Rachel's Hope Read Online Free Page B

distribute it throughout Moscow.”
    Sergei rubbed his eyes and scanned the lead article:
    â€œIn England, where the idea of a parliament originated, people from all classes are elected and together they make their decisions in the people’s best interest. It is a fine example of a working democracy. Not so in Russia, where autocracy has now been wrapped in silk, disguised in a pretty parcel that is empty and void of all meaning when opened . ”
    Gorky glanced over Sergei’s shoulder and grimaced. “My grandfather was a mean man who beat me without remorse. But he didn’t hide. He even admitted his shortcomings. I knew what to expect. Now, seeing how the tsar is hiding behind a noble façade, I fear him more than I once feared my grandfather. One swindler is more dangerous than ten honest, violent men.”
    Sergei weighed Gorky’s words carefully before responding. “You don’t think the tsar will ever give the people more power or freedom?”
    â€œI would like nothing better than to believe in the man and his government. But faith and skepticism are as opposite as love and hate.”
    Savinkov raised his brow at Sergei. “You want to help distribute this paper?”
    Sergei flipped through the pages, his pulse rising as he considered this offer. He could hide quietly at Gorky’s, without taking the risk of being seen and identified, and let his wounded arm heal properly. Or he could abandon caution, spread the message of democracy by distributing a paper that he believed in, and once again become a potential target for the police.
    â€œIt won’t be easy,” Sergei began, “getting the papers out to readers without drawing suspicion.”
    â€œWhen everything is easy, my friend, one quickly gets lazy,” Gorky retorted.
    â€œWe must be smarter than the police.” Savinkov tapped his head with his index finger. “We must make our deliveries in the early evening, when there are people all around, before the streets are cleared of everyone except officers.”
    â€œMoscow workers are the lowest paid in all of Europe,” Gorky explained to Sergei. “We need to circulate these papers to every Moscow factory so that workers see the benefits of coming together to fight for better wages and shorter hours.”
    â€œI know what it’s like to work in a factory,” said Sergei. He massaged his sore arm. “I will help.”
    â€œLet’s drink to that,” said Savinkov. He sauntered into the kitchen as if it were his house and not Gorky’s, returning with three glasses and a bottle of vodka.
    â€œNot for me,” said Sergei. He’d given up drinking after realizing how much it changed him into a person he detested.
    Savinkov shot him a look of disbelief, filled two glasses, and handed one to Gorky. The two men held them up.
    â€œTo your health,” said Gorky.
    â€œTo your health,” Savinkov repeated.
    They poured the alcohol down their throats and smiled with satisfaction.
    Ten minutes later, Sergei brought his satchel to the room he would be sharing with Savinkov on the second level. The room, which had one shuttered window, contained only two mattresses that lay side-by-side on the floor. Sergei lay down on the bare, lumpy mattress. He tossed and turned to find a comfortable position. As he drifted into sleep, he couldn’t help but wonder if Rachel would be proud of him for getting in deeper with revolutionaries. Or if she’d be angry with him for risking his freedom once again.

3
    Sergei Khazhenkov
    Barracks No. 6
    Putilov Plant
    47, Stachek Avenue
    Petersburg, Russia
    March 8, 1905
    Dearest Sergei,
    We are finally settled in San Francisco, yet it’s still hard to believe we are really in the land of freedom! In some ways life is better here, but in others it’s a little disappointing. We live in a boarding house in a crowded area of the city filled with people from places like