Argentine Archive №1. Магомет Тимов
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in our department?”
Andrei even got up.
“Me? The Chekists? Well, how could you…”
“What’s wrong?”
“No.” Andrey was embarrassed. Kotov heeded his reaction.
Then he said:
“The country needs you, comrade Fomenko.”
Andrey was even taken aback. He plopped back onto the bench.
“What, mobilize? The war’s been over for, like, five years already. Or not?”
Kotov shook his head vigorously:
“No, young man. For us, and you, by and large, the war is not over yet. It’s not on the battlefields, not in the air, not on the ocean. The current war is going on for drawing boards, in scientific laboratories, at test sites. And it’s only people like you, young and talented scientists, who can win this war and allow the rest of the world to sleep comfortably. Yes, the stakes in this battle are no longer this that country: the entire world is in danger.”
“And you mean?”
“I just want to say that we need you as a consultant on… Shall we say nuclear power?”
Fomenko began to rise from the bench again, momentarily speechless.
“But I…”
“You want to say, young man, that you did not specialize in this profile but only listened to the full course of lectures on the subject, right?”
“Well, about that…”
“So it's not a problem,” Kotov said as he slapped him with his wide palm on the back. “All the missing knowledge you can get from those who are working on the subject. And then already advise us in the process, so to speak.”
“In the process of… what?”
Kotov raised his forefinger.
“Now that is, as they say in the novels, my friend, a completely different story. Just decide for yourself, you are with us or not? If not, then consider today's meeting as if it didn’t occur.”
“What if I say yes?” Andrey asked in a hoarse voice. Kotov smiled:
“Then we'll talk.”
“Yes,” Andrey breathed out. For a moment, the major simply looked into his eyes, then got up and pulled on his coat.
“Come on,” he said.
“Where?” asked Andrey, automatically rising from the bench. Kotov chuckled.
“To a bright future, young man,” he said mysteriously and rushed along the alley to the exit from the park. After hesitating for a second, Andrey rushed after him.
June 17, 1950
22:50
Stalin’s office
Kremlin, Moscow
Beria was sitting on a bulky, uncomfortable couch, which he had long ago christened Stalin’s 'Procrustean bed', and waited patiently while Stalin read to the end of his memo. It has been like this since he had just taken up the post of People's Commissar of Internal Affairs of the USSR. Although he and Joseph Vissarionovich have always had a simple relationship, he never spoke to him, except through the lengthy memorandum.
Stalin reading his memos had become a kind of ritual between them. Beria knew that once Stalin has finished reading, some time will be spent pacing the small office with quick steps. Then he will stop and, with his hands behind his back and looking at the Kremlin courtyard, utter the traditional: “And how should we evaluate all this, Comrade Beria?”
And only after that their real productive conversation will start. He continued to wait. And he was not mistaken in his expectations.
Stalin finished reading. He put the printed text aside, then put the still unlit pipe in the crystal ashtray. He got up heavily, put his hands behind his back, and went to the window. Without turning around, he asked over his shoulder:
“And so, Lavrenty? Did the Germans really evacuate their physicists to Latin America? And how do we assess all this now, Comrade First Deputy Chairman of the Council of Ministers?”
Lavrenty Pavlovich knew the Master grasped the essence of the question.
“As I understand it, you will visit these gentlemen at their home, aren’t you, Lavrenty?”
Beria paused, which implied a respect for the Leader's ability to grasp the essence of things stacked up by bureaucrats. Only then did he cautiously answer:
“Koba, in March you set a problem for me. Now, I propose a solution. It’s a tough one, I agree. We’ll be up against the murder of Trotsky for some time, and there’s going to be a full-scale manhunt, not only for Nazi criminals but also for their henchmen. But with the case I’m reporting, both of our new Bureau members will be just a cover for the primary operation. We simply have to prevent the proliferation of nuclear weapons in the world. Well, to the extent possible, of course.”
Stalin turned to him, brought his right hand behind his back and shoved it under his lapel jacket in a Napoleonic manner. For some time, he stared at Beria, then nodded his massive head. His tobacco-reddened mustache moved in a predatory way:
“Hopefully, this time, you won’t have any leaks. There’s a lot at stake here. And you’re proposing to use some very green youngsters. How does this fit in with the principal aim?”
Beria was ready for this question and clearly stated:
“Sudoplatov and I have considered all options and settled on this.”
“Explain.”
“If you please, Joseph Vissarionovich.” Beria always knew how to grasp this line, beyond which the 'familiar' Koba suddenly gained a name and patronymic. “Three people are proposed for the group. The commander of the group was an experienced ‘illegal’ intelligence officer, a professional to the marrow of his bones, who had practiced in one of the Spanish-speaking countries. Two operatives will be sent with him, one of whom is preparing to work with the local population and liaise with the embassy. The second is a consultant on nuclear physics. This will allow us to determine just how interested our country should be in these secret German physicists if they really exist.”
“Do you realize, Comrade Beria, that you’ll have practically no time to train these boys?” Stalin went to the table, took out a box of 'Herzegovina Flor' from the drawer. He gutted one cigarette and, having spread it on a piece of paper, filled his pipe with the tobacco.
“That's right, Comrade Stalin, I understand. We’ll prepare them based on the 101st school, but according to a separate curriculum. They won’t have contact with the rest of the cadets. I believe they’ll be able to fulfill their tasks in six months.”
Stalin thoughtfully lit his pipe and, blowing a ring of gray smoke towards the half-open window, remarked:
“We still think it's all a big gamble. It’s such a delicate matter, and we’re sending an old wolfhound and a couple of green boys…”
Beria shook his head vigorously.
“I don’t agree, Koba. Judge for yourself: after Abakumov’s capers, we have no active residency left in South America, so, no individual observers. Any newly installed network will immediately come under the scrutiny of the Argentine special services and, consequently, the Americans. According to our intel, Langley is already preparing their group for transfer to Argentina. We’re very limited in our actions, unlike our American friends. Since the end of the war, they feel like they’re in their own backyard in Latin America. But the ambassadors won’t help us – what remains of the network is barely enough to collect pine trees from a forest. These three will be next to impossible to account for because they’ll act like amateurs. We need their impartial observations, along with their fresh eyes.”
“And if they catch them?” Stalin narrowed his eyes slyly. Beria shrugged his shoulders.
“In