There was no way out for Beria, and he knew it.
“Comrade General Secretary, I did not consider it prudent to reveal everything from the messages I received from our agents, not before informing you first.”
Stalin didn’t bother asking why he hadn’t been told over the phone; he understood Beria’s game perfectly.
Beria passed across the Alkonost and Gamayun messages, adding the Japanese one as an afterthought.
The silence was deafening, although the effect upon Stalin was marked, his face flushed and his eyes narrowed.
He read the first message again, this time slowly and aloud, punctuating his recital with the occasional look at his man.
[priority code] QQQ
[agent] Alkonost
[date code] 250546d
[personal code as an authenticator] FB21162285
[distribution1] route x-eyes only
[distribution1] AalphaA [Comrade Marshal Beria]
[message] Higher production of uranium weapons confirmed A+. Minimum double suspected B-. Use is imminent A+ Groves. Possibly deliberately misleading project staff. Own view B+. Successful test on plutonium bomb A+ self-observed. Increased security threat to self. Interaction impossible. Hotel-Eagle.
[message ends]
Message authenticates. Codes for non-compromisation valid.
RECEIVED 12:58 29/05/46 B.V. LEMSKY
Beria readied himself, and was right to do so.
Stalin skim read the next two messages, his anger slowly overcoming him.
And then he cracked.
“What the fuck are we doing finding out now, eh?”
The messages were thrown at Beria with vigour, although their lack of aerodynamic form meant they missed their intended target.
“You’ve failed… failed me… failed the party… failed the Motherland!”
Beria shrank back as Stalin rose and advanced on him.
Gesticulating wildly, Stalin put the whole thing in a nutshell.
“We have Raduga underway, intent on hitting them before they have themselves organised, both politically and technically, and now I find we are so fucking far behind that I might as well toss fucking acorns at them!”
Beria wisely remained silent as Stalin’s finger waggled, both in accusation and in indignation.
“What do we do now, eh? Let the bastards bomb the Motherland from Vladivostok to Archangelsk, cover the land with their atomic bombs? Raduga is smart… Raduga is an excellent idea… but it’s not a war winner by any means, not like these… these terror bombs are.”
He turned away, seeking solace in a cigarette and a sip of his tea.
He returned to staring at Beria, his eyes burning into the NKVD leader’s very soul. Deliberately seating himself, Stalin seethed and plotted, reasoned and schemed.
His eyes betrayed processes in his brain, processes Beria chose not to interrupt, although his own mind was already working on responses to the changed world situation.
Suddenly the NKVD head realised that he had been caught up in a maelstrom of ideas, and had missed something extremely vital.
Stalin was looking directly at him, and with chilling intent.
“Comrade General Secretary?”
“This changes nothing, except makes our plans more urgent, Lavrentiy.”
Stalin rose dramatically, invigorated by a renewed sense of purpose and belief.
“This is an opportunity for us… we must exploit it politically. These bombs… they bring issues, do they not?”
The GKO had been briefed on the likely effects of an atomic explosion, and it had made sufficient impact for Stalin to remember it now.
“We must use everything we have to foment unrest. Agitate in every political arena we can. Make the continued use of these weapons unimaginable to the capitalist’s workers… make the politicians scared for their own positions… agitate… undermine… confuse…”
Stalin stopped and moved towards the window, recalling Vasilevsky’s briefing, and the ideas that resulted.
“Yes, yes, yes…we have an opportunity here. Frighten the European allies with the after-effects of this bomb… play it up as much as possible… target the Amerikanski as Vasilevsky plans… break them inside and out… and when they are about to collapse…”
Stalin turned quickly, making Beria start.
The look demanded an answer from the NKVD chairman.
“And when they are about to collapse, we initiate Raduga, Comrade General Secretary?”
“We initiate the preliminary phase of Raduga immediately, Comrade Marshal.”
Stalin paused for a moment, drank the last of his tea, and with studied care, replaced the cup in its saucer.
“Make sure the fucking Turks can do their part in this. Without them… just make sure the useless bastards get their part ready.”
Beria could only nod, the Turkish part in the whole operation had always been a sticking point, but an unavoidable one.
Stalin continued, suddenly enthused.
“But we create a new Raduga, one we can adapt with every new development. If our Japanese allies can still provide their part of the operation, then let us revisit the plan, and make it more than it was.”
After a few minutes of quieter, clandestine discussion, the General Secretary and head of the NKVD went their separate ways, reinvigorated by new plans and objectives, having been handed part of their needs by the Allies themselves.
Raduga had grown.
There was no huge response from the Empire of the Rising Sun to the Centerboard strike, save that of outrage and condemnation, of accusations and national resilience; certainly nothing to make anyone think that the Japanese had been struck a heavy enough blow as to change their national view, or undermine their commitment.
On Monday 3rd June, Tibbets finally got to drop L-11, turning the city of Hiroshima into a sea of fire.
The following Friday, 7th June, Little Boy L-10 fell from ‘Big Stink’, piloted by Lieutenant Colonel Thomas J Classen.
Beneath the B-29, the naval installation, port, and town of Yokosuka was obliterated, the attack being the final straw for the Battleship Nagato, which sank in shallow water for the loss of all but two of her crew.
The fourth Centerboard mission was scheduled for Tuesday 11th June 1946, destined for the city of Hakodate.
It was never flown.
Chapter 152 – THE MIKADO
When you realise the value of all life, you dwell less on what has passed, and concentrate more on the preservation of the future.
The atmosphere was taut.
Water and coffee eased dry throats, as nerves gnawed away at the men waiting by the radio, the US Naval signaller checking he had the correct settings for the hundredth time.
The clock inexorably moved its hands to the ten o’clock position and, to the second, the silence was broken by the soft orchestral strains of ‘Kimigayo’, anthem of the Empire of Japan.
Just over a minute passed before the music faded out and was replaced by an announcer, declaring the identity of the main speaker.
Shōwa-Tennō, or as he was known outside the Empire of Japan, the Mikado… Emperor Hirohito.
The tension inside the Oval Office was incalculable.
A soft voice started to speak, the words translated immediately by a white house linguist.
“To our good and loyal subjects. After pondering deeply the general trends of the world and the actual conditions obtaining in our empire today, we have decided to effect a settlement of the present situation by resorting to an extraordinary measure.
We have ordered our Government to communicate to the Governments of the United States, Great Britain, and China that our empire accepts the provisions of their joint declaration.