Part 44: In the Monster's Den
April 25th, 1950
Helsingfors, Rozhevsky Café
It was a sunny day in the governorate's capital, safely deep within imperial borders. The spring was unusually warm and Pavel N. Shatilov could think only about this right now, while taking a slow sip from his cup of coffee. A politics were, after all, similar to weather changes. Sometimes there was a short storm, week of rain or long sunny month, like now. Unlike weather, however, he can assure a fair days in world's politics. Not that any passer-by person noticed him in last hour. Only two of his agents visited him, one with intel, other with a note, that important guest will arrive as soon as possible. Everything according to his plans. General Shatilov always hated it, when someone screwed the job and rarely gave second chances. Same as he hated attention. His old friend could make him Prime Minister or very at least a Marshal of the Russian Empire. He had none of such ambitions. To bask in the glory and make wide propaganda smiles in the newsreels? This definitely wasn't something worth the price. Behind closed doors happened more important decisions than during press conferences for the public. Or during breakfast in café.
Shatilov's guest sat in front of him, two or three people turned around, perhaps recognizing him, but then they returned to their interests. Especially since now, secret police agents and militia guarded all the doors and corners, without saying anything. Such were the times. No one dared to ask. They were all just there, and it wasn't pleasant to know or ask anything. It was definitely safer this way.
"Please, Grand Duke, join me." said general with nonchalant gesture, not even looking up
Few minutes of silence passed, interrupted by a pretty Finnish waitress with plate of food. She widely smiled to Shatilov's guest and paid no attention to anything else.
"Your excellency, please forgive us, if toasts are a little burned." she said with a face down, before she returned back to the kitchen
The general finally stopped reading from the previously brought files and chuckled for moment.
"Yes, this is exactly why we fought. To make people know what is proper. Too bad I am not few decades younger, though. How's your leg?" he asked casually, while refilling his cup of coffee. In that alone, he was never a typical Russian. Never liked the black tea or the alcohol. Coffee always calmed his nerves.
Grand Duke Vladimir wasn't in mood for a games, but this relaxed man in plain general's uniform wasn't someone he wanted to anger.
"Last time I was here, it was fifteen years ago, to take care of some bussiness." said general after a while, more to himself, it seemed -
"The true patriot must do anything to save his country. Nothing is too incomprehensible for the service to the Motherland. Do you what I mean?"
"I do. Or I might do. I don't know your secrets, General, to make a qualified opinion in that regard. Does anyone?"
Shatilov chuckled - so well hidden disapproval and perhaps hint of disgust. Looking, as if he judged the value of person in front him, he finally answered:
"You know, for example, I never wanted to hurt my old friend's family. When I found out what these idiots did, I prayed to God that Baron survived."
The Grand Duke's heart stopped. After he finished the sentence, he immediately realized, what he talks about.
"I was beyond furious. Everyone who had anything to do with it, I executed by my own hand. Of course, this I would do anyway, but after that, I made them suffer for incompetence." Shatilov sighed, otherwise strangely expressionless, but looking directly to the Vladimir's eyes.
The General now openly studied his guest's reaction to the most horriffic of his deeds. What he was able to do without blink of an eye, long before the Unification War or Battle of Warsaw. From what exactly the Renewalist ideology and the New Empire was reborn.
But Vladimir Kirillovich Romanov already realized, what it means, that he's there. For a lesson before his next assignment.
"When did it happen?" he simply asked. Everyone knew how long Wrangel wasn't seen in public and how long only people close to the General are visiting him. These hints combined with sudden recall from his post abroad didn't left many other options - with other being the execution, of course
"Smarter than your father. Good. That will do."
"Did you know, that he always intended to gave imperial throne back to your family?" said Shatilov casually, as before
"Good old sentimental Wrangel. He insisted to make you a succesor, but I just wasn't sure. Until you proved yourself."
Vladimir had nothing to say on that. The things he was made to do, created a holes in a soul he wasn't sure to ever fix. Sometimes, he wished to be simple worker in some Ural factory or peasant caring only about food production. This Russian Empire was no longer the country of his ancestors.
"I don't envy you, boy." he continued, with emphasis on the last word. "I won't be here much longer. Unless you will be just as ruthless as we were, everything was done in vain. All these lives lost. For nothing. Their sacrifice should be preserved."
Before he left the café, General Shatilov added, in same unnervingly casual way:
"The power over the world is now in your hands, Your Imperial Majesty."