The Great Land 2

By Mike Liston

The State of Alaska at the time of Statehood and just before its great oil boom. Ivan Goldmouth, the grandson of Ivan and Zloiya Goldmouth returns to Alaska to recliaim his controling half of the family's bank which is now the biggest and most influential in the state.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Liston
• Release date: Sep 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781792398438

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The Great Land 2

By

Mike Liston

US Copyright: TXu 2-322-356

ISBN 978-1-7923-9598-7

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Table of Contents

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

CHARACTERS

‘Baby’Goldmouth, son of Sally, father of Ivan Goldmouth and hero of the Soviet Great Patriotic War

Ivan Goldmouth, son of Baby, trained surgeon and bank leader

Bathsheba Levine, elderly matriarch of the Levine clan and business interests

James Levine, Bathsheba’s grandson, and heir

Sarah Levine, James’ twin sister, heiress

Alfred ‘Al’ Monterro, Bathsheba’s legal advisor

Constance ‘Conny’O’Malley, administrative assistant at the Bank

Sam Brown, Bathsheba’s grandnephew, James’ cousin, talented financial manager

Robert MacKenzie, chief corporate council of the Levine bank

Paulie Paulson, heir to a large hotel chain in Alaska

Wilda Blackstone, heir to an Alaskan real estate and home construction fortune

George Knutson, heir to a string of salmon canneries

Robert ‘Bob’ Westland, Anchorage newspaper publisher and owner.

Walter Pete, Kenaizte tribal member

Mary Pete, his wife

Dora Pete, the Pete’s daughter

Elanor Brown, proprietress of the most profitable house of prostitution in the Territory of Alaska based in Anchorage

Wilfred B. Smith, ‘independent’ attorney, Harvard Law by way of East Texas, specialist in all facets of oil and gas

Hank Allen, oil industry made man in the oil ‘services’ industry.

Wilson Platt, military contractor

Jeanne Barbour, owner, industrial supply

Bob Mackey, trucking company owner

Rose Shelikov, Tlingit community leader

ONE

The steel door squealed open on rusted hinges. Heavy boots clumped down concrete steps into the dark. Lieutenant Colonel Boris Lunarev trod quickly down the hallway in the direction of a second even thicker blast proof door. As he walked, the walls seemed to pulse with a deep rhythmic throb resembling a powerful turbine deep in the heart of a ship. Just to the side of the door was a battered wooden desk lit by a 25 watt bulb. At the desk sat Corporal Komarchatski, eyes wide staring as if blind.

Corporal!snapped the Lieutenant Colonel after waiting an entire minute as yet unacknowledged by the oblivious guard. Not a man to stand on a great deal of ceremony; still, the Colonel was annoyed. Let alone his rank, the Colonel’s chest was covered with more than a few medals awarded for his brave participation in some of the bloodiest battles of the war. Komarchatski didn’t move, as if frozen, hardly breathing, only his forefinger slightly tapping the table in rhythm to the heavy rhythmic throbbing from behind that door.

Corporal! snapped Lunarev even louder. Do you seek a court martial? Perhaps a tour to the Western Front? Still no reaction. Lieutenant Colonel Lunarev sighed taking out his pistol, an ivory handled Lugar automatic he had personally taken off an SS officer in hand-to-hand combat before strangling the man with his bare hands. He’d shot men for less blatant insubordination. Nevertheless, he aimed for the ceiling and pulled off a shot. The gun blast thundered through the chamber as the bullet ricocheted off steel until it dropped on the desktop with a clunk. The Corporal looked up suddenly as if just woken up.

Y-y-yes,Comrade,Sir?

Idiot, are you drunk? Lunarev snarled leaning down to glare in his face.

N-no Sir, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, sputtered the Corporal leaping to his feet with a belated salute, it’s the drums, the cursed drums, they start to drum, it goes on and on and....sir, please, you’ve got to let me out of here. It’s like guarding the Gates of Hell.

Hell, you want hell? snorted the Lieutenant Colonel. I’ll show you Stalingrad. What do you mean, drums?

See for yourself, Sir, if you dare, Komarchatskii said stepping to the side to point at the small steel shutter that covered the viewing grate.

If I dare-ridiculous; of course, I dare, Lunarev snorted pushing past the Corporal. He slid the small cover open; he gasped.

Inside naked sweating brown figures with the heads of gaudy monsters swayed, swirled and leaped. The beating of the drums deafening, the room smoky, the smell of burning cedar, sweat and right in the middle, arms waving, body whirling, lurching and stomping,a great monster with the body of a woman, huge stomach, pendulous breasts; muscled like an Olympian weight lifter but wearing the great Killer Whale mask of her clan. Yeahhhhiicccccooooo!! the great figure howled leaping for the door. Lunarev slammed the lid shut soaked in cold sweat.

I warned you, Sir, Komarchatskii said fully sympathetic. I dared only look once.

What in....the name of Lenin are they doing?

Some sort of dance I guess.

Order it stopped!

Order? It’s enough we don’t anger her. What if she gets free?

Her? That-that’s Commander Zver?Lunarev stammered. The sight of that great masked monster had shaken him as much or more than his worst experience at war.

Fearsome, isn’t she? Yes, that’s her, her and her famous cousins and her son and whoever else savage enough to join her band. Lunarev nodded and gestured the Corporal should be on his way. Komarchatskii wasted no time. As soon as he was alone the Colonel took an envelope from inside his tunic, withdrew a sheaf of papers, hands still shaking and sat down to read.

The report was marked top secret from the office of Field Marshal Zhukov himself. Lunarev hadn’t opened it until now. It had just been thrust into his hands some ten hours before after he’d been pulled off the line of battle. Exhausted, he had slept the entire bumpy plane ride to Vladivostok. In the envelope was also the summarized personal file of Commander ‘Sally’Zolotskii Rot (GoldMouth) or Commander Zver (Beast) as known to friend and foe. Commander Beast, a famous warrior among warriors but notorious for disobeying orders. Hence her and her band’s current confinement. Sally had first come to notice in military circles when she and her cousins (civilians at the time) had suddenly appeared on the field of the Red Army’s one great pre-war fight with the Japanese Imperial Army. Once well mauled by the Red Army-most especially Sally- the Japanese had eagerly agreed to leave the Soviets alone in the Far East while the Germans attacked from the West. Sally, however, had a tremendous dislike for the ‘runts’as she called them and she and her cousins had not just once but several times, attacked the Japanese in Mongolia, Manchuria and even Beijing. The Beijing attack was so flagrant—Sally had actually been photographed heaving a commanding Japanese officer off the city’s ancient wall—that even Stalin was angered and ordered the whole lot of them shot. Fortunately, General Zhukov managed to convince Stalin that shooting Sally was something easier said than done and probably a tremendous waste. As a result of the raid on Beijing, Sally had agreed but only after abject begging, to allow herself and her fighters to be interned in the military prison in Vladivostok.

But only in the words of Sally, cuz me and my boys need a rest. Lunarev sighed and shook his head as he re-read the last page. Commander Goldmouth and ‘staff’ were to be released immediately and sent to Stalingrad where they were desperately needed in what came to be known as the turning point of the Second World War. Sighing once more, Lieutenant Colonel Lunarev, twice decorated Hero of the Soviet Union, picked up the key Komarchatskii had left on the desk and fitted it to the lock. It turned slowly; the door opened; the Colonel stepped in. Drums thundered. Blood rushed from his head.

Sometime later, the Lieutenant Colonel awoke lying on a large bear skin on the floor of the cell. He was naked except for his regulation BVDs and painted from the waist up. In one hand, he was still grasping a pipe; in the other a war club. The cell was deserted, his orders were gone.

Boys, let’s have us some fun! Sally had cried and the whole gang was off with whoops and howls; next stop, Stalingrad!

TWO

Sergeant Igor Svedlov stared at the great hulking figure seated at the foot of his cot. A great moon face, mocking grin, the trace of a scar here, there and also completely naked, huge breasted, broad-shouldered. Convinced he was having a nightmare based on months of sexual deprivation, Svedlov tried to sit up. A massive arm shoved him back down.

Bet you plenty horny, huh, Soldier Boy? Sally snickered and with that she mounted Svedlov. Igor Svedlov was smack dab in the murderous maelstrom that was Stalingrad, but that short gallop with Sally was the ride of his life.

Sergeant, Sergeant, a worried private shook his leader awake, "you must dress. The Germans attack. What did she want with you last night?"

Who, what?

Commander Beast. She went to your room. You didn’t speak?

Speak? Commander Beast? That wasn’t a dream?

No, no, she and her people, they were here; we don’t know how they got in. She came up to talk to you personally; you don’t remember?

Remember? Svedlov said hardly able to think for the fear he felt and the...joy? I-

No matter. Dress, eat. There are tanks.

The Beast... Svedlov marveled, she is here to replace me?

No, she and her men left just before dawn.

To where?

We asked. The Commander only laughed. At least it seemed she laughed; a fearsome sound. A shell then crashed against an outside wall. Still buttoning his tunic, Svedlov snatched up his helmet and hurried upstairs. A tank shell clearly. It was time to greet their guest with a well-aimed round off his P-41 (PTRS-41, anti-tank gun).

Sally awoke from her nap and peered through the gloom of a ruined cellar. Her ‘group’ so to speak was scattered throughout the room. What’s to eat? she demanded grumpy. After a good fight, she was both sleepy and hungry.

Nothing but this white man slop, her first cousin replied equally grumpy. He had just sampled a can of German sauerkraut. Aside from a little mayhem and slaughter when they had taken this cellar from the Germans the previous evening, the night had been slow.

What’s your problem? Sally asked lazily. Out on the street a machine gun clattered noisily. A soldier slumped to the rubble dead.

Everyone else is out having fun, why can’t we?

Where’s the rest of the boys? Sally asked peering about the cellar lazily.

Don’t know, sneaking around the building; hunting Germans, I guess. Sally nodded and got up with a grunt. They had arrived early last night after sunset coming over on the ferry, Gasitel. Up until now, it had been too dark to have a look around.

Where’re you going? Cousin asked hopefully.

Upstairs. Have a little look.

Going upstairs had taken a little longer than planned as they’d stumbled across a German machine gun emplacement the cousins had somehow missed.

Jeez, her cousin said once they could see over the utter devastation of the great city of Stalingrad its battered smoking ruins stretching for miles, them white boys is having a fight.

Yep, Sally said giving herself a scratch. She spat over the side. A rifle fired; the bullet ricocheted off the parapet to her right. We’ll fix you good tonight, she grinned and giving Bust-Em-Hed a friendly whack, they tramped back down the ruined stairs for a friendly game of cards and a nice satisfying snack of dried fish.

When Sally and her ‘group’ had arrived at the air strip two days past, her old friend, now Field Marshal Zhukov, was there to greet her.

How’s my old bud? Sally grinned giving the top leader of the Red Army a nice friendly poke in the ribs. What’s up?

I came for only a short visit mainly to meet you. It’s a terrible fight, Commander, the world’s worst. All is lost if we can’t stop the German advance.

So, what’s our job?

Do what you do best, terrorize the Germans like you did the Japanese. Sap their will. Other than that, I have no specific orders. Why bother? the Field Marshal shrugged with a rueful smile. Would you listen?

Hmph, Sally nodded thoughtfully looking out over her ‘Boys’. Boys they weren’t actually. Hell, she herself was pushing sixty. The rest were all middle-aged men, a few women. The youngest Tlingit was her son‘Baby’ Goldmouth, now a powerful thirty-five year old man. Besides the older Tlingit, they were a mix of others Sally had drafted in to the band: Yakuts, Tartar Cossacks, Mongolians and Kalmuks-all of them big, crafty and plenty savage. She’d even taken on a couple of nasty Ainu from Sakhalin who had their own score to settle with the Japanese.

Hans? the German officer called for his adjutant. He was hunched over his orders at his desk having a sip of Schnapps. Hans? he called again. Something suddenly fell on his desk right in the middle of his orders. It was a hand severed at the wrist. He gasped and turned to face up into the leering face of a painted Tlingit.

You say hands? the face smiled cruelly raising a large knife.

Sir, sir, said the rattled communications officer we lost contact.

What do you mean, I just talked to the commander, said the blond Lieutenant.

Yes, but- There was a chuckle. The light suddenly flickered out; muffled screams.

Captain Ivanov was confused. Usually, the Germans would fight to the death but in the last day or two, more and more waving white flags, hands raised would try to surrender to the Soviets deserting their comrades. He could speak German and had interrogated several of them. To a man they all expressed their horrified fear of ‘the Beast’.

Report, Commanding General Yeryomenko asked looking down the table at his assembled staff, is Project Beast having its desired effect?

Surrender rates are up; German morale seems to have weakened notably. Just the rumor of Commander Goldmouth and her savage band has had a clear effect on the enemy’s will to fight.

Yes, said the General, but is it enough? We lack reserves, our own men and women fight like devils past the point of utter exhaustion. More units arrive by the day. If only she can buy us more time...

We shall see, Sir, we shall see. Yeryomenko got up slowly feeling very tired. He entered his office.

General! Lieutenant Colonel Lunarev leapt to his feet saluting.

As you were, Colonel, as you were, Yeryomenko nodded with wry amusement. I see you’ve recovered from your...ordeal?

Yes, S-S-Sir, I- Lunarev stammered red-faced.

Don’t be embarrassed Colonel, she has that effect on us all. The Great Leader himself was shocked.

Comrade Stalin? Lunarev stared. A white phone on the desk rang.

Yes, yes and to speak of the... the General smiled picking up the receiver. Yes, Comrade Stalin...yes, yes, the Beast is doing her job. No, we can’t be sure of that. She can only do so much. We need more supplies, men, equipment. Yes, yes, good news, more planes would be good but-yes, Chairman, I will communicate your threat but she is...out in the front lines; there’s been no communication except what we learn from prisoners and some of our men. Yes, sir, I will tell her if and when I see her. Thank you. He hung up and looked at Lunarev. Our Great Leader, shooting is always the solution it seems. You think by now he would have learned.

It takes an iron hand, Lunarev said nodding his head. To him, like most of the Soviet People, the ‘Little Father’ could do no wrong. Yeryomenko nodded without comment. The future Field Marshal was quite aware of what damage Stalin’s heavy-handed paranoia had done to the Red Army before the Germans launched the war. That they had up to this point survived was testament to the unquenchable spirit of Revolution.

THREE

No one can say just exactly where and when Commander Zver finally met her end. There were those who swore they’d seen her at the famous tractor factory, the railway station and commanding the steamer, Gasitel. Everywhere and anywhere, it was said. The cousins were all gone, her entire command disappeared. Only Baby Goldmouth, half dead and missing his leg was found in a corpse filled trench in that last sliver of Soviet-held Stalingrad on the west bank of the Volga. After he had woken out of a coma all he could remember was his mother leading a charge against machine guns and tanks, one hand firing her AK 47 as she hurled a mine; clenching a samurai sword between her teeth.

She looked happier than hell; that’s all I can say, Baby drowsily told the reporter for the Red Army Gazette from his hospital bed before fading back off to sleep.

The lend-lease Ford truck slid to a stop on the rutted road right in front of a collection of gaily painted Russian style ‘izbas’ (typical Russian country homes). The wood was weathered from the unceasing sub-arctic winds of the Kolyma Region that swept over tundra and taiga. There was nothing really to distinguish the little village from any other from Magadan to the Ukraine except one thing which poked up from the cluster of huts: a killer whale totem carved at the top of a tall spruce pole hauled all the way from Sakhalin. Baby hopped from the cab easily enough despite his missing left leg replaced with the best quality prosthetic the country could provide. He still used a stick but practically pole vaulted his way to the biggest cabin where a tall, as yet unbent, long black raven tresses only slightly grayed woman met him at the front door.

Granny! Baby boomed out catching the eighty-year-old woman in a big hug.

You’re damned thin, Zloiya Krasa said stroking Baby’s thick black hair and lined face.

It’s been a tough fight. You heard...

Yeah, your Grandpa knew right away.

Where is Grandpa? Baby asked looking around for the giant old man.

Come on in, drink some tea, Zloiya said looking past him off into the vast stretches of the Kolyma. She turned and went inside without a word.

Baby followed the old woman his eyes savoring every nook and corner of his childhood home. From the outside, it might appear a typical Russian country house with its split log timbers and gaily painted shutters but inside, all Tlingit. Carved masks and other wooden tools were scattered everywhere. Weavings hung from the walls and hand-woven baskets sat on shelves. Winters were long in the Kolyma and when the mining was done, the old couple had the time to pretty much recreate their Tlingit life-style thousands of miles from Sitka. Baby got himself over to the big old familiar kitchen table and sat himself down. In seconds, fresh fry bread lay on the table with smoked fish and mugs of steaming black tea.

It ain’t salmon, hard to find that these days but what we got from the river’s not bad, Zloiya said her voice hoarse with age. She pulled back a chair and eased herself down. Old bones, them winters are tough on an old lady.

You look twenty years less than you should, Baby grinned taking a big bite of oily smoked fish. Umm, not bad, best I had in months.

It’s okay, she said raising her head and looked him straight in the eye. Goldmouth’s gone, Kid, Zloiya abruptly said never one to mince words. He woke me up the middle of the night couple months ago. I guess it was the height of the Battle. He said Sally just dropped in to say ‘goodbye.’ He nodded, gave me one of his big slobbery kisses, patted my butt and went off to sleep. I didn’t think much of it at the time, figuring he was having a dream but come morning, he just never woke up. Took a good two days for his body to finally get cold. She paused for a moment, took a bite of sweet biscuit; a sip of black tea. Truth was, I was pissed. Just like the big son of a bitch to take off first like that; leave me here all alone. Took me awhile to calm down...But I did finally, you know, calm down. I could see his thinking. He was tired, yeah, and bored. That gold hunger he had all his life, he finally got his fill. That and, I know it bothered him, bothered him bad how they run our mines.

Baby Goldmouth nodded. He was as loyal a communist as anyone but he knew what she’d meant. The Kolyma was a vast treasure house of gold but in the years leading to and during the war, Stalin had turned the fabulous gold mines of the Kolyma into an archipelago of prison camps where men and women died cruelly in their thousands from hard labor, freezing weather and unrelenting hunger. They’d wanted Grandpa to keep running the mine but he wouldn’t do it with convict labor. Thankfully, Stalin had just let him bow out and retire. After all, Goldmouth was old; the gold he’d discovered was paying for a big chunk of the war. That, and there was Stalin’s odd relationship with Sally.

You go rest, I know you’re beat; you looks it anyways, Grandma said pushing back her tea cup. We go out later, take a walk. Got something you need to see.

It was close to dusk when Baby and Grandmother left the low river valley and hiked up into the gray hills. Now late spring in the north land, the shrubs and stunted trees were starting to green but still a bit of snow lay here and there in shaded hollows as yet untouched by sun. Zloiya Krasa walked at a slow steady pace; it wasn’t hard for the crippled Baby to keep up. At the crest of the first hill, she stopped for a moment taking a long look in the direction of the mine. There it sat some kilometers away, a huge ashen complex of low barracks and smoke pouring from the smelter. A great murk hung over the place, a fog rare in this vast region of the thinly populated Soviet Far East that seemed to represent in some way that great miasma of human suffering and misery. Zloiya sighed ever so slightly and turning to the left, she took the narrow path down the other side of the hill.

It was just about dark when she stopped in front of a large jumble of cracked and eroded weather-worn granite boulders at the bottom of a ravine. She looked carefully about in all directions.

Ain’t nobody close for a long ways, Grandma, Baby said with the certainty of a man with senses so very sharpened from war.

Yeah, probably not, just careful, your Grandpa would tear me a new one if I weren’t. Follow me, watch your step and be quiet, she said as she slipped soundlessly between the great boulders.

Baby followed. Despite his handicap it was no real trouble. After all, just a couple of months ago he’d been with Mom spooking and slaughtering Nazis and mostly in pitch dark. They made their way a few meters into a dark cleft. Zloiya paused, took a kerosene lantern hanging from a hook and with the strike of a match, lit it up.

What’s this? Baby asked. Zloiya ignored him. As usual, she’d talk when she was damned good and ready and not a minute before.

It was a good long ways deep into the hillside. Here and there Baby could see a bit of gold glittering in the chiseled rock at their sides. Water dripped, it was chilly but the path was clear and level. They kept on.

After what seemed two, three hundred meters, the pair stopped at a great rusted iron door. Zloiya took a key from her pocket, inserted it into the lock and pushed. The door opened soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. You wait here, she turned to Baby, I want to get it all ready. Don’t want to spoil the effect. She disappeared pulling the door shut once she was in.

Okay, Grandma called out several minutes later, all done, get your brown butt in here! Baby grinned. Despite the sad news of Grandpa Goldmouth, Grandma would never change. Clutching his stick, he opened the door with his free hand and froze. The entire chamber was ablaze with stacks of gold ingots shining bright as the sun from the light of several lamps.

Hell’s bells, Grandma! Baby cried out dazed. There must be more gold here than the national vault. His eyes could hardly stand the golden gleam.

This be the heart of Kolyma, it was Grandpa’s pride and joy, Zloiya said with a discernible hitch in her stern voice. She sat down and regarded the vast treasure as did her amazed Grandson. He’d seen gold and piles of the stuff but never nothing like this.

How long have you been hiding this?

Ain’t hiding-protecting, Grandma said gruffly. She turned to Baby. Don’t you worry, the government’s got most of the stuff, this just our fair share.

They’d have you shot if they found this, they need everything for the war.

They’re digging up so much gold from the mine, they don’t lack for nothing. Anyway, it don’t matter anymore. The War’s sure to be won and me and Goldmouth, we had our fun. Baby Goldmouth shook his head in wonder as his eyes traveled about the dazzling cavern. Suddenly his gaze froze. He got up, he turned to Zloiya.

Grandma, is that...him?

Who else would it be? Zloiya smiled and she got up to approach a huge gold skull sitting on a top of a monstrously large chunk of ore that looked ninety percent gold. Them choppers are his, you bet, but I plated his big fat head with the gold after he died. It was his wish. There’s only one thing left.

What? Baby asked.

Tell you in good time, Zloiya said mysteriously and the two of them sat silent for some time amid the dazzle of gold. What you heard of my great grandson? she finally asked.

Hard to say, Baby said shaking his head. You know his mom and I didn’t get along so good...

Never got that, Zloiya said shaking her head. I always liked her just fine. Tough young lady, liked to scrap.

Yeah, she did that. Anyway, last she told me the boy was off safe living with family behind the lines but you know how fast the lines changed.

You feel better; you go find that kid, Zloiya gave him a good look. Otherwise, your Grandma gonna be pissed.

I’ll find him, promise, Grandma, Baby sighed. It would be hard. The whole country was a mixed-up awful shambles from the war. He didn’t tell Zloiya but his estranged wife, a doctor, was killed in a bombing raid on a Moscow hospital. After that,