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墨書 Inktalez
What is the most embarrassing thing in the world?
Perhaps some people would say it's when a long-legged fly turns into amber during mating.
This may be a very bizarre way to die, restless in life and then being gawked at in death.
However, for Bukharin, he did not know what it was before, but now he encountered what he considered the most embarrassing situation. After leaving Krupskaya's residence, Bukharin said goodbye to Yagoda, but the latter did not leave; instead, he closely followed Bukharin. The First Deputy Director of the Political Security Bureau of the country had no intention of leaving and was staring at Bukharin with a strange gaze.
Bukharin felt like he was sitting on pins and needles, now doubting whether he had revealed any signs of his true intentions. However, Strasser's plan was indeed flawless; could it be that the fault lay in his execution? Bukharin dared not speculate further and quickened his pace in an attempt to shake off Yagoda, who promptly followed him.
Two people walked side by side on the main road, as if they were in a confrontation with each other. However, the person sitting in the office definitely couldn't match the one responsible for catching people. After walking a considerable distance, Bukharin turned and walked into a deserted alley, stopping in their tracks.
The footsteps closely following him also stopped. Bukharin slowly turned around and looked at Yagoda with a searching expression, somewhat accusingly saying, " Yagoda, what do you mean by this? Why do you keep following me?"
"Because I accidentally saw some things I shouldn't have seen," Yagoda said meaningfully. "To be honest, although I don't have a deep understanding of politics, I do know a few things about the internal struggles within the Central Politburo."
I was very shocked by your remarks just now. I must admit, Comrade Bukharin, you hid it well. I didn't even know you knew Morse code." The words spoken by Yagoda made Bukharin a little flustered, but Bukharin still forced himself not to show any flaws on his face.
"I don't know what you mean, comrade Yagoda."
"Your plan is perfect, but unfortunately, your execution went wrong. If you had stayed in place to send Morse code, I definitely wouldn't have noticed."
Because your remarks were so surprising, I didn't notice the small movements of your hands at all. But you happened to take a step forward, just a small step, but the mirror behind Comrade Krupskaya's dressing table reflected your actions perfectly. So I saw everything you did very clearly.
Yagoda smiled and said, usually his bald head always made Bukharin want to laugh, but now, Bukharin just felt this guy looked very hateful.
"So what? Do you have any evidence?"
Since it had all been seen, Bukharin couldn't be bothered to pretend anymore.
"I have no evidence, but as you know, Comrade Stalin sometimes doesn't need evidence to handle things, just a possibility is enough."
Bukharin chuckled,
"You'd better resign to the Party Central Committee quickly. If you give up your power and settle down as a paper mill director, you might even save your life."
"In my opinion, giving up power is like sticking out your neck to be chopped off by someone else."
Bukharin mocked, he did not intend to become the second Trotsky, even if he had to die, he would die within the party central.
"Talking more is useless, Comrade Bukharin, you have the time for a cigarette to think."
Yagoda He took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it for himself, smoking it leisurely as if he wasn't the one in a hurry.
Upon hearing this, Bukharin fell silent, his right hand unconsciously reaching for his waist.
The guard inspecting the entrance to Kremlin today was under his command, so Bukharin was able to bring the gun in without any trouble.
There are no guards around now. It seems feasible to kill Yagoda and then shift the blame to someone else. Bukharin is calculating the likelihood of successfully killing Yagoda and escaping unharmed if he were to act now. At this moment, one person is measuring the shooting angle, and another is casually smoking, unaware of the impending danger.
Just as Bukharin was about to take action, he suddenly remembered what Strasser had told him: "Any action that draws blood, once initiated, must continue relentlessly. Therefore, one must exercise restraint until fully prepared."
Bukharin's restless heart calmed down as he suppressed his impulses and decided to follow Strasser's arrangements, even though the plan had to be moved up.
"The time has come, Comrade Bukharin. What are your plans?"
After the homemade cigarette from Russia burned out, Yagoda looked at the stern-faced Bukharin and found it somewhat amusing.
"Actually, if you were to pull out the Nagant 1895 revolver from your waist and shoot me dead here, the likelihood of success might be even higher than convincing Comrade Stalin."
"Why would I shoot a comrade? Yagoda comrade. Even if I have some differences with Zinoviev and Trotsky, I have no intention of doing anything to them."
"This is an internal contradiction among comrades, not an antagonistic contradiction. There is no need to push them to their death."
Bukharin took step by step until he was only a few steps away from Yagoda. If he immediately pulled out his gun and shot, even with Yagoda's great powers, he would not escape death.
Bukharin took out a cigarette case from his pocket.
"Can I borrow a light?"
Yagoda didn't think much of it, took out a match, and lit Bukharin's cigarette. The latter took a contented drag.
"It's really good, comrade Yagoda. Do you want to try mine?"
Bukharin handed one to Yagoda so naturally that Yagoda wondered if he had not spoken those words just now. "What do you mean by this? Aren't you afraid I will tell Comrade Stalin about this?" Yagoda asked in confusion.
"You can tell Comrade Stalin that it is your freedom, and I have no right to interfere. However, before I am expelled from the party, aren't we still comrades?" Bukharin replied with a relaxed expression. He seemed completely unconcerned about the threat from Yagoda, though whether he was truly at ease remained unknown. Yagoda observed Bukharin for a long time; it was the first time he had received goodwill from someone outside the country's Political Security Bureau.
In the past, due to the nature of his work, everyone kept their distance from him. Especially after Yagoda was promoted to the First Deputy Director of the Political Security Bureau of the country, the Director, Minrenski, had been seriously ill, so all matters in the bureau were effectively under Yagoda's control; he was the de facto highest authority. Over the years, he led the bureau in numerous purges, capturing many counter-revolutionaries within the party.
Over time, he also gained the title of "butcher," and everyone kept their distance from him. Bukharin was the only comrade who showed him goodwill over the years, apart from his leader Stalin. To receive goodwill from the person he was monitoring, what did that count as? Defection? Yagoda found it somewhat darkly humorous.
"Good smoke!"
Yagoda finally took the cigarette from Bukharin's hand and praised it after taking a puff.
Indeed, the special cigarettes provided by the Central Politburo were much better than those from his subordinate departments.
One puff refreshes the mind, two puffs banish fatigue, three puffs grant immortality.
"I still have some, all for you."
Bukharin handed over all the cigarettes he had on him to Yagoda, who accepted them without hesitation.
"It's getting dark, time to go home. I'm leaving first."
Yagoda looked at the slightly dim sky, waved to Bukharin, and then turned and left.
Bukharin watched Yagoda leave, his expression changing.
He didn't know whether Yagoda would report to Stalin, but he knew that if he had fired the gun just now, he would be doomed regardless of whether Yagoda lived or died.
It's normal for anyone to suspect that a chief who had just received orders to leave with him suddenly disappeared.
Bukharin wondered if he had been foolish from the start to have such absurd thoughts.
Now, he could only hope that Yagoda was indeed the good-natured person that Strasser had described, as that would give him a chance for persuasion.
"May the souls of Marx and Engels in heaven bless me, allowing me to achieve final victory in my struggle against the revisionist Stalin," Bukharin silently prayed.
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