Yakov and the OGPU (3)
June 14, 1925, the First Innovative Technology Verification Factory in Leningrad.
Ivan Petrovich's day always began at four in the morning.
He arrived at the factory two hours earlier than the other workers.
He walked a circuit around the empty workshop, inspecting the rubber mixers, then added firewood to the cold stove that had been extinguished the night before, and finally unlocked the warehouse to check the inventory for the day.
This rhythm of his life had been established after Golitsyn, the factory's former manager, disappeared.
"Without Foreman Ivan, the factory would have collapsed long ago!"
The women workers called him the "pillar of the factory" for his unwavering dedication, never missing a single day.
He paused for a moment before the stove, gazing at the thermometer hanging on the wall.
All the benzene-based adhesives used for rubber were extremely sensitive to temperature, so he had to keep a constant eye on the factory's indoor temperature.
He checked the thermometer's markings and pulled a slightly worn leather notebook from his pocket, jotting down the numbers.
He had never questioned why he had to adjust the workshop temperature.
He simply did as he was instructed from above.
It was his way of living, born from a lifetime of experience.
"Foreman Ivan."
Ivan Petrovich looked up at the voice that seemed to be calling him.
At the entrance of the empty workshop stood the production supervisor, Yakov Svanidze.
"Supervisor Svanidze? What brings you here at this hour?"
He naturally slid the notebook into his work apron pocket and glanced at his wristwatch.
It was still early, before even the women workers had arrived.
"..."
Yakov Svanidze did not answer.
He then looked at the pocket of Ivan's work apron and spoke.
"Foreman."
Ivan Petrovich flinched.
The gaze of the supervisor staring at him felt different from usual.
"Let's go to the factory manager's room for a moment. I have something to discuss with you."
"May I ask what the matter is?"
"I will explain once we are in the room."
Yakov Svanidze turned first.
Thud, thud.
Ivan stood there for a moment.
The notebook in his apron pocket felt unusually heavy.
***
I entered Golitsyn's room and faced Ivan Petrovich, a Kurakin—a branch of the Gediminid family of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania, which once led the golden age of the Grand Duchy. The name derives from the Turkish word for "greedy, empty," referring to the Kurakin. It had a very intimate and deep relationship with the main Golitsyn family for a long time.
Since arriving in Leningrad, the ability that had not appeared for a long time resurfaced.
I was not surprised.
"Foreman Ivan. I have always wondered why you protected the factory despite the disappearance of the factory manager, and how you knew the location of the emergency funds he was hiding."
"Th-that is, Supervisor Svanidze."
Click.
"You don't need to explain, Foreman Ivan.
No, Mr. Ivan Kurakin."
"What?! H-how did you know that name..."
"It is still too early to be surprised."
I continued, looking at the small notebook in his left pocket.
"I already know that a story about me is written in the small notebook in your left pocket."
"......!!!"
"Will you hand over the notebook to me, or... will you follow the comrade factory manager Golitsyn who has been taken to the OGPU?"
The blood drained from Ivan Petrovich's face.
"Foreman Ivan. Hand over the notebook. If you continue to resist like this, you won't be able to prevent Golitsyn from being executed."
"Ex-executed?!"
Ivan Petrovich stared at me with bated breath.
His mouth kept opening, but no words came out for a while.
After a moment, he looked down at the hand I extended.
"..."
After some thought, Ivan Kurakin took out the old leather notebook from his apron pocket.
Click.
I read the contents of the notebook placed on my hand.
Yagoda's words that he used Ivan as an informant were true.
"Comrade Supervisor Svanidze. First, please finish the story from earlier. That the factory manager Golitsyn... no, the factory manager is to be executed?"
"Calm down and listen to what I have to say first."
"Have I calmed down? The factory manager is to be executed! What is..."
"Ivan Kurakin comrade."
"......!"
"I said I was not asking you to calm down."
"Sorry, Supervisor."
"First, sit down and talk."
I offered him the old chair that Golitsyn had sat on.
Thud.
"Foreman Ivan. I heard that you reported every move of mine to the OGPU. Is that true?"
"... It is true."
"I see."
I nodded calmly.
"I thought at least that you were the person I could most trust and rely on within this factory. ... Unfortunately, that was just my own thought."
"Sorry, Supervisor Svanidze.... I have nothing to say."
"It was a shock. And I was angry. Foreman Ivan. I am not as kind a person as you think. Have you forgotten who it was who wiped out the Zverev Materials Department in one fell swoop?"
Ivan Petrovich lowered his head.
"But, suddenly, I thought. What on earth made Foreman Ivan willing to clash with me like that?"
"..."
"The answer to that question could be found in the relationship between Foreman Ivan and Factory Manager Golitsyn."
He said nothing.
"The Golitsyn family is one of Russia's oldest noble families. And Mr. Ivan's family, the Kurakins, are... how should I put it, basically, a fraternal family to the Golitsyn family."
"......!! How did you know that..."
"So, Foreman Ivan is a person with a very close connection to the Golitsyn family, and you entered into some kind of cooperation with them to save the captured Golitsyn duke. Would that be a correct interpretation?"
Ivan Petrovich did not answer immediately.
His two fists on his knees clenched so tightly that his hands turned white, and finally he let out a long breath.
"... Supervisor's words are correct. They told me that the factory manager had been taken to the OGPU and offered me a deal. If I reported Supervisor Svanidze's movements, they would save him."
Ivan Petrovich lowered his head even deeper.
"Sorry, Supervisor Svanidze. But I have no regrets. That was the only thing I could do for the factory manager."
"No regrets."
I mulled over the words.
It was an impudent, bold response, but I could understand it.
If I were in that situation, with someone precious facing death, I would have acted the same way.
But unfortunately, his efforts were in vain.
Because...
"Nikolai Golitsyn is scheduled to be executed exactly on July 2."
"......!!! W-why..."
Ivan Petrovich immediately raised his head and spoke.
I knew.
The result of the "Richie Incident" that had actually happened in history: that Nikolai Golitsyn and about a hundred monarchists were to be executed.
And the date of execution was July 2, about two weeks from now.
Ivan Petrovich just looked up at me with a despairing face.
"Supervisor. Is that true? That the factory manager is to be executed...?!"
"Golitsyn comrade was arrested by the OGPU on the charge of participating in a counter-revolutionary monarchist organization."
"What?! T-there is no way! After the revolution overthrew the empire, the person who has devoted his entire life to making Galoshis. A counter-revolutionary monarchist organization?!"
"But, that is the fact that you were arrested on that charge."
"Haa, how could that be..."
Ivan Petrovich sighed and wiped his face.
"Supervisor comrade knows all these facts, does that mean... perhaps... that Golitsyn duke, no, comrade, can be saved as well?"
"Perhaps."
"Supervisor comrade...!"
His voice had changed drastically from before.
A hoarse voice mixed with surprise, embarrassment, anxiety, and despair echoed in my ears.
"Comrade! P-please, I beg you. How can I save Golitsyn comrade?"
"Hmm."
I looked at Ivan Petrovich.
I couldn't be sure, but Yagoda would probably release the monarchists including Golitsyn if I said one word.
The problem was the pretext.
"Foreman Ivan. To be honest, no one knows whether Golitsyn comrade can be saved."
Ivan's eyes wavered.
"And moreover."
I paused for a moment.
"I am not certain whether Golitsyn comrade is truly innocent or not, despite the label of counter-revolutionary."
"......!!!"
"So, if Foreman Ivan wants to save Golitsyn comrade, show me proof that Golitsyn comrade is truly innocent."
Ivan closed his mouth.
"Foreman Ivan."
I lowered my voice.
"Is he truly an innocent person?"
"... To be honest."
Ivan spoke after a long time.
"I do not know how long you have been unjustly arrested, Your Highness."
It was an unexpected answer.
I had expected him to bring some proof of innocence and save him somehow, and I was waiting for Ivan's next words.
"I have worked by your side for twenty-five years, but I do not know what thoughts you have or what you want to do. You are not the type to confide in someone like me. So, I cannot guarantee whether you are truly innocent or not."
Ivan raised his head.
"But Supervisor comrade. Even so, I want to save him."
A sense of urgency was evident in his voice.
"The Kurakins have served the Golitsyns for generations. I even reversed the name of the proletariat and spent a few years in the stench of these Galoshi, all to protect that one person. The people of the Kurakin family protect the people of the Golitsyn family. That fact remains unchanged even after the revolution overturned the country. So, no matter whether that person is truly guilty or not, I cannot stand by and watch him face the firing squad."
He looked straight at me.
"Supervisor comrade, is there really no way? I will do anything. I will do whatever you say. So... please save Golitsyn comrade..."
Ivan bowed his head in plea.
I closed my eyes.
Ivan's desperation was genuine, and I maintained the tension with silence in the face of that sincerity.
I was pretending to be someone I had already decided to save, as if his life depended on my hand.
Was I really doing the right thing?
But I thought it was unavoidable.
I was not doing it out of mere goodwill, but because all of them were necessary to me.
There would be countless enemies ahead.
Especially to confront Zinoviev, I needed to create many people who would stand before me or give me strength.
"..."
Suddenly, such a thought came to me.
Was I not becoming exactly what I had tried so hard to escape?
Was it not something not at all different from what those who had pushed me out of this city had done to me?
I shook my head.
Even with hesitation, I had to move forward.
Since becoming Yakov, I had been pulled around.
By Stalin, by Mikoyan, and by Zinoviev and others.
I had only just decided to stand on my own feet.
To escape from those behind me, I needed to gain people, and to gain people, I needed to hold onto what I could hold.
And Ivan's desperation was the pawn I could hold right now.
No more hesitation.
'I am not Stalin. I will not use people as tools, hold lives as cards, or buy loyalty with fear...'
So, I told myself.
While deliberately ignoring the fact that what I had just done was exactly like Stalin's.