The first update

The Grand Kremlin is unexpectedly brightly lit today, with a row of huge gilded chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of the white marble hall on the second floor, and elaborate reliefs carved on the walls on both sides. This is the imposing St. George's Hall, and at this time it is full of people who are chatting and laughing, and they are all gathered here because of the same thing. Treaty between the United States and the Soviet Union on the destruction of weapons of mass destruction.

The crowd standing on the white marble floor of the Kremlin at this time also had mixed expressions, these people were politicians from within the high walls of this exquisite building, there were also generals from the barracks mixed with gunpowder and the cold smell of steel, and the same reporters who came from the West with sharp eyes to find their prey, which could be reported in the newspapers or the news.

Of course, at the banquet, there were also hunters like these Western journalists. They were hidden, gloomy conspirators, KGB spies and counterintelligence agents. These people are different from the Kremlin security guards who are armed with short Kalashnikovs, who are only vigilant with a suspicious eye from the walls around the halls of the Great Kremlin.

And they are as unobtrusive as the waiters who walk back and forth with glossy silver platters and high-end crystal glass with special Champagne of the Romanov royal family and Kremlin-brand vodka in their arms. These KGB spies roamed the room, pricking up their ears to listen for a half-talk, perhaps a conversation that was too low or a phrase that didn't fit the mood of the night.

The quartet string orchestra plays rousing classical music in the corner, and perhaps no one will listen to it seriously, but it is a feature of the reception of foreign countries. It's missing. A diplomatic occasion becomes somewhat incomplete. St. George's Room is intricately patterned on the marble floor. More than 100 people were served in leather shoes and high heels, each of whom was talking half the time, and people had to raise their voices to drown out the music in order to hear each other's conversations, and the spies used the cacophony and concealed identities to carry out their activities and become ghosts at the banquet.

These Western diplomats, as well as the Kremlin politicians, are waiting for the real owners of the palace to arrive, albeit a month ago. The countries to which they were loyal were still engaged in a Cold War standoff over the events in the Arabian Sea, and in the end, the United States backed down and chose to reconcile the crisis.

Soon after, the Soviet Union also issued a limited treaty on weapons of mass destruction, and politicians from both the United States and the Soviet Union gathered almost in the Kremlin palace to talk about it. Spies who were also well versed in "Kremlinology" gathered here, and they were able to gather information about themselves through the demeanor and conversation of Soviet officials.

General Hammer's aide-de-camp, Charles, apparently falls into another category, and he is not the only C.I.A. agent in the Kremlin. Although he appeared here as a member of the Biological Weapons Negotiating Group, and was responsible for tracking down certain weapons of mass destruction that could have been lost in the Soviet Union. After all, two months ago, the "National Technical Detection Tool". That is, the allusion to spy satellites and means of communication tracked a truck from a Soviet member state with suspicious behavior.

He stared at everyone like a torch, and they all looked so suspicious at this time. The Minister of Defense Comrade Yazov, the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Shevardnadze, and even Shepilov, who was talking freely with the officials around him, even had Shepilov of the Soviet chemical industry department.

Suspicious, everyone looks so suspicious, like a conspirator involved in an ulterior plan.

Of course, Charles put the head of the chemical industry department at the top of the list of possible breakthroughs, and if the people in the chemical industry department say that they are only responsible for Russian oil production and have no involvement with chemical weapons of mass destruction, it is as ridiculous as the statement of a White House official that his hands are clean. At least in 1983, the Soman gas scandal was targeted by the CIA, and one of his identities was the technical director of the chemical industry in the chemical industry department.

As he spoke, he slowly took a sip of champagne, and then pretended to be casual and bypassed the bejeweled, elegant and noble Slavic beauties, whose perfumes made Charles involuntarily rub his nose, like a wolf with a keen sense of smell resisting the distractions around him. The leather shoes carefully stepped on the marble slab, silently.

Charles moved in front of Shepilov, although the other party tried his best to show his spirits, but some of the sluggish eyelids could still see his tiredness, Charles said in a fluent spoken language, "Hello, Minister Shepirov." I'm the negotiating team for the U.S. Weapons of Mass Destruction Treaty, you can call me Charles. ”

As soon as he heard the identity of the American, Shepilov instantly became alert, of course he knew that there were several pairs of eyes nearby who were secretly watching their conversation, and he might even record everything in his notebook in front of the eyes of the top of the KGB, those terrible devils who could decide his life and death.

"If you have anything to say, let's talk about it at the negotiating table, Mr. Charles. Negotiations haven't started yet, and we don't have anything to talk about. Shepilov unceremoniously gave him an eviction order. He was a man from Pugo in the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and the real KGB administrator was the deputy minister of the Ministry of Chemical Industry, who was responsible for the production of dangerous chemicals. They are like separate managers who do not invade each other. The personnel rights of the Organization Department of the Central Committee are in the hands of Yanayev, which can be said to be a model of checks and balances of power.

Shepilov did not want to get involved in such a mess, although the post of deputy minister had direct access to those at the top and there was much room for promotion. But they are always people who know secrets that they shouldn't know, and if one day things come to light, these people may be pushed out as substitutes.

Shepilov still wants to climb the ladder, and he does not want to die of old age in the position of the chemical industry or be overthrown by his political opponents in the position of minister.

"I'm talking too much, Comrade Shepilov." Charles nodded, pretending to talk to Shepilov about the buildings, intentionally or unintentionally.

"I think it's much better for a country to spend its taxes on such artistic carvings than to build chemical weapons that take the lives of countless people at every turn, isn't it? It's a pity that as long as the conspiracy of the politicians exists, we will continue to clean up without some balance of power. ”

"You've said too much tonight, Mr. Charles. Revealing too much in the face of someone you don't know is not always a good choice. Of course, I also hope that consensus can be reached tonight on a treaty on the destruction of weapons of mass destruction. Shepilov touched his glass with Charles and said, "Forgive me for missing me." ”

Shepilov's reply was so watertight that even if the KGB asked him to write a detailed material report, it was beyond reproach. The reason he left was because he saw that the real owner of the palace was talking and laughing with the "guests" from the United States, and slowly walked in the direction of St. George's Hall.

Charles chuckled when he saw Yanayev's figure, and he wanted to get a closer look at the real appearance of the Kremlin master. He was also accompanied by agents with different missions around him, whose goal was to make the most of their Kremlin studies.

Outside the doors of the Grand Kremlin, a soft red carpet begins at the doorway and runs up each staircase, continuing to the door of the black sedan. The red carpet is like a weighing pole, carrying and balancing everyone's high and high weight, and out of the car is Yanayev, who is still in his fifties, still in good spirits, and he is smiling and waving to the reporters on both sides, and for a moment the flickering of the magnesium lights is even brighter than the crystal lamps in the Georgia room.

"General Secretary Yanayev, you have finally appeared." Charles put his hands in his pockets and smiled and muttered to himself. (To be continued.) )