“Top sheet is what is ready to go now. The second sheet indicates everything that we can put together with the resources we presently possess, Sir.”
Knocke was impressed.
They were all impressed.
The leaders of the command groups had gathered at the temporary headquarters of Leroy-Bessette’s ‘Lorraine’, something they did when circumstances permitted, thus avoiding the interference of headquarters, in the person of Molyneux.
Lavalle asked a very sensible question.
“Training issues, Général?”
Knocke had given this some thought on the short journey from the workshop site.
“Next to nothing over standard familiarisation for most of these vehicles, Sir. My men have used all of it before, just not in these combinations. However, I suspect there’ll be handling issues with the 251 conversions, and I think some driver training’ll be required. There will be issues with the Aardvark and Hyena, if only because the guns are unfamiliar. Hopefully, General Pierce can provide us with some training officers for a short while?”
Pierce nodded and scribbled a quick note.
“I shall send some of my boys over a-sap, Ernst. I assume training will be done near the workshop site?”
A number of eyes fell on the wall map, seeking a suitable spot nearby.
Demarais found it immediately.
“Here.”
A piece of open ground in between large woods to the west of Arzwiller looked perfect.
Lavalle leant forward for a closer examination and grunted in satisfaction.
“We are agreed then?”
The assembled senior officers softly chorused approval and then moved on to the delicate subject of who would secure which vehicles.
Immaculate in her dress uniform, save for her cap, Nazarbayeva stood at attention in front of the heavy wooden desk separating her from Stalin.
Flanking the General Secretary were a bandaged Bulganin and, more surprisingly, Molotov. The ever-present Beria sat to one side, working studiously on his glasses.
Whilst Stalin studied a document in total silence, seemingly oblivious to the GRU officer’s presence, the others studied her intently, Beria immediately noting that the holster flap was unclipped, deliberately left so by the security detail that would have searched Nazarbayeva thoroughly, removing her side arm and cap as a precaution against repeats of today’s debacle.
Stalin, in studied fashion, set down the report and filled his pipe slowly, allowing the tension to build.
Running a match down the antique wood, he gently puffed away, drawing the flame into the rich tobacco and filling the room with its aroma.
He deigned to notice the new arrival.
“So, Comrade Nazarbayeva, it seems that I am in your debt for raising the alarm today.”
His eyes burned into her, in a way she had previously neither experienced nor witnessed, a piercing gaze that carried enquiry and malice in equal quantities.
Unexpectedly, it was Molotov that spoke next.
“Comrade General, the Motherland is grateful for your efforts today, but there are some questions that need answering so that we may understand how the situation developed as it did.”
“Comrade Minister, I am relieved that I was in time to prevent harm coming to any person.”
Bulganin coughed.
She produced the file from under her arm.
“If I may, Comrade General Secretary?”
Stalin nodded.
Slipping from her rigid position, Nazarbayeva opened the folder and delivered her honest assessment of how matters had transpired, leaving nothing out.
Molotov tapped his finger on the desk by way of interruption.
“So you are telling us that this traitor was interviewed by our medical services, and GRU and NKVD interrogators, and there was no warning of this treacherous intent? Nothing?”
Now Nazarbayeva understood why Molotov was taking the lead. Beria was as much in the doghouse as she was.
“What the reports indicate is that we were faced with a hero returning to the Motherland, after months of incredible resistance behind enemy lines.”
Lining up the evidence on the polished top, she touched each in turn as she summarised.
“Army doctor shortly after he made contact with the Shtrafbat.”
Her hand moved on.
“GRU medical examination report… NKVD medical examination report… summary of NKVD debriefing.”
Touching the thickest of the files, she concluded.
“GRU debriefing, conducted over three days.”
She stood back.
Almost as a discard comment, Nazarbayeva regretted the absence of the full NKVD interrogation report.
“Comrade General Secretary, each report, in isolation, brings with it no criticism, no suspicion. The initial medical report states that the General was in surprisingly good medical condition considering. Subsequent reports make no such observations. The GRU debriefing is thorough and there are no gaps. I’ve not had the opportunity to see the full NKVD debrief file on Makarenko.”
Bulganin’s soft comment was very informative.
“Neither have we, as the fucking file’s disappeared.”
Instinctively, every eye switched to Beria, to witness him squirm in discomfort.
In the immediate aftermath of the assassination attempt, Beria had pointed the finger very heavily at the shortcomings and last moment intervention of the GRU officer. The absence of the complete NKVD file on Makarenko quickly ensured that the hunter became hunted. In the NKVD headquarters, men had already been arrested for their part in its inexplicable absence.
Nazarbayeva coughed nervously, understanding that she was about to admit shortcomings in her own department.
“However, Comrade General Secretary, the GRU report was absent an associated file that had been identified as being relevant, and which should have been fully analysed. It would undoubtedly have raised some doubts over the veracity of Makarenko’s story. My office uncovered this just in time, for which I am extremely grateful.”
Her intent was to portray her real relief at interfering with Makarenko’s plans, but the others in the room saw only an officer expressing relief that an error was uncovered in time to save their head.
Molotov again took the lead.
“So how was it that you came upon this shocking dereliction today, eh? … and in such a timely fashion, eh? Almost out of time, eh, Comrade General?”
The normally even voice of the diplomat was very much replaced by the strident tones of a communist party high official in full pursuit of helpless prey, his sudden change in mood taking Nazarbayeva by surprise.
“And you rang Comrade Beria. Why not Comrade Kaganovich, who would be better placed to act, having no part to play in the day’s ceremonies?
“Comrade Minister?”
“The reports you bring to show us are old, and yet today you take an interest in them?”
“I arrived at my desk early, so that I could examine the GRU file before my day staff arrived, Comrade Minister. I rang Marshal Beria in the first instance, and was passed through to his Deputy as the Marshal was absent. That was clearly a mistake on my part, although I did not know that Comrade Beria was involved in the ceremonies.”
“How very convenient, Comrade General, don’t you think? More like you are part of the disease spread by the traitor Pekunin, and you panicked yourself into making an earlier call, rather than one just after the deed had been done, as you obviously intended, eh?”
The look Nazarbayeva gave Molotov would have melted marble, and each of the three men at the desk saw it, and each made his own interpretation of its meaning.