Opening Moves

“Our agent informs us that the Spanish Army is already undertaking planning for a Spanish Expeditionary Corps consisting of,” and for this her memory failed her and a glance at the last page of addendum was required, “One armoured division, six infantry divisions, one mountain division and the Spanish Legion from Morocco, Franco’s old unit, specifically asked for by Franco himself. In order to participate in, and I quote, ‘the World Crusade against Communism’.”

Check-mate.

‘You fucking bitch.’

Stalin appreciated that the woman Colonel had given her honest appreciation and had made her point well in support of the GRU report. Unlike her, he also appreciated that she had just made an enemy for life.

“Thank you Comrade Colonel. Excellent work. You are dismissed.”

Nazarbayeva sat at a table in the waiting room as her flight was not yet ready to go.

As was her practice, she slipped off her left boot, unnoticed by the other occupants of the room, bringing instant relief to her aching limb.

Consuming the coffee provided by a one-armed veteran of Kursk, she re-examined her time in Stalin’s private office.

Beria.

He had not devoured her lustfully with his eyes like most men, but none the less, she had felt them upon her.

Assessing.

Calculating.

Planning.

Malevolent.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a gruff Air Force Captain calling for passengers to load on the Lisunov-2 ambulance plane that was to be her ride home.

The lascivious gaze of the Kursk veteran avidly examined the form of the GRU Colonel from head to toe, obviously superb despite the lack of tailoring in the uniform, but even then he failed to spot her efficient off/on boot routine.

On the flight back to Leipzig she slept hard, drained by her encounter with those at the centre of power.

As Nazarbayeva left the room, Beria was already preparing his defence.

Stalin knew it and trashed it out of hand.

“GRU seem to have assessed this correctly Comrade Marshall. I agree with their assessment.”

He illustrated his point by leaning forward and dropping the NKVD document into Beria’s lap.

It lay there, a mark of NKVD intelligence failure, weight increasing, seemingly pressing Beria down into the chair.

The silence made it even heavier.

‘Fucking bitch.’

Stalin knew his man.

“Plot your revenge later Lavrentiy, for now I need a solution.”

Focussing on the main issue, Beria immediately realised he had a possible solution already, a matter of personal revenge which could now be turned into something that would resemble incredible foresight and planning.

Buoyed by the thought, he removed the redundant report from his lap, slipping it into his briefcase and searched successfully for another small file.

He passed it to the General-Secretary, exhibiting a genuine smugness that Stalin easily noticed.

“This NKVD contingency operation will solve the problem Comrade.”

And as Stalin took the document, Beria started speaking of a ship called Doblestnyj, a town called Malpica and committed men on a mission.

Chapter 50 – THE PLAN

Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

0255 hrs 11th August 1945, Headquarters, Red Banner Forces of Europe, Kohnstein, Nordhausen, Germany.

Outside it was raining but that was not something the occupants of tunnels thirty-eight to forty-five were aware of, given the protection offered by the Mountain above them.

Driven into the rock, initially in the mining search for anhydrite, the tunnels were then expanded after being taken over by German Industry for storing important petroleum products, chemicals, and poisons. However, the tunnels, finally amounting to forty-six in total, were mostly famous for the underground production of the V2 Rocket and association with the Nordhausen Concentration Camp.

Regardless of the dubious lineage of the premises, Soviet planners had been unable to ignore the protection offered and so had prepared tunnels thirty-eight to forty-five as the controlling centre for all military action within Europe, with other tunnels converted to areas of food preparation, barracks, sleeping accommodation for headquarters staff, in fact everything a self-contained facility required. Even with notice, the facilities were Spartan but having seen what visiting heavy bombers were capable of, very few grumbled and even fewer were prepared to exchange carpeted hallways and fine art for the protection offered by a few hundred feet of solid rock.

Zhukov had been woken by his orderly and, having completed his ablutions, he was sat with most of his senior Front Commanders, already present for the crucial meeting.

The rest of the officers in the room were the permitted Deputies, who all engaged with their own circle, be it by rank or post.