Triumph (1993) by Ben Bova

Author:Ben Bova [Bova, Ben]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-07-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

London, 14 April

Deep below 10 Downing Street, the underground cabinet room was silent and empty except for two men. Winston Churchill sat at the center of the long, green baize-covered table, puffing thoughtfully on an enormous black cigar. His chair was pushed sideways to face Anthony Eden, sitting beside him. Eden looked tired, Churchill thought. No, more than tired. Worse than tired.

He looked weighted with guilt.

"It's been done, then," said Churchill.

Eden nodded somberly. "Apparently they've shot Beria straight off. They will announce a central committee of four: Malenkov, Bulganin, Khrushchev and Molotov."

"I know Molotov. An utterly humorless man." Churchill drew hard on the cigar, making its tip glow bright red in the dimly lit chamber. He blew a cloud of thick gray smoke toward the criss-cross beams of the low ceiling.

"The rest?" Eden asked.

"Nonentities, as far as I am concerned. Do you have files on them?"

"Yes, of course. Rather sketchy, I'm afraid."

"We'll have to dig out more information, then."

"Yes."

Churchill studied the younger man's handsome face for a silent moment. "Do you believe that they suspected Beria was in on it?"

With a slight shake of his head, Eden replied, "No, there's no indication that they know anything at all about Broadsword. They simply shot the man to get him out of their way. I suppose, in their way of thinking, it was better than risking a civil war."

Churchill pulled on the cigar again. "I must speak with the President."

"Yes."

The Prime Minister picked up the phone on the table in front of him and ordered a call to Washington. "This changes everything," he said as he replaced the phone on its cradle.

"I understand."

Taking the cigar from his lips, Churchill said, "We had to do it, you know. It makes no sense to win the war against Hitler only to face an intransigent Stalin who's taken half of Europe into his tyrannical clutches."

"I realize that, Winston," said Eden unhappily. "It's only that . . ."

"That what?"

"If this should ever leak out."

"That we assassinated a tyrant? History would hail us as heroes."

"What would the Russians do?"

Churchill thought a moment. Then, "The new leadership would secretly congratulate us, I think."

"And then there's the man who actually did the deed. The radiation must have effected him too. Is he dead, or do they have him in custody? Was he able to do the job without compromising the entire plan, or does the Kremlin already know that we murdered Stalin?"

"There's no indication that they know, you said."

Eden shook his head. "No. Not yet, at least."

"Nor will there be, I'm sure. And if they suspect anything, they will blame it on Beria, whom they've already silenced."

"It's so frightfully risky, Winston."

"It is my risk," Churchill said, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. "Broadsword was my plan. I took the full responsibility.

If it is exposed, I will accept the blame." Then he smiled impishly. "Or the credit."

The telephone in front of him buzzed once. "That would be the President."

"Yes."

Eden started to push his chair back, but Churchill motioned for him to stay as he picked up the phone.

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