In Search of a Substitute (3)
Early April 1925, Stalin’s office.
“Zinoviev’s movements are suspicious.”
Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin, the first General Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, had no choice but to reach that conclusion.
Lenin’s Report
— Swish.
Stalin slid the stack of documents across his desk with the tip of his finger. He had read the report personally written by Felix Dzerzhinsky, the head of the Soviet secret police, the OGPU.
“Hoo…”
Smoke from his cigarette curled slowly through the room. He kept the pipe clamped between his teeth and scanned the lines on the paper.
Personnel policy.
Military district reports.
And the final OGPU inspection report.
“Betrayal.”
All the signs whispered the same thing to him.
Zinoviev had betrayed the Troika.
It was no surprise, really. The Troika had been nothing more than an alliance formed to limit Trotsky’s influence within the party—the man who had been the most likely candidate to succeed Lenin.
And that “Troika” had effectively become a ghost after Trotsky resigned from his posts as People’s Commissar for Military and Naval Affairs and Chairman of the Revolutionary Military Council in January 1925.
Now, three months later, Zinoviev had drawn first blood.
Stalin examined the documents again.
Five city council members who had supported him had been removed from the Leningrad Soviet.
Vladimir Gitis, the commander of the Leningrad Military District who had joined the party only this year, had sworn loyalty to Zinoviev.
(According to a report from Stanislav Mering, the head of the Leningrad OGPU branch…)
And the most important part.
“Zinoviev and Lev Kamenev held a secret meeting…”
Lev Kamenev, one of the Troika’s central figures, had secretly met with Zinoviev.
The meaning was clear.
Just as the Troika had ousted Trotsky, Zinoviev and Kamenev were now circling Stalin.
Stalin stared at the letter lying before him.
— Srrak.
Dear Comrade General Secretary,
… At the upcoming April conference, Kamenev and I will fully support Stalin’s position on the theory of one-state socialism. Now that Trotsky has stepped down, isn’t party unity more important than anything else?
Do not worry too much, Koba.
— Grigory Yevseyevich Zinoviev.
Stalin crumpled the letter.
— Thuk.
The Fourteenth Party Congress of the All-Union Communist Party was scheduled for April 27th. At that conference, Zinoviev had promised full support for “one-state socialism” in his speech on the tasks of the Comintern and the Russian Communist Party.
As if he had promised that the Troika would remain eternal even after Trotsky’s removal…
“…A deception.”
Stalin had obtained the underhanded schemes Zinoviev had been carrying out in secret.
He evaluated Zinoviev’s actions with cold precision.
“You underestimated me too much, Zinoviev.”
Stalin was not the type to sit quietly and wait like his rival Trotsky.
He immediately began to respond.
First, he issued orders to Stanislav Mering to investigate Vladimir Gitis’s weaknesses.
At the same time, he began planning to recruit Boris Shaposhnikov, the deputy commander of the Leningrad Military District who had a poor relationship with Gitis.
Shaposhnikov is a fine general with no ambitions in politics. No greed… I will have to ask my old superior, Comrade Brusilov for help.
Next came the task of selecting Hercules to clean the Augean stables.
Zinoviev has planted his own people in almost every important post in Leningrad over the past eight years. Ordinary methods won’t work.
Even the few delegates he had managed to place had been removed.
The best option Stalin could take right now was to send an outsider to Leningrad.
Who to send…? Mikoyan? Ordzhonikidze? Kirov?
His political allies Mikoyan and Ordzhonikidze.
And the newly recruited Sergei Kirov, the First Secretary of the Central Committee of Azerbaijan.
Stalin had been agonizing over which of the three to send to Leningrad when—
— Knock, knock.
“It’s me, Father…”
Stalin’s face twisted.
Just as he was deep in political scheming, an uninvited guest had arrived—someone not on the schedule.
But Stalin could not simply turn the visitor away.
“Come in.”
— Creak… thud, thud.
Yakov Iosifovich Dzhugashvili.
He was the only legacy of Stalin’s soul companion, Kato Svanidze.
***
June 1925, Leningrad Polytechnic Chemistry Research Institute.
After the experiment, Favorsky led me and Katerina into his laboratory.
Compared to the reputation of department head, the research room was surprisingly modest.
— Clink.
Favorsky pulled three mismatched teacups from somewhere.
Truly unique in their imperfect charm.
He placed the one with the intact handle in front of Katerina and me.
“Sit here first.”
Favorsky picked up the handleless cup without hesitation and poured tea into it.
“You tricked me.”
Favorsky flicked the paper with his finger.
The toluene-soaked sheet fluttered weakly and fell to the floor.
“I assumed you couldn’t read chemical formulas. I was trying to be considerate to non-specialists, but you used it so brilliantly.”
“I only meant to be considerate to specialists, Professor. I had no intention of mocking you.”
“Is that so? Hoo hoo, interesting…”
Favorsky sipped his tea and studied the toluene synthesis formula I had written with close attention.
Eventually his gaze landed on my face.
“You… aren’t you thinking of joining my lab? I could leave one assistant position open.”
…Insane!
The father of Soviet chemistry was offering me such a position?
“Just joking. Levadeev and Ipatiev are both my proud students. I can’t let even one of them go.”
Goosebumps rose all over my body at Favorsky’s words.
Even though I’m not a graduate student anymore, why is he saying this?
Anyway, Sergei Levadeev and Vladimir Ipatiev.
They were Favorsky’s top disciples and brilliant chemists on par with their master.
Levadeev is the father of synthetic rubber in the Soviet Union, and Ipatiev was praised by Lenin as the heart of the federation’s chemical industry…
“W-well… Let’s stop joking and get down to business.”
— Thud.
“About the toluene I mentioned as a benzene substitute.”
Favorsky set down his teacup and continued.
“It’s a very good idea. Toluene is an aromatic compound like benzene and easy to extract from petroleum.”
“Moreover, toluene is significantly less toxic than benzene. Of course, inhaling the vapor can cause hallucinations…”
“Not to the extent of benzene. If managed properly, it could be commercially valuable.”
— Scratch, scratch.
Favorsky nodded and wrote something on the paper.
“By the way.”
Then Favorsky looked at me and spoke.
“You’ve already devised a fine substitute called toluene. So why come all the way to this old man?”
— Thuk!
Favorsky set down his fountain pen.
“If you just wanted toluene, you wouldn’t have needed to come here…”
The old man’s eyes scanned me sharply.
“If it’s about the solvent ratio, it would have been better to consult your trust’s representative.”
“You’re sharp… Yes, as the professor said, I had already prepared somewhat regarding the toluene solvent.”
“Yasha…?”
Katerina’s face showed surprise, as if she had heard nothing of it.
“Then why did the production supervisor of the Red Triangle Factory come all the way to this old man’s place?”
I pushed my teacup aside and answered.
“What I need isn’t toluene, but you, Professor.”
“…What?”
“Precisely, I need your help.”
For a moment, Favorsky froze.
If I just walked into the trust and announced I was switching adhesives to toluene, what would happen?
“They would say it’s not in the regulations, unverified material, no precedent… and push me around. Then stall for time and eventually reject it. The trust is… a rather dirty place.”
I told Favorsky about Zverevo’s incident.
“These crazy people… They were already playing around with dangerous substances?”
“Moreover, I seem to have made an enemy of the upper levels during this incident. They banned the use of benzene solvent in the factory.”
Of course, the cause-and-effect was not entirely accurate, but humans are creatures of imagination.
In Favorsky’s mind, I would appear as the righteous party who had been wronged.
“But I had already planned to replace benzene with toluene before this. As the professor said, toluene is much safer than benzene, so we can create a less harmful solvent.”
“Of course!”
“But as I said earlier, the upper levels won’t listen to what I say. The informant’s words are bitter, but that’s how it is…”
I lowered my head with the most bitter expression I could manage.
And after a moment, I lifted my head slightly and glanced at Favorsky.
“T-this crazy…”
His face had turned as red as a beet.
“Anyone who toys with workers’ lives ends up in a labor camp. That’s settled. But what? Thirty thousand pairs…?”
— Bang!
“How can a small factory producing fewer than thirty pairs of galoshes manufacture that many?! And they even confiscated the core solvent!”
Favorsky slammed his palm on the desk and stood up.
“What kind of proletarian country is this! If that’s the case, why even have a revolution!”
The sixty-five-year-old man stood with his bent back completely straightened in fury.
“Moreover, what? You want to use toluene but block it?”
The old man jabbed his finger into empty air.
“You want to use something safer than benzene! Something that kills fewer people! You want to block that?! Hoo… Really! It wasn’t this harsh even in the Tsarist era!”
— Thuk!
Favorsky kicked the desk hard with his foot, his white hair disheveled and sticking to his forehead, and walked around the room twice without a care.
“Hey, Supervisor Svanidze.”
“Yes.”
“How can I help you?”
Eventually he stopped and walked toward me.
“Tell me. Do you want me to get toluene? Do you want me to help with the formula? Or should I go to that trust and choke them myself?”
“…”
“Speak. This old man can do anything.”
“Then…”
— Thud.
I picked up the paper that had fallen on the floor and placed it on the desk.
“Please designate our factory as a toluene experimental plant.”