Winter of the World

‘Oh, I know, but he’s so narrow-minded and conservative. You’re not like that.’

Volodya thought he was pretty much like his father, but he was not going to argue.

‘Are you free this evening?’ she said. ‘I’d like to cook for you.’

‘You bet!’ She had never invited him to her place.

‘I’ve got a piece of steak.’

‘Great!’ Good beef was a treat even in Volodya’s privileged home.

‘And the Kovalevs are out of town.’

That was even better news. Like many Muscovites, Zoya lived in someone else’s apartment. She had two rooms and shared the kitchen and bathroom with another scientist, Dr Kovalev, and his wife and child. But the Kovalevs had gone away, so Zoya and Volodya would have the place to themselves. His pulse quickened. ‘Should I bring my toothbrush?’ he said.

She gave him an enigmatic smile and did not answer the question.

They left the park and crossed the road to a restaurant. Many were closed, but the city centre was full of offices whose workers had to eat lunch somewhere, and a few cafés and bars survived.

Grigori Peshkov was at a pavement table. There were better restaurants inside the Kremlin, but he liked to be seen in places used by ordinary Russians. He wanted to show that he was not above the common people just because he wore a general’s uniform. All the same, he had chosen a table well away from the rest, so that he could not be overheard.

He disapproved of Zoya, but he was not immune to her enchantment, and he stood up and kissed her on both cheeks.

They ordered potato pancakes and beer. The only alternatives were pickled herrings and vodka.

‘Today I am not going to speak to you about nuclear physics, General,’ said Zoya. ‘Please take it as read that I still believe everything I said last time we talked about the subject. I don’t want to bore you.’

‘That’s a relief,’ he said.

She laughed, showing white teeth. ‘Instead, you can tell me how much longer we will be at war.’

Volodya shook his head in mock despair. She always had to challenge his father. If she had not been a beautiful young woman, Grigori would have had her arrested long ago.

‘The Nazis are beaten, but they won’t admit it,’ Grigori said.

Zoya said: ‘Everyone in Moscow is wondering what will happen this summer – but you two probably know.’

Volodya said: ‘If I did, I certainly could not tell my girlfriend, no matter how crazy I am about her.’ Apart from anything else, it could get her shot, he thought, but he did not say it.

The potato pancakes came and they began to eat. As always, Zoya tucked in hungrily. Volodya loved the relish with which she attacked food. But he did not much like the pancakes. ‘These potatoes taste suspiciously like turnips,’ he said.

His father shot him a disapproving look.

‘Not that I’m complaining,’ Volodya added hastily.

When they had finished, Zoya went to the ladies’ room. As soon as she was out of earshot, Volodya said: ‘We think the German summer offensive is imminent.’

‘I agree,’ said his father.

‘Are we ready?’

‘Of course,’ said Grigori, but he looked anxious.

‘They will attack in the south. They want the oilfields of the Caucasus.’

Grigori shook his head. ‘They will come back to Moscow. It’s all that matters.’

‘Stalingrad is equally symbolic. It bears the name of our leader.’

‘Fuck symbolism. If they take Moscow, the war is over. If they don’t, they haven’t won, no matter what else they gain.’

‘You’re just guessing,’ Volodya said with irritation.

‘So are you.’

‘On the contrary, I have evidence.’ He looked around, but there was no one nearby. ‘The offensive is codenamed Case Blue. It will start on 28 June.’ He had learned that much from Werner Franck’s network of spies in Berlin. ‘And we found partial details in the briefcase of a German officer who crash-landed a reconnaissance plane near Kharkov.’

‘Officers on reconnaissance do not carry battle plans in briefcases,’ Grigori said. ‘Comrade Stalin thinks that was a ruse to deceive us, and I agree. The Germans want us to weaken our central front by sending forces south to deal with what will turn out to be no more than a diversion.’

This was the problem with intelligence, Volodya thought with frustration. Even when you had the information, stubborn old men would believe what they wanted.

He saw Zoya coming back, all eyes on her as she walked across the plaza. ‘What would convince you?’ he said to his father before she arrived.

‘More evidence.’

‘Such as?’

Grigori thought for a moment, taking the question seriously. ‘Get me the battle plan.’

Volodya sighed. Werner Franck had not yet succeeded in obtaining the document. ‘If I get it, will Stalin reconsider?’

‘If you get it, I’ll ask him to.’

‘It’s a deal,’ said Volodya.

He was being rash. He had no idea how he was going achieve this. Werner, Heinrich, Lili, and the others already took horrendous risks. Yet he would have to put even more pressure on them.

Zoya reached their table and Grigori stood up. They were going in three different directions, so they said goodbye.

‘I’ll see you tonight,’ Zoya said to Volodya.