Impasse (The Red Gambit Series) (28 page)

Seamus Brown had overseen the
extra security sweeps that were always mounted when a sub was due, or at the base, and was now involved in a much more pleasurable duty.

Normally, such a duty would be beneath him but, in this instance, he was making an exception.

The Soviet marine stepped back and rattled the keys in the lock, opened the door, and checked that it was safe for Brown to enter.

“
Top of the morning to you, Comrade Nazarbayev. I hope the accommodation’s up to standard for you.”

Whilst Brown was taking further revenge on Nazarbayev, Dudko was doing the rounds of the sickbay, ensuring that the new arrivals were comfortable as well as checking on their Soviet resolve, or at least the resolve of those who were conscious.

One of the latter was suffering from concussion, the inevitable result
of a high-speed impact between a watertight door and the human head.

Snoring loudly, the sleeping man drew Dudko
’s attention.

Casting his eyes over the bruised face, one eye obscured by the bandage that held dressings in place on two nasty wounds,
he was suddenly drawn to a modest tattoo on the man’s upper right arm.

Alarm bells started ringing in his head, bells that made him fumble with his holster an
d produce his Nagant pistol.

He pointed
it at the casualty’s head.

A quiet descended on the hospital, as the recognition of danger spread from man to man like a forest fire.

Dudko shook the man’s shoulder gently.

“
Hey, Yank. How ya feeling now, pal?”

He shook the shoulder again, harder this time and repeated his question.

The figure started to wake up.

“
Hey, Yank. How ya feeling pal?”

“
Don’t shout for fuck’s sake. I hear you.”

Sveinsvold opened his eyes and
looked straight into the muzzle of a large pistol, held approximately two foot from his face.

Evidently, the Swede
’s look encouraged an explanation from Dudko and he tapped the tattoo.

“
S.Q.P.A.C. 1837.”

Sveinsvold said nothing, but the Political Officer explained aloud for the benefit of the onlookers.

“Si quaeris peninsulam amoenam circumspice. It’s a Latin inscription. It means ‘if you seek a pleasant peninsula, look about you’... and it’s the motto of the American state of Michigan.”

H
e leant closer to Sveinsvold, giving him the full benefit of the end of the announcement, “And has no place on the arm of a Soviet submariner.”

Dudko summoned a guard and, in spite of the protestations of the Irish and Soviet doctors, the barely conscious Sveinsvold joined Nazarbayev in the simple jail.

Bedell-Smith and Bradley were poring over some of the finer details with Von Vietinghoff, a tableau of normality set against a backdrop of excitement and worry, as the Allied Armies prepared to take their first steps on the long road back to Poland.

Eisenhower crushed the pack as he extracted and lit the last cigarette, all of his nervousness directed at the packet
, and he used all his strength to extinguish its existence, squeezing as if it were the very neck of his opposite number.

He had just finished a phone call with General De Lattre de Tassigny and was buoyed by the confidence that the dapper Frenchman exuded.

George Patton strode in, similarly confident, although his part in the grand scheme did not commence for many hours yet.

Whilst, unknown to the newly crowned head of GRU Europe, her son languished in an IRA jail, Nazarbayeva was woken from her slumber by an extremely agitated Poboshkin.

“
Comrade General!”

“What... what?”

She snapped into what represented consciousness at the second attempt.

“Comrade General, apologies, but
you must see this report immediately.”

He continued to knock until the bleary-eyed woman opened the door. Her crumpled officer
’s shirt and skirt betraying the fact that she had simply taken off her uniform jacket and dropped onto the office cot bed to sleep.

“Come in.”

“Apologies, Comrade General, but this won’t wait.”

Tatiana poured a glass of water and cast an eye at the piece of paper in question.

“Where does this come from, Comrade?”

“
From Amethyst.”

“
Refresh my mind please, Comrade Poboshkin.”

In truth, Tatiana
was certain she knew who Amethyst was, but needed a little extra time to gather her wits.

“
We tried to get Amethyst planted in the German forces. It would appear that we’ve succeeded, Comrade General.”

He held out the message, a simple but worrying warning that had travelled through a number of agents before being transmitted by a Colonel Lowe at Baden-Baden, an error that the Deuxieme Bureau, who were
supposed to be watching his activities closely, would repent at leisure.

Bad news has a habit of focussing the mind and Nazarbayeva was suddenly very much alert.

“0300hrs? This morning? And we’ve just got this now? Mudaks!”

Nazarbayeva re-read the message to make sure
that she fully understood its contents.

‘Blyad!’

The decisions started to flow.

“
Get me Marshal Konev on the phone right now, and then wake up the staff. Move.”

Poboshkin moved.

She slammed the door and struggled into more presentable attire, emerging to take the receiver held out by Poboshkin.

The words tumbled out, her speed of delivery driven solely by the lack of time left for the Red Army to respond.

“Comrade Marshal, my apologies for waking you but there’s a serious matter that has just been discovered and it can’t wait.”

She picked up the message and quoted
it word for word.

Poboshkin could hear Konev
’s reply as if he were stood in the room with him.

“
What? You tell me this now, Comrade General? Now? This is a fucking shitty joke. We’ve no reports of activity... no indications that the swine are even in that area, and yet you want me to alert the whole fucking 3rd just on a single report?”

Konev had been present in Stalin
’s office when the Dictator and Beria discussed the questions of Nazarbayeva’s loyalty and he had been short in his dealings with the upstart woman ever since.

Nazarbayeva took a deep breath.

“Comrade Marshal Konev. This news has come to us late. But we must believe it and act upon it or...”

“
Don’t you dare... don't you dare fucking tell me what the Army must do! There are no indicators for this. None at all! Comrade Beria assured me that any assault would come further north, where we’ve identified many of their prime formations.”

Nazarbayeva pushed harder.

“Comrade Marshal, this attack is centred around a prime formation, one that’s already hurt 3rd Red Banner deeply. The Allies may well be intent on an attack further north but, for now, they’re coming further south and Marshal Yeremenko needs to be warned.”

Konev was caught between this new
, but unsubstantiated information, and Beria’s glib assurances that the enemy would strike to relieve the pressure on the Ruhr later in the month.

There was also the matter of his view of the woman giving him this latest intelligence.

Beria’s assurances won the day.

“
I'll speak with Marshall Rokossovsky as soon as is practicable.”

Nazarbayeva found herself holding a phone that gently buzzed, as the commander of the Red Banner Forces of Soviet Europe
abruptly ended the conversation.

Whilst she had been talking, a number of her staff had filtered in, ready for whatever she needed of them, some even dressed for it.

“Get me Marshall Rokossovsky.”

Marshal Rokossovsky was indisposed
, but she spoke with the competent Lieutenant General Petrovich, the deputy commander of the 3rd Red Banner.

Kuzma Petrovich
had none of Konev’s reservations about Nazarbayeva’s credentials and started sending the necessary warnings and moving key units, such as artillery, whose positions were likely to have been noted and the first to receive any Allied bombardment.

Marshal Rokossovsky arrived
, endorsed Petrovich’s moves and suggestions, and continued the good work, as well as making a bold decision to redeploy some forces into their second positions prior to the attack, relinquishing those further forward in exchange for reduced casualties.

Whilst the 3rd Red Banner Central European Front was coming to full readiness, Nazar
bayeva had taken the plunge, hanging her career, and possibly more, on another phone call.

“
Comrade Nazarbayeva. Do you frontline soldiers never sleep?”

“
My apologies, Comrade General Secretary.”

The call lasted two minutes, which was also
close to the time that Stalin spent on the telephone with Konev immediately after finishing his call with the GRU general.

Finally, the bald commander of the Red Army in Europe relented and called Rokossovsky with the warning.

The wily Polish Marshal gave no hint that his forces were already on the alert, content to claim the glory should the intelligence prove true and, if not, he now had Konev’s orders to fall back on.

Major Foster approached clutching some new paperwork, presenting it for her commander’s attention and signature.

“
Nervous, Anne Marie?”

“
Yessir.”

Eisenhower grunted.

“Well, so you should be. This isn’t going to be a walk in the park; just the first step on a long trail to victory.”

He stopped short, realising he had just quoted from a speech he was working on.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to lecture. But...”

His voice tailed off.

Tedder’s aide was moving quickly through the throng of officers, one man in a sea of men, but one that stood out as having purpose in his movements and, to Ike’s eye, a purpose that was not going to bring positive news to his attention.

For once, Eisenhower
’s memory failed him and he could not recall the man’s name.

“
Squadron-Leader. You look like a man on a mission.”

“
Sir, Marshal Tedder thinks you should see this immediately.”

Eisenhower read the report and the colour drained from his face.

“Walt... Brad... George... gentlemen.”

He held up the report, almost as a lure, bringing his senior advisors into a huddle.

“Arthur sends us news that his night assets have detected large scale movements by Soviet units in the area of our diversionary attack.” The report made its way to Bradley, then Bedell-Smith, doing the rounds as each man used the time to arrange his thoughts.

“
Ok, Gentlemen. This would seem to indicate that the enemy knows we’re going to attack. They may not know the timings, of course, but this is not regular activity as I see it.”

He turned to the RAF officer who shook his head in support of Ike
’s belief.

“
So, do we halt the attack? Do we let it go on in? Do we have any other alternatives?”

Both Patton and Bradley went to speak and, unusually for George Patton, he permitted Bradley to continue without interruption.

“Sir, this is a diversionary attack. Its success is based around providing a diversion and drawing some of the enemy’s assets down.”

Ike
consulted the report again and continued, quoting directly.

“
Evidence of redeployment by many Soviet units in the area of Rainbow Black’s deployment and beyond. Movement considered likely repositioning of forces to alternate positions.”