since the founding of this charitable institution. As you may have noticed, in general here, it is not customary to ask questions. But I understand you: this is the Suvorov style. ‘Every soldier must know his own maneuver…’ That's right, only in this case, a soldier must also think like a commander. I'm not talking about the army now, but about intelligence specifically. In our case, excessive knowledge is a burden, and therefore, our cadets learn about their assignments at the very last moment. But in your case, everything is different, and you felt it. Why?”
After a pause and noting the increased attention of the cadets, the major continued:
“Because you really are special. There are several reasons for this. To start with, you were the first to come here not from the army, but after graduating with university diplomas. This provided a certain intellectual starting level and set a new bar. Second, what you have to do is fundamentally different from most of the tasks that graduates of this institution usually face…”
“The country of the language we’re studying,” Ivan muttered. He remembered a conversation in the dean's office of his alma mater, that had suddenly seemed so long ago, as if from another life. Kotov heard this and nodded.
“You’ve almost guessed that right, although here only every first person becomes an ‘illegal’. But that’s not the point right now. Let me try to explain it in a simpler way…”
“Just try your best, comrade… ‘Cat’… We hope we are clever enough to understand,” Andrey said, inserting his two cents with maximum irony and winking at his friend. The major, however, did not hold with the cadet's humorous tone.
“The task the Party and the Soviet Government set before the three of us is extraordinary. Ordinary operators can’t pull it off, even those with extensive experience working abroad. I’ll clarify the situation as best I’m able to.”
He got up, tugged at his shirt, straightening its folds under the belt of the harness on his back, and went to the window. He tore open the heavy, dark-brown velvet curtains. The August evening was slowly dying behind the large glass panes.
“I want to make it clear, right away,” he said over his shoulder, “that tonight's conversation does not fit into the framework of your training course and is purely private…”
“Why…” Ivan began, but Kotov cut him off sharply:
“Don’t interrupt, Skiff. All in good time. I won’t dwell on the details. I’ll just brief you on the state of world politics and the situation surrounding the upcoming tasks. You’ve already realized, Ivan, that you’re going to act in Argentina. Tomorrow you’ll begin studying the features of this Latin American country. Its geography, climate, economy and political system. In the immediate post-war years, our intelligence mostly engaged in counter-espionage. We lost some of its positions on the world stage. In Latin America, especially, we weren’t always strong.
“After the Second World War, the Americans firmly settled there. This is unsurprising – Uncle Sam has always sought to warm his thieving paws on the wealth of others, and Latin America is oh-so-generous with its resources! However, we aren’t interested in these countries’ minerals. We’re looking for certain people, war criminals, hiding something from the world that is very important and no less dangerous for us and our country if it falls into enemy hands. When we find these people, we will have to determine on the spot the importance of what they have. Based on our findings, the Center will decide what to do with them.”
“That much is clear…”
Andrey shifted impatiently on the uncomfortable wooden seat. Kotov’s face showed nothing but polite attention.
“Our question remains: why us?”
The major was silent for a while, chewing his lips thoughtfully, as if trying out the taste and shape of his response first. Then he shook his head.
“Honestly, guys, it wasn’t my idea. The heads are quite a bit smarter. But in a nutshell… The idea is to attract the most educated people for the work, whom a future adversary would in no way be able to connect with our intelligence agencies. That is why we based your training on individual plans with minimal contact with the other cadets and teachers.”
“And we’re alone, just like that?” Ivan asked with the most innocent look. Andrey looked at him in surprise, and Kotov only grunted respectfully. But he answered:
“No, young man, far from it… Our intelligence would be good if we left it to chance: even or odd, hit or miss. History knows no subjunctive moods, and intelligence abhors accidents. Well, at least when we can avoid them as much as possible. Other groups are also preparing. And the most prepared contingent will go on a mission, believe me… So, as the leader of the world Revolution, Comrade Lenin used to say, ‘…study, study and study again!’ For now, I can only say that at this stage, you are number one. The rest is up to you. Go for it…”
September 14, 1950
16:20
Special Object of the MGB: 101st School
Pavel Anatolyevich Sudoplatov threw open the curtains in the study and froze for a second. Fiery September came into its own outside the walls of the building. The crimson of fall enveloped the suburbs, and the forests stood in their colorful splendor, but the sun was baking with summer-like heat, and several muscular guys in shorts and t-shirts were chasing the ball on the football ground.
Sudoplatov turned around and looked at the cadets, frozen in attentive anticipation. Skiff and Tom each took a desk in the first row. Their notes were closed, it even seemed they both were holding their breaths. Sitting in the ‘gallery’ – the back row – Kotov grinned at something through his mustache.
“Well, that’s it, lads,” the Major General said sternly, giving meaning to the situation. “Today, I’ll brief you on the upcoming mission. This is necessary, not only so that we imbue you with all the importance and complexity of the task, but also so that you understand the essence of the preparation that you will undergo in the future.”
He walked over to the blackboard and chalked ‘1943’ on the black surface.
“So, in ’43, the very middle of the Great Patriotic War, a turning point was about to occur. Soon, we would chase the Krauts along Piterskaya street or the old Smolenskaya, as we once did with Napoleon, doesn't matter…
“At this time, the famous physicist Niels Bohr fled from German-occupied Denmark to neutral Sweden. Through his equally famous colleagues, Lise Meitner and Hannes Alfvén, he turned to the Soviet Government and our physicists, in particular Kapitsa. He said that development was underway in Germany of super-powerful weapons based on the fission of an atomic nucleus. This wasn’t a complete surprise for us. The first time our scientists had heard about this back in 1940, they felt that the current technological base could not create such a weapon. Nevertheless, the Commission of the USSR Academy of Sciences for the Study of Nuclear Energy Problems took note. Under Professor Khlopin, they recommended the Government and all specialized scientific institutions keep track of all publications on this topic abroad.
“Before 1943, the British had already tried to launch the ‘Pipe Alloy’ project to create a uranium bomb. Our information showed they had absolutely no luck with this. The attitude of our command and government changed radically when information came from America about the first nuclear chain reaction that Fermi carried out. Clearly, the creation of a superbomb was not far off. They tasked us with coordinating the activities of various intelligence units and throwing all our resources into obtaining materials from the American research. Since
