“Well, yes, Comrade General. Maybe a special training mission trying something new, so they needed closer contact?”
He had lost his commander’s attention already, but he knew the look and waited patiently for the torrent of orders that would probably come next.
“Have the records of messages regarding the sinkings of our submarines in the Baltic in the last twelve months brought in straight away please.”
Orlov disappeared to issue the orders and to organise something that would meet with his General’s approval.
Rufin arrived with his normal liquid stash, only to find that Nazarbayeva not only got in first, but her supply was considerably larger.
Slipping his bottle back into his trouser pocket, he poured two measures each before the reports arrived; there were quite a few, each one marking the loss of scores of Mother Russia’s sons.
But Tatiana Nazarbayeva wasn’t interested in the contents, simply the circulation list.
“No… no… no… no…,” she looked at each list in turn and saw the omission.
“Not there.”
She put the entire glass of vodka down her throat and held it out for another refill, which Rufin supplied, despite Orlov’s raised eyebrow.
“There is a standard circulation list on these reports, each marking a submarine overdue. It’s a standard procedure obviously. They’re all the same on these reports… see?”
She dropped the files on the table in turn, each with the ‘overdue’ report foremost.
The circulation lists were identical.
“Now, J-57.”
“The same, Comr… ah, I see.”
Rufin read the difference aloud.
“Nine-two-two-six… what’s that?”
Nazarbayeva knocked back her fourth vodka and slid the empty glass towards the broached bottle, but this time Orlov’s eyebrow won over Rufin’s habit and the glasses stayed empty.
She leant forward and grabbed a pencil and paper.
“I haven’t got the faintest idea to be honest.”
Drawing him towards the paper, the pencil danced and words formed under it as she talked innocently.
‘There was a special project I was part of. It was called Raduga.’
“Perhaps it’s a new agency? A casualty bureau of some sort?”
‘I’m told that the project was cancelled. It involved the deployment and use…’
“I have seen such number groups before… special routings.”
‘…of biological, chemical, nerve agents, and atomic weapons on the Allies. I know it wasn’t cancelled.’
“Of course, this could simply be a typist’s error, Comrades.”
‘This is not the number group for Raduga…’
“Unlikely it’s of any significance now I think of it. These reports can go back, thank you.”
‘…but they are not used lightly. This sub’s loss is significant and I need to know why.”
“Straight away, Comrade General.”
Orlov opened the door as the scribbled notes were screwed up and a match made ready.
“Leytenant Rikardova, return these files to records immediately.”
The woman and files virtually flew out of the door, which was quickly shut to prevent the smell of burning paper reaching the noses of those in the main office.
“I need to fly to Moscow tomorrow. I’ll ask Comrade Admiral Kuznetsov whilst I’m there. For now, see what you can find out through Baltic command, Comrade Mayor.”
Rufin saluted and left.
Orlov heard the chink of glass on glass and realised that his boss was fuelling her increasing habit once again.
Nazarbayeva had noticed his attempts to prevent her drinking.
“Don’t be an old woman, Bogdan Vasilyevich.”
“I would be remiss in my duty if I do nothing, Comrade Leytenant General.”
She laughed.
“Your duty is discharged. Thank you… now join me for another before I go off duty… contact General Poliakov and regretfully inform him that our chess game is cancelled this evening… and please have the offices swept again this afternoon.”
As she lay fully clothed on her bed snoring her way through a few hours’ sleep, the technical section carried out another close inspection of her offices.
At six p.m. she returned to discover that there were two items of note that had been placed in the office since the last inspection, some forty-eight hours previously.
They had been left in position and were clearly marked with signs.
This was standard practice, in case the tables could be turned on the listeners.
One was a standard NKVD type listening device.
The other, more worryingly, wasn’t.
2054 hrs, Thursday, 6th March 1947, the Kremlin Grand Park, Moscow, USSR.
“Comrade Leytenant General! What a surprise! I thought you had returned to the front.”
“Comrade Polkovnik General. My heartiest congratulations on your well-deserved promotion.”
The two senior officers embraced and Nazarbayeva invited the deputy head of the NKVD to sit with her.
His security detail eyed the woman and the major accompanying her with a mixture of disdain and wariness, until Kaganovich gestured them to one side, clearly relaxed and unworried.
They tensed for a moment as the woman fished in the pocket of her thick overcoat, only relaxing when the two officers took turns in consuming some of the contents of the flask that had materialised in her hand.
The two engaged in small talk, or so it seemed.
“We’re safe to talk here, Tatiana. What worries you so much that you drag me out in the cold evening, eh?”
“The submarine we seem to have lost.”
“What submarine?”
“J-57 is overdue in the Baltic… or should I say ‘Sovetskaya Vynoslivost’ has not contacted base.”
“Careful, Tatiana Sergievna.”
“Why do I need to be careful, Ilya Borisevich. I serve the Motherland. What’s happening here?”
“A submarine has failed to report i…”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
Her outburst drew every eye and Kaganovich laughed and slapped her on the shoulder, which immediately relaxed the watchers.
“So what do you mean?”
“Nine-two-two-six.”
Kaganovich laughed again and pulled her to him as if hugging an amusing close friend.
His laugh trailed away and he whispered in her ear before releasing and sitting back.
“Not your business, Tatiana. Drop it.”
The flask appeared again and Kaganovich took a generous swig before passing it back.
“That keeps the chills at bay.”
“Indeed, Ilya Borisevich. But I need… I want an answer. There’s something going on that I’m being excluded from. Something clearly important enough to warrant a four number code. The last such was issued to Raduga. Is this the code group for the new Raduga?”
His face said all, even in the low and subtle lighting in the park.
“It’s all still running, isn’t it? Every fucking bit of it… not just research… but everything… plus more besides I expect?”
He stayed silent.
“Raduga is still running, every part of it, despite the peace… you told me so and I now know it… you know this… you also know it wasn’t just the atomic advances… for fuck’s sake, Comrade… are they fucking ma…”
She stopped in mid-sentence as her mind threw something into the mix.
“The submarine… I remember part of Raduga involved using biological weapons against the rear line and civilians in Germany… submarine delivered diseases to be introduced into water supplies. That’s J-57, isn’t it? J-57 was carrying bio… they’re taking us to war again, aren’t they? Raduga was a response option, not an attack.”