Final impact

In fact, he had arms caches from which he could outfit many more than that, but although he trusted the guide, he wanted to make certain that if Kicji was captured by the NKVD, he could only give up misinformation.

“Thirty we can find,” Kicji said. “But we will need to talk to different families. Maybe three or four.”

“I understand,” Ivanov said. Like many nomads, the Chukchi formed bands held together by familial ties. It probably wouldn’t be possible to gather all of the men he needed from one tribe. “Ahmed, Sergo? Are you agreed? We shall raise a party, and take a sizable convoy.”

“God willing,” the jihadi added.

“As always,” Ivanov conceded.

“I agree,” Sergo said. “I like it.”

“And you, Vendulka?”

The medical officer had remained quiet, as was her wont. Ivanov always asked her opinion last, although hers was the viewpoint that meant the most to him.

“We will have to be quick,” she said. “We can jam their communications in the passes, where they would fail anyway. But if they’re high-value targets, they will be missed quickly.”

“Of course.”

Zamyatin raised the glasses to her eyes again. Still frowning. “The haze has cleared a little. Take a look,” she said.

Ivanov retrieved the binoculars. He could make out an airfield to the west of the facility. Two small silver planes were coming in to land. “MiGs,” he said.

“Rocket planes?” Ahmed Khan asked. “They have rocket planes now?”

“Yes,” said Ivanov. “MiG-Fifteens. Jet fighters.”

D-DAY + 29. 1 JUNE 1944. 2041 HOURS.

U.S. EMBASSY, MOSCOW.

The Soviet foreign minister, as immaculate as ever in a dark English suit, positively beamed at Averell Harriman. The American ambassador was hurriedly thinking of ways to stall for time, but he didn’t need to. Molotov refused to stay for a drink, which was unheard of, begging off with the claim that he had to get to the British mission, as well.

He turned and hurried out the front door, never having penetrated farther than the entrance hall of the embassy. Harriman read through the top-page summary again. It would take hours to trawl though the two-inch-thick sheaf of documents he’d just been handed.

“Well, sir? Is there anything else?” asked his chief military liaison, Colonel Squires.

“Good God, isn’t this enough? They’re back in the war. They’re releasing our sailors and ships. And they’re attacking Japan, for good measure. You’d better get everyone in, Colonel. We’re going to be up all night. I’d best give the Brits an early warning, too. Oh, and I’ll need a secure channel to Washington. I’ll use the Samsung.”

The army officer snapped to attention. “Very good, sir. I’ll get Mr. Wilson to call your wife, tell her you’ll be late.”

“Tell her I won’t be home at all tonight,” he said grimly.

He had a feeling this was going to be very much like the days after the Allies had bombed the Demidenko center and everyone had sat around on tenterhooks waiting to see whether it would push the Soviets into an open declaration of war on the West. It hadn’t-perhaps only because Moscow had denied all along that such a facility even existed. Or perhaps because, as the British argued, it was a chimera designed to draw attention away from other, more important facilities.

Harriman was vaguely aware of an increase in the bustle of activity throughout the embassy, as junior officers and diplomats were roused from their offices or called in from their homes. He walked slowly back to his office, where his secretary already had the British ambassador, Sir Anthony Clark-Kerr, waiting on the telephone. The secure line.

“I just had Molotov over here,” Harriman said without preamble. “He’s on his way over to you right now. They’ve declared war on Germany and Japan. They’ve got twelve million men on the move right now. Stalin wants a summit with the president and Mr. Churchill as soon as possible to discuss ‘common goals.’”

“Good grief,” Clark-Kerr said. “This is a bit of a turnup for the books. What details do you have?”

Harriman looked at the document Molotov had just delivered. “He’s dropped a lot of paper on us. It’ll take a few hours to work through it. In fact, we should divide the task, half and half. That’ll be much quicker.”

“I’ll have my intelligence johnnies call yours when we get our package. Divvy up the work, although I’ll need to send a preliminary report to London.”

“That should be possible. Molotov included a three-page summary as a top sheet. Boiled down, it says two things. The men and ships from PQ Seventeen are being released, and the Soviet Union is now at war with the Axis powers.”

“I see,” Sir Anthony said. The two-word phrase was heavy with unspoken thoughts. To himself, however, Harriman could not help thinking, Where in God’s name is this going to end?

D-DAY + 30. 2 JUNE 1944. 0053 HOURS.

NKVD HEADQUARTERS, LUBIANKA, MOSCOW.