Trafford Publishing: The Jerusalem Train

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The Jerusalem Train

by Jon Dietz

383 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #02-1331; ISBN 1-55395-615-X; US$29.50, C$34.00, EUR24.50, £17.00

Love and intrigue in the middle of the Russo-Japanese War. The novel recreates long ago battles, blending fictional characters with the dramas real men and women faced.

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about the book about the author sample excerpts catalogue info

About the Book

THE JERUSALEM TRAIN is set in China during the Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905).
Alec Daniloff, veteran of the Spanish-American War, is on the run. He was about to be hanged by two corrupt police officers in Manila. He turned the tables, killing them both. Now he must hide on the docks of Russian-held Port Arthur, Manchuria. The handsome American's inability to back down from any challenge constantly has him in hot water and intrigue.
Uri Lieberman is a secret Zionist who is the second in command at the Russo-Chinese Bank in Port Arthur. He is using his cunning and intellect to steal the Czar's millions and help create the unborn state of Israel.
Sam Ling is Port Arthur's largest importer and exporter. He too, has his eyes on the Czar's treasure, but his motives are far less altruistic. He uses subtle blackmail to recruit Alec Daniloff into one of history's great robberies.
Viacheslav Constantine Plehve is the Czar's Interior Minister in St. Petersburg. His secret agenda is to rid Russia of its Jews. He intends to launch a huge pogrom, using the war as cover. He sends a trusted member of the Czar's secret police to Port Arthur to spy on Uri Lieberman, hoping to catch this prominent Jew in a compromising act of embezzlement.
Christina Carlson is the beautiful daughter of an American army officer. She follows her father to Manchuria, where he is supposed to report on the war. Christina is the first woman to capture Alec Daniloff's heart, and in the process place his life, and hers, in great danger.
These and dozens of other characters, many historical, populate THE JERUSALEM TRAIN. Two years in the writing, more than fifty books and reference materials went into the research.
The novel recreates long ago battles, blending fictional characters into the dramas real men and women faced during that historical period.
It's the story of two Americans in love in a Far Eastern cauldron of war and intrigue.
The novel will grab you from the first chapter through the heart pounding conclusion.
READER'S COMMENTS
Adam Tebrugge, Attorney, Capital Crimes Division, Office of Public Defender, 12th Judicial Circuit - "When a colleague presents you with a book that they have written there may be some reluctance to enter the fray. Even when the colleague is as entertaining and erudite as Jon Dietz, I must confess that I began reading this book with a modicum of trepidation. What if I were bored or confused or angered by his writing? "The Jerusalem Train" sat on my nightstand for several weeks taunting me. Finally I could avoid it no longer and on Monday evening I picked it up with the internal command to give it at least 50 pages before putting it down permanently. Within ten pages I was hooked and ended up spending most of my Veteran's Day engrossed in the tale. In fact, though my normal bedtime is ten p.m., I could not put the book down until I reached its conclusion somewhere around midnight.
Dietz billed his book as a historical romance but I would quibble a bit with that description. In reality, this is an action-adventure novel doused with a healthy quotient of blood and sex. You need not know one whit of history or even be romantically inclined in order to enjoy this novel. The action revolves around a massive stash of gold and the attempts of the protagonists to liberate that gold from the Tsar. The finest achievement of the author is the creation of a cast of memorable characters whose paths will all intersect by the time of the explosive finale.
Quite simply, The Jerusalem Train is not a good book - it is a great one. I read three to four books a week and I have not been entertained like this in some time."
Jeff Albrecht - Sarasota, Florida - "The plot will keep you riveted to the end. Daniloff, Ling, the Russian and Japanese stories are assembled in excellent form."
Katie Fort, Berea, Ohio - "Wow! What a neat story! [Dietz] really keeps the reader involved throughout the book, especially in the last few chapters when all the characters come together for the final climax."
Linda Swisher, Florida - "What a wonderful, wonderful novel. The language simply flows! I can't wait for the movie."
Fred Wernicke, Florida - "This novel is waiting for an epic movie production. No, wait, even Oliver Stone could not make the movie as good as the book!"
Marty Kaufman, Marion, Ohio - "Because the character development early on in this novel is so well done, the little understood and difficult time period of the Russo-Japanese war is no blockade to the thrilling adventure story that is told. The interaction of several lives moves dramatically towards the explosive conclusion! I can't wait for the movie version."
Marsha Sicks - Florida - "I enjoyed the story. [The author's] use of an unknown war was great background. You could tell that he did a lot of research."
Bob Olson - Bradenton, Florida - "Jon Dietz is comparable to John Jakes. The Jerusalem Train makes history a pleasure. Who would have thought the Russo-Japanese War could be made so interesting."
Jim Myer - North Port, Florida - "Excellent read! It's just too bad Dietz hasn't written more books. Or has he?"
Michael R. Friedman - Florida - "A fascinating way to learn about an important period of history that influenced the course of the 20th Century. A great read!"
Heidi Moore - Sarasota, Florida - "This book is riveting...you won't be able to put it down. A must read for all."

About the Author

Jon Dietz graduated from Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, in 1972, with a degree in political science. His main passion was history.
He worked for fifteen years at the Sarasota Herald-Tribune as a writer and an editor. He specialized in crime and military history. He covered the Ted Bundy trial for a magazine in Cophenhagen.
During the early 1980s Dietz collaborated with the late George T. Eggleston, former Editor-in-Chief at Readers Digest.
In 1985 Dietz was one of only 21 Americans to receive a grant from the Delegation of the Commission of European Communities, a branch of the European parliament. He spent a month on the continent studying the European space program, its high speed rail system, and currency fluctuations.
Dietz left the newspaper in 1986 to start another daily, the Independent.
For the past fifteen years Dietz has been a felony investigator for the Office of Public Defender, 12th Judicial Circuit, Florida. He investigated scores of homicides and lesser crimes for the office. He is now in an assistant supervisory capacity in the investigative division.
The contributing editor to The Jerusalem Train was Patricia Startzman.
Anyone wishing to communicate with the author can e-mail him at dietz111@comcast.net.

Sample Excerpts
EXCERPT ONE
But now Plehve sensed that this imminent war with Japan, one he knew had to come, would open up new opportunities for settling the Jewish problem once and for all.
Plehve never doubted that Russia would eventually win the war, but he believed the Japanese might do quite well in the early stages. Military setbacks would shock a population that had been told their country would crush the "macoes." Anything less than total success from the outset would cause initial confusion and a hunt for scapegoats.
And then, in the midst of the chaos, Plehve would strike. Russian newspaper headlines would scream about a powerful Jew who had embezzled from the Czar's bank and left the Far Eastern army unprepared. Russian sons dead because of a criminal act by a Jew!
More stories would follow, carefully crafted to imply that Jews in the army were helping the Japanese, and Jews in Europe were financing the war machine of the Yellow Peril.
Plehve never doubted the stories would be believed. After all, the people believed fabricated newspaper accounts that Jews were drinking the blood of Christian children in religious ceremonies. That ploy had been used many times to launch pogroms.
But this time it would be different-more organized, more thorough. An angry Russia, suffering defeats, would be less sensitive to international outrage over the treatment of Jews. This time the job could be done right.
A new and powerful organization of patriots, the Black Hundreds, would be sent, as they had been in the past, into the Pale. But this time Okhrana agents and regular army troops would augment them. Kill the Christ killers!
It would be the last pogrom. Those Jews who survived would be rounded up and concentrated in one province, probably Odessa, where they could be deported. Plehve even had a plan for sabotaging the ships on the high seas. The rest of the world might mumble a few protests, but Plehve knew in his heart no country would allow thousands of Jews to wash up on their shores. Better to turn a blind eye and let them drown, and bemoan the tragedy over cups of tea in quiet chambers among friends.
Plehve knew a lot was riding on Vasilov's shoulders. He had to catch Bakunin and the Jew with their hands in the till. Then again, maybe not. If the war began badly for Russia, Plehve was prepared to accuse Lieberman without any proof. As always in Russia, it was the Jewish people's lot to prove themselves innocent, not the state's to prove them guilty. Still, it would be best if Vasilov could prove stealing was going on.
'A Jew-free Russia,' Plehve thought, 'and I can make it happen.'
EXCERPT TWO
Maria's emotions whipsawed, and she was very quiet during the evening meal. Don Alvaredo noticed her distraction, and when she told him she was going out for a walk after dinner, he consented, but sent his son, Fernando, to follow her at a discreet distance. He often sent her brother to follow her clandestinely, and she had never suspected it.
Maria walked slowly down city streets, looking in shop windows, but in reality she was building up the courage to go to the Branch House. Fernando kept a good distance behind, never losing sight of his sister.
After two hours, she was a block from the hotel. She glanced in the lobby and observed the desk clerk walk to a back room. There was no one else around, and she made a split-second decision. She walked briskly past the desk and up one flight of stairs to room six. She hesitated for a moment, and then knocked.
"Come in," Daniloff said. He was lying in bed with only a pair of trousers on. The long wait for Maria, the uncertainty of her compliance, had inflamed his libido. Maria stood stone still as Daniloff just stared, not saying a word to her. She felt dizzy as he rose slowly from the bed and walked over to her. She could feel her heart pounding madly. The danger of this assignation made it all the more thrilling. Daniloff cupped the back of her head in his hand. He kissed her softly, and then harder. She dropped her small purse on the floor and placed both her arms around him. Daniloff slowly moved his tongue deep inside her mouth, and he was pleasantly surprised when she responded in kind. He no longer cared what happened, as long as Maria did not leave. He clawed at the fastenings on her clothing. Her hand, not unintentionally, brushed against his groin. He was ready to explode with desire. He carried her over to the bed and laid her roughly on a pillow. In a matter of moments they were both naked and their bodies locked together. Had the armies of Alexander the Great burst into the room, Daniloff would not have stopped his savage conquest for even a second.
EXCERPT THREE
Moving silently, Vasilov edged his way down the hill. From a hundred and fifty meters Vasilov could tell that the object of his investigation was Oriental. The man had binoculars. He would scan the harbor and then squat down to write on a piece of paper. He appeared to be a bit under five and a half feet tall. He had olive skin and jet-black hair. Vasilov smiled. There was no question now. The man was almost certainly a Japanese intelligence agent monitoring the ships in the harbor. The square-jawed Okhrana agent knew what he had to do.
Silently he checked his Walther automatic. He kept it in his right hand as he crept closer to his quarry. Scanning the sloping ground in front of him as he progressed in a crouching posture downhill, he carefully avoided stepping on twigs that might snap, or the occasional pebble that might loosen and tumble.
He did not know the man's name was Kinsaburo Naruta or that he worked as a waiter in Chin's Restaurant. But he knew all he needed to know: that Naruta was a spy like himself and that they were opponents in a deadly game.
When Vasilov was thirty meters away he decided to act. He rose slowly from his crouch, gripping the gun lightly, resting the butt in his left hand. The sun was shining directly overhead and there was no shadow to betray him. A gusty autumn breeze from the harbor whipped Vasilov's trousers as he rose, and he could feel them buffet and flap against his ankles and shins. He was grateful for this wind, however, as its high monotone whistling helped to dampen any sound he might have made during his cautious descent. All his senses were acutely attuned as he concentrated on the man directly downslope from him. His right index finger began a slow squeeze.
"Macoe!" Vasilov contemptuously barked the insult. Stunned, Naruta whirled to face his stalker. Had his reflexes been better, he would have dove head first into the tall grass and gone for the revolver in his boot. But his training failed him this day, his last.
The report from the Walther was sharp and final. The bullet found its mark in the triangle above the victim's nose and between his eyes. It exited the back of his skull. Naruta's body flew backwards, and landed in a limp, lifeless heap on the ground.
EXCERPT FOUR
Lieberman leaned back, partly to check himself in case he was becoming too emotional. He knew his speech was wasted on an already committed audience. He wished he could address those Jews in their comfortable English cottages, or in their chateaus in France, and grab them by their throats and shout "Wake up! Wake up!"
For ten seconds no one spoke. Stern broke the silence. "What are we to do, Uri?"
"When one is trapped on an open plain and besieged on all sides by predators, one must find a sanctuary or die," Lieberman stated through clenched teeth. "For the Jew that sanctuary is Palestine."
"Excuse me, Mnogouvazhaem Uri," Brody said, "What can six Jews in China possibly do to help bring to fruition our dream?"
Lieberman replied even more levelly and pointedly: "It is my belief that each one of you will be primarily responsible for the birth of a new nation - Israel."
The five men were shocked. Who was this banker that he should make such grandiose pronouncements? Yet none thought him insane. All were consumed with a burning curiosity. Bychowski shot to his feet. "Tell us what we must do!"
Lieberman smiled and arose, too. "I will tell you momentarily, my friends, but first, I wish to make a toast."
Lieberman took the glasses and brandy from his case. He poured an equal amount in each glass and bade his admirers to pick one up. "For two thousand years Jews have uttered these words no matter where they lived. I believe these four words are the reason we have survived. They have sustained us through countless tyrants, a million atrocities and a billion indignities. Before I tell you your mission and the dangers you face, I wish to utter these words again now."
Lieberman raised his glass. "Next year in Jerusalem!"
"Next year in Jerusalem!" came five adamant replies. The brandy was downed in one swallow, and the glasses were smashed against the far wall.
EXCERPT FIVE
Daniloff moved from behind her to her side. He rested his hands on the sill. His shoulder brushed hers.
"This is an alien city in a dying civilization. The Chinese regard Port Arthur as one more gross insult among innumerable insults. The Japanese regard it as a mortal threat to them. The Russians, or more accurately, the Czar's court, want to bleed China while it can't defend itself. Come spring, when the fuse is lit, this should be a very interesting place."
"You sound like a very pessimistic historian."
"My employer is a great believer in history. He tutors me, with or without my consent."
They smiled at each other. Both found their conversation easy and unforced. But they were becoming aware there was more between them than compatible conversation. Each felt a tingling sensation, as if a small charge of static electricity were passing through them. Daniloff now dreaded the moment when Martin Carlson would come and reclaim his daughter. He wondered if he could press her now for some commitment to see him again. He was deciding how to phrase his words when he noticed Christina squinting out the window, searching the horizon.
"Alec," she said suddenly, not realizing she had just called him by his first name, "Isn't this a strange time of the year for a lightning storm?"
Puzzled, Daniloff turned his eyes to the black water some distance beyond the huge window. On the horizon were bright flashes of light, looking somewhat like fireflies on a July night in Ohio. Daniloff's teeth clenched. He instinctively placed a protective arm around Christina's shoulder. Then, in an even voice, he said, "that isn't lightning, Christina. We are at war."

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