Colin Gee - Opening Moves

He felt the sudden weight of that envelope in his pocket and understood why the signatures had the same effect on Knocke as they did on him when he first saw the document.

A quick note was written and handed to the summoned orderly for forwarding to the waiting dispatch rider, just to confirm to his boss that Colloque Biarritz had been successfully started.

Another note was dispatched shortly afterwards to Colonel Frisson, with the names of six prisoners for interview over the following week.

Settling back down he reached for the next file and waited for the former SS Hauptsturmfuhrer Richter of pioneers, who was next in line for a one-way ticket to a swift death in Indo-China. If he so chose of course.

When it first hit Beria’s desk he read it incredulously and immediately ordered another translation done, just to check. Thirty-five minutes later the senior cryptographer arrived back in his office holding the second version.

Comparing the two, it was immediately apparent that they were identical in every way.

‘[priority code] GCG

[agent] Alkonost

[date code] 280645c

[personal code as an authenticator] FB21162285

[distribution1] route x-eyes only

[distribution1] AalphaA [Comrade Chairman Beria].

[message] first test imminent indicator A+ on 160745c Confirmation type2 via Moth 050745c. Wellington. Freya-North.

[message ends]

Message authenticates. Codes for non-compromisation valid.

ORIGINAL RECEIVED 06:16 2/7/45-B.V.LEMSKY

SECOND DECIPHER 07:31 2/7/45-B.V.LEMSKY’

“No possibility of mistakes Comrade Academician?”

“None at all Comrade Chairman. I have even tried predicting an error in encoding but nothing produced sensible decodes. The message, as you see it, is the one that was sent Comrade.”

“Thank you Boris Vissarionavich.”

The cryptographer left the room and Beria was alone with his thoughts.

His glasses were automatically in his hand and the gentle polishing motion began. He looked at the clock.

Eight am.

After a short pause he leant forward and picked up his phone. It was immediately answered by his secretary.

“Danilov, put me through to the old man immediately.”

As the connections and requests were being made Beria drank some tea and waited patiently. A gruff voice brought him from his momentary daydream.

“Comrade Chairman.”

“Comrade General Secretary. I have a report on my desk that you will wish to see urgently. May I come over now?”

“Can it not wait until the meeting later Lavrentiy?”

Stalin seemed to be in a good mood, maybe because of what the day held for him and now that mood was about to be darkened.

“I believe not comrade. It is an Alkonost report and of some considerable urgency.”

The pause was brief as Stalin mentally processed the identity of the report writer and realised the possible significance.

“Twenty minutes, Comrade Chairman.”

Before Beria could reply, the phone went dead and he replaced his handset gently to hide his annoyance. Picking it back up again he had a mere second to wait before he was speaking again.

“Danilov. My car now please.”

Picking up the two decoded messages, he placed them inside his briefcase along with the three other files he had consulted that morning and left the office.

Less than an hour beforehand the same piece of paper had been presented to Beria. Here it was now, in the hands of the General Secretary. His reaction was initially calm.

“Let us look at this separately. Firstly, we have the codeword we expected. With ‘Wellington’ we know we can now, at minimum, disrupt the American programme.”

Beria impatiently nodded in assent, although that was not quite what it meant, wishing to move on to the section that caused all the consternation.

“We were first informed some few weeks ago that their project was more advanced than we first suspected. That is why we have set in place the mechanism for our agents to commence delay or destruction on our order is it not?”

“Yes Comrade General Secretary.”

Stalin rose and placed his hand on the desk, knuckles supporting him as he leaned forward. His anger was now wholly apparent and his voice rose.

“Now, some few weeks later, we discover that the capitalist bastards are a handful of days from testing the real thing?”

Reaching the highest volume Stalin screamed, “How the fuck can that be Comrade?”

Beria was unable to answer with fact, so said nothing.

“Some bastard will be counting trees for this!”

Stalin sat back down with a thud and picked up his pack, fumbling for a cigarette. He sought out a match and ran it down the desk in his anger, puffing agitatedly, until a sudden calm descended upon him as quickly as his anger had risen.

“Last time we spoke of this agent you quoted 100% reliability Lavrentiy, 100%.”

Having weathered the brief but extremely dangerous storm, a relieved Beria spoke with assurance. “Alkonost has never let us down Comrade General Secretary.”

“Let us hope that continues. Send the preparatory action code immediately.”

Stalin paused to wrestle with an issue in his mind, which he swiftly resolved.

“The other agents must also be ordered to prepare to act. Even though we have not heard from them, send the code to prepare to all your agents within Manhattan.”

Beria nodded his assent and, deciding to hold on to the other files until later, made to leave the room.

“Tell me comrade. This agent, Alkonost. What sort of man do we pin our hopes on here?”

Replying with extreme care for the benefit of the microphones, Beria paused before the door and turned.

“This agent is in the right place Comrade, and there has never been failure. Alkonost will do well enough. Until later Comrade General Secretary,” and with a nod of the head he was gone.

Outside the room, Beria walked through the building, gently unburdening himself of the stresses of that meeting. As he climbed into his car to make the journey back to his office, he could not help but smile. What would the Boss say if he knew that the fate of Kingdom 39 and more was in the hands of a twenty-five year old woman? The smile faded as quickly as it arrived as the possibility of Alkonost failing made its presence felt in his head. In that event, the age and gender of the agent would not matter to Beria, for he would be long dead.

At 1100 hrs precisely the group convened again, this time in Stalin’s office. By prior agreement only Marshalls Zhukov, Vasilevsky, Chief Marshal of Aviation Alexander Novikov and Admiral of the Fleet Hovhannes Stepani Isakov were present with their closest staff. On the other side of the table were the full GKO and to their immediate left and standing, the GRU Polkovnik-General, Roman Samuilovich Pekunin.

Zhukov, resplendent in his full uniform and every inch the soldier, made the full presentation himself, needing his staff solely to place maps on the table in front of the General Secretary and other GKO members, to make marks on a chalk board placed on an easel at one end of the table or occasionally to quote a figure or two from the addendums to the master copy of the now ready version of plan Kingdom 39.

The planning was incredible and complex, covering everything that could be possibly imagined. The requirements for operational security prior to and after the attack were extreme. Maskirova was of prime importance up to the moment that the tanks started to roll in Phase#3, because any advance warning could turn the plan from a triumph into a disaster. Some was already in place but much more would be needed.