Fleming, Ian – From Russia with Love

General G. shut the file and slapped his hand decisively on the cover. `Well, Comrades. Are we agreed?’

`Yes,’ said Colonel Nikitin, loudly.

`Yes,’ said General Slavin in a bored voice.

General Vozdvishensky was looking down at his fingernails. He was sick of murder. He had enjoyed his time in England. `Yes,’ he said. `I suppose so.’

General G.’s hand went to the internal office telephone. He spoke to his A.D.C. `Death Warrant,’ he said harshly. `Made out in the name of “James Bond”.’ He spelled the names out. `Description: Angliski Spion. Crime: Enemy of the State.’ He put the receiver back and leant forward in his chair. `And now it will be a question of devising an appropriate konspiratsia. And one that cannot fail!’ He smiled grimly. `We cannot have another of those Khoklov affairs.’

The door opened and the A.D.C. came in carrying a bright yellow sheet of paper. He put it in front of General G. and went out. General G. ran his eyes down the paper and wrote the words. `To be killed. Grubozaboyschikov’ at the head of the large empty space at the bottom. He passed the paper to the M.G.B. man who read it and wrote `Kill him. Nikitin’ and handed it across to the head of G.R.U. who wrote `Kill him. Slavin’. One of the A.D.C.s passed the paper to the plain-clothes man sitting beside the representative of R.U.M.I.D. The man put it in front of General Vozdvishensky and handed him a pen.

General Vozdvishensky read the paper carefully. He raised his eyes slowly to those of General G. who was watching him and, without looking down, scribbled the `Kill him’ more or less under the other signatures and scrawled his name after it. Then he took his hands away from the paper and got to his feet.

`If that is all, Comrade General?’ he pushed his chair back.

General G. was pleased. His instincts about this man had been right. He would have to put a watch on him and pass on his suspicions to General Serov. `One moment, Comrade General,’ he said. `I have something to add to the warrant.’

The paper was handed up to him. He took out his pen and scratched out what he had written. He wrote again, speaking the words slowly as he did so.

`To be killed WITH IGNOMINY. Grubozaboyschikov.’

He looked up and smiled pleasantly to the company. `Thank you, Comrades. That is all. I shall advise you of the decision of the Praesidium on our recommendation. Good night.’

* * *

When the conference had filed out, General G. rose to his feet and stretched and gave a loud controlled yawn. He sat down again at his desk, switched off the wire-recorder and rang for his A.D.C. The man came in and stood beside his desk.

General G. handed him the yellow paper. `Send this over to General Serov at once. Find out where Kronsteen is and have him fetched by car. I don’t care if he’s in bed. He will have to come. Otdyel II will know where to find him. And I will see Colonel Klebb in ten minutes.’

`Yes, Comrade General.’ The man left the room.

General G. picked up the V.Ch. receiver and asked for General Serov. He spoke quietly for five minutes. At the end he concluded: `And I am now about to give the task to Colonel Klebb and the Planner, Kronsteen. We will discuss the outlines of a suitable konspiratsia and they will give me detailed proposals tomorrow. Is that in order, Comrade General?’

`Yes,’ came the quiet voice of General Serov of the High Praesidium. `Kill him. But let it be excellently accomplished. The Praesidium will ratify the decision in the morning.’

The line went dead. The inter-office telephone rang. General G. said `Yes’ into the receiver and put it back.

A moment later the A.D.C. opened the big door and stood in the entrance. `Comrade Colonel Klebb,’ he announced.

A toad-like figure in an olive green uniform which bore the single red ribbon of the Order of Lenin came into the room and walked with quick short steps over to the desk.

General G. looked up and waved to the nearest chair at the conference table. `Good evening, Comrade.’