by Colin Gee
There was no chance of that, not that Petersen would have known, as orders to the 5th Guards Cavalry Division now confined them to the east bank of the Torysa River.
Four hours later, the 100th [Nisei] Infantry Battalion was relieved.
Few people realize that luck is created.
Robert Kiyosaki
Chapter 195 - THE BRIEFCASE
1503 hrs, Tuesday, 18th March 1947, the Kremlin, Moscow, USSR.
Stalin’s attitude had changed, and not for the better.
Nazarbayeva shifted uncomfortably under the tirade of abuse that had now been going solidly for two minutes and, or so it seemed, without the General Secretary repeating any word of significance.
Beria smirked as the hated woman received a roasting over the GRU’s failure to give any warning prior to the Allied attack, or to generate any significant intelligence after it.
He examined her body, her curves, as a man who has experienced the pleasures in sight can recall those he has experienced beneath.
His smile spread wide as he remembered the delicious penetrations of her bod…
“And you can wipe that smile off your fucking face too! The NKVD shagged the camel on this matter, or do I need to remind you again?”
Beria’s pleasant thoughts came crashing down.
“Apologies, Comrade General Secretary. Whilst you were dealing with General Nazarbayeva, my mind had strayed to the subject of our retaliation.”
Stalin’s finger wagged between the two of them, like the weapon of an executioner selecting his victim.
“I was too light on the fucking pair of you before… I want fucking answers!”
Stalin nodded sharply.
“Right. I’ve heard what Comrade Marshal Beria had to say. So… your turn.”
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary. I was in Camp Vár when the attacks took place, and all seemed perfectly calm and natural there.”
Nazarbayeva’s mind flicked to her discussion with Ramsey but she steered it back to the discussion in hand.
“I returned and ordered a complete review of the evidence of the last six months. That’s quite a task as you can imagine, and that task is still underway, Comrade General Secretary. I ordered to look back from last Friday, as it’s more likely that anything we missed would be nearer the attack date, given there would be more going on.”
Beria had said pretty much the same thing so it drew no response from Stalin.
He simply sat there puffing on his pipe and giving nothing away.
“So far there’s no clue as to any enemy attack… in fact… information we have received since the attack makes me feel that the Allies were caught by surprise.”
Stalin laughed.
“That’s what he said…,” he selected the NKVD head with the stem of his pipe, “Which is obviously fucking ridiculous, as they fucking attacked us! Have you two been colluding to make me look a fucking fool? Eh?”
Beria had already had his mauling so kept quiet to allow the woman to take every ounce of hurt.
“No, Comrade General Secretary. If that was the conclusion that Comrade Marshal Beria came to, then he came to it separately, and I can only agree with his assessment.”
To Stalin and Nazarbayeva, that was an endorsement of Beria’s statement.
To Beria, it was a condescending agreement that he had arrived at the same conclusion as her.
‘When this has died down, I’m going to finish you, bitch…’
Stalin selected Nazarbayeva with the stem of his pipe.
“Then tell me this, Comrade Nazarbayeva… how could the Allies fucking attack us and be taken by surprise at the same fucking time.”
He slammed his hand down on the table and leapt to his feet, using the stem to switch between the two intelligence officers as he made each point in turn.
“How the fuck can they be taken by surprise when they attacked? Do you take me for a fool? Is this some fucking attempt to cover your own asses? Eh? Who fucked up here? More than just you, I suspect? GRU? NKVD? Both of you? Eh?”
Beria went to speak but got short shrift.
“I’ve heard what you have to say. You… Comrade Nazarbayeva… you’re always full of theories. Tell me yours… and don’t hold back… don’t hold back at all.”
Stalin hit the table so hard he clearly hurt himself and brought tears to his eyes.
“Tell me what has happened here, Comrade General, and make it fucking good. I’ve been kind to you… so very kind and accepting… but this cannot be allowed to stand… this sort of uselessness and ineptitude must… and will… be punished. Now fucking SPEAK!”
Stalin’s spittle ran gently down her cheek and onto her top lip.
He neither apologised nor offered her one of the small cloth towels he used to wipe his desk down.
For her part, Nazarbayeva simply wiped her hand across the moisture and coughed to clear her throat.
“I’m totally convinced that the attack was not planned and instigated by the Allies as such. I believe it was instigated by Germany alone… possibly with the collusion of some of the Polish Army… and these are my reasons, Comrade General Secretary.”
“Oh, spare me the fucking German option again eh?...”
“Comrade General Secretary, you asked me how it could happen, and I’m giving you an option that is not only feasible, but the only explanation that can presently be considered such.”
“Then speak… but I warn you… no fairy tales, Comrade.”
She spoke of Gehlen and De Walle, of Abwehr agents and associations with senior men.
She recalled Ramsey’s words and finished by reciting them word for word.
When she finished her doubts washed over her, as it all seemed so weak… and yet, she sensed it was true.
Stalin’s anger seemed to have dissipated none the less, and his voice returned to normal, steady and unhurried.
“Comrade General, that’s a lot of words for so little real information.”
Stalin sat down again and ravaged his hair with his fingertips, as if trying to press some buttons on the brain below.
“Find out for sure. I want you to find out beyond any doubt… do everything you can to find out how this whole fuck up started. Work together. You and Kaganovich are thick as thieves so I’m told. Is that a problem, Comrade Marshal?”
“Not at all, Comrade General Secretary.”
Beria was secretly delighted that Stalin had immediately provided him with the means to side-step any blame should the cause not be discovered.
“But understand this…”
The finger switched between the GRU and NKVD officers, resembling a rifle at a firing squad, as the angry man surfaced for one final time.
“… I want results and no fucking excuses. You’ve both fucked up for the last time. No more, do you hear me, Comrades? No more!”
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary.”
Their voices combined into one, and received a nod from Stalin.
“Good. Anything else? No, then I…”
Something made her speak… despite determining not to… she did it anyway.
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary.”
“Go on, Comrade Nazarbayeva.”
“I understand that you assured that Raduga is now defunct, except for research… but…I have found reference to a circulation group 9226. Is Raduga’s research running in some way that requires the GRU to be excluded?”
“Did you not ask me this already, woman?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry, Comrade General Secretary. I just wanted to know if there was any possibility that it might have been resurrected… given the current circumstances.”
“Ah… I understand… as I said, the research elements of Raduga proceed as was always intended, Comrade General.”
He looked at Beria, seeking a show of support.
“From memory, I believe that 9226 is the reporting group for progress on technical matters relating to Atomic weapons.”
“Yes, Comrade General Secretary. A M
iddle Machinery group… well mainly… NKVD are involved as we oversee the project security. I believe GRU is simply not part of this group.”
“There you go then, Comrade Nazarbayeva. It’s not a GRU concern. Now, let’s concentrate on finding out how this fuck up started eh?”
Nazarbayeva took her leave, knowing that both Stalin and Beria had openly lied to her.
The die was cast.
1703 hrs, Tuesday, 18th March 1947, Imperial College, London, England.
“Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, Professor.”
“Always a pleasure to entertain a member of our American forces, General. How may I be of assistance?”
“You spoke with Len Cheshire regarding some urgent matters that were for the attention of General Strong?”
“Yes, shocking business… poor old Kenneth… and Eisenhower too, of course… all of them… shocking business.”
“Yes, I agree, Sir. However, life and the war go on, and I’m here because apparently you have vital information about the Soviet’s war effort.
The two discussed the nature of the information, and Penny produced the original documents for examination.
“Where did this come from?”
“Haven’t the foggiest, old chap, but it’s the biggest nut in there.”
Strong’s filing required that each item was date stamped and initialled, which provided some information to help with the main problem.
“Where did it come from, Sir?”
“Again, I haven’t got the slightest clue. All I know is that it tells me that the Soviets are further advanced than we suspected.”
“May I please take this, Professor? It’s vital for my investigation.”
“Feel free, General. I have two copies of everything anyway.”
“I wonder if you would be free tomorrow for lunch? There’s someone who would like to meet up with you.”
“Absolutely, free day tomorrow. Was going to do some desk work, but I can always make myself available for a nice lunch. Time?”
“There’ll be a car for you at the main entrance at midday.”
“Intriguing. Do tell me more.”
“I won’t be there, I’m afraid, professor. I have business elsewhere. You’ll be meeting with General Groves and Colonel Pash, who’re both extremely interested in what you have to say.”
“I’ll be there, General.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have so much to do. Thank you for your time, Professor.”
They shook hands.
“My pleasure. Take care, General.”
Back in his London office, Rossiter grabbed the telephone and sought a connection to NATO headquarters.
“General Rossiter’s office, Major Cortez speaking.”
“Jed, it’s me. Drop everything. I want you to pull Strong’s appointments diary for March 7th. Anything at all that’s in there, down to the last detail… anything…I want to know. Also entry logs to the building for the same day. I’m in the London office and I’ll be waiting by the phone.”
“I’m on it, General.”
“I’ll be waiting, Jed.”
By the time Rossiter had lowered the receiver into the rest, Jesus Cortez was on the move to Strong’s outer office.
The phone rang and Rossiter snatched it up in an instant.
“Rossiter.”
He listened intently, noting each name or meeting in turn, and mentally checked off each as being unlikely.
“Is that it?”
He laughed, remembering how Kenneth Strong liked his scotch, so a delivery of it was probably of little import.
“What was that? Say that last bit again?”
Rossiter’s pencil flew across the paper, noting the information down with growing excitement.
“So, he cancels his car for 1930… and then again the rescheduled pick-up at 2030… and there’s no rescheduling after that… so he either didn’t leave or left by another means… plus… of all things flowers… so… an important visitor not on his list who deserved flowers as a last minute thing… a woman visitor… a special woman visitor…”
The silence was deafening.
“He wasn’t having an affair was he?”
“Not a chance, Sir. Absolutely not a chance.”
“OK, so who came to the headquarters… say from six onwards… females first.”
Cortez checked down the list of entrants, starting at 1800.
“Three female for sure… there may be more, Sir. A WAAF section officer, Christine Mann … one of Tedder’s chicks I suspect. Daphne Hamilton-Hewitt, British Red Cross… and Madame Knocke, whoever the hell she is.”
‘Isn’t that the ex-SS bastard’s name… the one in the Legion?’
“Knocke… who did she see?”
“Not recorded, General.”
The phone went uncomfortably quiet as Rossiter’s disappointment oozed down the line.
“Santa Maria… here it is, General. Logged request from the office of General Strong… seeking a doctor to attend meeting room 12 to check a heavily pregnant female visitor.”
“Bingo… that’s her pregnant... that’s why there’s flowers. An unexpected pregnant guest. Wouldn’t be anyone in uniform, so has to be her… Madame Knocke. Excellent work, Jed. Keep digging… anything you can come up with on Madame Knocke at all. Thank you and good night.”
“Buenas noches, General.”
Two telephone calls and a visit from a breathless clerk later, Rossiter had a new file to examine, the cover alone making seriously interesting reading.
‘de Valois, Now KNOCKE [1-4-47]
Anne-Marie Claudette Armande,
Commandant,
Service de Documentation Extérieure et de Contre-Espionnage [SDECE]
Codename - COQUELICOT
Bodyguard - assassin - analyst
DOB - 2-18-1919
Major Involvements
a Attached SOE - Failed Assassination of
FldMshl ROMMEL [Top Secret]
b Soviet assault on Chateau Kœnigsbourg.
c Assassination of JOAN OF ARC [Top Secret]
d Assassination of MONTELIMAR [Top Secret]
e Suspected assassination of CASTLE [Top Secret]
f Suspected assassination of MOUNTAIN LION [Top Secret]
g Assassination of TRISTRAN [Top Secret]
h Suspected assassination of MONUMENT [Top Secret]
j Suspected assassination of CALENDAR [Top secret]
k Part of mutiny within Legion Camerone - lGENERAL MOLYNEUX.
a File linked Eur-Int-X-E-3048
b File linked Eur-F-Gen-292891-Koenigsbourg
c Files linked Eur-Int-X-E2-4444 / Eur-Int-X-E5-616
d File linked Eur-Int-X-E1-38119
e Files linked Eur-Int-X-E2-4444/ Eur-Int-X-E4-307
f File linked Eur-Int-X-E2-4488
g Files linked Eur-X-E1-38188/ Eur-D-Mil-SS-13772
h Files linked Eur-X-E5-0017/ Spec-X-Most Secret-500
j File linked Eur-X-E5-0018/ Spec-X-Most Secret-500
k Files linked Eur-X-F-Gen-301104- Camerone Mutiny.
l File linked Eur-F-Nil-Leg- 2021.
Additions- Married Ernst-August Knocke m January 4th 1947
m File linked Eur-D-Mil-SS-19725
Category 1
‘Jesus but she’s one serious woman! Category one as well. Not one to get on the wrong side of.’
Rossiter consumed the file as quickly as he could whilst he waited for the car that would take him to Brize Norton.
When he got to the record of the events of March 13th he almost choked.
The pieces slotted into place.
What was reported as a possible robbery was anything but, and it was clear that the woman had been targeted by…
‘…who?’
His mind dropped into a lower gear and accelerated forward, dragging information from its recesses and marrying bits and pieces together into an idea that almost overwhelmed him.
Before he stepped on hi
s aircraft, Rossiter lodged an urgent call to the head of the SDECE.
“Ribiere.”
“Bonjour, Henri.”
“Bonjour, Sam. I take it this is not a social call eh?”
The gruff Frenchman was still recovering from a near-fatal car accident, but was at his desk as much as possible, and still as keen as ever to deal with the enemies of France.
“No, you’re right, Henri. I can’t say too much for now, but your secretary, Madame Coquelicot, I think there’s an issue with her, and she needs more personal supervision. I’m not happy with her version of events.”
Henri-Alexis Ribiere, hero of the Resistance, understood exactly what Rossiter was saying, especially as the Coquelicot file was still on his desk.
“Yes, I’ve looked at this matter only today. I’ll do as you ask, of course. Will I see you soon?”
“This very evening, if you are free for dinner, Henri.”
“But of course, mon ami. I shall make a reservation at a new establishment I’ve recently found… say, for eight?”
“I think that’ll be just fine, Henri. I’ll be coming into Orly. See you shortly.”
The door opened and an RAF Flight Lieutenant stuck his head round.
“Apologies, General, but your flights been called again.”
“Gotta go now, Henri. See ya later.”
He replaced the handset and nodded at the RAF officer.
“Change of plan though.”
“In what way, Sir?”
“Paris, not Frankfurt. We’re flying to Paris.”
“Well I’m afraid that won’t be poss…”
“Oh yes it will be. Trust me, Flight Lieutenant.”
Rossiter’s plane touched down at Orly airfield and he was immediately whisked away by a car arranged by Ribiere.
Thirty minutes later the two senior men were sat in a quiet corner of ‘Au pied du cochon’ chewing over the possibility that Anne-Marie had been targeted for her meeting with Strong, which opened up concerns over the nature of the air crash that claimed the lives of so many senior men.
The two men discussed theories, and played Devil’s Advocate with each other, but each time they came round to one unpalatable possibility.
