Pleasure and pain. Most humans strive for the first and avoid the second. Some find pleasure in pain and others enjoy bringing other people pain. Pyotr ‘Pete’ Tarasov experienced how fast a situation can go from pleasurable to painful. In this case, it was a stark contrast, from lovemaking to physical harm. Tarasov was a frequent visitor to the ‘House of Harmony’ brothel, and although he was very discrete, the fact that he regularly took his pleasure with the slender young men there was known to all members of Shanghai’s underworld who cared. He had quickly risen to some fame in the Russian community. His clever anti communist articles in the newly established “’Shanghaiskoe Novoe Vremya 1” were much appreciated and the accuracy of his information regarding political events and relations in Moscow had contributed to his standing as the newspaper’s star reporter. Now that accuracy brought disaster upon him. Tarasov was so lost in physical pleasure that he did not register the intruders before they dragged him off the bed, his partner for the hour grabbed a robe and ran from the room. The Four Chinese men ignored the young man and slammed Tarasov against the wall and three of them held him. In comparison to the Russian, they were all short, with brutish faces and parts of intricate tattoos not entirely covered by the men’s clothes identified them as members of one of the city's triads. Three of them held their victim and what seemed to be the leader drew a knife and held it against Tarasov’s throat.
The man known in Shanghai as Andrei Sergeevich von Berg cringed at the sight of the assault. He was crouching on the roof on the building facing the ‘House of Harmony’ on the opposite side of Shangdi Street. He had a perfect view of the last minutes Pyotr Tarasov’s life. He was also responsible for his untimely death – or as responsible as one could be in the long chain of people from the GPU leadership, perhaps Dzerzhinsky 2 himself, to the Triad henchmen carrying out the actual murder. Moscow generally did not care enough about anti communist propaganda abroad to resort to killing to silence it, there was however the suspicion that someone at the Soviet Consulate in Shanghai or the embassy in Bejing was Tarasov’s source. The message had reached him through the channel only used in urgent communications and it stated that Tarasov was to be convinced to reveal who his source or sources were and then he should be disposed of. Andrei had never killed nor had he ordered anyone to be killed before. He had always expected this situation to arrive but the intensity of the sadness that came over him was something he could have never guessed at. Now when he was watching it happen it made him nauseous but he forced himself to watch. That was the price he paid he told himself and stayed fully aware and alert. The Triad thugs were clearly interrogating Tarasov and the knife was now positioned at his crotch – the implied consequence of the Russian not talking or giving false information was clear. Tarasov’s expressions were easy to read, first he was desperately trying to convince them of his sincerity and the validity of whatever information he gave them. Then as according to the plan the situation turned worse and he started to plead for his life. Part of Andrei hope that the Chinese men would break all rules and let Tarasov live, he had been scared to eternal silence. That was when the knife struck the reporter the first time. It went in between the ribs on his left side and his face first showed surprise and was then twisted in pain. The knife was withdrawn and it struck again and again, hitting him in the throat and then close to where his heart was. The thugs then grabbed him, his chest and abdomen already covered with blood, and threw him through the window. Tarasov fell downwards in a cloud of shards and then struck the street with a dull thump.
A couple of hours later he met with his contact man with the Triad in a crowded and rowdy tavern in an alley close to the square of the Ancient Masters. The short Chinese man wore a white suit with visible sweat stains around his armpits. He smiled nervously when pausing, throughout their exchange of nonsense as they each drank a pint of beer. The man known as von Berg was then handed an envelope discretely and this prompted him to leave with a quick goodbye. He walked a couple of blocks and made sure no one was following him. He then stopped and opened the envelope in the warm light from one of the lanterns hanging outside a restaurant. There was a name written on the sheet inside. Nothing else. The name belonged to the second man at the Soviet embassy in Beijing. Von Berg sighed, and then walked back the way he came and then turned south on the square of the Ancient Masters. He continued for some time before reaching a small Buddhist shrine squeezed in between the seedy establishments on one of Shanghai’s notorious red light streets. He bowed to the largest of the Buddha statues and then used wax from one of the candles to seal the envelope. The keeper of the shrine, an ancient toothless monk waited patiently as the wax cooled. Von Berg then handed the monk the envelope and money and received the blessings of the Buddha. More importantly, the information would securely reach the Soviet consulate by the morning after at the latest.
The next stop was a tavern a hundred yards down the street. It was unknown to most Europeans and Americans in the city but the food was excellent and von Berg was famished and ordered several dishes and a pitcher of Tsingtao beer. As he ate he thought of Ningjing, but then as many times before he was drawn back to 1919 and Svetlana. He wondered how her life was in Moscow.
* * *
Unbeknown to von Berg, Svetlana Nikolaevna Platova lay on her bed in the tiny room that was her own place in Oslo. She, however, was thinking about Boris Volosatov and his visit two weeks ago. The only reason she had agreed to meeting him had been the implied threat to Kollontai – at least that was what she hoped had motivated her. She had resisted his attempts at getting her into bed with him. He had been hard to resist back in 1919, but now he was even more alluring than before, since he was apparently using some of the fruits from the work they both had learnt from Akuan, to bend others to his will. Ironically this made it much easier for her to resist him. Akuan had repeatedly told them all that the shameless use of these gifts would only lead down the wrong path and away from liberation. Boris had later studied under the notorious Kristof S. Havel and only the gods knew what he had been taught. Certainly, Akuan would have laughed in Boris' face if he had witnessed his cheap tricks. Maybe she was too serious she reminded herself - that was something Akuan had repeatedly told her to avoid being. She must be able to laugh at herself, the absurdity of life, and her fellow man as well. Akuan had also scolded Propykin for the same seriousness but he had been harder on him. Svetlana felt both tenderness and guilt when she thought about him. He was everything Boris wasn't, earnest, dependable, and a very gifted person - but with one fatal flaw, he was too easy...too nice. There was no excitement, no spark.
She had asked Boris about Propykin and he had answered, 'Vasily Ivanovich is prancing around in Shanghai, pretending to be Baron.' His face had then turned crimson red and he had stammered that he should never have told her this and that it was both classified and could endanger their old friend's life. Svetlana could never have guessed that both Boris and Vasily would become involved with the GPU. Two men seeking the 'truth' who were fascinated by the disciplines of the east, especially yoga and martial arts. Boris had also revealed that Kollontai was indeed under suspicion and that his advice to her as a friend was to write down everything she thought might be of interest in the reports. Rather that she wrote too much than missing something. Their meeting had left her disgusted and sad. At least she had got it confirmed that there was more to her mission that just a need to keep an eye on Kollontai, and now that Boris of all people had been chosen to reinforce the importance of her assignment she would make sure to report nothing of value to Moscow as long as she didn't became convinced that Kollontai was acting against the interests of the Soviet Union.
1 Shanghai New Time
2 Felix Edmundovich Dzerzhinsky, Head of the GPU (State Political Directorate), People's Commissar for Interior Affairs, and Head of the Supreme Council of National Economy
3 Chinese Criminal Organizations, equivalent of the Mafia in the west, or the Yakuza in Japan.