Angel of Darkness

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘Doesn’t everyone? But as you must have gathered, I didn’t bring it with me on this trip.’

  He stared at her for several seconds, then returned to the subject that was of greatest interest to him. ‘And no one got ashore?’

  Several did, but only one survived.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘I shot him. After all, he was trying to kill me.’

  This time Beria produced a handkerchief to wipe his neck. ‘And you think that was Botten?’

  ‘No. He told me he was a Mafia bigwig. I think he was trying to frighten me.’

  ‘What a silly fellow. So what happened to Botten?’

  ‘I have no idea. If he was on that boat, he must have gone down with it. But if you knew what he was planning to do, then you knew where I lived.’

  ‘The fool never told us where you lived,’ Beria said. ‘Only that he had tracked you to the Bahamas. Then he disappeared.’

  ‘And you never followed that up? For three years?’

  ‘That also was Marshal Stalin’s decision; I think he felt that in some way you had become immortal. And for all those years I have been, as regards you, in a subordinate position. You must understand that what enraged Premier Stalin was not merely the fact that your mission was to kill him, but that you so bewitched him with your looks and personality that he was falling in love with you . . . then you were uncovered as an assassin. And he was old enough to be your grandfather! But then, as they say, there is no fool like an old fool – which is very true when it comes to matters such as sex and desire, which tend to fade as time goes by and become difficult to inspire. Thus when he discovered that every time you took tea with him in the Kremlin – and fluttered those long eyelashes at him and told him what a great man you thought he was – you were actually planning how best to go about murdering him, the humiliation caused him to hate you more than any other living creature in the world.’

  ‘And you are saying that he has changed his mind?’

  ‘Oh, no. He still dreams of having you stretched in front of him, naked and helpless. You could describe him as the original dirty old man. But he has come to recognize that it can only ever be a dream now.’

  ‘Then, sir, I do not understand what I am doing here. If Marshal Stalin is still your commander and he is still out for my blood . . . Or have you merely been amusing yourself in the most unpleasant possible manner, and do still intend to deliver me to him, naked and helpless?’

  ‘You are so forthright, Anna. You do not mind if I call you Anna? I feel that we are going to get to know each other very well.’

  ‘You mean you intend to have me, naked and helpless, for yourself?’

  ‘What an entrancing thought. But I would hope that if – or should I say when? – we get to know each other, coercion will not be an issue.’

  ‘Forgive me, Comrade Commissar, but I have lost the point. You have spent twelve years, and a great deal of time, money and human life, just to get to know me better?’

  ‘I have explained, Anna, that for those years I was constrained, and required to follow the instructions of my master.’

  ‘And you no longer have to do that? Marshal Stalin is still alive, and ruling Russia?’

  ‘Marshal Stalin is still alive,’ Beria agreed. ‘Just. And he continues to assume – and it is accepted by a great many people – that he is the absolute ruler of Russia. However, his grip on affairs is becoming increasingly tenuous. I thus find myself in a position where I can employ whoever I choose to do whatever I choose.’

  *

  Anna stared at him in total consternation. Even if she had suspected that he might be heading in this direction, she had not expected him to state it so bluntly. ‘You want me, to work for you?’ she asked. ‘What as?’

  ‘My dear Anna,’ he said. ‘I had never thought you would be naïve As far as I am aware, you have only one talent. Well, perhaps two. But I have always understood that you used the one to achieve the other.’

  ‘You wish me to become a member of the MGB? I’m not sure I could ever be popular with my colleagues.’

  ‘Have you ever had any colleagues? My understanding is that you have always worked alone – except perhaps for that occasion in Germany in 1946. But we are not here to talk about the past. And in any event, I do not wish you to join the MGB. You will work for me, personally. As you once worked for Himmler, personally.’

  ‘And may I assume that you have a specific target in mind?’

  ‘We will discuss targets later. Do you accept my offer?’

  Her brain was spinning. But throughout her life, survival had been the key. ‘Do I have a choice?’

  ‘Everyone has a choice, Anna. Although I agree that some choices are more easily made than others.’

  ‘And can you be sure that I will carry out your orders?’

  ‘I can be quite sure. As you will realize when I give them to you.’ His voice, hitherto quiet, suddenly hardened. ‘Your answer?’

  ‘I accept.’ Whatever reservations she was already considering, she could do nothing until she had discovered just what he had in mind, and how closely she was going to be supervised.

  ‘Excellent. Now, we have talked business for long enough. What, at this moment, and given your circumstances, would you like most in the world?’

  ‘I would like to get rid of these clothes, and have a hot bath and a square meal.’

  ‘Of course.’ He got up and came round the desk. ‘And I hope that, at some stage, you will demonstrate to me some of your skills. I have had to exist far too long on hearsay. Come.’

  *

  He gestured her to her feet, ostentatiously leaving both guns on the desk. He knew she was not going to attempt to break out, with no hope of success other than perhaps the satisfaction of killing him, while he held out the carrot of a far better opportunity later on. She had to be content with that.

  He opened the door for her, and she went into the outer office, where it seemed that his entire staff were waiting, as well as Berisova – all looking extremely anxious, and retreating from her as they saw that she was unrestrained in any way.

  ‘Well?’ Beria demanded.

  ‘The clothes are on their way over now, Comrade Commissar,’ Berisova said, ‘as well as the dressmakers.’

  ‘Very good. We shall be in the apartment.’

  ‘You, and you,’ he said to two of the female members of his staff, ‘will come with us.’ He indicated the corridor, and then the second door on this level. ‘In there.’

  Anna opened the door, and found herself in a bright, airy and comfortably furnished lounge. To her left there was an open-plan kitchen; on her right an open door revealed a bedroom.

  ‘Draw a hot bath for the Countess,’ Beria commanded, and the two girls hurried through the bedroom.

  ‘Is this where you live?’ Anna asked, genuinely curious.

  ‘Oh, no. I have a dacha, well, several, in fact, scattered about the country. This is where you will live during your stay in Moscow. At least until we can make other arrangements, eh? Vodka?’

  ‘At nine o’clock in the morning?’

  ‘It is as good a time as any. Or perhaps you would prefer tea?’

  ‘I would actually prefer coffee. Preferably strong.’

  ‘Our coffee is dreadful stuff. Vodka would be better for you.’

  Anna shrugged. He was determined to illustrate his control of the situation, and she was content to go along with that, for the time being, because he did of course hold all the high cards, at this moment. The important thing from her point of view was that she was alive, and unharmed, and seemed to have some prospect of remaining that way for the immediate future. And all the while, the wheels would be turning in Washington and London. But he was unaware of that.

  Beria poured two small glasses and gave her one.

  ‘To your continued good health.’

  ‘And to yours, Comrade Commissar,’ Anna replied. At least, she thought, until I have an opportunity to alter the situati
on. The fiery liquid was certainly warming.

  ‘Now tell me, when did you last eat?’

  Anna grimaced. ‘I had what passes for breakfast in your cells.’

  ‘Ha. But our business is simply to keep our prisoners alive, not to fatten them.’

  ‘But before that . . .’ She shrugged again. ‘I had no dinner last night.’

  ‘That is inhuman. You must indeed be starving.’

  ‘I am hungry, yes.’

  ‘Then you shall have a proper breakfast, eh? As soon as you have bathed. I would not like your figure to be in any way diminished. Not,’ he added, ‘that I have seen it yet.’

  One of the young women appeared in the doorway. ‘The bath is ready, Your Excellency.’

  ‘Thank you. Anna?’

  Anna drained her glass, the glow spreading from her largely empty stomach to every part of her body, and followed the girl through the bedroom, aware that Beria was behind her. Well, he had made it perfectly clear that he intended to enjoy her as well as employ her, and she was in no position to resent it.

  She went into the bathroom, where the other girl waited, sleeves pushed up to her elbows.

  ‘She would like to wash you,’ Beria explained, unnecessarily. ‘But I imagine you are perfectly capable of washing yourself.’

  ‘I am, yes.’ Anna sat in the one chair to remove her boots, then stood up to lift her blouse over her head and drop her pants. The girls stared at her like starving dogs.

  ‘Get rid of those rags,’ Beria commanded. ‘And those disgusting boots.’

  They gathered up the discarded clothing and left the room. Anna cautiously dipped her hand in the water, but it was just the right temperature. She stepped in and lowered herself with a sigh.

  ‘You are exquisite,’ Beria commented, sitting in the vacated chair. ‘But I imagine you have been told that often enough.’

  ‘Men like to pay me compliments,’ Anna acknowledged, soaping herself with sensuous contentment.

  ‘And some women, I believe.’

  ‘Those too.’

  ‘But that crucifix . . . Are you a Roman Catholic?’

  ‘I was once. I was educated at a convent.’

  ‘How remarkable. And . . .?’

  ‘Yes, Comrade Commissar, I would like to be one again, one day.’

  He watched her for several seconds, then said, ‘My man Terpolov . . . or I suppose you know him better as Hamilton . . .’

  ‘Hamilton,’ said Anna, controlling the venom.

  ‘A detestable fellow, but good at his job. He had an English mother, you know, and was thus able to fit into the English background.’

  ‘Except that you gave him a Scottish name.’

  ‘Did we? That was careless. No one told me, until now. But you were not suspicious of him?’

  ‘Not sufficiently,’ Anna said, sadly.

  ‘He claims that he saw you kill a man with a single blow to the neck.’

  ‘I was trained by the SD,’ Anna said, modestly.

  ‘So it was not a lucky blow.’

  ‘It was not a lucky blow. Although I will admit that I hit him harder than I had intended.’ She turned her head to look at him. ‘He was trying to rape me, you see, and I suppose I lost my temper.’

  ‘You do not like being raped?’

  ‘Do you, Comrade Commissar?’

  ‘Ha ha. Do you know, I have never had that experience. What I am trying to establish is that you are confident that you can destroy a man – any man – with a single blow.’

  There was a bottle of shampoo; it was a long way from her favourite scent, but it was better than nothing. Anna washed her hair. ‘I am a confident person.’

  ‘I can see that.’

  ‘Would I be right in assuming that you wish me to kill someone for you without using a weapon?’

  ‘You would be right.’

  ‘And for this purpose you have spent all this time and money to have me kidnapped?’

  ‘It is a task only you can perform.’

  ‘If you knew the number of times, Comrade Commissar, that I have been told that.’

  ‘Well, are you not unique?’

  ‘You say the sweetest things.’ Anna rinsed her hair, then stood up. This was no time for thinking, only absorbing. Beria handed her a towel, and she stepped from the bath. ‘Would it not have been simpler merely to approach me with a proposition?’

  ‘Would you have accepted a proposition from me? Would you have allowed my emissary the time to make it?’

  ‘You never know your luck. But as I’m here, am I allowed to ask what brought you to this decision, after spending twelve years trying to have me killed?’

  ‘I have explained, that I was acting under orders. I have always had my doubts so to whether destroying so valuable an asset as a woman like yourself was not a mistake.’

  Anna dried herself. ‘And now your orders have been changed, is that it? By Marshal Stalin? Who you say has hated me more than any other living creature for all of those twelve years?’

  ‘Marshal Stalin,’ Beria said, ‘does not even know that you are in Russia. Yet.’

  Slowly Anna wrapped her hair in a fresh towel, while her brain spun round in circles. ‘I hope, Comrade Commissar, that you are not telling me what I suspect you are telling me.’

  ‘They said you were a genius,’ Beria declared, and sniffed. ‘I think breakfast has been served. Shall we eat?’

  *

  There was no dressing gown, but that was obviously how he wished her to be. Besides, her brain was still spinning with the implications of what he had just suggested. Now she could only wait to find out exactly what he had in mind.

  The two girls stood beside the table in the lounge, together with Berisova, whose eyes were no less hungry than theirs as they looked at her. But, for the moment, Anna was preoccupied with the plates of steaming eggs, tubs of yogurts, thin slices of bread, and, of course, a bubbling samovar of tea. She would have enjoyed some bacon, but that was irrelevant compared with the effect the sight of food was having on her empty stomach.

  Beria gestured her to a chair, and she sat down. He sat beside her.

  ‘The clothes are here, Comrade Commissar.’ Berisova indicated the various boxes piled on the floor, and the half-dozen dresses draped across the settee; there were also several pairs of shoes.

  ‘Thank you, Comrade Colonel.’

  ‘And the dressmakers are standing by, to make whatever alterations are required.’

  ‘Tell them to wait until after the countess has had her breakfast.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Berisova looked at Anna again, this time less in lust than increased astonishment at the way she was being treated.

  ‘Now leave us,’ Beria commanded. ‘Leave this door open, but close the outer one.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ She gestured the girls from the room, and followed.

  Beria waited for the outer door to close, then said, ‘Poor Berisova is very confused. I wouldn’t put it past her to try to overhear what we say to each other. I would hate her to do that, as I would then have to shoot her. I would not like to have to do that; she is very efficient.’

  There was a huge cruet in the centre of the table; Anna added salt and pepper from the two outsize containers, and ate the eggs. ‘And what are we going to say to each other, Comrade Commissar? Or, perhaps, do?’

  ‘Do. Later, perhaps. As for what we have to say, you understand why you are here?’

  ‘I’m hoping you will explain more fully, sir. Otherwise I will find it impossible to believe.’

  Beria drank tea. ‘I think you know that I have served Marshal Stalin faithfully and well for some fifteen years. To the extent that he has trusted me with enormous powers. I have the power of life and death over every man, woman, and child in this country. However, that power has always been subject to his ultimate endorsement, or veto.’

  Anna buttered some bread.

  ‘Unfortunately, men who wield unlimited power tend to become megalomaniac.’


  She understood that he was not referring to himself.

  ‘And when that megalomania is added to an already existing paranoia, it comes close to madness. Marshal Stalin has always been prone to a paranoid mistrust of those around him. You remember the show trials of 1937? Those men were all old comrades in arms who he had come to believe were plotting to dethrone him.’

  Anna swallowed the bread. ‘Should you be telling me this, Comrade Commissar?’

  Beria chuckled. ‘Should I not, as you are now working for me?’

  ‘Ah!’ Anna commented.

  ‘There is one fact that you need to keep constantly in mind,’ he continued. ‘Should anything happen to me, when I mount the scaffold you will be standing beside me – whether you have betrayed me, or attempted to betray me, or not.’

  ‘I quite understand that that’s something I shall need to remember.’

  ‘Quite so. Now, the marshal is an old man. Older, perhaps, mentally than in years. In fact, he is only seventy-three. But although he knows his powers are fading, he cannot bring himself to hand over the reins to anyone else; to someone younger and more capable, perhaps. Indeed, I suspect he dare not do so. He has made too many enemies within the senior ranks of the Party to be certain of his own survival, should he relinquish supreme power.’

  Anna drank some more tea. She understood exactly what he was telling her.

  ‘And that paranoia of which I spoke is now leading him to believe that certain of those younger men are plotting against him, plotting his deposition. He is thus becoming too dangerous to be allowed to continue.’

  ‘In other words,’ Anna said, ‘his suspicions are more correct than paranoid.’

  Beria regarded her for several seconds. Then picked up his knife, dug it into the butter, and smeared the pat on to her left nipple. Anna’s head jerked, but she immediately realized that this was merely another, somewhat childish, way of demonstrating his mastery.

  ‘That sharp brain of yours could get you into serious trouble,’ he said.

  She resisted the temptation to remove the butter. ‘I was merely saying, Comrade Commissar, that I understood your problem. But I don’t see why you need me. Doesn’t the position of premier require the support of the Politburo? And if the premier loses their support, can he not be legally deposed?’