic telegraph Vasily Ivanovich built, like the building of this station, and in addition introduced telephone communications in St. Petersburg and Peterhof. And that Vasily Ivanovich Shcholkov, who gave half a century of his life to the case and witnessed the reign of three emperors, was such a living legend among telegraph operators. And here, wake up… But, military business… And, Pyatakov twisted the handle of Erickson’s telephone, picked up the phone, and said impressively:

– Connect to the house of his nobility Shcholkov… Yes, official need… I expect…

I had to wait, of course. But, as the voice of his beloved boss rang out, Pyaiakov jumped up from his chair and stretched out into a string, as if he could even be seen here.

– Your nobility, received a telegram to the highest name, with the stamp Secret. Telegraph operator Pyatakov reported. So exactly, sealed. There is, to issue a duty general to the messenger against signature!

Pyatakov in two movements took out a thick book from the shelf with the inscription: “Expedition,” quickly filled in the outgoing data – June 14, 1908, 03 hours 20 minutes. I heard the sound of a car approaching, and a messenger came, the wahmister of the Horse Guards Regiment, his acquaintance Grigory Ivanovich Chudakov. Looked awfully important and personable, in his leather jacket and white cap with a red band.

– Good day, Grigory Ivanovich. Here, and the package, everything is ready. – and held out a steel pen for the signature.

– Are you on duty again, Alexey? Well, it’s not bad to serve here, “he said, hiding the envelope in a sum,” it’s time, sorry. Then we’ll talk more.

The motor at the entrance rattled. The car sneezed once, right, for authority, and quickly rolled towards the Grand Palace. Pyatakov adjusted his cap and returned to Yuza’s apparatus. Until the end of the shift it was another three hours and forty minutes.

CHAPTER 2 Palace in Alexandria

– Your Excellency, package. Transmitted by telegraph operator Pyatakov.

“Thank you, Gregory, thank you,” the general replied in a concerned voice.

He examined the seal on the gray envelope with the transfer time, everything was in order. Once again he waved his hand to the wahmistra, letting go of the messenger. And then, from his native regiment, an old proven servant. Even when Orlov himself came to the Konnogvardeisky regiment, Chudakov was already pulling the strap of a difficult extra-long service.

Now General Orlov was an adjutant wing of the sovereign. Honor is considerable, and respect, but much more than that. His service at the Court was on a daily schedule. The watch lasted 24 hours. The adjutants were present at the daily divorce of the palace guard, taking the “password” from the guard and informing him to the emperor. The adjutant wing on duty provided a “connection” between the king and the people, collecting petitions from persons who were present at the palace during the divorce of the guard. This was done so that “the Sovereign Emperor was not stopped by petitioners.”

And General Orlov passed by two agents of the Security Department sitting at the entrance, unknown subordinates of the palace commandant Dmitry Fedorovich Trepov: Two years ago, a special detachment was created from intelligent and nimble people who were ready and able to do a lot. The task of the detachment was to protect the Tsar when traveling outside the palace residences. Its creator and immediate supervisor was Alexander Ivanovich Spiridovich. The schedules for the fighters included gymnastics on cars (simulators), the theory of field observation, a verbal portrait, information about weapons and shooting, the history of the revolutionary movement, reading plans and maps, Russian studies, Russian language and Russian history. And, interestingly, a spiritual conversation was held once a week. Why, General Orlov no longer understood this.

The time was early, but the day, or rather the night, was already going completely wrong…

***

– So, Petrovich, if anything.

– Yes, I remember, your Excellency… ‘the gray-haired batman repeated.

Luka Petrovich Vasiliev was the permanent batman of Count Orlov, and began to serve even when the general began his military career as a cornet in his native Konnogvardeisky regiment. The fact that both of them have come a long way, and the count never regretted that he took an intelligent guy from the Yaroslavl province into the service.

– Yes, you go to bed, sleep a couple of hours. I will look after everyone, your superiority…

The general lay down, covered with a blanket, and fell into an anxious dream. I dreamed of all sorts of things, and in addition, some voices, and a woman’s cry. Sighing, he sat down on the corner of the bed creaking under him, thinking that all this had happened. But no, I heard noise and voices in the next (reception) room, moreover, very clearly.

He jumped up, habitually put on all his uniform, managed to look at himself in the mirror, is it not suitable for an adjutant wing to look bad? He adjusted his cap and entered the reception room.

– Yes, you understand, – the young lady said suffocating, – they will execute Dmyitriya tomorrow, there is no time at all, but he is not guilty.. Honestly noble word!

Orlov frowned. He saw a lot of petitioners, whose friends or relatives were allegedly innocent, had seen enough and heard enough. True, this girl was glorious, but she seemed to speak from the heart, not just did not play with words.

– Here, look… He was consumptive, he was treated, – and she put yellowish paper from the doctor, – and he wanted to leave their cell, but he was threatened. They promised to kill him and me. I only learned this for three days… – she burst into tears and grabbed the general’s hand, – You, you, in your power to help, figure it out…

– So the court was…

– Who is judging them? Court martial, at three days. No lawyers, no jury… And they did not listen. As they took the whole cell with weapons and dynamite, so everyone to the Peter and Paul Fortress… Yes, he will die soon, my consumptive Dmitry..

– Sit here, I’ll talk to the valet.

The general got up from his chair, went out, covered the door behind him. And then, it was already about twelve in the afternoon, the sovereign could already go to bed. But, the young lady was wonderfully lovely, and the guard officer could not refuse her request. Orlov knocked on the valet’s room. The door opened immediately.

– Your Excellency?

– An urgent matter. Is the sovereign still not resting?

– No, deign to read. He asked me to wait half an hour.

– You see, and then the Supplicant appeared. He prays for leniency to the groom. Please report.

The valet shook his head. Looked at his livoyel

– No doubt, wait.

Literally a couple of minutes later Nikolai Alexandrovich himself came out, in his usual officer’s uniform. He was, as always, fit and cheerful.

– So what’s there, Orlov?

– The lady is asking for a pardon for the groom. He is very sick, and did not kill anyone, he is not marred in actions, there is no blood on him. He says tomorrow is the execution…

– Let him come, – Nikolai confidently said, putting a mouthpiece with a smoking cigarette in the ashtray: – I thank you very much for doing this. When a person’s life can be saved, there is no need to hesitate. Thank God neither Yours nor My conscience will be able to reproach us for anything, – added the sovereign.

He stood very straight, put his hands behind his back. A life Cossack came out of the other door. And this was true, however, and in the general’s pocket there was always a Browning ready for shooting. Was Kula to go? Time is…

But now, the valet entered, held the young lady, and left the reception. The sovereign listened carefully to everything, read the Petition.

“Everything will be fine,” the sovereign said calmly.

He quickly sat down at the table, began to confidently fill out telegram forms addressed to the Minister of Justice and the commandant of the Peter and Paul Fortress.

“Look,” the young lady showed the papers.

“Delay the execution of Dmitry Ivanovich Frolov. Wait for orders. Nikolay.”

She simply looked enchanted at the even lines of the royal order, unable to say anything, then nodded and lost consciousness. And she would have fallen to the floor if Orlov had not hastily picked up the young lady and put her on the sofa.

“Send your messenger to the Palace Telegraph immediately. My car is at your disposal, Orlov. And at the same time telephone the Minister of Justice and the Commandant that the telegrams have been sent and that they must take appropriate action. And, cameras – invite the maid of honor, you need to take care of the girl.

“I’ll do it now, sir!

The general hastily left the duty room, and on watch, telephoned His Majesty’s garage, and then called the messenger.

Orlov remembered that back in 1906 another event was important for the history of the Russian Palace Department: His Imperial Majesty’s own garage was created. 30 drivers, 30 soapers, 30 mechanics served in the imperial garage. During the trips of Nicholas II to rest in Yalta, the management of the garage accompanied him with his families.

– Here, Gregory, you will go to the Palace Telegraph now, you will personally see that the telegraph operator would beat off the message, but you will take the answer from him that the telegrams have been received. Did you understand?

– And how not to understand, Your Excellency! I know where the telephone exchange is located, St. Petersburg Avenue, house 46, Truveller’s house!

“Well done! So, you telephone the addressees and duplicate the telegram. That’s it, go!

Vestova famously trumped the boss, and went down the stairs of the entrance. And after a couple of minutes the car drove up. Orlov took a silver cigarette case out of his pocket and armed himself with a cigarette. You could calmly smoke, and take a walk in the park, enjoy the cool night.

Vestovoy returned a couple of minutes later, the general took the execution paper, and went into the king’s chambers. The sovereign calmly awaited the arrival of his adjutant wing.

– So, Orlov?

– Everything is fulfilled, Your Majesty! – and held out the paper.

– You see how well you did that you listened to Votre Inspiration. You made two people happy, – said Nikolai, – now, we can rest. Do not hesitate, the Lord will repay us for our leniency to those who ask for leniency.

***

The adjutant wing again returned to the emperor’s chambers. He was very uncomfortable again to tear off the valet from sleep, and the general decided to wait. It was already going on by eight o’clock. True, it was possible to turn to the general on duty, but then the valet came out, as if listening to his thoughts.

– Your Excellency, – this devoted employee of the Palace addressed him, – the Sovereign does not sleep. You can tell if something important happened.

– Urgent telegram received. He must hand it over personally, into his own hands. Please excuse the concern!

– Come on in.

The general returned to the room in which he had already been tonight. He was slightly embarrassed, and smiled with difficulty.

– Yes Orlov, the night turned out to be restless… – Nikolai himself hid a slight grin in his thick mustache and carefully groomed beard.

The ivory penknife instantly cut the gray paper of the message, the twine burst at once, and cardboard with a telegram pasted on it appeared on the table. Nikolai grinned a little, seeing the sender’s address.

– But… ‘he muttered, immersed in the reading.

Count Orlov stood opposite the sovereign, expecting him to let him go. A couple of minutes later, Nikolai extended a message to his wing-adjutant.

– Read and you, Orlov… It is not clear who sent this, and it looks more like a joke. Sit down, there’s the chair next to it.

The adjutant wing sat at the table, moved the telegram to itself. He began to read:

“Wagran Station, 12.10am. Telegraph operator Timofeev. On June 17, 1908, an explosion of 20 million tons of trinitrotolluol will occur over the underground Tunguska. This will be proof of our power, and readiness to use such weapons again, but for our protection. We demand not to visit some areas of Novaya Zemlya Island… sowing. latitude… east longitude and the Ural range… sowing. latitude and… east. longitude. This is just a warning.”

– Very strange, indeed, reminiscent of a strange joke, sovereign. But, there is nothing easier than checking. Give instructions to the gendarmes of the Perm province to check this Timofeev, and who was on the telegraph key at that time.

– undoubtedly. Quite a smart proposal. But, while no one should know about it, Orlov! You remember that this is the second dispatch of this content. The first was sent, if I’m not mistaken, on the second of May?

“That’s right, Your Majesty. Yes, it looked incomprehensible. So they did not attach importance to the incident.

– Now we need to figure it out. And, I was informed that the French are going to send an expedition to Novaya Zemlya. The ship has already left. What do they want to find there? Do not find it all too… suspicious?

– Sovereign…

Nikolai Alexandrovich quickly wrote an order, and an order for General Gerasimov. General Alexander Vasilievich Gerasimov, headed, and very successfully, since 1905, the St. Petersburg security department, and in his power it was quickly to establish the truth in this matter.