That was of little comfort, as Bagramyan’s 1st Baltic had suffered the most casualties of any front so far.
“Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Comrade Nazarbayeva. Mikhail, no time like the present.”
Malinin understood his boss perfectly and excused himself from the room.
Whilst the CoS commenced a number of haranguing phone calls to Front and Army commanders across Europe, Zhukov decided on more tea.
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
Nazarbayeva, in the habit of all messengers in such circumstances, stayed silent, just in case.
The silence went on, with Zhukov deep in thought.
The tea arrived and Zhukov dismissed the orderly, taking advantage of the act of pouring to bring himself back from his un-soviet thoughts.
Taking a sip of his drink, Zhukov adjusted his jacket and looked at Intelligence officer.
“Tell me you have some good news for me, Tatiana,” the use of her name being more indicative of Zhukov’s distraction and annoyance than anything else.
“Comrade Marshall, the NKVD report you will see tomorrow will not include all matters of relevance regarding production, supply and reinforcement.”
“Go on.”
Behind his eyes, Tatiana could see the smouldering embers come to life, a growing fire of anger she had not seen before, yet spoken of in hushed whispers by others less fortunate than she.
“Ukrainian separatists continue to cause problems with the rail network. This week alone they have derailed or destroyed eight trains carrying supplies and equipment to the front.”
That the figure was in excess of his briefing was apparent in Zhukov’s silence. The fire spread inside.
“German partisan attacks are on the increase as you are aware, but the increase in security combined with the centralisation of supply seems to have reduced their effectiveness.”
That was not news to the man.
“NKVD inspection teams descended upon Chelyabinsk and made examples amongst some of the senior staff. Production has fallen by nearly 20% in the last two weeks, mainly lost in IS-2 and 3 output, and the new IS-4 production line will not be completed for some time to come it seems.”
“Go on.”
“The production of bridging equipment has increased since you insisted on it, but quality control has declined. So much so that our NKVD comrades have put units in place to ensure maintenance of production and standards. Unfortunately, they have shot a number of senior factory employees responsible for standards and, as of last Wednesday, the main factory has ceased production following a fire that is suspected to be arson.”
The conflagration in Zhukov’s head was now raging out of control.
“Tell me that is it, please Comrade. There is no more of this.”
Tatiana took the plunge.
“Your request to employ Soviet prisoners of war who are engineering skilled is to be refused. Both the NKVD and GKO see such an acceptance of surrendered personnel as undermining the fighting spirit of the Red Army.”
Total meltdown.
“Are they fucking mad? Do they not have fucking eyes and ears? I, we…”, he brought his breathing under control, “The Motherland needs those men, and their skills, and we need them now.”
Holding her ground, Nazarbayeva spoke firmly.
“I state the position of the GKO and NKVD on the matter, Comrade Marshall.”
The door opened and in came Malinin, attracted by the sudden raised voices. He nodded to his commander, indicating that the wheels had been set in motion
The momentary lapse now history, Zhukov spoke softly.
“My apologies, Comrade Polkovnik.”
She said nothing, only surprised that he had bothered to apologise at all.
“Listen to this, Mikhail,” and he beckoned Tatiana into a repeat.
Malinin was as appalled as his boss, but didn’t have the luxury of venting himself as Zhukov had done.
Professionalism rallied and extinguished the flames in an instant.
“Right, enough. I will tackle this and the other issues tomorrow in Moscow. Which of these reports can I officially have, Comrade Nazarbayeva.”
“I will be in Moscow tomorrow presenting all of these reports myself, Comrade Marshall.”
“All?”
“Of course. How can Comrade Stalin and the GKO make proper decisions if their information is flawed?”
“Such an attitude is excellent, but you do understand that Comrade Beria already seems to hate you, and pulling his NKVD report apart will be tantamount to a declaration of war?”
Both Zhukov and Malinin noticed the firmer set in her features and the resolution in her voice.
“We are at war with the capitalists and we must win, so I will take the risk of Comrade Beria’s wrath to ensure that the Motherland is best served, Comrade Marshall.”
‘Balls of steel!’
“You will accompany me tomorrow then, Comrade Polkovnik. I am leaving at 0630 hrs.”
“I am on the same flight, Comrade Marshall.”
“Is there anything else, Comrade?”
Tatiana considered saying nothing, but she felt her relationship with the great man was such that she could share something less tangible with him.
“Yes Sir. I have a feeling that something is not as it seems with Spain. I have little to go on but a gut feeling and some low-level reports, but my instincts are telling me there is trouble ahead.”
Zhukov, understanding that the woman had offered up a feeling based on intuition, recognised it as the privilege it was, and acted appropriately.
“What sort of trouble are you thinking of, Comrade?”
“At the moment, we have neutralised Spain. The NKVD are bragging about an operation they ran that brought Franco into a neutral position, removing the Spanish Army from the equation.”
“Yes, so I heard. What operation?”
“As yet I do not know, Comrade Marshall, which in itself is unusual. Combine that with the fact my prime informants have dropped out of sight and there are some unusual circumstances in Spain.”
“So, what makes your intuition tell you there is a problem?”
“Little things, like the possibility that some Allied merchant vessels still dock in Spanish ports, possibly with cargoes unloaded clandestinely. The absence of any information from GRU and NKVD agents in north-west Spain, and I mean absolutely nothing at all, Comrades.”
“And?”
Zhukov pushed, knowing there was more.
“And a report from a low-level agent who describes an officer staying incognito in a modest villa on the outskirts of Saint Germain-de-la-Grange, which is near Versailles.”
‘Not bad from memory, Tatiana.’
“She is a cleaner and received an unfamiliar uniform to prepare, and her report seems to describe perfectly the uniform of a Spanish Army General.”
Zhukov exchanged looks with Malinin, but neither ventured a comment.
“If I get further information, I will report it immediately, Comrade Marshall.”
Standing to mark the end of proceedings, Zhukov ran his fingers across his pate.
“Thank you, Comrade Polkovnik. An excellent, if not unwelcome report.”
Malinin moved to the door and opened it for the GRU officer, again, not something he ever did for run of the mill Colonels.
Nazarbayeva took her leave and the Chief of Staff closed the door behind her.
Turning back into the room, he found Zhukov sat at the desk once more, grinning widely, despite the bad news he had recently received.
“Well, Mikhail?”
He pursed his lips in thought, although none was necessary, his mind had already made up its mind.
“You were absolutely right, Comrade. That is one hell of a formidable woman.”
“Balls of steel.”
Zhukov laughed at his description.
“Balls of steel indeed, Comrade Marshall.”