Endgame (The Red Gambit Series Book 7)

by Colin Gee

  “Maybe because it’s all sea area concentrated. No increase of note in activities on land in Europe… or in China I can also tell you.”

  “I understand, but we’ve picked up a lot of twitches in their intelligence services. Questions being asked… questions about our former allies.”

  “Yes, we’ve noticed that too. I suspect Comrade Beria had already informed them of that. Didn’t worry them either, did it?”

  “Not at all, Comrade. To be honest. I’ve never seen the General Secretary in such a fine mood. It was almost as if nothing could be said to dampen his day. His reaction to the news of the final withdrawal was non-existent… the idea of giving up hard-won ground has constantly exercised him since we started the process, and yet nothing.”

  “Perhaps he got some good news, eh?”

  “Comrade Malenkov and Academician Kurchatov saw him just before me. Can’t have been them, as we all know our programme is behind time, hence the abandonment of Raduga.”

  Kaganovich stuffed his mouth with beetroot and ham for no other reason than to buy himself a moment’s thinking time.

  “Can I share a confidence with you, Comrade Nazarbayeva?”

  “But of course, Comrade Kaganovich.”

  “The atomic research part of our programme has recently been lifted by some assistance from other sources and is now in advance of schedule.”

  “How is that possible? There’s been no such information given to the GRU. The last report, dated early November if I recall… the Ministry of Middle Machinery made it quite clear. We’re behind in all but a few of the development stages.”

  “You’re correct, comrade. It did.”

  What he was about to do was also in advance of schedule, but he reasoned he would have more to lose if he didn’t use the opportunity the woman had presented.

  He went over to his filing cabinet, unlocked it, and removed a box file.

  “November 4th if my memory serves me.”

  He immediately produced a copy of the document she had already seen.

  He then covered it with another document dated 4th November.

  One she had not previously seen.

  “That is the real report from Middle Machinery, Comrade.”

  “Real report? What do you mean, Comrade?”

  “GRU is not included in certain matters any more. I’m not clear why, but there seems to be a trust issue, Tatiana.”

  He used her name to help soften the blow, not for her, but for his own purposes. He needed to concentrate on what he was saying.

  “Your men were withdrawn, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember there was a freshening of staff within the projects, men out, men in, an exercise suggested by…”

  “Suggested by Comrade Beria.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your personnel are all loyal to the NKVD. Their reports to you are coordinated to coincide with the official reports of Middle Machinery. Beria engineered the whole thing to remove you from the process… with the compliance… no, agreement of the General Secretary.”

  Something lit off in her brain.

  “That’s why Malenkov was strange during our last meeting.”

  Kaganovich leant forward and lowered his voice.

  “Perhaps there is also another reason, Comrade Nazarbayeva.”

  It was a statement, but despite her lack of political awareness it was one she understood immediately.

  “Beria wants me excluded so I can be blamed if there’s some disaster. He’ll prepare evidence of my ineptness… by the Motherland… my own agents within the projects will supply the evidence that I knew of problems and did nothing.”

  “Always possible, Tatiana. As I said before, he has you in his sights for more than one reason. But I suspect Malenkov had another reason for being less than honest with you.”

  They held eye contact and Nazarbayeva immediately understood what that ‘other reason; was.

  “Raduga. I’m going to be blamed for the failure of Raduga?”

  “On the contrary, Comrade Nazarbayeva. Raduga is not a wholly dead project.”

  “What?”

  “Raduga is still underway and progressing ahead of schedule.”

  “My agents left the project when it was abandoned…”

  “Your agents left Raduga when it was time for you to be taken out of the circle. The two men you relied on were, in any case, Beria’s men first and foremost.”

  Nazarbayeva fell silent, absorbing the totality of what she had just learned, leaving Kaganovich with ample opportunity to enjoy more food.

  Leaning across the desk, Nazarbayeva selected some biscuits and settled back in her chair.

  “If Raduga is still running, at least in part, then why am I excluded? It’s the single most important project our nation has embarked on. To exclude the GRU is a huge risk.”

  Kaganovich chuckled, the sound clearly without humour, resembling the laugh of a teacher faced with a particularly stupid pupil.

  Even though he knew his room was free of any recording devices or bugs, he dropped his voice to a barely audible whisper, drawing the woman forward.

  “Oh, Tatiana. The GRU isn’t excluded… you’re excluded. Raduga carries risk with it from start to execution. I believe that my boss and Comrade Stalin have set you up… in case Raduga fails… or in case Raduga is successful.”

  The enormity of that took a few moments to sink in.

  He spoke again, keeping his voice low.

  “If Raduga fails at home because of whatever circumstances, I fear that evidence will come to hand of your complicity in some events that led to failure. If Raduga is executed and conditions become unfavourable, then I also believe that you will be sacrificed as the sufficiently senior element that acted independently.”

  Nazarbayeva said the first thing that popped into her head.

  “Is that why he promoted me yet again?”

  Kaganovich shrugged.

  “That I cannot say… but the head of a lieutenant general sits nicer on the pole than that of a lower rank, Comrade.”

  With unexpected humour, Nazarbayeva laughed and replied.

  “Then perhaps I should expect my Marshal’s stars by the New Year.”

  ‘Do you not understand your predicament, woman?’

  “Nothing will happen yet.”

  “What do you advise, Comrade?”

  “I have your back for now, Comrade Nazarbayeva. I can give you warning in good time. There are some people, good friends close to me… I will discuss the matter in general terms… no names mentioned… ‘no names needed, they already know you well, Tatiana’… see what they think.”

  He leant back and stretched his arms and legs.

  “To be honest, I believe this’ll be more about the fallout from any successful prosecution of Operation Raduga. The new advances have made failure unlikely. That makes it easier for us to monitor.”

  “Us, Comrade Kaganovich. Why us? Who is us?”

  “Well, you and I for a start, plus friends who have the Motherland’s best interests at heart.”

  She looked him in the eye with greater understanding than ever before.

  “Friends… friends whose greater loyalty is to Mother Russia than any of her overseers, you mean?”

  His position suddenly became extremely uncomfortable and he dithered over his response, which was not wasted on the suddenly razor-sharp GRU officer.

  He took the plunge, trusting to his judgement, or at least the partial plunge that he felt would convince Nazarbayeva of his commitment to Mother Russia.

  “Friends who, with me, work to find those who would threaten Mother Russia from within, those whose efforts do nothing but harm her, and those who seek only personal advancement and glory over the needs of the Rodina.”

  She nodded firmly.

  “As do we all, Comrade Kaganovich.”

  “Indeed, Comrade Nazarbayeva.”

  ‘Depending on your definition of threatening, harm, and glory, of course, Tatiana.�
��

  “That’s why I took this uniform, Tatiana, and I mean to do my duty without fear or favour.”

  ‘Depending on your definition of duty, Tatiana.’

  “I agree. In any case, that’s my duty and purpose as a soldier, Comrade Kaganovich.”

  “I’ll watch over you, Tatiana. But you must also watch yourself. Observe without being seen to observe. Understand without being seen to fully comprehend. To acquire knowledge without being seen to acquire it… they’re the skills of a Chekist!”

  She laughed with him.

  “So, may I expect information from you… to keep me informed of Raduga and such things from which I’m excluded?”

  “Yes, but only face to face in this office. There’ll be no paperwork trail for any nosey bastard to follow, and you’ll also make no written record of anything we have or will discuss. I must insist on that, Tatiana.”

  “Of course, Comrade Kaganovich.”

  “Good… now we have run over our time. We shall say we were discussing the new aerial activity by the damned capitalists if asked. Until next time, Comrade Leytenant General.”

  His formality marked the end of the meeting.

  As usual, they shook hands and spared each other the military courtesies.

  “Until the 20th, Comrade Leytenant General Kaganovich.”

  2120 hrs, Friday, 6th December 1946, Lieutenant General Kaganovich’s Dacha, Moscow, USSR.

  Khrushchev stamped the snow from his feet before entering.

  They hugged like old friends, which they certainly were.

  “Sorry I’m late, Ilya. An accident on the way here. Some damn fool crashed into tree. Are we all here?”

  Taking Khrushchev’s coat, he nodded by way of reply and gestured the civilian towards the roaring fire, around which three other men sat.

  They rose as one to embrace the new arrival.

  “Vladimir, you’ve lost weight. I can get my arms round you, you old rogue.”

  “Can’t say the same for you, Nikita! The Party life clearly puts meat on a man’s bones!”

  They play sparred as friends do, before Vladimir Konstantinovich Gorbachev, commander of the Moscow Military District, resumed his seat, leaving the way clear for Khrushchev to hug the next in line.

  “Vassily!”

  They kissed each other’s cheeks and slapped shoulders and backs so hard that it made the onlookers wince, but neither man seemed fazed.

  “Vassily Karlovich. By the great whore, you look well comrade. Very well!”

  “The climate in the south is good for these old bones. What more can I say… Sochi agrees with me.”

  Attention turned to the other man in the room, for whom Khrushchev had a warm but less frantic greeting.

  “Comrade Marshal, welcome, welcome.”

  “Comrade Khrushchev, to you too.”

  He grinned and turned to Kaganovich.

  “Right, where’s the fucking vodka, Ilya. I’m frozen to the core.”

  The three drinkers raised their vodka glasses alongside the tea cup of the non-drinker and toasted themselves and the Rodina.

  “Na Zdorovie!”

  Searing liquid hit throats and the glasses were emptied in record time.

  Khrushchev took the lead, as he always seemed to do.

  “So, why exactly have we all been summoned here ahead of our normal time, Ilya?”

  “Nazarbayeva.”

  “What has our darling GRU officer been up to now?”

  He told them, holding back only a couple of small details.

  “You’re fucking joking of course… you seriously didn’t say that, did you, Ilya?”

  “Yes, I did. I felt it was right… to have told a lie then might have undermined me in the future… the future when I need… we need her to believe me… follow my lead… my direction… according to our plan.”

  Gorbachev spoke quickly, keen to get in before Khrushchev went off on one of his tirades.

  “I can see the sense in that, Ilya… but did you have to go so far?”

  Kaganovich held out his hands in a supplicatory manner.

  “It seemed right, Vladimir. The moment was then… and I can say that she gave off all the right signals as we spoke… and when we parted. I have her followed of course… she’s in her normal Moscow routine.”

  Khrushchev was beaten to the draw by a second man.

  “I wasn’t there. I’m prepared to trust your judgement… but at the slightest sign of any problems, she’s to be killed immediately.”

  The normally mild-mannered Gurundov drew shocked looks from most of those present.

  “Calm yourself, Vassily Karlovich! That will not be necessary!”

  “I hope it won’t be, Ilya. But there can be no risk to this group whatsoever.”

  That drew unanimous nods.

  Khrushchev got in before anyone else could speak.

  “Personally, I think it’s regrettable that these matters were brought in ahead of schedule… but I understand why it happened.”

  Which, by Khrushchev standards, was extremely tame language.

  “Comrades,” they turned to the senior military man present, “There’ll be no need to worry about her. I’m convinced of the woman’s loyalty to the Motherland, and she will see no disloyalty from any of us, or our men. All she’ll see is those committed to the Rodina. This… err… conversation… we can turn this to our advantage in some way. Her relationship with Ilya will be better… yet more entrenched. I agree with Ilya’s view that to have avoided telling the truth could have undermined our future plans. Let’s just bring her more and more under our control. Keep her informed… facts… not necessarily all but certainly nothing concocted… leave out the names of those who we have in our sights… play down their complicity until we are ready… ready to clean the whole house of vermin. She’ll play her part. We know how that’ll be achieved, so I say let it all run.”

  The assembled plotters grunted their agreement.

  “Fine… but I agree with Vassily. Make sure we keep someone on her constantly, someone with specific orders if she steers off the road. Can we all agree on that?”

  All eyes turned back to the Marshal.

  “It won’t be necessary… but for your collective peace of mind, I’ll agree.”

  “Yes. Excellent. Ilya, another glass of your peasant piss!”

  A thought occurred to Kaganovich.

  “Oh, and on that subject, I’m told that our woman is acquiring a regular thirst. I also noted it. Not a problem yet, but it may need watching.”

  Fig # 226 - Reorganised Legion Corps D’Assaut, December 1946.

  1000 hrs, Monday, 9th December 1946, office of General Strong, NATO Headquarters, Frankfurt, Germany.

  “Thank you for coming, General Gehlen.”

  “Thank you, General Strong.”

  They both sat as the ordered coffee and biscuits was placed on the exquisite rosewood table before them.

  Relaxing into the comfortable chairs, Gehlen looked like a cat on a hot tin roof.

  “I take it you have gathered nothing new on our problem, General?”

  “Nothing at all, General Strong. Yesterday I discovered how it was that my agents were being moved out of their positions. One of my own staff was supplying information, Ludwig Schneider, a long-serving and trusted man. He’s now out of the way.”

  Strong raised an enquiring eyebrow but managed to say nothing, resisting the opportunity to further enlighten his intelligence colleague.

  “Oh no, he doesn’t know about my meetings with you on the matter… and neither have I killed him. I have trusted men asking him a long list of questions. They’ve all the time they require to get me the answers I need.”

  “Well, good luck with that. My own news is less stark but as important.”

  He took a healthy draught of his coffee before setting the cup down on the saucer with studied care.

  “Diels. I believe he’s running a security operation within the hierarchy of the German R
epublic. I believe you’ve just set that in stone.”

  He took up his cup again but paused, knowing he could not leave that just hanging there and replaced it, rising quickly and picking up a file from his desk.

  Thumbing through the surveillance reports, he selected the appropriate one and passed it to the mystified Gehlen.

  “Verdamnt!”

  “Quite.”

  “On Thursday… Schneider met with Diels on Thursday? May I use your phone please, General Strong?”

  “Of course.”

  Gehlen quickly got a line to his headquarters and his bark guaranteed that he was quickly through to the required extension.

  The initial part of the conversation was brief, and heavily featured the words ‘Pyramide’, ‘Donnerstag’, and ‘Schwein’.

  Strong noted the word Pyramide, as it was the agreed name for Diels, to be used at all times when not in private conversation.

  There was an impatient pause, during which Gehlen was twitching and unable to stand still.

  “Ja? Gut… gut… danke.”

  He nodded at Strong and completed the call with a flourish.

  Returning to his coffee, he sat down with an air of triumph.

  “Just using Diels’ name was enough. Schneider is being debriefed at the moment… he knows he’s in big trouble and has agreed to tell us all he knows.”

  “Still, I don’t think we’ve enough yet to go and trouble our masters with.”

  He caught Gehlen’s look and immediately realised what he had said.

  “My apologies, Reinhard. It must be very difficult for you.”

  Strong refilled the cups by way of apology.

  “So, we wait on what Schneider has to say for himself then?”

  “Yes, General Strong.”

  “Any progress on Uspenka?”

  Gehlen lied smoothly.

  “No. Nothing. I assume you have nothing to tell either?”

  “I think that puts it rather well.”

  Auschwitz speaks against even a right to self-determination that is enjoyed by all other peoples because one of the preconditions for the horror, besides other, older urges, was a strong and united Germany.

  Gunter Grass