Breakthrough (The Red Gambit Series) (83 page)

“Yes, so I heard. What operation?”

“As yet I do not know
,
Comrade Marshall, which in itself is
unusual. Combine that with the fact
my prime informants have dropped out of sight
and there are
some unusual circumstances in
Spain
.”

“So
,
what makes your intuition tell you
there is a problem?
”

“Little things, like the possibility that some Allied merchant vessels still dock in Sp
anish ports, possibly with cargo
es unloaded clandestinely. The absence of any information from GRU and
NKVD agents in north-west
Spain
, and I mean absolutely nothing at all
,
Comrades.
”

“And?”

Zhukov pushed, knowing there was more.

“And a report from a low-level agent who describes an officer
staying
incognito in a modest villa on the outskirts of Saint Germain-de-la-Grange
, which is near
Versailles
.”

‘Not bad from memory, Tatiana.’

“
Sh
e is a cleaner and received an unfamiliar uniform to prepare, and h
er
report seems to describe perfectly the uniform of a Spanish Army General.”

Zhukov exchanged looks with Malinin
,
but neither ventured a comment.

“If I get further information, I will report it immediately
,
Comrade Marshall.”

Standing to mark the end of proceedings, Zhukov ran his fingers
across his pate
.

“Thank you
,
Comrade
Polkovnik
.
An excellent, if not unwelcome report.”

Malinin moved to the door and opened it for the GRU officer, again, not something he ever did for run of the mill Colonels.

Nazarbayeva took her leave and the Chief of Staff closed the door behind her.

Turning back into the room
,
he found Zhukov sat at the desk once more, grinning widely, despite the bad news he had recently received.

“Well
,
Mikhail?”

He pursed his lips in thought, although none was necessary, his mind had already made up its mind.

“You were absolutely right
,
Comrade. That is one hell of a formidable woman.”

“Balls of steel.”

Zhukov laughed at his description.

“Balls of steel indeed, Comrade Marshall.”

“There is no worthy man who has not once dreamt of himself in the jaws of danger, in order to triumph in the face of insurmountable odds. We
,
each of us
,
envy the brave the opportunity fate casts before them to prove their worth; those so exposed envy us the safety of our dreams.”

Chris Coling.

“Your men are working well, Comrade Reynolds.”

Judas Patrick Reynolds, commander of the IRA’s Mayo Battalion
,
accepted the compliment
,
along with the glass of vodka, the second
one
the ship’s captain had plied him with since he came onboard to supervise his men.

“That they are, Captain Lipranski, that they are, to be sure.”

Perhaps it was the nature of the cargo that had inspired his men, or even the briefing he had given them
,
prior to the arrival of the darkened ship.

Whatever it was, the weapons and ammunition would soon be all landed, along with the additional Soviet personnel the
‘
Swedish
’
ship had brought.

Sinking the vodka in one, Reynolds moved to the other wing
of the bridge
,
where
he could look down on the starboard side. E
fficient sailors were manhandling torpedoes from a cunningly concealed
side
hatch into the waiting shape of a partially surfaced submarine.

On shore, his second in command, Seamus Brown, was overseeing the concealment of the ammunition and weapons haul, or at least the part destined for use by the IRA units throughout the six counties
,
and beyond.

The munitions set aside for the Soviet Marines were organised and distributed by
Senior
Lieutenant Masharin, shortly to be replaced as
the
senior Soviet officer by a new arrival.

An experienced Starshina approached Masharin with a formal report, leading
a
party of forty businesslike soldiers
, moving
in a
n experienced
silence born
out of the
experience
of
battle.

“Comrade Starshy Leytenant. My commander has been delayed on board. He asks that the men be directed to their quarters immediately
,
and then given opportunity to become aware of the position we defend.”

“Comrade Starshina, the matter is in hand.”

Masharin beckoned his own senior NCO forward, already briefed to lead the newcomers to their barracks.

The marines filed past, following the leader.

By 051
2 hrs
the
supply
ship had started to pull away, the second submarine having had its fill of the torpedo reloads.

The ‘Swedish’
vessel
had refilled the ingenious fuel cell system, a set of large collapsible rubber bladders that were anchored to the seabed, their feeder hoses snaking up to the shoreline and concealed with prepared mock
rough
stone blocks.

Those submarines, there were now four of them, operating out
of the Glenlara base, were well
-provisioned for more strikes against the Allied supply routes.

Malinin and Zhukov were animated, the recent news from the front drawing them to the main operations room to consult maps.

As they took in the scenario
,
a further report
from the Commander of 8th Guards Army
arrived
,
confirming that a counter-attack had driven in the front of the
29th Guards
Rifle Corps. The German forces had pushed
them back nearly ten kilometres before the situation was retrieved
,
the employment of
the
nearby 12th Guards
Tank Corps
,
and
the profligate use of ammunition by
supporting artillery
,
eventually
halting the enemy counter-attack
.

Malinin cherry-picked items from Boldin’s report, forwarded in its complete form from the 1
st
Red Banner Front Headquarters.

“
Colonel
General
Boldin’s report
… he believes
that
Major General Shemenkov… 29th Guards Rifle…
can
hold
…
despite heavy casualties…
he
needs
more
time to organise
… reinforcements…
before he
can
start
to push the enemy back.
”

“Hmm.”

Zhukov’s mind was working the problem.

There had been a few local counter-attacks over the weeks since the start of the offensive
, and most withered with little or no gain. B
ut
this one
was different, as the reports indicated that the enemy were pure German formations, part of the new Republican Army.

Combined with the appearance of German tanks and vehicles that
had
inflicted the Dagersheim debacle, for which the commander
s
of
the tank units
involved
had paid the ultimate price, there seemed to be numerous Germans in the field.

GRU had sent over a
special
report that indicated the formation at Dagersheim was the French SS unit, and their performance unfortunately vindicated Zhukov’s assertion to Beria that they would fight with their old
élan
.

For the moment
,
that unit had gone quiet, so the two senior officers concentrated on the setback on the road to Amsberg.

Some waving of fingers and palm movements conveyed Zhukov’s orders, and his CoS noted them scrupulously, offering one small observation as an improvement
,
before moving off to get the pla
n in place, sending
the commander
of 1st Red Banner Central European Front specific instructions, as well as releasing some more assets to his control.

The
Marshall
took a seat
at a modest
desk and selected a biscuit from a plate set for his needs,
a soft shortbread,
sticky with raisins and honey.

A similar type had been laid out the previous day in
Moscow
, the only sweet taste in a sour encounter with the entire GKO.

The meeting had been planned as a full and comprehe
nsive brief on the progress of S
tage 2, and that section had gone as expected.

It was in the disputes with the dangerous Beria that the drama had developed, and the whole exchange reeked of
threat
and intrigue.

By the end of the meeting, Beria had created a climate of fear and distrust that obscured the
initial
purpose
,
and undermined the needs of the Motherland.

Zhukov’s
presentation on the need for
utilising
the engineers amongst the ex-prisoners had fallen on
ears
already burnt
by the fire of the
arguments
between the Army and GRU on one hand, and the NKVD security apparatus on the other.

The ears were not receptive, and he failed to get what he needed.

‘What the Rodina needed!’

He looked at the plate, making a selection.

‘Why didn
’t they understand?’

Another biscuit sprang off the plate and into his
mouth
, the act of chewing bringing a moment of pleasure and relief.

Again he thought back to the tense meeting
,
and a moment when he
had taken
a back seat
.

Fortunately, Colonel General Pekunin had taken onboard his late-night
phone call
, replacing Nazarbayeva, and presenting the GRU report, including the condemnation of the NKVD actions that Tatiana had listed the day before.

He had watched Beria carefully whilst Pekunin pursued the ‘Spanish’ matter, and he would tell the GRU Colonel that her intuition was correct, for the face of the NKVD chief had betrayed that all was not how it was painted.

Malinin returned and was directed to a seat by the pondering Zhukov.

“Shall I send for reinforcements
,
Comrade?”