Beria had hinted that certain scientists in Great Britain and the United States were being highly cooperative and that the means to create the bomb were now in the hands of Soviet scientists.
“We will have the bomb,” Beria told him. “That I can guarantee.”
“I am sure we will, Lavrentiy Pavlovich.”
“It will be a triumph.” He paused and smiled. “Perhaps you will be at my side when we announce it to the world.”
Dimitrov’s heart quickened.
“Ivan Vasilyevich, you are a genius. Stalin will be quite pleased and, of course, I will mention you for high honors.”
Dimitrov was elated.
“Let us hope your man is resourceful enough to carry out the assignment.”
“That will be good news for the world,” Dimitrov said.
At that moment, a telephone rang in Beria’s office, and he picked up the phone and listened. Dimitrov saw his complexion, which a few moments ago had turned beet red, become ashen.
“Are you certain?” Beria asked sharply, listening as the voice on the other end offered what seemed like a long narration. “How could this happen?”
He listened again, nodding, his anger obvious.
“Do you think he is compromised?” he snapped.
Again Beria listened. His color changed to beet red again. Beria snarled into the phone, listening, his eyes narrowing, his thin lips pursed.
“Homer is our most important asset. How could it happen? A reporter? Not reveal his source? Are they crazy? Their free press will do them in.”
But as he listened to the voice at the other end, he seemed to calm, nodding.
“He has called a meeting of the entire embassy, you say. He’ll shake up the embassy. You think it will deflect suspicion. Good, good, very smart.”
He listened again.
Beria nodded, calming now, apparently satisfied.
“It could be a bluff, a rumor, a reporter fishing. Perhaps MI6 is trolling; I wouldn’t put it past them. You think this ploy will work? I agree. Homer is very clever. He will know when it’s time to close up shop. If he says he’s not compromised, we must listen to him. If he is, it could close down the others in the group.”
Dimitrov felt uncomfortable. Apparently, Beria had forgotten his presence. But it was quite clear from listening to only Beria’s side of the conversation that an attempt had been made to compromise an important agent in America.
Dimitrov knew, of course, that he was one important cog in the vast intelligence apparatus and that he was not privy to every secret, despite his friendship with Beria. Nor, for that matter, was Beria privy to all of his secrets. Only Dimitrov knew what Mueller looked like, and in the event he escaped, his picture and dossier would be passed to all those in pursuit of him.
Again, Beria listened, nodding, his eyes narrowing behind his pince-nez. The normal color had returned to his complexion.
“He must be informed. No contacts. Do you understand? For how long? Until I say — is that clear?”
Beria nodded and slammed the receiver back in its cradle. He remained for a long time with his back to Dimitrov, and when he turned again, he was apparently startled to see that he was still present. Quickly, Dimitrov noted, he masked his surprise. Beria got up from his desk and approached him.
“You have done well, comrade. In a few hours, the results of your efforts could be realized.” He enveloped Dimitrov in a bear hug.
“You are my trusted friend, comrade. We will go far together.”
Dimitrov was ecstatic. The gesture augured well for the future.
“Thank you, Lavrentiy Pavlovich.”
Outside the building, he was surprised that his driver and car were not in sight. Then two cars came up beside him. Some men rushed out and strong-armed him into one of the cars. Instantly, Dimitrov knew what was happening and why.
Beria had been subtle, but his message was now delivered: No witnesses to the plot would be left alive. Now, there would be only Beria and Stalin. Dimitrov barely had time to contemplate the situation before he was bludgeoned to death.
Chapter 25
The lunch over, Churchill was given an upstairs bedroom for a short nap. Afterward, he dressed and joined Truman in the study, where he was engaged in quietly reading a mimeographed copy of Churchill’s speech. Truman acknowledged Churchill’s presence with a nod and continued reading. In a short while, they would be summoned to leave for the site of the event. Churchill lit a cigar and watched the president as he continued to read.
He weighed showing the president his scrawled marginal paragraph about the “iron curtain” reference, but decided against it. He would hear it soon enough.
Instead, he patiently awaited the outcome, well aware that his remarks might be judged inflammatory in the current political climate, especially in the United States. Truman’s face revealed nothing of what he might be thinking. Churchill knew his speech was breaking new ground in postwar thinking, but he was determined to express what he believed was an accurate cautionary portrayal of the truth.
Hadn’t he done the same in warning the British about Hitler’s designs years before the monster had thrown down the gauntlet. Indeed, he was not modest about referring to those gadfly years in the speech. People castigated him for his views then, especially after Chamberlain came back from his conference with Hitler and told the nation he had negotiated a pact that would give the British peace in our time. Poor Neville, he thought, a sad figure who chose the wrong side of history. Peace in our time had been an illusion. He was very much afraid that such a wish in the case of the Russians was just as illusory.
“These are harsh accusations, Winston,” Truman said.
Apparently, the president had finished his reading. His expression revealed that he was none too happy.
“Harsh, yes, Harry,” Winston replied. “But remember these are my words, my analysis, not yours.”
Truman took off his glasses, wiped them, and held them up to the light.
“Of course, I will entertain any suggestions you might have to alter the speech, Harry.”
Truman nodded and rubbed his chin. Churchill knew that his offer was merely protocol. He was certain that Truman would honor his views, which he might privately agree with. Nevertheless, he was quite prepared for criticism from the president after the speech. The important thing for Churchill was to get the message out, whatever the reaction.
“I wouldn’t think of asking you to change a word of it, Winston. Besides, you may be ahead of us on your theory. I’m afraid, though, the United States isn’t there yet. And there is always the hope that the Russians might be more forthcoming, especially with the United Nations now a reality.”
“I would like nothing better, Harry. Perhaps I have a jaundiced view of their intentions. In my opinion, these people want hegemony. They want their ideology to prevail. We of the West are seen as yesterday’s dishwater, failed nations, adhering to a rotten capitalistic system. They see themselves as the future….” Churchill shook his head. “…A future without freedom, a future without democracy, a future without any possibility of dissent. Note, Harry, I was quite circumspect. I did not attack their ideology per se, only their tactics in dealing with the rest of the world.”
Truman nodded then smiled thinly. He looked at the text and read from it.
“Who can argue with a man who writes this? ‘The Americans and the British must never cease to proclaim in fearless tones the great principles of freedom and the rights of man, which are the joint inheritance of the English-speaking world and which through the Magna Carta, the Bill of Rights, habeas corpus, trial by jury, and the English common law find their most famous expression in the American Declaration of Independence.’”