The name hit the air like a thrown stone: Lenin. It cracked the silence. Koba felt it — the pull of something far larger than them. For a moment he stood at the edge of a cliff, stomach hollow, history yawning beneath his feet.
Jake's head spun. Panic and wonder collided.
"Lenin? We're going to see Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov?" Jake barked. "This is a joke. This is a nightmare. That's not the back-alley revolution I woke up in. This is the big leagues. We can't—Kiev matters. Kato matters."
Koba folded the panic down. Emotion was dangerous now. He breathed slow and listened like a machine.
"Emotional outbursts don't help," he said, flat. "Refusal is suicide. Yagoda is the messenger. The order comes from the center. To refuse is to make enemies of the state and the revolution."
His mind found a lever. An order could be a negotiation. They were not supplicants — they were a delivery men with leverage.
He met Yagoda's smug gaze and kept his face still. The fear that owned Jake stayed shut behind a door. Outside, he was Koba: cool, practical, dangerous.
"A meeting with the Chairman in Zurich," he said. It sounded like a business appointment. "Interesting. But I have conditions."
He let the silence press on Yagoda. Make him wait. Make him reach.
"I do not travel empty-handed. I do not travel without my people. Pavel, Murat, Ivan — they are command staff, not expendable men. They go with me."
Yagoda's smile twitched. "That may be difficult—"
"It will be arranged," Koba cut in. "A direct trip to Switzerland for four wanted men is suicidal. We need a secure route. New papers — Austrian or German, not the usual forgeries. Funds. Your Technical Group will provide them."
He stepped closer, closing the small power gap. "We have been running for weeks. The men are exhausted. The assets are exposed. We need a safe house, remote, for at least a week while you make arrangements. Not negotiable."
The balance had shifted. Koba was no longer taking orders. He was setting terms. Yagoda blinked. For the first time his smirk faltered and something like respect appeared.
"Audacious," Yagoda said slowly. "But I will relay them. The Chairman values audacity. A dacha near Tver has been prepared. It will suffice."
Koba turned and walked back to the flatcar. The lantern light painted his face in hard contrast.
"There's a change of plan," he told his men. His voice had the weight of something already decided. "Our business in Vologda is done. Next stop — Zurich."
Murat and Ivan stared, blank. The city name meant nothing to them. Pavel's face broke.
"Zurich?" Pavel said, low and dangerous. "What about Kiev?"
"Kiev is no longer the primary target," Koba said, neutral. "We've been summoned to meet party leadership. It's urgent."
Pavel's body moved as if struck. He stepped forward, every inch of him betrayal made flesh. "No longer the primary objective? You promised Kiev. We followed you through hell. We bled for that promise — for Kato. And now you throw it away for a meeting? For politics? You're abandoning her."
This was the crack none of them wanted. Pavel had followed him for loyalty, not for strategy. Now he accused Koba of betrayal.
"You think I'm choosing politics over her?" Koba's voice snapped. He gestured to the rifles, the ledger, the dark world around them. "Open your eyes. This isn't about us. It was never just about us. There's a war coming. A war that will burn Europe. Men like you will be handed rifles and trains and sent to die over places you never heard of."
He leaned in. History filled his words.
"This ledger isn't only about money. It's a weapon. Deliver it to Lenin in Zurich and we gain something we never had: protection, resources, an international network. We stop being fugitives. We become agents. Papers, funds, safe houses across the continent. I can come back to Russia later not as a hunted criminal, but as a man with power. That's how I save Kato — by returning as a king, not a pawn."
Pavel's anger faltered. The logic slammed into the place where loyalty and fear met. Rescue her now and they die. Play the long game and there's a chance.
Koba saw the fight leave Pavel. He put a hand on the big man's shoulder, softer than he had been since this all started.
"I made you a promise," he said. "I will not break it. But in a game this big, the price of a queen is the world. First we secure a place. Then we take her."
He turned toward Yagoda, who had watched the exchange like a scientist watching an experiment reach its conclusion.
"Take us to your safe house," Koba ordered. The command was cold, decisive. "We have arrangements to make."
They climbed into the flatcar. The lantern swung. Outside, the night closed like a fist. Inside, a new plan began to take shape — one that asked them to gamble everything on patience, power, and a promise that might be their last.