Stalemate (The Red Gambit Series) (20 page)

Whatever it was, it was wasted on neither general officer.

“Comrade Nazarbayeva, are you well?”

“I am well thank you
, Comrade Polkovnik General,” turning to face the senior of the two men she continued, “My apologies for being late, Comrade Marshal.”

Zhukov liked that about the woman GRU officer. She was late, acknowledged
it, apologised for it, no excuses.

However, he realised that something was not right but, again, resisted asking.

“Your report, Comrade Polkovnik?” deciding on a moment of formality.

“Yes
, Sir,” the document appearing as if by magic, placed before the commander in chief. A second copy was offered to Malinin.

“The figures are a day old
, Comrades. If you require GRU to constantly update this file, it will be on a two day delay to be wholly accurate.”

Most of that was lost on both men
, as the true horror of the situation was laid out in black and white before them.

“Seventeen trains in one day!”

Zhukov swivelled immediately to his indignant CoS, the Colonel-General indicating the section on page two that dealt with the transport situation in the Ukraine last week.

That was the only outburst, the report consumed in a silence that grew steadily more oppressive, laden as it was with the stuff of defeat.

In a very un-Malinovsky like way, the CoS slammed his copy on the desk and paced the room.

“Are they mad? Are they totally fucking mad?”

Zhukov wanted to pace and swear too, but he simply let the enraged General do it for the both of them.

Nazarbayeva decided not to interrupt an angry senior officer in full flow.

“Fucking NKVD idiots, Chekist fools! Why did we not know this, Comrade?”

Tatiana suddenly realised that she was the focus of attention, and an answer was expected.

She cleared her throat.

“Comrades, in fairness to
Marshal Beria, it appears that he was not informed of all matters. It has taken my units some time to discover what has been going on, and he would have relied upon reports and investigations from the very units and officers that were misleading him.”

‘An honest statement, Nazarbayeva, defending that sow.’

“The production figures are now all correct, the previous difficulties rectified.”

Malinin sat down, his outburst over for now.

“It is the losses in transportation and misappropriation that are above the reported levels.”

That required a comment.

“Misappropriation? Explain.”

“Yes
, Comrade Marshal. By example, one train load of engineering materials was sequestrated by the Party Committee in Kiev, to be used for rebuilding public bridges.”

“You have names?”

“Yes, Comrade. GRU officers have already taken the whole committee into investigative custody.”

Zhukov would take a keen interest in all of them
, right up until the moment they were shot.

‘My precious bridging equipment taken by
fucking civilians!’

“The some of the new wave of infantry reinforcements have been organised into new divisions, and kept as a special reserve by STAVKA, presently numbering seven
teen fully equipped and manned units, numbered 501 to 517 Motorised Infantry Divisions.”

‘There are new units available in reserve
, and my Commanders haven’t even told me?’

In honesty, that was less of a surprise to Zhukov
than it had been to Nazarbayeva. Such was the lot of a Soviet Marshal.

“A munitions train disappeared from sidings in Rostov. It has since been found in Tbilisi, without any of its load of heavy calibre artillery shells.”

‘My own army stealing my shells!’

“A supply train with brand-new IS-III battle tanks was apparently diverted, with full and correct papers. I am awaiting confirmation that the tanks drove through
Vladivostok last Thursday.”

That was simply too much for Zhukov.

“Fucking Vladivostok? That swine Vassilevsky is stealing my armour! STAVKA steals my reinforcements and the Persian camel herders are taking my ammunition! It’s no wonder we are stalling here.”

A moment’s silence enveloped the room, the previously unspoken now openly stated.

Malinin broke the awkward silence.

“GKO must be made aware of this immediately
, Comrade Marshal. They and the others are sabotaging our effort, putting our victory in danger.”

Zhukov nodded savagely, his blood coursing through his arteries, hot and angry, disbelieving
, but also knowing that it was all true.

“Bring my trip to Moscow forward to tomorrow morning. You will accompany me
, Comrade Polkovnik. I will need you.”

Nazarbayeva had other plans
, but that was of no import when the Commander in Chief gave you an order.

Theatrically, Zhukov set his folder aside, drawing a line under a document outlining some of the reasons
that the Red Banner Army was running out of steam.

“Tea.”

The drink arrived and was sampled before the GRU officer continued.

“We have lost our senior Swedish contact at a bad time. It was he who supplied the details of the British delegation’s visit. The man in question was killed in an accident,” Nazarbayeva passed a photo of a Swedish Admiral to Zhukov.

“We are trying to confirm the details, but it is proving difficult.”

The need for good intelligence in the
Scandinavian region was all-important. Søderling had been able to assure the Soviet leadership that there were no plans for an Allied sally into the Baltic, and that there were no plans for any expansion of the war through Norway and into North Russia.

“Do you have a replacement
, Comrade?”

“Comrade
Polkovnik General Pekunin has someone, but he needs still more cultivation before he ascends to an appropriate rank and position.”

“Thank you. Next.”

“Allied losses. From what my staff are saying, the reporting of allied air losses is now correctly done, and that all enemy casualty reports should now properly reflect actual figures,” she conceded generously, “This is in no small part due to the efforts of the NKVD units that have been energetically ensuring standards are being maintained.”

Zhukov was
well aware of the NKVD effort; his last business of the previous day had concerned a Chekist submission on two Corps commanders that had not observed the required niceties.

Nazarbayeva’s statement was also a double-edged sword, as the accuracy of the new reporting system also betrayed the fact that allied air losses were much less than those of the Red Air force, and that ground losses were less than had been expected
, and the attritional trade-off was not as hoped.

The GRU officer had stopped, glancing at her watch.

Both senior officers looked up at the wall clock, noting the preciseness of the hour.

“There is more
, Comrade?”

Zhukov’s enquiry was met with a stoney face.

“Yes, I believe there is, Comrade Marshal. This was partly why I was late. I need confirmation before I can present the information as fact. I had hoped that confirmation would be here by now.”

“Tell me what you do have then
, Comrade.”

She took the plunge.

“All is not what it seems with Spain, Comrade Marshal.”

Zhukov’s eyes narrowed, a sense of foreboding suddenly filling him with a chill.

He nodded, inviting the full story.

“GRU lost touch with its main operatives after the attempted
assassination of Franco; an operation that we know was run by the NKVD.”

This was not news, but necessary
groundwork for the two senior men. In truth, Nazarbayeva was buying time in the hope that the confirmation arrived.

It didn’t.

“Our information now indicates that the operation failed because it was deliberately betrayed,” she paused, making sure she delivered the next line perfectly, “By the NKVD itself.”

Zhukov and Malinin remained silent, partly accepting that Beria and their political masters would do such a thing, and partly incredulous that they could do such a thing.

“Some of the agents were of German extraction, and this was used to demonstrate that it was the German government that made the attempt. The information given by the NKVD to Franco ensured that the agents were either killed or captured. Those taken alive used suicide pills.”

“By this method, Spain was persuaded that the Rodina was her friend, and she reaffirmed her neutrality.”

Zhukov remained immobile, Malinin nodding his understanding.

“Or so we thought
, Comrades.”

That got both men’s full attention.

“This morning, we received three reports from Spain, and my staff are going through them now so that we can correlate them and confirm all of this.”

Tatiana felt it necessary to remind both officers that her words were not yet set in stone.

“It appears that the Spanish understood that it was a Soviet operation all along, and merely went with it in order to create their own maskirova.”

Consulting a sheet of paper she continued, “A maskirova
that has kept vital information from all of us.”

“Which is what exactly
, Comrade Polkovnik?”

“That the Spanish are on the march.”

Silence.

“We lost contact with agents in north-east Spain. One of the
new reports indicates that at least eight Spanish divisions have been weapons training in the area, the whole region under martial law, known communist sympathisers rounded up and liquidated.”

Nazarbayeva added a sour note for good measure.

“Preliminary indications are that GRU has lost eight good agents.”

“On the march
, you say. On the march. Where are they, Comrade Nazarbayeva?”

“We don’
t know at this time, but the unsubstantiated report I have seen tells me that the force left the region on Wednesday, so wherever one hundred thousand plus men could get to in five days.”

It wasn’t supposed to be flippant
, but Zhukov flared quickly. Just as quickly, he subsided, understanding that the GRU officer was just speaking her mind.

“When you say unsubstantiated, how do you rate this information
, Nazarbayeva?”

The softening of his tone was meant to reassure the woman as to her safety, and encourage her to speak freely.

Nazarbayeva needed no such encouragement.

“We will know soon enough
, Comrade Marshal, but I believe that the Spanish Army is about to take the field, or more probably, relieve some experienced Allied units for duty in Germany.”

That very statement opened a window of opportunity for both men, minds suddenly straying to Phase Three and the thought of inexperienced Spanish troops standing between them and the blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea.

The pleasant thought was quickly shelved, the nastier possibility of a flood of experienced troops arriving from Italy taking precedence.

Both senior officers looked at the map, making calculations on distances.

Malinin asked the question both needed an answer to.

“How are they moving
, Comrade?”

“There are three units indentified that have their own integral motorisation.”

Consulting her quickly pencilled notes, she continued.

“It seems likely that rail movement is restricted, most rolling stock having been drawn northwards. That is unconfirmed,” careful not to exceed her knowledge, one of the GRU Colonel’s qualities.

“An overheard conversation appears to indicate that at least four of the infantry units are foot and horse mobilised.”

A knock on the door brought the anticipated file for Colonel Nazarbayeva.

Both men waited, sipping at their now warm tea, the growing anticipation overcoming the howls from their taste buds.

The GRU officer straightened her back and spoke matter of factly.

“Yes, Comrade Marshal. It is how I said. The three mechanised units are heading into Northern Italy, lead elements are identified as approaching Turin.”

Checking the paper again, she continued.

“The foot and horse divisions, five in total, follow the same path but are some distance behind.”

“The two divisions that were taken by train are now laagered on the Swiss border
, south-east of Besancon.”

A quick maths check
brought Malinin into the discussion.

“Ten divisions then
, Comrade Polkovnik?”

“No
, Comrade Polkovnik General, twelve in total.”