quick interrogation, said, “Nicolai, it wasn’t you, in particular. There are fifty-five officers and men assigned to the minister’s security guard. This sort of discipline will insure, for at least a couple of years, that no one will come on duty with the slightest of hangovers, or anything else that might dull the edge of perception. You’d better go pack, Nicolai. If I know the colonel, you’ll be on your way to some post above the Arctic Circle before the day is out.”
The captain took a deep breath. “He’ll have you reduced to private, but you’re a good man, Ilyichev, and you carry the Hero’s award, as I well know, since I am only here as a result of your conduct. Promotion is faster in Siberia than it is in Moscow. You’ll soon regain your rank.”
His words were meaningless to the other. Captain Nicolai Ilyichev had planned to be married the following week. He and his bride to be had been consumating their marriage a bit prematurely the night before. The colonel had been correct. He hadn’t shaved.
Ilya Simonov continued down the corridor. He came to a halt at the reception desk before the ornate door of the Minister’s office. Another captain sat before it. The Soviet agent didn’t know him. The other took in the swagger stick.
Simonov said, “I have no appointment but the Minister is probably expecting me.”
“Yes, Comrade Colonel Simonov,” the other nodded respectfully. He flicked a switch and spoke into an inter- office communicator screen.
He flicked another switch and the door behind him automatically opened. Ilya Simonov marched on through.
Minister Kliment Blagonravov was at the huge desk at the far end of the room. There was a smaller desk to one side which accommodated an aide. The Minister snapped his fingers at the aide, who immediately came to his feet and left the room.
“Sit down, Ilya,” Blagonravov said. “I was expecting you. Don’t you ever take a day or two off after completing an assignment?”
“Sometimes,” Simonov said, finding a chair and turning back to his ultimate superior.
Blagonravov was a heavy man, heavy of face, heavy-set and his head was completely shaven in the manner no longer much affected by Russian ministers and ranking army officers. He was one of those who sweat if the weather is even mildly warm. As usual, his tunic was off, his collar loosened. After the dressing down his field man had given the untidy captain out in the corridor, he could hardly have approved the appearance of his superior. But he was, after all, the minister, and possibly the most powerful, and the most feared, minister in the Soviet Complex.
Blagonravov said, “A drink?”
Simonov shook his head. “A bit too early for me. Besides, I am afraid I celebrated a bit too much last night upon my return from Irkutsk. I dislike Siberia.”
His superior had swung in his swivel chair to a small bar behind him. He opened the refrigerator door and brought forth a liter of highly chilled vodka, pulled the cork with his teeth and took up a tall shot glass and filled it. He put the bottle on the top of the bar rather than returning it to the refrigerator.
He said, “Ah, yes. Vladimir gave you an assignment in the East while I was in Rumania. How did it go, Ilya?”
His top operative shrugged. “The usual. Took a couple of weeks in all.”
“What was it all about?”
“The men in the mines there were trying to start a union.”
The minister knocked back his vodka with a practiced stiff-wristed toss. “Union?” he said in surprise. “Surely they already have a union. Miners? Of course they have a union.”
“I do not mean the State union,” Simonov said, crossing his legs. “They were trying to establish a union independent of control by the State. They had various grievances, including a desire for better housing and medical care. They even had plans for a strike.”
His superior poured himself another drink. “What’s it coming to?” he growled. “You’d think we were in the West. What did you do?”
Ilya Simonov grunted his version of humor. “Well, I could hardly send the ringleaders to Siberia, in view of the fact that they were already there. So I arranged for a bit of an accident.”
Blagonravov pursed fat lips. “Was it necessary to be so drastic? Number One has suggested that we, ah, cool it a bit, as the Yankees say. Things are no longer as desperate as they were in the old days.”
“I thought it was necessary,” Simonov said. “A thing like that can get out of control, can spread like wildfire, can grow like a geometric progression. And if we allowed such action to the miners, who can say where else free unions might not spring up?
“Yes, yes, of course, Ilya,” his boss said. “You can always be counted upon to take the correct action.” He finished off his second vodka, then looked over at his favorite field man. He said, “How long has it been since you have been in the United States?”
Simonov thought back. “Perhaps as much as ten years.” He cleared his throat. “I am not exactly popular in America.”
The
Simonov contemplated his superior quizzically.
“Most likely,” Blagonravov said, “it could be handled by the attach es at the Embassy in Greater Washington. However, I trust you most explicitly, and want your experienced opinion.”
His field man waited for him to go on.
The minister leaned back in his chair and looked thoughtful. He said slowly, “There is the danger of a very fundamental change taking place in America.”
“A fundamental change, Kliment?” the operative said. He was the only man in the ministry who dared call the chief by his first name.
“Yes, a very basic change, if our meager information is correct.”
“Good!”
“No, bad. It is a change we do not wish to see, if I have any idea whatsoever about what is going on, and I sometimes wonder.”
His trouble shooter waited patiently.
“In the way of background,” the minister said, “let me go back a bit. The situation that prevails in the States these days had its roots back possibly in the last century. The tendency has been accelerating, and, frankly, it is to the advantage of the Soviet Complex to have it continue to accelerate.”
“Tendency?” Simonov scowled.
“Yes. Let me use an example. Some decades ago, a rather incompetent American lieutenant-colonel came under the observation of representatives of some of the largest American multi-national corporations—IBM, that sort of thing. Although not particularly intelligent, he evidently had a fantastic personality. They were far-seeing people and decided to groom our lieutenant-colonel for the presidency. At the time he was unknown. This was their first problem, to give him status. Bringing pressure to bear, they had him rapidly promoted until he became, first, commander of the American European theatre of operations, in the Hitler war, and then supreme commander of the Allied Expeditionary Force, although he had never been in combat in his life, had never commanded troops in action. But still more status was needed if he was to be considered for the presidency. When the war ended, he was made head of the occupation troops in Germany.
“But being the country’s top soldier was not quite enough, particularly when the presidency of General U.S. Grant was recalled. He resigned his rank and was made president of Columbia University. An indication of the man was found when the reporters interviewing him got through his aides. One asked what his background was in education that he should hold such a post. And he replied that he didn’t have any. That they would have to brief him on his duties. The next day or so the reporters got to him again and one asked him what his favorite newspapers were and he returned that he never read the newspapers. ‘If anything important happens, they tell me about it.’ He didn’t mention who
Blagonravov chuckled heavily before going on, he was a compulsive chuckler. “Still later in the week, the reporters managed to get him aside once more and one asked what his favorite type of books were and he replied
