by Colin Gee
At the field headquarters of Feldmarschal Guderian, Patton handed the telephone receiver back to the waiting signaller and turned to the German commander.
“Well, Fieldmarshal, it seems that duty calls me once again. They’ve given me command of NATO.”
“Congratulations, General.”
“Thank you… now, I must get going. I’ll be in touch as soon as I’ve shaken things out.”
Within two minutes, he was on the road to Frankfurt.
1601 hrs, Friday 14th March 1947, Camp Vár, Sweden.
Nazarbayeva had travelled back to her headquarters, and then took another flight to Sweden, which was why she was at the negotiating venue, rather than languishing at Vnukovo like her intended companions, whose aircraft steadfastly refused to pass pre-flight checks.
Summoned to one of the grander meeting rooms, she and Rufin found themselves ushered to seating opposite three Allied military men, who stood as she entered.
As had been agreed as standard camp protocol, neither side saluted and they simply took to the comfortable seats.
The Swedish overseer spoke first.
“Good afternoon to you all. It is apparent that the Soviet contingent is incomplete. We understand that this is because of aircraft issues in Moscow?”
Nazarbayeva nodded and shrugged in one easy motion.
“That is so, Mister Erikkson. I came from a different location. My comrades hope to be in the air tomorrow morning, and offer their complete apologies.”
“These things happen, General Nazarbayeva. However, new circumstances have apparently made this meeting redundant. General?”
Erikkson looked to the leader of the Allied contingent.
The man appeared to be in some sort of reverie, one from which the second request summoned him.
“General?”
“Apologies. I wish to make a statement on behalf of NATO.”
Erikkson had been given an inkling that something was going on, and he knew that the Allies would be stepping away from the negotiating table for the whole day, but the normally efficient Military Intelligence apparatus had not managed to discover what was behind their request.
“Please do, General.”
The Allied officer leading the group cleared his throat.
“At approximately 1100 hrs our time, the aircraft carrying General Eisenhower, commander of NATO forces in Europe, appears to have suffered a mid-air structural failure and fire. The aircraft subsequently crashed. There were no survivors. At this time, all negotiations between our forces are to cease as a mark of respect for the General and those others killed in this tragic accident. We hope that you will understand our position and assist us in agreeing to a temporary cessation to permit us to gather our thoughts at this time.”
Nazarbayeva was genuinely speechless and exchanged looks with Rufin.
Gathering her wits she spoke with great sincerity.
“This is appalling news, for once Eisenhower was a trusted friend of the Soviet Union. Recently he has been an honourable and capable foe, and I extend the commiserations of the Motherland and her peoples. Of course, we’ll suspend our meetings here until such time as we can come back together and proceed, having allowed a proper time for reflection and remembrance. If I or my staff can provide any assistance, please do not hesitate to ask, General.”
Lucian Truscott nodded his thanks for the eloquent reply.
“Thank you so much, General Nazarbayeva. Now, if you’ll excuse us, there’s much to do.”
Both sides rose and exchanged respectful nods, the Allied officers trooping out, followed by the Swedish delegation, leaving the Soviets alone.
Dismissing the two other officers, translators for the more exotic languages the Allied contingent sometimes brought to the table, Nazarbayeva sat down heavily and spoke her thoughts.
“Eisenhower dead… and who else, I wonder?”
Rufin couldn’t answer that of course, but his mind had been heading down the same line.
“One things for sure, Comrade Leytenant General, Moscow needs to hear about this immediately.”
“Yes… yes, you’re right. I don’t doubt it’ll be well received. Despite my words, I’m sure his death will be celebrated in the Rodina.”
They both rose and moved off as quickly as possible, seeking out the NKVD colonel who was in charge of the special communications unit.
The news was relayed to Moscow and, as predicted, was seen as something to rejoice over.
At Vnukovo, the three senior men received the news that they were presently not required to go to Camp Vár, and none of them was happy.
They travelled back together, deep in conversation.
“So what will the contact do?”
“Stay silent. He’ll stay silent of course.”
“No, I suspect he won’t. He’ll talk.”
They both looked at Khrushchev with pained expressions.
“He’ll be expecting three… that’s what he was told. I’m not listed as being there as yet… I’m the surprise… Now he’ll know that two… you two… are delayed. He’ll assume she’s one of us… he’ll talk to her.”
“Mudaks!”
“What’ll she do…?”
Kaganovich posed the question to himself, as he probably knew the woman better than the others…
‘…of course, I know her better than them…now… what the fuck will she do…’
He instinctively knew the answer.
“She’ll come and speak to me first.”
“Really?”
“Absolutely positive she will. Whom else would she go to? Beria? The Boss? Kuznetsov? Has to be me.”
Khrushchev posed a perfectly reasonable question.
“And if that’s the case, what do we do if he has revealed matters?”
Zhukov stayed quiet throughout, leaving the two political beasts to sort it out.
Kaganovich’s silence drew the bald commissar forward.
“I know exactly what we’ll do. Just what we had planned to do… but sooner… we move up the timetable.”
“What?”
Kaganovich bristled.
“We’re not yet ready. Tell him, comrade, we can’t move any quicker.”
Zhukov smiled.
“I’m a soldier. Sometimes we have to move when not prepared. It is possible, given the alternatives. I think you’re right, Nikita Sergeyevich.”
“Ilya Borisevich?”
Kaganovich pondered the pros and cons before committing himself.
“We have no choice, it seems. We’ll move the timetable up and if she fucks it up… I’ll kill her myself.”
2031 hrs, Friday, 14th March 1947, Shared bar, Camp Vár, Sweden.
“May I get you another drink, General?”
Nazarbayeva looked up from the empty glass where her mind had been just a second before, the complications of the day weighing heavily on her thoughts.
She had assumed she was alone in the bar and the voice took her by surprise.
“Yes, thank you, Polkovnik.”
“I’m assuming this was vodka?”
“Akvavit please, Polkovnik.”
The man moved off awkwardly and returned with two filled glasses.
“Terrible news today eh, General? Even for you, our recent enemy.”
“No way for a soldier to die, that’s for sure, Polkovnik. To those who died.”
They chinked glasses and consumed the contents greedily.
“I’ve taken the liberty of organising the barman.”
He gestured off to the right and soon a full bottle and two new glasses arrived.
“Excellent idea, Polkovnik. Your Russian is excellent.”
“Thank you, I’ve only recently learned the tongue, and it’s certainly not yet as polished as your English, General.”
She drank the Akvavit as she eased the wounded foot in her boot, all the time consuming the details of the British officer’s uniform.
The subtle movement didn’t escape Ramsey’s e
ye.
“An old wound, General?”
“I’m only missing a little bit of myself, certainly less than yourself, Polkovnik.”
He slapped his false legs with the palm of his hand, like a father lovingly pats his boys.
“Hardly notice nowadays. Wasn’t always the case, but I’m still walking around, unlike a lot of my boys.”
“Where, if you don’t mind me asking, Polkovnik?”
“Barnstorf in Northern Germany.”
“I have heard of this battle. Many men died there… and to what real end, eh?”
Ramsey snorted, partially in agreement and partially in disgust.
“As always, we soldiers pay the price the politicians demand for their decisions.”
They raised glasses to each other in acknowledgement of a soldier’s bond.
Ramsey changed tack.
“I’ll bet this county looks magnificent at Christmas time.”
A light went off in her head and a phrase simply tumbled out of her mouth.
“Very possibly, Polkovnik, but there is nothing like Christmas in Krakow.”
“Except May Day in Moscow, so I’m told, Comrade Leytenant General Nazarbayeva.”
‘At last!’
He leant across the table and extended his hand.
“Ramsey… John Ramsey… and I bring greetings from Sir Stewart Menzies.”
“I had expected General Strong to be here?”
“Unfortunately, he’s amongst the dead. It was his aircraft that crashed. The others had hitched a lift on it. Bad luck all round, I’d say.”
“Yes… bad luck.”
‘Strong too?... who else?... How badly are they really wounded by this?’
“Fortunately, I’ve been briefed in and was assigned here to act as Sir Stewart’s eyes and ears, and to help Sir Kenneth in any way. I’m told you worked under General Pekunin… another tragic end.”
“In many ways, yes, Polkovnik Ramsey.”
“You shot him… and yet you’re now here...”
“He ordered me to.”
“Ordered you to shoot him?”
“Yes. Perhaps Roman was afraid of what he might have revealed had he been taken alive.”
Ramsey nodded and left it at that.
“I assume, because you responded to the phrase, that you were included in his plans?”
“I gave you the initiating phrase, didn’t I?”
“Indeed you did.”
He understood that she avoided the question.
“So, what does General Menzies want with me?”
“To continue the work of your friend and mentor.”
“Less riddles, Polkovnik Ramsey, if you please.”
“We want to know if you will continue where Pekunin left off, and help us bring about the replacement of your present leadership.”
She hurriedly took a draft of the fiery Akvavit to cover her shock and surprise.
Ramsey understood instinctively and spoke again.
“From what I understand, your General was a patriot who understood that Stalin lead your country into another war under false pretences, and was prepared to work with us for the good of all, especially your Motherland. He gave his life for that purpose.”
“Pekunin would never betray his country!”
“He didn’t… ever. I’ve seen the file… all the documents relating to him. Above all, he was a Russian patriot who had only the Rodina’s best interests at heart. It seems he felt they were best served by ridding the Soviet Union of Stalin’s influence.”
“Comrade Stalin is our leader. He cannot be replaced. He brought us victory against the German hordes!”
To the barman, who reported directly to Swedish Intelligence, it looked like the two officers were arguing and he tried to edge closer.
He was spotted and sent packing with another order, this time for cold beers. Ramsey figured the lesser alcohol content would help him through the coming conversation, whereas Tatiana was quite happy to feed her habit with the Akvavit.
The conversation level dropped, confounding the barman’s efforts to hear anything reportable.
He delivered the beers and grudgingly retreated, the two officers determined to remain silent until he moved away.
“I’ll stick with this, thank you, Polkovnik Ramsey. So, what would you have me do?”
“Pekunin was our point of contact. We’ve been blind and unable to help since he was killed. Plainly, tensions are building again, and there are clearly matters that need answers.”
“Such as the lost submarine?”
“Yes, of course, General. That alone has heightened our suspicions about your intentions. Combined with the other items you may have taken from Japan… the missing submarines… it all makes a very volatile mix… one that needs calming down… and the safest way for us to move with confidence is to remove the men who took you to war on such false pretences.”
“False pretences? They were sound reasons. Churchill’s plan, the acceptance of Germany… the vaunting of the French… Patton’s cries for more war… you were going to attack us so we simply acted first.”
Since she had read Pekunin’s notes, she knew the old man had believed otherwise, but time had made the circumstances less clear and, in so many ways, she wanted to not believe it.
“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 con
sidered 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.”