by Gee, Colin
Tatiana looked at the closed door, her mind working hard on how she would present the information and conclusion to the General Secretary.
But first, a warning to Konev.
She picked up the phone.
1637 hrs, Thursday, 5th December 1945, Headquarters, 2nd Red Banner Central European Front, Schloss Rauischholzhausen, Ebsdorfergrund, Germany.
Konev was listening to the latest planning direct from Marshal Kirill Meretskov, the man who replaced him as commander of the 2nd Red Banner.
Transferred in from Manchuria, where his services in the scaled down Far East force were not required, Meretskov had spent a lifetime soldiering, making Marshal despite having been arrested in the early days of the Patriotic War.
Quietly briefing his commander, Meretskov was interrupted by Petrov, still in place as CoS for the 2nd Red Banner.
“Comrade Marshal, GRU General Nazarbayeva for you. She states it is extremely urgent.”
Konev snorted.
“I’ve heard of this Nazarbayeva, Comrade. Efficient woman, by the rumours.”
“Well, you’ve heard wrong, Comrade Meretskov. She’s a meddling cow who seems to have attracted the sponsorship of the General Secretary. I don’t know why, especially as she was close to that fool Pekunin.”
The bald Marshal leant forward and whispered.
“Maybe he’s sticking it up her arse, eh?”
Konev laughed loudly, failing to notice that Meretskov did not join in.
“I heard from Georgy Zhukov that she’s efficient, honest, and without side.”
“Well there you have it then! Support from Zhukov is to be trusted as much as a shed full of sex-starved Cossacks!”
The phone rang.
“Meretskov... yes, good day to you Comrade General... yes, he is.”
The receiver was held out to Konev.
Nazarbayeva screamed in anger.
“Idiot! Fucking useless idiot! Prick of a man!”
The door burst open and Nazarbayeva was temporarily alarmed as Poboshkin materialised behind the Tokarev that had been the first thing to make an appearance.
“I’m sorry, Comrade General. I though you... err... sorry.”
“Come in and shut the door, Comrade PodPolkovnik.”
When the two were alone, Tatiana again gave vent to her anger.”
“That man’s an idiot!”
Poboshkin could attach that label to a number of people so ventured the question.
“Who, Comrade General?”
“Konev. He tells me that air reconnaissance has reported nothing in that area for weeks, patrols have taken prisoners from second-rate units, and that I am panicking unnecessarily. Prick!”
Poboshkin, Nazarbayeva’s confidante, decided to remain silent.
Regaining her composure, Tatiana moved on.
“I must go shortly. Do you have the files ready for me?”
“Yes, Comrade General. The last copies of agent’s reports are being made. I must point out these two particularly.”
He passed a piece of paper bearing the notations that marked it as coming from a highly placed agent and requiring sensitive handling.
“I remember this report well. Our man in their Air Ministry. Central European mainland on Wednesday at 1000, so he believed. Yet another opportunity for GRU to look bad, sending out warnings for non-events. The man’s normally so reliable too!”
“Yes, Comrade General. Now this one.”
The second report had only arrived an hour ago, so was new to the GRU commander.
“Wheat? Who is Wheat? Remind me, Andrey.”
“Wheat is a Portuguese officer in their London Embassy, Comrade General.”
In her right hand, a report from a low-level source relayed very firm rumours of a forty-eight hour delay to a large Allied operation.
In her left hand, a report from a high-level source stating that an Allied attack would commence on Wednesday at 1000.
“Tomorrow, at 10 then.”
“It would seem so, Comrade General.”
“I’m sure the Comrade General Secretary will agree.”
2328 hrs, Thursday, 5th December 1945, the Kremlin, Moscow.
Her own aircraft had made a precarious landing at Vnukovo. Despite the best efforts of clearing crews, the snow and ice combined to make her aircraft slide dangerously off the runway and onto a grassy area.
As she stood waiting for her car to pick her up from the point that the aircraft had come to rest, she was a full witness to the tragedy that befell the next aircraft to land.
A Yak-6 of Soviet Naval Aviation bounced heavily and veered offline, clipping one of the fire tenders that had rushed to the aid of Nazarbayeva’s Li2.
The Yak, its two crew and three naval officer passengers had died as the light aircraft cartwheeled across the snow, the wood and fabric coming apart too easily to provide any possibility that life might survive the experience.
The distraction of finishing her presentation to the GKO was welcome as her car sped to the Kremlin.
Now, stood before the powerful, she waited as her bombshell was assessed.
“Comrade Marshal Beria?”
The NKVD chief was, unusually, in his uniform, and it didn’t suit him.
“Comrades, I cannot refute this information. Indeed, some of it ties in with what my own reports have indicated.”
Prior to the GRU briefing, Beria had been at great pains to emphasise the latest NKVD intelligence assessments, and the new information dovetailed with his submission perfectly.
“Comrade General, what did Marshal Konev say to this news?”
“I directed my aide to present the evidence to Marshal Konev personally. I’m not aware as to how it has been received, Comrade Marshal.”
Beria, of course, was aware of how the woman’s telephone call to Konev had been received earlier that day.
As was Stalin.
Not bothering to go through the motions of gathering consensus, the General Secretary acted immediately.
“I will ring Comrade Konev now and advise him that this intelligence is to be heeded. We will also release more assets to his command.”
Nazarbayeva was gestured towards an ornate gilt chair, one of a number that had occupied the room for years, possibly even back to the time of Catherine the Great. Folklore had it that the burn marks on Stalin’s favourite were as a result of Napoleon’s 1812 attempt to destroy the Kremlin, whereas the reality had more to do with the leader’s lack of control over his smoking materials.
Stalin’s conversation with Konev took less than five minutes.
The rest of the GRU briefing had gone like clockwork, absent of the normal fencing with Beria.
Whilst Nazarbayeva was pleasantly surprised, she sensed that the NKVD Marshal was keeping his powder dry.
As if by prior arrangement, the majority of the GKO took their leave.
As the door clicked shut, Stalin spoke one word.
“Pekunin?”
“Comrade General Secretary, my investigations are thorough, but still incomplete. However...”
Opening a separate compartment in her briefcase, Tatiana extracted two copies of her interim report, passing one to each of her seniors.
Stalin started to thumb through it immediately, but Beria did not even pick it up, preferring to observe the woman in her delivery.
The General Secretary put the folder down and reached for his tea.
“Give me a précis please, Comrade General.”
“Comrade Pekunin’s personal agent Leopard supplied the information on the SS Legion attacks on the 19th Army, which was communicated in good time, indicating no wish to undermine the success of the Rodina’s operations.”
She moved on from Leopard, for now.
Dangerous ground lay ahead, and she had rehearsed her dance across it.
“I have found sufficient evidence of motivation of a personal nature, aimed directly at yourselves, Comrade General Secretary.”
Stalin gently t
apped out his pipe, his eyes keenly assessing the woman in front of him, seeking out and satisfying himself that the honesty he always found in her presentations was still in attendance.
However, Beria froze, part in concern for what was to come, and partly as a snake prepares itself before striking.
Lighting a cigarette, Stalin spoke softly and without threat.
“Such a statement requires clarification, Comrade Nazarbayeva. Please continue.”
“I have personally examined some papers left by Comrade Pekunin. No-one else in my office knows of their existence, let alone their contents, Comrades.”
That was a risk in itself, for it meant that only one mouth would need permanent shutting, if the two men so decided, but Tatiana had elected to take that risk as it suggested confidentiality to the two powerful men in front of her, and could reap benefits for the future.
It also protected her soldiers.
“His papers suggested that his son and family were executed on the orders of Marshall Beria, for reasons other than the production problems at the son’s manufacturing facility.”
Stalin’s raised hand stopped Beria’s denial in its tracks.
“Go on, Comrade General.”
“The papers went on to suggest that Marshall Beria had a personal issue with senior staff within GRU, and that he illustrated that point with an example, stating that Marshal Beria showed some measure of joy when informing him of the death of Paratroop-Lieutenant Vladimir Yurievich Nazarbayev. He also implicated Marshall Beria in the betrayal of a special operation in Spain that resulted in the death of a number of our agents, one of which was Lieutenant Oleg Yurievich Nazarbayev.”
Again, Stalin’s hand, this time raised more forcefully, stopped Beria’s outburst.
A cigarette had replaced the pipe, and it was placed very carefully into the ashtray.
Stalin clasped his hands together, and spoke in a measured tone.
“I’m aware of that operation and yes... it was handed to the Spanish on a plate... as a necessity for the good of the Rodina.”
His eyes bored into those of the woman, and the mother.
“Had I known that your son was directly involved, I wouldn’t have made a different decision, Comrade Nazarbayeva. It may be hard for you and your husband, but the Rodina and the Party must always come first.”
Such candour from Stalin was unbelievable and, this time, it was Beria that was lost for words, even to his inner self.
Tatiana, her face devoid of any emotion, summoned up the right words whilst something stuck fast, echoing constantly in her ear.
‘The Party and the Rodina must always come first.’
“Comrades... my sons, my husband, and I... we all understood the demands of our service and the sacrifices we might be asked to make. I do not question your decision. I’m relaying my knowledge of Pekunin’s motivation without hiding anything from you, Comrade General Secretary.”
Beria, aware that Nazarbayeva’s words had struck home on his boss, changed his tack and sought permission to speak.
Stalin nodded.
“Comrade Nazarbayeva. You and I have had our differences, but I can assure you that the Spanish decision was necessary. I can also assure you that I would not hold any joy in the death of one of the Soviet Union’s sons. How Pekunin could have made that assumption... well... perhaps his intent was to cause friction between us.”
Drawing down on the last of his cigarette, Stalin gently exhaled the smoke.
“Proceed, Comrade.”
“There was a list refuting a number of the reasons that the GKO cited for going to war, reasons which Comrade Pekunin stated persuaded the Army leadership to fall fully behind the venture, Comrade General Secretary.”
“Such as?”
“By example, the Churchill plan, ‘Unthinkable’. According to the GRU file it was an exercise in strategic thinking that not even Churchill took seriously, and no different to some operational planning that we ourselves undertook in May and June this year, Comrade General Secretary. Pekunin states that we, the intelligence services and the GKO, knew this to be the case, and deliberately presented a jaundiced view to our military.”
“And what do you think?”
Beria polished his glasses furiously, something noticed by both of the others.
“The NKVD file clearly states it differently. I cannot argue with the contents of that file and, I assume, it was that which gave the GKO its view, Comrade Marshal.”
“Quite so, Comrade Nazarbayeva, quite so.”
“There is more, but I found no evidence to support his assertions, Comrade General Secretary.”
Nazarbayeva hesitated noticeably, drawing comment from Stalin.
“Comrade General, so far your report has been full and frank. Please continue.”
“Comrade General Secretary, I discovered that General Pekunin had directly approached Comrade Molotov. I believe in an effort to secure his support in some sort of move for power.”
For once, Tatiana was surprised, as there was no visible reaction from either man.
“I hasten to add that it was recorded that Comrade Molotov rejected the advance, Comrade General Secretary.”
Beria and Stalin exchanged looks, the Molotov point being one that had figured centrally in their assessment of Nazarbayeva’s loyalty.
Puzzled by the silent exchange in front of her eyes, Nazarbayeva had no idea that she had just passed a test.
Stalin gave silent assent for Beria to explain.
“I can tell you that Comrade Molotov approached me regarding Pekunin’s overtures, and the Minister greatly contributed to the General’s treachery being uncovered, which finally culminated in your order to arrest him, and the subsequent shooting of the traitor and his supporter, Kochet...”
Beria was not used to being interrupted and his displeasure was written across his face had Tatiana but noticed it.
“Comrades, I have found no evidence of any treachery on the part of Comrade Leytenant General Kochetov.”
“He tried to shoot you, woman! What more evidence do you need, eh?”
Suppressing Beria with an icy look, Stalin turned, his visage becoming instantly warmer, encouraging the GRU officer.
“Carry on, Comrade General, carry on... tell us what you have discovered.”
“Comrade General Secretary, I have discovered nothing, absolutely nothing at all, that would lead me to even suspect that Comrade Kochetov had any involvement in any of Pekunin’s apparent betrayal.”
She could not go the full hog and denounce her mentor, but Tatiana certainly intended that the innocent Kochetov’s family should not suffer.
“Then we shall take you at your word, Comrade General. There will be no further action against the Kochetov family. Proceed please, Comrade.”
Stalin was clever at using words when he needed to be, drawing a smile from Beria.
Unbeknown to Nazarbayeva, three generations of Kochetovs had already perished at the vengeful hands of the NKVD. No further action was available, unless they could be pursued into the afterlife.
“I have examined some of the exchanges between Comrade Pekunin and his agents. Particularly, I found some irregularities in his dealings with Agent Leopard, the operative who supplied information regarding the French SS units, information that, in the light of events, now seems somewhat suspect.”
Beria had no idea of this issue and remained silent, concentrating on every word.
“I came across information that led me to believe that Comrade Pekunin clandestinely met with Agent Leopard on 22nd October in Böblingen, Germany. I also know that Marshal Rokossovsky was present at that meeting.”
Both senior men leant forward, somehow resembling vultures preparing to feast on a corpse.
“The Marshal was very open about that meeting. He informed me that the agent had delivered information on the enemy dispositions, information that encouraged the advance into Alsace and subsequently brought about the destruction of at least one of our a
rmies in that region. That information was wholly vouched for by Polkovnik General Pekunin.”
Both vultures could see a clear image of the corpse of Rokossovsky at their feet.
“Comrade General Secretary, if you will permit me, I will state quite categorically that Marshal Rokossovsky had and has no part in any matter that is contrary to the interests of the State.”
The image melted away.
“Noted, Comrade Nazarbayeva. Continue.”
“My understanding of Agent Leopard is that he’s in the guise of a Polish Army Major, attached to the French Army as a liaison officer and...”
A violent cough stopped her in mid-flow, causing Stalin to make a simple gesture, directing his henchman towards a carafe of water on a tasteful gilded table near the door.
Unhappy at being a serving boy, Beria performed the act of providing Nazarbayeva with a drink with as little grace as he could get away with.
“Sorry. Agent Leopard was used to control the enemy senior officer Knocke. You will remember that we held his wife as a hostage, and that she apparently died in circumstances that were possibly dubious.”
Beria had more direct knowledge than Stalin did, but this was the first time that he had heard of any doubts about the Primorsk matter.
Nazarbayeva surged forward.
“GRU and NKVD investigations apparently revealed that an errant SS unit had attacked the NKVD troops in Primorsk, during which attack the Knocke family were killed...”
“Apparently, Comrade?”
“Comrade Marshal, I raised my concerns at the time. I felt it far-fetched that an SS unit would have remained silent for so long, and would have selected such a target as its first action.”
Clearing her throat, she took the opportunity to drink a little more water.
“Comrade Pekunin did not agree with me, so the report was ratified and accepted, despite my views on that and other issues.”
“It’s a hasty man that doesn’t listen to your words, Comrade Nazarbayeva,” Stalin chuckled his way through the statement, ignoring Beria’s demonstrable surprise at the unexpected and, in the circumstance, decidedly out of character humour.