Nazarbayeva.
“And who the fuck is that bastard?”
Kaganovich had absolutely no idea, which surprised him greatly.
Neither man could recognise the immensely endowed man, but the voices of the men who commented on the apparition as he took his pleasure were at first vaguely familiar, and then unmistakeable.
“Sarkisov and Nadaraia. Blyad!”
Kaganovich hummed an agreement, partially horrified, but partially stimulated by the unfolding degradation of the GRU officer.
“Those two NKVD bastards, Sarkisov and Nadaraia. Beria likely ordered this then.”
Kaganovich, General of NKVD, understood the Army Marshal’s indignation on behalf of a woman they had come to respect.
Although not enough to stop them from incorporating the unsuspecting and politically inept woman in their own grubby plans.
They watched as the woman was violated and violated again.
“You hear that, Comrade General. They’re taking still pictures too. I take it you know where this was taken?”
“NKVD dacha. It’s used quite often for certain delicate tasks, mainly with visiting foreigners.”
“Wait… wait… rewind! Turn the volume up.”
Laberova did as instructed.
“…can be edited out later, Comrade Marshal.”
“Comrade Marshal he said! Beria… he was there…watching this… this act he ordered… he was there!”
“So it would seem, Comrade Marshal. Continue, Leytenant.”
The rape went on.
“…Dzerzhinsky Street for him after Stranov has had his way…”
They both heard that loud and clear.
“Stranov.”
“Whoever he may be, Comrade Marshal. Now I have a name, it won’t take me long to find out everything we need to know.”
The Marshal stood swiftly.
“I’ve had enough of watching this. It’s suitable for our purposes, but I pity the poor woman for her ordeal. There’ll be a day of reckoning for these bastards, I’ll see to that personally.”
“Actually, I don’t think you will, Comrade Marshal. Our political thinker has an idea on how best we can use this to our advantage.”
“Explain.”
“Thank you, Leytenant. That will be all.”
Laberova unlocked the door and left. The key was turned in an instant and Kaganovich passed on Khrushchev’s idea in hushed tones.
“I don’t like it…. not at all… in fact… it stinks.”
“I agree, Comrade Marshal, but despite that it would seem to offer us everything we need in one foul swoop.”
It did, without a doubt.
But at a huge cost.
“We’ll talk on this some more. In any case, we’d be nowhere near using this yet.”
“I agree, comrade Marshal. Now… at least you’ve seen it. Let’s get you out of here and back into the real world without anyone seeing you. Where do you go now?”
“I have a meeting with Vladimir Konstantinovich. He is eager, I’ll give him that. Always felt he was lacking in commitment but, judging by the note I received, his doubts have gone. Any reason I should know about?”
“None at all. I’ll put some men on it, Comrade Marshal.”
Kaganovich knew only too well why Vladimir Gorbachev was now straining at his master’s leash, but the Marshal didn’t need to know, and he had sworn Gorbachev to secrecy, not that the recently promoted commander of military training for the Moscow Military District would wave the folder proving that his niece had become one of Beria’s night time sexual victims under the Marshal’s nose.
Whilst it might have been true, the folder was carefully constructed to ensure that the commander of military training for the Moscow Military District, a man who was responsible for over one hundred thousand men, was fully with them when it changed from planning and talk to action.
Lieutenant General Vladimir Konstantinovich Gorbachev, incensed by the evidence set before him, had sworn loyalty to the coup and extracted the promise that he and he alone, would be responsible for avenging his family, a promise that Kaganovich had no problem honouring and no intention of facilitating, unless it suited him personally and aided him in his quest for command of the NKVD… or more.
Nazarbayeva waited as two NKVD officers were ushered to their waiting transport.
Her meeting with Malenkov had gone well, but she couldn’t help but think he was hiding something, a something she could not fathom, either for what it was or for why it should be hidden from her.
Her own vehicle moved forward and was then stopped in favour of another, which quickly drove into prime position at the bottom of the steps.
She almost missed the arrival of the senior officer, but managed to hide her surprise behind a smart salute.
“Good afternoon, Comrade Marshal.”
The man returned the salute, accompanying it with a genuine smile, for Nazarbayeva was universally popular with the men who commanded the soldiers of the Motherland.
“Are you returning to Headquarters, ahh… I see… Comrade Leytenant General? A promotion?”
“Yes, Comrade Marshal. And yes, Vnukovo flight at 1710.”
“Congratulations and that is excellent. Me too. We’ll travel together. Come in my car. I’ve got a lot to ask you before we return.”
The driver doubled round to the rear door and opened it, permitting the Marshal and GRU officer to enter.
At the entrance to the square, two smart guards came to attention and saluted the exiting vehicle as Vasilevsky and Nazarbayeva quickly descended into an earnest conversation on European intelligence matters.
0755 hrs, Saturday, 12th October 1946, Headquarters, NATO Forces in Europe, Frankfurt, Germany.
Gehlen was ushered into the office by Strong’s aide, and his demeanour told the general everything he needed to know about the nature of the meeting ahead.
The normally reserved German intelligence officer was clearly agitated beyond words.
“Coffee?”
Gehlen nodded as he rummaged in his briefcase.
“Maitland. Coffee for General Gehlen. Tea for myself. Thank you.”
“Sir.”
The door closed and Strong eyed his visitor.
“So, General Gehlen. Middle Machinery?”
“Indeed, General Strong.”
The paperwork passed from hand to hand.
“Uspenka? Enlighten me.”
“There is, so typically Russian, more than one place of that name.”
He stood and walked over to the wall map.
“May I?”
“Be my guest, general.”
Gehlen picked up the pins and stuck them in the map, one at a time.
“Uspenka… near Luhansk in the Ukraine.”
“Uspenka, southwest of Donetz… here.”
“Uspenka on the Dneipr River, just southeast of Kremenchug.”
“Another here… near Akhtubinsk.”
“One here, south of Yelets.”
The knocking preceded the arrival of the drinks and Gehlen took a moment to check his notes. He waited until they were alone again before continuing.
“One here, southwest of Novosibirsk.”
“Uspenka… north of Odessa… about here.”
“Kazakhstan.”
“Uspenka… halfway between Kursk and Kiev.”
“Another one just the other side… east of Kursk, and another southeast of Kursk.”
Strong got the idea.
“To be honest, general, there’s probably more that we have yet to discover.”
Strong joined Gehlen at the map and handed him his coffee.
“The proverbial needle in a haystack.”