“No, General Nazarbayeva, no we were not… would not. We wanted no more war. Your attack caught us off-guard because we were only thinking of enjoying the new peace.”
Nazarbayeva poured herself another measure, which allowed Ramsey time to continue.
“You have lost much in this war, General. Three sons that we know of. Makarenko told us of the futility of your son’s death in Alsace, a mission contrived by Stalin as much to punish as to achieve any great success.”
She listened, her heart heavy with memories.
“Another son lost in Spain… betrayed by one of the men you now defend… if not both of them.”
“And yet another who died whilst in our care, as ordered by your own leadership, a third son lost to you in another man’s folly.”
Philby had confessed to organising the execution of Ilya Nazarbayev near Shenfield, and it was expected to be a trump card if the female GRU officer still wavered.
She could have enlightened Ramsey further but held her peace.
“I’m a loyal soldier of the Motherland! Sacrifices are inevitable in war!”
“A war that was contrived by your present leaders… for their own purposes… one that has cost the lives of three of your sons so far.”
“And Roman signed up to this, did he?”
“Yes, he did. As a patriotic Russian, he understood that there was no choice.”
She poured another drink as Ramsey took a large draught of his lager and picked out his cigarettes.
Out of gentlemanly habit, he proffered the pack to the woman and was surprised when she accepted.
“Our file is incomplete, it seems. We didn’t know you smoked.”
“I didn’t. War has a habit of changing people, Polkovnik Ramsey.”
“Yes… that’s most certainly the harsh truth, Comrade General.”
They smoked in silence, enjoying the rich tobacco in combination with the drink of their choosing.
Ramsey had already observed that the alcohol consumption of the woman was remarkable, partially only for its quantity and partially for its seeming lack of effect.
Nazarbayeva finished yet another glass and refilled before speaking again.
“Let us hypothetically proceed as if I were to agree to take up where Roman Pekunin left off. What would that entail, and what would it mean for the Motherland?”
“In the main, he was a go-between. Providing secure communications between two groups with a mutual interest. At times, he was more pro-active, but that was his choice, and we never asked him directly for any military information, and never asked him to betray his country.”
“And how does that communication take place?”
Ramsey considered the question.
It had been anticipated, and he was only to proceed if he was convinced the woman was compliant.
He remained to be so convinced.
“That is something we can discuss later, Comrade General.”
“Through Sweden then?”
Ramsey held her gaze without moving a muscle, sensing she needed a push in the right direction, and deciding to allow her the information.
“Through Sweden is your preferred route, is it not, General Nazarbayeva?”
She looked at him, now understanding that the Colonel was cleared for much more than a man of his rank would normally know.
None the less, she decided to test him.
“Preferred?”
“Your file was received with some scepticism, but there may be some truth in it.”
She filed that comment away as quite important, and wondered it was a slip or an intended statement.
“I used Sweden for that. And you would choose Sweden too?”
“Yes, most definitely. Pekunin used the same route that you employed, and everything eventually got to us. I believe you have his treasured copy of ‘The State and the Revolution’?”
She nodded, understanding his meaning fully.
“And within the Soviet Union? Who are my allies there?”
“They’ll identify themselves to you. You almost probably already know them.”
“The code phrases?”
“Yes indeed, General.”
“I’ve tried a number of times, and yet to find someone who responds.”
Ramsey could go no further, as his specific orders prohibited naming any agent or accomplice, come what may.
Obviously the woman had to understand that her two missing delegates were from that camp.
“So, you expect me to communicate with you on behalf of some unknown group which is conspiring with my enemies against the leadership of my country, through Sweden in some way you can’t explain. Is that about right?”
Ramsey smiled, accepting the woman’s sarcasm.
“Comrade General Nazarbayeva, you must understand that General Pekunin committed himself to this, and was no traitor to the Rodina. He was a patriotic man, who understood that your country had been brought back to war by the acts of a few evil men, and he was prepared to risk himself to remove those men, as are a few men still in the higher echelons of your government. What we are asking is that you consider replacing him and allow us to assist your own patriots in seizing back the Motherland from the men who are abusing her and her people.”
‘Unknown group… what the deuce? She answered the phrase!’
She tilted the glass towards him in mock acknowledgement, or so he thought.
“Pretty words, Polkovnik Ramsey. My loyalty is to the Motherland first and foremost, you understand.”
She weighed up matters in her mind and decided that her compliance might bring indiscretion from the Englishman, which might enable her to gather sufficient information to denounce the traitors in their midst.
“I will follow the example set by my old friend Pekunin, and trust to his judgement that what I’m doing is not damaging to my country. If it proves otherwise, there’ll be hell to pay. You understand?”
Ramsey raised his glass.
“Indeed I do, Comrade Leytenant General Nazarbayeva. Cheers and welcome to the club.”
“Na Zdorovie, Polkovnik Ramsey.”
The Swedish barman was puzzled, having heard nothing of the conversation, the two officers suddenly clinked glasses and celebrated some sort of deal… joining a club as he thought he had heard.
His report to Tørget carried little of worth apart from those few words. The Swedish spymaster suspected that he knew exactly what that entailed, and decided that Nazarbayeva must now be on board with the operation.
“Now, I would like to ask a question of you, General.”
“So soon, Polkovnik Ramsey?”
“It is a matter of some urgency, and I would hope that you can feel free to answer.”
“Go on.”
“In early February, our intelligence services identified a secret shipment passing through Lithuania. That was subsequently identified as Anthrax.”
“A biological weapon?”
“Not weaponised, no. One hundred litre drums, a large number of them.”
“Go on.”
“Your submarine was in fact sunk by our forces, and men were rescued, all tainted with Anthrax, which we have subsequently discovered as being aboard the submarine in roughly the same numbers as was transported by the NKVD down the River Neman.”
Ramsey embellished the truth a little, totally accurately unbeknown to him.
“I know nothing of this, Polkovnik Ramsey… but such an act is not planned by my leadership, of that I am absolutely sure.”
Her sincerity was apparent, although he could not read her mind.
‘Again, it is confirmed… all of Raduga is still running… the delivery of anthrax into water systems in Northern Germany and Denmark… it is all still running!’
“I can help you no more, Polkovnik Ramsey.”
They both stood, each showing physical discomfort in their own individual way.