Impasse (The Red Gambit Series) (78 page)

Slipping out of her own more mundane undies, she stopped to admire her nakedness.

She never really looked at her foot, or rather, the absence of it.

It always reminded her of its issues at a time like this, as balancing was not as easy without the metal strap.

None the less, her eyes swept over her body from toe to head, examining the legs she had always been proud of, the veritable forest of pubic hair and moving over the belly.

Whilst it was clearly one of a mother of several children, it was only slightly marked and, as a soldier, she was fit enough for the curves to be natural, rather than the result of age and excess.

Her breasts hung in splendid curves, almost perfect, the large brown nipples surmounting the soft flesh, solely scarred by the passage of the bullet fired in Pekunin’s office.

She cupped them, squeezing gently and enjoying the feeling. Her mind tried to remind her of her position
, and it had to battle the joy of the contact until it achieved victory.

She reached up and undid her hair, allowing the dark locks to cascade down over her shoulders and below her neck, framing her face.

Her eyes screwed up and she grabbed at the left side, examining it closely and finding grey hairs within.

‘
Bath first.’

There was no bath. There was a large shower and
, after a quick ‘bug’ check around the tiled room, she walked into the enclosure, allowing the luxurious warmth of the water to wash over her.

Finishing her ablutions quickly, she moved back into the bedroom and selected the red set.

The knickers were a little tight, her bottom just slightly too large, but it was close enough, especially as the bra fitted her well and was extremely comfortable.

The dresses were a range from plain to flowery, from unadorned to one so laden with sequins and other paraphernalia that she immediately discarded it.

The red dress looked wonderful and she slipped into it, falling against the mirror as she overbalanced.

The glass gave a little groan but did not break and she recovered herself, buttoning the front and smoothing it into place.

Her nipples were extremely prominent and, for that reason alone, she decided against it, although she surprised herself with the thought that she should be all woman this evening. She ran a finger over the prominent left nipple, feeling little shocks as she pressed firmer.

‘
Why not show them what a real woman looks like eh?’

She shook the bizarre idea from her head.
She was not to know that the tea she had drunk had a special ingredient, one that started its clandestine work on her mind from the moment her body started to absorb it.

Wary not to fall again, she propped herself against the wall and removed the red dress, selecting a knee length black one instead.

Repeating the performance, without the tumble this time, she ran her hands down the sheer material that hung to her body like it was tailor-made for her.

The dress was simple, with no frills, but it was of superb quality.

She selected a strappy shoe for no other reason than to assist in keeping her metal support in place.

A small white leather bag completed the ensemble and she was nearly ready.

On the dressing table were a selection of perfumes and after shaves.

She opened the cap of an American brand, liked what she sniffed at and sparingly applied the parfum to all the places that a woman does.

It smelt wonderful, and she examined the bottle more closely.

‘
White Shoulder by Evyan. I shall get some of this for when I next see my husband.’

It might prove difficult of course, but being the head of the GRU Europe was not without fringe benefits.

She closed the door and returned to the lounge. Within a minute, a knock on the door indicated that her transport had arrived.

Once the sound of the car had faded, the man with the camera heaved a sigh of relief.

“You know, when she started playing with those fat titties, I nearly shot in my britches.”

“
Fuck, yes. Mind you, when she fell against the mirror, I thought you’d shat your pants. Fancy gasping like a girl!”

“
I didn’t see it coming, tovarich. The camera was against my eye. Anyway, no harm done. It’s very rugged.”

He rapped his knuckles on the two way mirror by way of
emphasising his point.

Sarkisov shook his head.

“That’s some fucking woman, tovarich. I’d love a piece of her myself. Never fucked a General before… at least… not in the traditional sense.”

NKVD Colonel Sardeon Nadaraia laughed a sort of laugh that was without
humour of any kind.

“
Perhaps you may get your opportunity, Rafael. Who knows what could happen once the party is over.”

With a straight face, NKVD Colonel Rafael
Sedrakevich Sarkisov delivered a telling line.

“
Which party, tovarich? The General Secretary’s, or the one our man has planned for the GRU bitch?”

Nadaraia laughed and slapped his fellow officer on the shoulder.

“Well, as we aren’t invited to the formal ceremony, I think we’ll have to do it here.”

He carefully undid the camera and removed the film.

“Let’s get this developed and see what delights we can set before Comrade Beria.”

Sarkisov slipped out of the orderly
’s tunic and recovered his own jacket.

“
What was that stuff anyway, comrade?”

Nadaraia spoke of the
‘tea’ that his counterpart had served the GRU General.

“
Fuck knows, tovarich. Old Vovsi said it would prepare a woman to be more… err… amenable to suggestions of a certain kind.”

Entering the main premises, Nadaraia took his leave to seek out the photographic office
, whilst Sarkisov waited for the new orderly to arrive.

Sergeant Malenkov had a special physical gift that was to form part of the night
’s amusements, and the NKVD Colonel just wanted to check that the man fully understood what was required of him.

Nazarbayeva was not the only woman there, as the hierarchy had brought either wife or mistress and, in one case, both.

However, whilst she was not the thin, painted women that many of the men had their affairs with, her full and totally feminine form, for once revealed out of uniform, drew many looks.

Somehow, it didn’t bother her, although part of her felt that it should.

She selected a large glass of her
favourite wine, a Georgian White wine, made from the famous Rkatsiteli grape.

Beria
’s agents had done their research well and the Rkatsiteli was also more than it appeared to be.

Beria had planned a narcotic assa
ult upon his nemesis, one that would end in his dominance and control.

An army of attendants fussed back and forth, bringing trays of canapés, many topped off with the finest Beluga caviar.

It was never something that appealed to her, so the tasty snacks with meat and cheese got the most attention.

“
Try the beetroot and Zakusochny, Comrade Nazarbayeva. Exquisite, truly.”

“
Good evening, Comrade Marshal. I will.”

Normally, his closeness would make her feel uncomfortable but, she conceded, the relaxed nature of the party made even his presence seem acceptable.

There was a part of her brain that railed against her acceptance, the same part that positively exploded when he grabbed her arm and steered her towards the food area, selecting one of the cheese and beetroot snacks that he had recommended.

The larger part
of her brain was simply affable and accepted the man’s proximity.

“
That’s very special, Comrade Beria.”

“
Indeed it is, Comrade Nazarbayeva. Now, if you will excuse me.”

Beria retreated, happy that the drug
s were obviously working, given the woman’s tolerance of his presence.

‘
Good. Soon, Tatiana, soon. The Zakusochny is very special indeed.’

The evening progressed with more food and drink, punctuated by gift presentations to the General Secretary, some from fawning communist party members, some from
Ambassador’s and representatives of allied states, yet more from the inner sanctum.

The latter seemed to vie with each other to present the most personal gift, something that the leader might use every day.

Nazarbayeva had not come prepared. However, she had in her possession a gift for her husband, to be given to him on his next leave.

The petrol lighter had been taken from a dead British pilot
, and had found its way into her possession.

Solid silver and heavy to handle, it lit every time.

What made it eminently suitable was the inscription that was heavily inscribed on both sides.

‘
Chivas Regal.’

It was the dictator
’s favorite tipple, and was presently half-filling the old tin cup that he used for serious drinking.

Tied in a white cloth handkerchief, Nazarbayeva waited her turn.

“Thank you, Comrade Nazarbayeva. A splendid gift. I shall treasure it.”

Hardly pausing for breath, Stalin leant forward and whispered in a conspiratorial fashion.

“The Bulgarian ambassador can’t take his eyes off you, Comrade General. His wife’s back in his country and his girlfriend is heavily pregnant. He looks fit to bust but, please…” he looked across at the aging man and smiled disarmingly, “If he does do anything foolish, please try not to break him. I’ve need of his cooperation soon.”

“
I’ll avoid the man, Comrade General Secretary. I hope your birthday is enjoyable, Sir?”

Stalin snorted, aware that a group including the ambassador from Yugoslavia was approaching with intent.

His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as he leant in towards Tatiana’s ear.

“
I’d rather have a straightforward affair, but the requirements of the Rodina override my own simple peasant wishes, Comrade Nazarbayeva. Now, I must do my duty.”

Stalin accepted the hand of the Yugoslavian
, and both men retreated to a corner by the fireplace to discuss Tito’s position on the present de facto cease-fire across Europe.

A strange pang filled her stomach, almost as if something was about to rebel against the food and drink she had recently consumed.

Her system seemed dulled, slowed, almost disconnected, and growing worse by the minute.

Miron Vovsi, Stalin
’s personal physician, noticed something about her from across the room, and made his way over.

“
Comrade Nazarbayeva, are you unwell?”

“
I think I’m unused to this fine wine and rich food, Comrade Doctor. It will pass.”

“
Excuse me please,” the Doctor’s hands taking first her wrist and, satisfied with her pulse, pressed his hand to her forehead.

“
I think that you have a fever developing. Comrade.”

Given the illness that
had incapacitated her earlier in the year, such a statement was bound to get Nazarbayeva’s full attention; as had been the plan.

“
Might I suggest that you have an early night tonight and rest for a day?”

Normally
, she would have refused the advice on the spot, but now she felt she could only agree.

The stealthy
, but purposeful approach of the Bulgarian Ambassador, clinched the decision.

“
Could I ask you to accompany me to the car please, Comrade Doctor?”

“
Of course, of course.”

Offering u
p his arm, he assisted the GRU General towards the exit, his eyes holding those of Beria for only the briefest of moments.

The NKVD Marshal smiled and determined to spend his next thirty minutes attending to business before he left the party to attend to
‘business’.

Savouring the pepper vodka and ice, he started counting down the minutes until his revenge was complete.

The KIM 10-52 car, used to move dignitaries around the Kuntsevo complex, pulled up at the NKVD guest dacha, not that Nazarbayeva had any idea that was what the building was.

Dr Vovsi leapt out and moved round to open the other passenger door
, before assisting Nazarbayeva out.