“What about RYAN then? What about your foreign agents?”
“They are reporting that the Americans are at Defcon 3. That is war readiness.”
“Get them working. We need to know what is going on over there, Yuri!”
“I have redirected existing agents to focus on RYAN; nothing else.” Aleksandrov tapped some papers in front of him. “We have started recruiting new agents and will target a few honey traps. My directorate has already targeted hundreds of American servicemen, the German military, students and businessmen in West Germany and Berlin. We’ll get to the bottom of it, Comrade Secretary.”
“Who is driving them?”
“I have sent a Permanent Operative Assignment. That will ensure our agents over there will be methodical in their approach in uncovering what the Americans are up to.”
“What about their allies, their British puppets and German lackeys? Are they on a high alert?”
“Yes, Comrade Secretary, both are at the same level. The French as well.”
Baskov looked down at the meeting table, clearly sifting through his mind what he had just heard, along with previous conversations. He looked up again. “What about the military?”
“The Glavnoye Razvedyvatel’noye Upravieniye (GRU) are actively seeking information on NATO forces. They have a lot to do. The West are starting to build up their forces as well as introducing tactical nuclear weapons into Europe.”
“We can only survive a nuclear strike, Yuri, if we pre-empt it. Their Pershing IIs have a flight time of only five or six minutes from Germany to our motherland. They have a real capability to hit us quickly, and it reduces our time to retaliate. I will call the council together today. This needs to be discussed further at the highest levels of the party. In the meantime, I want all of our nuclear capable aircraft in Poland and the German Democratic Republic to be brought to a high-alert status. I shall also order our ICBMs to be readied for launch.”
“The Americans won’t be able to detect our ICBMs state of readiness. Then, when the time comes to strike—”
“We need more intelligence, Yuri,” interrupted Baskov, thumping the desk with his fist.
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary, I will send a Flash message to all of our residencies that the American bases are on a high alert, and demand further information from them on the Americans’ readiness for a first strike.”
“What about the East Germans?”
“The Hauptverwaltung Aufklärung have been tasked to assist us.”
“Good, Yuri, good. We are in a bad position. Is your foreign intelligence directorate computer programme still showing a negative trend for us?”
“Yes, Comrade Secretary, we are still currently losing the overall battle and the United States is steadily gaining ground.’
“This cannot continue, Yuri,” responded Baskov, slapping the table again. “We are even buying grain from the West. Twice as much as our tenth year plan and three times as much as our ninth year plan; a quarter of it off the Americans.” He thumped the table again.
“You are right, Comrade General Secretary, things are dire. Afghanistan is not going well for us, and Cuba is sucking in far too much money. We can’t sustain that for much longer. The Angolan regime are struggling to hold back the American-backed insurgents and, to top it all, Nicaragua’s Marxist government is being strongly challenged by their opposition forces, again supported by the interfering Americans.”
“We are losing our way, Yuri. Our grand strategic assault on the West is fading. What about American public opinion?”
“They are not particularly supportive of us, General Secretary.”
“They never have been, Yuri,” responded Baskov with a laugh. “But neither have they been particularly supportive of their own country.”
Aleksandrov leant forward. “But that is changing.”
“In what way?”
“Since the Korean airline incident, and others, there is a steady groundswell of support forming. They’re even starting to back the American defence build-up.”
“Yes, but will they support their government when the money starts to run out for their Star Wars extravaganza?”
“This Strategic Defence Initiative will cost them billions, Comrade Secretary. Surely they can’t maintain that level of expenditure and support their NATO conventional forces.”
“But you said the American public were in support.”
“They are. But their president has been telling his voters lies about our nuclear capabilities. Their technology is also improving every day, Comrade Secretary. Even children in America play with computers. Their weapons are becoming increasingly more sophisticated.”
“We are ahead of them with our conventional forces currently, Yuri, but they are catching up with us. It has to stop; it has to stop now!” Baskov again thumped the table.
“But we are already spending twenty per cent of our gross national product on our military.”
“I know. Our economy cannot afford to sustain our current spend, let alone increase it.”
“What’s the answer then, Comrade General Secretary?”
“There is only one, Yuri. War! We must strike first and hard, while we can.”
“Nuclear?”
“No, unless that is what the Americans want. We have a strong enough conventional army to take on and defeat NATO.”
“What about a possible nuclear response? The American Pershing missiles are already on the European continent.”
“We have our SS-20s. Anyway, when it gets to that, we sue for peace,” Baskov responded with a sly smile. “The West German government aren’t going to want a nuclear holocaust raining down on German cities, are they, Yuri?”
“But we keep our territorial gains achieved at that point?” Aleksandrov smiled. “Shrewd, Comrade Secretary.”
“I will call the Politburo together. We need to meet.”
“And meet with the military?”
“Yes, definitely.”
“The Commander in Chief of the Teatr Voyennykh Deystviy, the Soviet Western TVD Command, Marshal Obraztsov, will have to take the brunt of any hostilities against the West. The main thrust of the attack will be under his responsibility.”
“He has a large force under his command, Yuri, to fulfil that very role.”
There was a knock at the door and Baskov called his assistant in. She was bearing a tray holding a pot of coffee, two cups and plate of Lepeshki biscuits. She pottered around the table serving the two senior Politburo members. As she was leaving the room, Baskov got up from his seat and walked to his desk, picking up a file that had been lying there. He returned to the table, dropping down into his chair, and slapped the file onto the table in front of Aleksandrov. “молот, Yuri, Exercise молот 84.”
“What about it, Comrade Secretary? Cancel it now and attack for real?”
Baskov picked up one of the biscuits and took a small bite, savouring the almonds and the extra special taste created by using sour cream rather than butter to make them. Through a mouth full of crumbs, some of them spraying the table, he whispered, “No, Yuri. We go ahead, but it will be an exercise with a difference.”
He sat back, pushing the plate towards his KGB Chairman. Aleksandrov took one and dipped it into his coffee before taking a large bite, wet morsels decorating his tie. “Use the exercise as cover? But not all of our divisions, apart from those in East Germany, are at full strength.”
“Yes. Use it to consolidate our forces ready to strike!” Baskov pounded the table again. “To build up our under-strength divisions, we can call up our reserve troops to complete their annual training, but not release them; keep them with their units.”
“But the West will pick up on that, surely.”