When Trotsky heard Mainz's words, he immediately understood his meaning and felt a measure of relief.
This time, the Soviets had purchased a vast quantity of weapons from Germany: two hundred artillery pieces, twelve hundred heavy machine guns, twenty thousand rifles, one hundred thousand shells, and five million rounds of ammunition.
Such a shipment could sustain the Red Army for a while. The White Army's offensives had grown increasingly fierce, and Soviet forces at the front were suffering heavy casualties. Without timely replenishment of arms, equipment, and men, the situation would soon become critical.
"The current trade route must pass directly through enemy-controlled territory," Trotsky explained gravely. "At any time, our arms supply line could be cut. Can you arrange transport by sea?"
Mainz paused. He had been considering warning the Soviets that their trade routes were insecure—but the Russians themselves had raised the concern.
"By sea?" Mainz asked calmly. "Where exactly do you propose?"
There were several possibilities: the Baltic Sea, the Barents Sea, and the Black Sea were the main maritime routes open to Russia.
The Black Sea and the Baltic were particularly vital. The Black Sea, with its access to the Russian hinterland, was especially important—more so because it remained ice-free even in winter. The Baltic, by contrast, was more difficult; in the cold months, ports froze, disrupting trade.
Summer, however, offered one additional path: the Arctic Ocean. Once the ice receded, ships could sail through to Russia's northern ports. Yet the Arctic route was treacherous, long, and dangerous. Few would choose it when the Black or Baltic seas were available.
For Russia, the situation was grim. During the Great War, the Russian Empire had clashed repeatedly with the Ottoman Empire in the Black Sea. Both sides had sown extensive minefields at the Bosporus and in the approaches, and Russian warships had suffered heavy losses.
Though the war had ended, the hostility of the Turks had not. The Ottoman Empire may have collapsed, but its successor, Turkey, remained bitterly opposed to Russia, and centuries of enmity lingered.
Thus, transporting supplies through the Black Sea was fraught with danger—unless Turkey could somehow be neutralized.
The Baltic was little better. At present, the Royal Navy of Great Britain dominated those waters. The "Empire on which the Sun Never Sets" had turned the Baltic into an impenetrable barrier. For German shipments to reach Petrograd that way was virtually impossible.
"If it is at all possible," Trotsky said cautiously, "we would prefer shipments to Murmansk."
Murmansk, Russia's northernmost port on the Barents Sea, was free of ice year-round. Trotsky's suggestion revealed that the Soviets were considering the Arctic route.
"This path is also dangerous," Mainz replied evenly. "If you sail there, the Royal Navy will intercept you. The North Sea is their fortress. Our ships might never even leave German waters."
Indeed, no sea in the world was more crowded with British warships than the North Sea. For London, it was the lifeline of empire.
Trotsky frowned. "Then what do you suggest?"
The dilemma was obvious: land routes were blocked, the Baltic was under British control, and the Black Sea was hemmed in by Turkey. Germany and Soviet Russia did not even share a direct border. How, then, could the arms trade continue?
Mainz smiled faintly. "I do not think we need to limit ourselves to Europe. We can look further east… perhaps here."
He tapped his finger on the map, pointing toward Asia.
---
The Russians were far from pleased at allowing an enemy officer—one who had fought against them only months earlier—to inspect one of their few functioning heavy-industrial plants.
But Comrade Lenin's orders were absolute. No one dared disobey.
In truth, Mainz was just as uncomfortable. He had no need for such elaborate escorts. Yet everywhere he went, heavily armed guards shadowed him, and now even a front-line general had been sent to accompany him.
"General Tukhachevsky," Mainz said casually, "I hear you've just returned from the Ural front?"
He already knew the story well. In March 1919, Admiral Alexander Kolchak, former commander of the Russian Black Sea Fleet, had led 150,000 men across the Urals toward Moscow. His aim was to crush the Bolsheviks and restore the Russian Empire.
This was no isolated venture. Kolchak coordinated with White generals such as Denikin, who had nearly taken Moscow the year before. The offensive was massive, multi-pronged, and strongly backed by foreign supporters. Western observers confidently predicted that the Red regime would not survive.
And yet—Tukhachevsky had turned the tide.
Outnumbered, ill-equipped, and short of supplies, he nonetheless outmaneuvered Kolchak's forces. With the help of Frunze, he struck Kolchak's flanks, destroying some of the White Army's best units.
It was a stunning reversal. No one in the Entente had expected it. Kolchak's 150,000 soldiers were shattered. Though the fighting continued, the defeat had doomed him; before long, he would retreat eastward toward Siberia, fleeing the collapse of his dream.
Mainz studied Tukhachevsky carefully. Here was a man the Third Reich could not ignore. Brilliant, daring, and utterly relentless—if left alive, he could one day become the greatest danger to Germany.
No wonder Hitler would one day conspire to eliminate him. Mainz understood the logic. Such men, if not destroyed early, would become the gravest threats of all.