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his fur cap. The rest of his body sat frozen in the chair. The stranger
waited, his eyes still locked on Bronstein s. When Bronstein finally
spoke, he said apologetically, Prastite I m sorry, your Russian ac-
cent is difficult to understand. How much did you say?
The stranger gestured for Bronstein to wait a moment. He pulled
the candle close, and took out a small notebook and pencil. He tore out
a piece of paper and wrote down 50.000.000, then handed the paper to
Bronstein.
He stared at the figure in the candlelight. You are giving us that
much? he gasped. It is a fortune. He narrowed his eyes, pursed his
lips, and stroked his goatee for a moment, then looked up to stare at the
stranger, whose eyes were in deep shadow. His whole face looked sa-
tanic. Bronstein had been horrified by the massacres, then ecstatic over
the revolutionary potential now unleashed. Now he felt as though he
had been thrown down a cliff. All that is a trick, Bronstein threw at
the stranger, waving at the pile of papers still on the table.
Bronstein jumped up, ready to leave. You are an agent. Who are
you working for?
The stranger quickly leaned over the table. Holding one palm flat
out toward Bronstein, he gently pushed him back down with the other.
Pa-ver mne believe me. I will prove it to you. Just check out the
bank account that I created for you.
Bronstein stared.
32 Rudy Rummel
The stranger tore out a page from his notebook on which he had al-
ready written something, added it to a folded sheet of paper from his
inner pocket, and held them toward Bronstein.
He slowly reached out and took them as though he was being of-
fered a huge diamond. He held the notepaper next to the candle to read
the name of the Darier Hentsch & Cie Bank in Geneva, the numbered
account at the bank, and the account s name and password.
Bronstein slowly put the papers down. He struggled to merely
smile. He felt like jumping up and doing a jig. And yet, this could not
be. It was too much money to be true. The doubt hung on. He asked,
You have done this for us?
Yes, the stranger answered. You have all the information you
need to check the account at the bank. It is only a twenty minute walk
from here. Then, you can withdraw what you want at your own pace for
buying the weapons you need. I m sure you can buy many of them se-
cretly from Russian manufacturers such as the Putiloff munitions
factory, but with that much money, you no doubt can persuade some
arms merchants to export to you what you need.
Bronstein shook his head. I m an intellectual, a writer, an organ-
izer. I don t know how to do this. I have never bought or carried a gun.
I know nothing about guns.
The stranger pointed at the folded sheet of paper that Bronstein had
set aside. On that paper are the names, addresses, and telephone num-
bers of the Frenchman Eugène Schneider and his major competitor, the
German House of Krupp. They both have been supplying the czar, but
tend to be apolitical. I imagine you can interest them in your money,
especially if you let them secretly transport the arms into Russia for
you, and promise an exclusive arms contract when you establish your
revolutionary government. Bloody Sunday should give your revolution
credibility. Use your people in Paris and Berlin for the contacts.
I trust you. I have studied you, going back to your birth in 1879 in
the village of Yanovka, Kherson Province, to the gymnasium you at-
tended in Odessa, the St. Paul realschule high school, and your
revolutionary activities and theories up to now. I know your writings. I
especially believe in your theory of permanent world revolution. I agree
that the revolution must be spread to other countries, or it will never be
secure in Russia. Moreover, you are a well-organized person, and know
well how to respond to emergencies and opportunities. You are a
leader, and I have no doubt you will effectively and efficiently use
these funds.
Red Terror Never Again 33
Bronstein picked up his warm beer, then put it back down. He
rubbed his hand on the rough wooden tabletop. He crossed his legs and
uncrossed them. All the while, his eyes moved back and forth between
the stranger and the figure on the notepaper. He took a deep breath, and
let it out slowly. He still had his doubts. Okay, I am sure that this is
either a practical joke or a trick. I will check with the bank. There is too
much at stake to fear looking like a fool or being arrested again.
The noise in the café had increased to such an extent that Bronstein
leaned across the table to be sure the stranger heard him. When he nod-
ded, Bronstein then looked around to see what was happening.
The café had filled with men and a few women, and they yelled
excitedly back and forth. Some were passing around telegrams they
must have received from St. Petersburg. Bronstein caught some of
the words: Massacre . . . the revolution has begun . . . faith in the
czar torn apart . . . tyranny shall fall . . . the people shall rise up . . .
powerful and free . . . leaving for Moscow . . .
Bronstein forgot about his doubts over the money. He felt fired
up about the revolution all over again. Turning back to the stranger,
he said in a voice charged with excitement, The people from
Vperyod are here. They must be passing the word. There is Martov
and Lenin, and . . . oh, his wife Krupskaya is with him. The
Lunacharskayas are here
Listen, the stranger said.
Grim-faced people at a nearby table had begun singing the revolu-
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