“I’m totally convinced that the attack was not planned and instigated by the Allies as such. I believe it was instigated by Germany alone… possibly with the collusion of some of the Polish Army… and these are my reasons, Comrade General Secretary.”
“Oh, spare me the fucking German option again eh?…”
“Comrade General Secretary, you asked me how it could happen, and I’m giving you an option that is not only feasible, but the only explanation that can presently be considered such.”
“Then speak… but I warn you… no fairy tales, Comrade.”
She spoke of Gehlen and De Walle, of Abwehr agents and associations with senior men.
She recalled Ramsey’s words and finished by reciting them word for word.
When she finished her doubts washed over her, as it all seemed so weak… and yet, she sensed it was true.
Stalin’s anger seemed to have dissipated none the less, and his voice returned to normal, steady and unhurried.
“Comrade General, that’s a lot of words for so little real information.”
Stalin sat down again and ravaged his hair with his fingertips, as if trying to press some buttons on the brain below.
“Find out for sure. I want you to find out beyond any doubt… do everything you can to find out how this whole fuck up started. Work together. You and Kaganovich are thick as thieves so I’m told. Is that a problem, Comrade Marshal?”
“Not at all, Comrade General Secretary.”
Beria was secretly delighted that Stalin had immediately provided him with the means to side-step any blame should the cause not be discovered.
“But understand this…”
The finger switched between the GRU and NKVD officers, resembling a rifle at a firing squad, as the angry man surfaced for one final time.
“…I want results and no fucking excuses. You’ve both fucked up for the last time. No more, do you hear me, Comrades? No more!”
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary.”
Their voices combined into one, and received a nod from Stalin.
“Good. Anything else? No, then I…”
Something made her speak… despite determining not to… she did it anyway.
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary.”
“Go on, Comrade Nazarbayeva.”
“I understand that you assured that Raduga is now defunct, except for research… but…I have found reference to a circulation group 9226. Is Raduga’s research running in some way that requires the GRU to be excluded?”
“Did you not ask me this already, woman?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry, Comrade General Secretary. I just wanted to know if there was any possibility that it might have been resurrected… given the current circumstances.”
“Ah… I understand… as I said, the research elements of Raduga proceed as was always intended, Comrade General.”
He looked at Beria, seeking a show of support.
“From memory, I believe that 9226 is the reporting group for progress on technical matters relating to Atomic weapons.”
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary. A Middle Machinery group… well mainly… NKVD are involved as we oversee the project security. I believe GRU is simply not part of this group.”
“There you go then, Comrade Nazarbayeva. It’s not a GRU concern. Now, let’s concentrate on finding out how this fuck up started eh?”
Nazarbayeva took her leave, knowing that both Stalin and Beria had openly lied to her.
The die was cast.
1703 hrs, Tuesday, 18th March 1947, Imperial College, London, England.
“Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, Professor.”
“Always a pleasure to entertain a member of our American forces, General. How may I be of assistance?”
“You spoke with Len Cheshire regarding some urgent matters that were for the attention of General Strong?”
“Yes, shocking business… poor old Kenneth… and Eisenhower too, of course… all of them… shocking business.”
“Yes, I agree, Sir. However, life and the war go on, and I’m here because apparently you have vital information about the Soviet’s war effort.
The two discussed the nature of the information, and Penny produced the original documents for examination.
“Where did this come from?”
“Haven’t the foggiest, old chap, but it’s the biggest nut in there.”
Strong’s filing required that each item was date stamped and initialled, which provided some information to help with the main problem.
“Where did it come from, Sir?”
“Again, I haven’t got the slightest clue. All I know is that it tells me that the Soviets are further advanced than we suspected.”
“May I please take this, Professor? It’s vital for my investigation.”
“Feel free, General. I have two copies of everything anyway.”
“I wonder if you would be free tomorrow for lunch? There’s someone who would like to meet up with you.”
“Absolutely, free day tomorrow. Was going to do some desk work, but I can always make myself available for a nice lunch. Time?”
“There’ll be a car for you at the main entrance at midday.”
“Intriguing. Do tell me more.”
“I won’t be there, I’m afraid, professor. I have business elsewhere. You’ll be meeting with General Groves and Colonel Pash, who’re both extremely interested in what you have to say.”
“I’ll be there, General.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have so much to do. Thank you for your time, Professor.”
They shook hands.
“My pleasure. Take care, General.”
Back in his London office, Rossiter grabbed the telephone and sought a connection to NATO headquarters.
“General Rossiter’s office, Major Cortez speaking.”
“Jed, it’s me. Drop everything. I want you to pull Strong’s appointments diary for March 7th. Anything at all that’s in there, down to the last detail… anything…I want to know. Also entry logs to the building for the same day. I’m in the London office and I’ll be waiting by the phone.”
“I’m on it, General.”
“I’ll be waiting, Jed.”
By the time Rossiter had lowered the receiver into the rest, Jesus Cortez was on the move to Strong’s outer office.
The phone rang and Rossiter snatched it up in an instant.
“Rossiter.”
He listened intently, noting each name or meeting in turn, and mentally checked off each as being unlikely.
“Is that it?”
He laughed, remembering how Kenneth Strong liked his scotch, so a delivery of it was probably of little import.
“What was that? Say that last bit again?”
Rossiter’s pencil flew across the paper, noting the information down with growing excitement.
“So, he cancels his car for 1930… and then again the rescheduled pick-up at 2030… and there’s no rescheduling after that… so he either didn’t leave or left by another means… plus… of all things flowers… so… an important visitor not on his list who deserved flowers as a last minute thing… a woman visitor… a special woman visitor…”
The silence was deafening.
“He wasn’t having an affair was he?”
“Not a chance, Sir. Absolutely not a chance.”
“OK, so who came to the headquarters… say from six onwards… females first.”
Cortez checked down the list of entrants, starting at 1800.
“Three female for sure… there may be more, Sir. A WAAF section officer, Christine Mann… one of Tedder’s chicks I suspect. Daphne Hamilton-Hewitt, British Red Cross… and Madame Knocke, whoever the hell she is.”