The Streets of Saint Petersburg - Workers District - Saturday January 8, 1905

Boris Markov loved living a double life. He loved the Tzar but he also loved the revolutionary circles. The conspiratorial nature of the underground appealed to him. Work at the Okhrana suited him perfectly. Supplying information that got Bolsheviks shipped off to Siberia or exiled from the country pleased him.

Recently however his attention had shifted to Father Gapon. The priest was treading on dangerous ground. Originally Father Gapon had worked with Zubotov and the police to steer people away from revolutionary activities. Now he seemed very much the revolutionary. Gapon had tasted power and he wanted more of it. Boris couldn’t blame him. He could only imagine what it must feel like to have thousands of people willing to follow your every command. But Gapon had backed himself into a corner. He needed to deliver results or he would lose the people. He had been completely unsuccessful in trying to mediate the dispute between the fired workers and the Putilov factory. He had gone rouge against the church and government. A day of reckoning was fast approaching.

Rather than relinquishing his power and admitting defeat Gapon had doubled down. He planned a march that could never be allowed and acted as if it was sanctioned by the Tzar himself. If either side wanted conflict there would be violence on the streets in the morning.

Markov stood about a block away from the Narva branch watching the workers flow in and out as he smoked a cigarette. His attention was drawn away from the building by the sound of footsteps approaching behind him. He listened carefully. As part of his double life he had spent hours listening to footsteps. His curiosity had made him wonder if he could identify a person just by the sound of their foot fall. He had been more successful with classes of people. The workers step was distinct to the management step. The military and police had a heavier step. The bureaucrats had their own distinct step.

Based on what he was hearing about 20 feet behind him was a police officer who was closing the distance fast. Markov turned with an air of indifference and saw he was right again. Tristan Andreev was fast approaching. Markov wondered if he was coming to speak to him.

It didn’t take him long to realize that Andreev was going to walk right past him. There was a purpose in his stride and Markov realized instinctively that Andreev was about to try something foolish. Markov had a split second to decide if he would intervene or allow Andreev to learn a hard lesson. This was not a location where he wanted to be seen conversing with a police officer.

He dropped his cigarette and as Andreev drew even with him said “Officer, you got a spare cigarette?”

Andreev heard the question but he was on his way to arrest Gapon and would not be distracted by some bum. He would walk by without any acknowledgment of the poor fellow looking for a handout. Or so he thought.

Markov took a quick glance in both directions to make sure no one was watching him and then reached out and grabbed Andreev by the shoulder. “Do you have a cigarette?”

Andreev was overcome by shock. Had this peasant really touched him? His hand went straight to his baton. Someone was about to lose his teeth. He looked at the man who was about to be in need of some dental work. Instantly his hand that had been reaching for his baton shifted to his cigarette case. He recognized Borris Markov instantly.

“It’s your lucky day. I have one left,” Andreev said as his lit one cigarette and handed the other remaining cigarette to Markov.

“Why are you here?” Markov asked silently.

“I am here to arrest Gapon.”

“Are you trying to start a riot?

“I am here to enforce the law.”

“There are 700 people in that building listening to Father Gapon right now. They won’t let you anywhere near him.”

“I have a warrant.”

“Do you think these people care about that?”

“It is not my job to care about how other people feel.”

“They are 700, you are one. It doesn’t matter what how you feel or what authority you have. They would kill you if you tried to arrest Gapon.”

“I will arrest Gapon tonight.”

“Then you must act when he is away from the crowd.”

“I will act when I see fit.”

“If you are unsuccessful meet with me at 2:00 AM near the river.”

“If you have something of value to share I will be there if for some reason I don’t arrest Gapon that is.”

Markov reached into his pocket and removed a public notice. “Why wasn’t this plastered all throughout the working quarters of the city? Many of these people think the march is sanctioned.”

Andreev took the sheet of paper and read:

“In connection with the cessation of work at numerous plants and factories in the capital, the city governor of St. Petersburg considers it his duty to warn that no gatherings or processions on the streets will be tolerated, and that the most resolute measures prescribed by law will be used to avert mass disorders.

Since the employment of armed troops may result in casualties, the workers and the public are hereby urged to abstain from taking part in any mass gatherings on the streets and thereby protect themselves from the consequences of the disorders”

Dismissively Andreev replied “no one should think the march is sanctioned. Now if you will excuse me I have a priest to arrest.”