Opening Moves

A quick note was written and handed to the summoned orderly for forwarding to the waiting dispatch rider, just to confirm to his boss that Colloque Biarritz had been successfully started.

Another note was dispatched shortly afterwards to Colonel Frisson, with the names of six prisoners for interview over the following week.

Settling back down he reached for the next file and waited for the former SS Hauptsturmfuhrer Richter of pioneers, who was next in line for a one-way ticket to a swift death in Indo-China. If he so chose of course.

Chapter 8 – THE BOMBSHELLS

Demoralize the enemy from within by surprise, terror, sabotage, assassination. This is the war of the future.

Adolf Hitler

0755 hrs Monday, 2nd July 1945, The Lubyanka, NKVD Headquarters, Moscow, USSR.

When it first hit Beria’s desk he read it incredulously and immediately ordered another translation done, just to check. Thirty-five minutes later the senior cryptographer arrived back in his office holding the second version.

Comparing the two, it was immediately apparent that they were identical in every way.

‘[priority code] GCG

[agent] Alkonost

[date code] 280645c

[personal code as an authenticator] FB21162285

[distribution1] route x-eyes only

[distribution1] AalphaA [Comrade Chairman Beria].

[message] first test imminent indicator A+ on 160745c Confirmation type2 via Moth 050745c. Wellington. Freya-North.

[message ends]

Message authenticates. Codes for non-compromisation valid.

ORIGINAL RECEIVED 06:16 2/7/45-B.V.LEMSKY

SECOND DECIPHER 07:31 2/7/45-B.V.LEMSKY’

“No possibility of mistakes Comrade Academician?”

“None at all Comrade Chairman. I have even tried predicting an error in encoding but nothing produced sensible decodes. The message, as you see it, is the one that was sent Comrade.”

“Thank you Boris Vissarionavich.”

The cryptographer left the room and Beria was alone with his thoughts.

His glasses were automatically in his hand and the gentle polishing motion began. He looked at the clock.

Eight am.

After a short pause he leant forward and picked up his phone. It was immediately answered by his secretary.

“Danilov, put me through to the old man immediately.”

As the connections and requests were being made Beria drank some tea and waited patiently. A gruff voice brought him from his momentary daydream.

“Comrade Chairman.”

“Comrade General Secretary. I have a report on my desk that you will wish to see urgently. May I come over now?”

“Can it not wait until the meeting later Lavrentiy?”

Stalin seemed to be in a good mood, maybe because of what the day held for him and now that mood was about to be darkened.

“I believe not comrade. It is an Alkonost report and of some considerable urgency.”

The pause was brief as Stalin mentally processed the identity of the report writer and realised the possible significance.

“Twenty minutes, Comrade Chairman.”

Before Beria could reply, the phone went dead and he replaced his handset gently to hide his annoyance. Picking it back up again he had a mere second to wait before he was speaking again.

“Danilov. My car now please.”

Picking up the two decoded messages, he placed them inside his briefcase along with the three other files he had consulted that morning and left the office.

0840 hrs, Monday, 2nd July 1945, The Kremlin, Moscow, USSR.

Less than an hour beforehand the same piece of paper had been presented to Beria. Here it was now, in the hands of the General Secretary. His reaction was initially calm.

“Let us look at this separately. Firstly, we have the codeword we expected. With ‘Wellington’ we know we can now, at minimum, disrupt the American programme.”

Beria impatiently nodded in assent, although that was not quite what it meant, wishing to move on to the section that caused all the consternation.

“We were first informed some few weeks ago that their project was more advanced than we first suspected. That is why we have set in place the mechanism for our agents to commence delay or destruction on our order is it not?”

“Yes Comrade General Secretary.”

Stalin rose and placed his hand on the desk, knuckles supporting him as he leaned forward. His anger was now wholly apparent and his voice rose.

“Now, some few weeks later, we discover that the capitalist bastards are a handful of days from testing the real thing?”

Reaching the highest volume Stalin screamed, “How the fuck can that be Comrade?”

Beria was unable to answer with fact, so said nothing.