Eisenhower looked the German in the eye.
“Thank you, Admiral. Arthur?”
Tedder, Ike’s second in command and highest-ranking Air Force officer in SHAEF was similarly straightforward.
“Sir, we’ve the weather we need across the areas of concern, guaranteed as best can be until Monday. If we delay, I grant you, I’ll have my assets get stronger, but I may not be able to bring them to bear if the weather falls away. ‘Green’ is unaffected by the French’s problems. I say go.”
Eisenhower nodded to his deputy, sliding his matches to the RAF man who was clearly in search of ignition for his pipe.
His gaze turned to the two men responsible for the sharp end of the ground attack.
“So, gentlemen?”
Patton, still annoyed by Eisenhower’s relative harsh handling, remained unusually silent.
Guderian slowly turned away from the curtained window he had been looking at, his gaze trying to burn through the heavy hangings and into the night sky beyond.
Clearly, he did not trust his English for the statement, so Goldstein was called into action again.
“Sir, General Guderian states that much depends on the weather so, if it is as Herr Stagg says, then we must go as planned. Delay risks discovery of all parts of Spectrum.”
Eisenhower nodded his head and turned to Patton, looking him directly in the eye, not challenging the man, but firmly letting George know that the previous matter was closed.
Patton’s haughtiness returned in an instant and, with hands on his hips and chest thrust out, George S Patton, commander of the US Third Army, shared his thoughts.
“Just say the goddamned word, Ike, and we’ll march all the way to Moscow, starting ten o’clock Friday morning.”
No one had expected any different.
“What?”
“The NKVD are convinced that this assault near Strasbourg is a feint; a maskirovka. They have reports that the Allies will move elsewhere, as a main attack, within the next seventy-two hours, possibly as soon as tomorrow, Comrade General.”
“Where? Do they know where?”
Nazarbayeva was normally softer in her dealings with her staff, especially Poboshkin, but the nature of the report had unsettled her.
“Not for certain, but there are German ground formations involved. That places it on or either side of the Ruhr area. The NKVD have discounted Italy, I’m assuming because of the source of their information.”
She took a drink from her glass, the cool water bringing the moment’s pause she needed to gather her thoughts.
“We’ll deal with how we’ve missed this later. For now, re-examine every report we’ve had for the last two weeks… and reassess on the basis of what we now know, or what our comrades of the NKVD believe we now know. Find me something, Andrey. My flight’s at 1725 hrs, and I want everything we can put together to brief the General Secretary.”
Alone in her office, Nazarbayeva’s mind went through everything she could remember, occasionally picking up a piece of paper, or making a note of her own on a pad.
After nearly an hour, she was no closer to making any meaningful discovery.
The knock on the door both broke her concentration and intrigued her, for it carried with it a sense of urgency that, in present conditions, could only mean progress.
Her aide almost ran to the desk, the Captain that followed behind slower and more wary of the new commander.
“Comrade General. This is Kapitan Ivashutin. He has been monitoring information regarding our field agents, with my permission, of course.”
From that, Nazarbayeva clearly understood that Ivashutin had been freelancing something in his department, undoubtedly outside of his normal duties, but that Lieutenant Colonel Poboshkin intended to stand by the man, in spite of the serious indiscretion.
That told her much before another word was spoken.
“Kapitan.”
At Poboshkin’s invitation, the nervous man laid a handmade map on the desk.
The annotations were meaningless to the uncoached eye, which in this case was everyone but Ivashutin.
Clearing his throat, he repeated what he had told Poboshkin ten minutes beforehand.
“Comrade General, this is something that I was doing in my own time as a monitoring exercise. This map records matters between the 1st and 31st of October.”
He tapped the hand written legend, meaningless words and numbers that clearly meant something to him.
“Sir, you’ll note that I took security seriously and encrypted my results.”
“Comrade Kapitan, please. PodPolkovnik Poboshkin’s already vouched for you and further discussion on your… personal project will take place under his authority. Just give it to me straight and to hell with the ass covering!”
“As you command, Comrade General. Each of these marks is a message that originates from one of our field agents as best as can be interpreted on the basis of tasking and known operating base…”
Ivashutin’s voice trailed away and he coughed deeply. Nazarbayeva gestured towards the carafe and Poboshkin filled three glasses quickly, setting one on the desk for each of them.
“Thank you, Sir.”
Ivashutin’s glass emptied and his dry throat was refreshed.
“Excuse me, Comrade General.”
He produced a second map and laid it next to the first so that the two were easily compared. Tapping the legend, he continued.
“This covers the same group of agents from 1st to 30th November.
Nazarbayeva could not help but be shocked.
“Go on, Comrade Kapitan.”
As she spoke, she shared a look with Poboshkin who aired his thoughts.
“He’s sold me, Comrade General.”
Picking up in confidence, Ivashutin tallied off the reasons why normal procedures did not reveal the issue. He was stating the obvious, but Nazarbayeva let him have his moment.
“Agents in the field cannot always contact us on a given schedule, and we are used to them dropping out for weeks at a time without problems. Because of recent events, the volume of work has been maintained as some agents have become prolific in their reporting. Because of the way we assign control of our agents, the lack of central monitoring has counted against us this time, Comrade General.”
Normally, criticism of the system was not acceptable, but he had a point.
“So, Comrade Kapitan, translate this for me.”
“Comrade General, what you see here is an area, from Venlo down to Luxembourg, where agent reports have greatly reduced, compared to October.”
He sought eye contact with Poboshkin, and was rewarded with silent encouragement.
“Comrade General, in October we had thirteen agents, possibly as many as sixteen, at work within this area.”
Checking the pad in front of him, he dropped his bombshell.
“For certain, twelve, possibly fourteen of those have made no reports in November, whereas here…and here,” he indicated the military zones above and below the virginal white paper, “The reports are flowing thickly.”
Her eye examined the two maps, acknowledging the void created south of the Ruhr, through the Hürtgenwald, and into the Ardennes.
“And your opinion and interpretation, Comrade Kapitan?”
Ivashutin was momentarily confused. The number of times that a general officer had sought his view on anything could be counted on the fingers of a hand with no fingers.
Nazarbayeva decided to put him at his ease as best she could.
“Speak freely, Comrade Ivashutin.”
“Sir… Comrade General… I believe that this area has been created by the Allies counter-intelligence forces removing or displacing our agents as they have built up a large assault force. I have no proof, but PodPolkovnik Poboshkin has ordered a review of agent’s reports from November, which might help us understand better, especially if we look at them in the context of this suspicion… Comrade General….Sir…”