Seraphim and Bear

By Robert McCurdy

It is 1954, and the Cold War is being waged globally with even greater vigor between the West and Communism. In the sixth novel in the Jim Colling series, Seraphim and Bear, Colling finds himself on an unfamiliar front of the conflict, undertaking the rescue of a family member being held for ransom by Communist insurgents in Central America.
Colling learns that the Western Hemisphere presents its own set of risks and challenges, but they are overshadowed when he is asked to locate a Person of Great Interest who has been imprisoned by the Soviet Union in East Germany.
Employing his talent for audacious deception to make his way deep into the domain of Soviet State Security, he begins to realize that he might have overplayed his hand, and that this could be his final mission.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elderberry Press
• Release date: Nov 19, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311520203

Robert McCurdy

Robert McCurdy served as senior house legal counsel to a large Florida hospital and health care system for 30 years prior to his retirement in 2005. Before becoming an attorney, he practiced pharmacy in community drug stores, hospitals and military healthcare facilities. During his legal career, he authored numerous articles dealing with healthcare law, and served as writer and producer for healthcare educational films. Mountain Tiger is the fifth book in the Jim Colling Adventure Series. The series, in order, includes: Dog Robber, Rat Line, Ram’s Horn and White Eagle. Some of the events in Rat Line are drawn from Mr. McCurdy’s experiences as an enlisted man in the U.S. Army Medical Corps in Germany during the Cold War years of early 1960’s. He lives with his wife in Cape Coral, Florida.

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SERAPHIM

AND

BEAR

Robert McCurdy

Elderberry Press

Oakland, OR

Seraphim and Bear

Robert McCurdy

Copyright © 2014 Robert McCurdy

All rights reserved.

This book is dedicated to the memory of

David St. John

Other Books by Robert McCurdy

The Jim Colling Series:

Dog Robber

Rat Line

Ram’s Horn

White Eagle

Mountain Tiger

Prologue

January - February, 1954

Moscow

The events of the previous month had put Tschelov into a state of anxiety and dread that he had not experienced since Stalingrad. In those days, he had been an infantryman, one of thousands sent forward in uncounted frontal assaults on the enemy’s fortified positions. Fear was a constant, and survival seemed an impossibility. Somehow, he had come through those days alive, while most of those around him had not.

The end of the Great Patriotic War had brought with it the disappearance of the immediate fear of death, although as he had risen in rank and responsibility, the possibility of denunciation and what might follow was never far out of mind.

Since early December, when he had learned that the man who had given him his present assignment in the Lubyanka prison, Minister Beria, had been arrested, the old churning of his insides had returned. During the time that the Minister’s trial was in progress, his anxiety grew.

When news of the Minister’s execution came, he had expected a visit by officers loyal to the new group of leaders who had assumed control of the Motherland. So far, it was not clear which one of them had gained the position of ultimate authority, but Tschelov was certain that one of them would eventually emerge as the new First Secretary.

But so far, no one had acknowledged his existence, even though he certainly was close at hand, and easy to find, with his living quarters in the prison itself.

Tschelov had given some thought to announcing that he was taking leave, and going to the little cottage and plot of land outside Moscow where he had situated his wife and children. But that would only bring misery upon them if he were to be arrested there. By remaining at the Lubyanka, and keeping to the assignment he had been given, he calculated that his chances for survival might be better.

Not that the assignment had always been clear. He was supposed to personally guard the foreigner, whom he had been informed was an important personage. On two occasions, the Great Leader, Stalin, had sent word through Comrade Minister Beria that the foreigner was to be liquidated, but the Minister had always set the date of execution a few weeks ahead. Before Tschelov could carry it out, the order would be countermanded, and the foreigner allowed to live a little longer. Tschelov speculated that the Minister had managed to talk the Great Leader out of killing the man. The last order that Tschelov had received on the subject from the Minister was that the foreigner was not to be liquidated except at the Minister’s personal direction.

But with new leaders in place, it was altogether possible that a new order to execute the foreigner would come, and from which his prisoner would have no reprieve. Perhaps it would arrive, thought Tschelov, at the same time as his own.

In the meantime, he could take pride in the fact that he had carried out his instructions faithfully. When he had come to the Lubyanka to take charge of the foreign prisoner, the man had been in poor health, filthy and half-starved.

The NKVD officers who had arrested the foreigner in Budapest had performed their usual array of tricks, applying beatings and depriving him of food and water. The others who had been responsible for transporting him to Moscow and the Lubyanka had followed suit, although perhaps without as much vigor.

Tschelov, on the other hand, had been given specific instructions by Comrade Beria to see that the foreigner received medical treatment, was given proper nourishment, and that his cell was made as comfortable as possible. The Minister emphasized that the foreigner was an important personage, and while the Minister did not say as much, Tschelov guessed that he had some complicated plan of international politics in mind which he did not wish to divulge.

But then, Tschelov did not consider himself astute enough, or possessing an education which would enable him to understand such a plan, even if it had been disclosed to him. After all, he had started as a private in the Red Army, and had risen in rank primarily because he had survived the attrition of his comrades in arms.

Tschelov was a senior sergeant when he saved the life of his regiment’s political officer late in the Great Patriotic War, as the regiment was advancing through Poland. He was rewarded by the man’s recommending him for Party membership and transfer to the NKVD with the rank of junior lieutenant. He continued to serve beside his benefactor as his assistant, and followed him upward as he gained appointments as political officer at the divisional, and then at the field army level.

The two of them were serving as political officers with General Chuikov’s Eighth Guards Army outside Berlin, just before its fall, when Tschelov was summoned to Moscow. He learned later that his name had been provided to Comrade Beria when a request had come down for a loyal and obedient officer who could exercise absolute discretion.

Minister Beria had promoted Tschelov to major when he assigned him the task of watching over the foreign prisoner. Tschelov was given three subordinates to assist him with his duties. All were NKVD men with experience as political officers serving with front-line units. As a result, the four of them worked well with each other, but in the nature of Soviet political officers, there were no close friendships formed among them.

Neither Tschelov nor any of his men could speak the foreign prisoner’s language, although Lieutenant Povlieski, Tschelov’s second-in-command at the time, said that he thought that the man was Scandinavian, possibly Danish or Swedish. Tschelov was of the opinion that their superiors, especially the Comrade Minister, would not approve of him or his men speculating upon such things, and sternly advised Povielski to keep such ideas to himself.

During the nine years that had passed since Tschelov had received his assignment, the NKVD had become the MVD, members of his staff had come and gone on to new posts, but Tschelov had continued to watch over his prisoner in the Lubyanka.

With Comrade Beria’s passing, Tschelov had thought that it was possible that his days guarding the foreigner would be coming to an end. He had also wondered, with some trepidation, whether that would mean that his own days were numbered, but everything had continued as before.

The change came near the end of January. Tschelov had finished his morning routine of visiting his prisoner’s cell and inquiring in Russian as to his well-being. The foreigner, always pleasant, answered in the affirmative, and thanked Tschelov for his providing copies of German magazines which he had requested.

Tschelov had returned to his own quarters, which he had established in the adjacent cell, when two uniformed MVD men appeared unannounced. Even though both were sergeants, and thus did not outrank him, Tschelov stood from where he had been seated at his desk, anticipating they would inform him that he was under arrest. Instead, they stood aside to permit a figure in civilian clothes to step forward.

You are Major Tschelov? asked the man.

Yes, Comrade, I am, responded Tschelov, taking note that the overcoat and suit that the man was wearing were of high quality and well-cut. This was someone of great importance…and power.

Good. I have come to see you. Turning to the two MVD men, he instructed them to wait outside, and then closed the door.

Tschelov remained standing, and the man gestured for him to sit, while pulling over a chair and seating himself.

You have been on the job for a long time, Major, said the man.

Yes, I suppose so, Comrade, said Tschelov.

I should introduce myself, Major. My name is Krevetko, and I have been sent by Ivan Serov, Minister of State Security. I must ask you a few questions.

Tschelov felt his heart sink. The first soft interrogations began in just such fashion.

Yes, Comrade Krevetko. What do you wish to know?

First, do you know the name of the prisoner whom you have been guarding all this time?

No, Comrade. I was instructed by Minister Beria…I mean…

Krevetko laughed, You need not fear to speak his name, Major, even though we both know that he no longer exists, either in life or in memory. His name is almost forgotten. But fear not, you may still speak it without penalty.

Yes, Comrade, said Tschelov nervously, I was instructed by my superiors at the time that I was not to know the identity of the prisoner. I was told only that he was an important personage, and that I should see that he was kept in good health. He is known as Prisoner 4326.

What language does he speak? asked Krevetko.

I know that he speaks and reads German. He has asked for publications from Germany, and the Ministry has approved his requests, and the magazines and newspapers have arrived.

Any from the West?

Yes, Comrade. But all with the approval of the Ministry. And I assure you that all were burned after the prisoner discarded them. And without being read by myself or any of my staff.

I am certain of that, Major. You were chosen for this task because of your reputation for loyalty to the State and strict obedience to orders.

Yes, Comrade, I have done my best.

Any other languages?

He had some Russian when I first arrived, and he has become more proficient, but not what I would call fluent.

Has he had contact with anyone other than yourself and your men?

No, Comrade, with one exception. Comrade Beria came on several occasions to speak with the prisoner. He was accompanied by another man each time.

Who was this other man?

I do not know, Comrade. I was not present when they spoke.

Do you have any idea who it might have been?

I do not know, Comrade, replied Tschelov, hoping that the tone of his voice did not betray that he suspected that the man with Beria had been an interpreter.

Good. Let me ask, Major, are you prepared to carry out an execution if it is ordered?

When I was a political officer serving in the field, I was called upon to execute various criminals. Deserters, traitors, spies and captured SS.

What about this prisoner? asked Krevetko,

Orders for liquidation were given twice, Comrade. I was prepared to carry them out when they were rescinded. I am ready to execute the prisoner if I receive orders to do so.

Beria gave you orders not to execute the prisoner except upon his direct order, did he not?

Yes, Comrade. But Comrade Beria is no more, and I will have to carry out the orders I am given by his successor.

Krevetko laughed, Major, don’t look so down-hearted. I am not here to order you to shoot Prisoner 4326.

Yes, Comrade, was all Tschelov could think of to say.

Krevetko leaned forward, grinning, In fact, Major, I have some good news for you. You are no longer confined to this dingy hole in the Lubyanka. You will take Prisoner 4326 to Germany, where you will care for him as you have for the past nine years.

Germany, Comrade? asked Tschelov.

Yes, Major. And I have arranged for a weeks’ leave before you depart, so that you may visit your wife and family in the country.

Tschelov was unaware that anyone knew that he had a family, and the expression on his face must have betrayed his thoughts.

Krevetko smiled, Yes, Major, we know all about Mariska and little Ivan, Georgi and Lucinda. You married Mariska when you were home on leave from the front in ’44, and you have been very busy when you slipped away on weekends to visit her, given the number of offspring that have resulted.

Tschelov did not know how to respond, and his silence prompted Krevetko to add, with a broader smile, Never mind, Major, the State needs more people to replace all those who fell during the war. You are simply doing your patriotic duty, man! And having fun in the bargain!

I thank you, Comrade Krevetko, for granting me leave. My second will be in charge while I am gone, I suppose?

That is not to be, Major. Lieutenant Grigoroski is a capable officer, and when you depart for Germany, your staff goes with you. You will like Germany. The Germans are sufficiently subservient to the Soviet presence, the food is somewhat better, and you will find the quarters one hundred percent better than this place.

Krevetko, still smiling, stood and walked to the door. As he opened it, and Tschelov could hear the MVD men outside snap to attention, his parting words were, Enjoy your leave.

A full week’s leave with Mariska and the children would be like paradise, in Tschelov’s mind, despite the winter cold. While there was snow on the ground, making travel outside the city difficult, the lend-lease Jeep that had been provided by the State Security motor pool was able to churn its way along the roads leading to his little cottage. The driver dropped Tschelov in front of the place, and said he would return in six days’ time.

He brought gifts. Things available only from the separate floor in the big GUM department store in Moscow that was reserved for high Party officials and MVD personnel. Tschelov had drawn most of his accumulated pay, and used it to purchase a dress and blouse for Mariska, chocolates and toys for the children. There was also a new sled imported from Norway, and a box filled with marmalade, canned fruits, coffee, tea and sugar.

There were four days in which the sun broke through, allowing them to be outside during the day, and Tschelov was able to play with the children, throwing snowballs and trying out the new sled on a nearby slope. At night, they snuggled inside, and when the children were asleep, Tschelov made love to his wife.

Tschelov confided in Mariska that he was being sent on special assignment, without telling her what it was, or where he would be going. By implication, his disclosure let her know that he probably would not be visiting the cottage for some time. They both had an unspoken understanding that she and the children were far safer if she were not a party to State secrets.

On the day of his departure, Tschelov informed his wife that he had increased the amount of his pay that she would have access to. Instead of the current amount of half his monthly salary, three-quarters would henceforth be sent to the post office in Tsimov. The town was only six kilometers away, and she assured him that even in winter, the walk was not that difficult.

He left her with the promise that when he completed his assignment, he would ask for leave and spend time with her and the children.

Upon his return to the Lubyanka, Tschelov found a sealed envelope on his desk containing the travel orders for himself and his men. He was surprised that they directed him to escort the foreigner to an Air Force field outside the city, where they would board an aircraft that would fly them to an unstated destination. Motor transport would be provided for the journey to the air field, and from their landing point to the final location where Prisoner 4326 would be kept securely, pending further orders.

During his days with front-line units, Tschelov had become familiar with the sight of airplanes, both on the ground and overhead. In that, of course, he possessed more experience with flying machines than many of his countrymen.

Not a small number of the new recruits from the Soviet hinterlands, especially the Asiatics, were awe-struck at their first sight of aircraft, and sometimes prone to panic. This was especially true if the first planes encountered happened to be German, and they were being strafed with their machine guns, and bombs were being dropping on them.

Despite his greater knowledge, Tschelov could not contain a fair amount of trepidation as he boarded the Lend-Lease American C-47 for his first actual flight.

The foreign prisoner, just ahead of him on the ladder, smiled and said, Amerikanski, as he glanced back at Tschelov, leaving him with the distinct impression that the foreigner was mocking the fact that the Soviet Union was still making use of airplanes built by the hated Capitalist Imperialists.

They took seats on the metal benches on either side of the cargo compartment. The foreigner was between Tschelov and Lieutenant Grigoroski, while Sergeants Shimov and Kolokowski sat opposite.

As the engines started with a bang and a sputter, followed by a roar, Tschelov found himself clenching his fists. He looked at his companions, and was comforted to observe that Grigoroski and Kolokowski appeared as anxious as himself. However, when he saw that Shimov was smiling and turning to look out the window behind him, Tschelov felt himself becoming irritated. It was then that Tschelov recalled that Shimov had been with a parachute regiment during the war, and he allowed his irritation to be seasoned by a certain amount of jealousy.

Their prisoner seemed to be as calm as Shimov, and Tschelov surmised that a rich Capitalist would obviously have traveled frequently by air. The thought did nothing to alleviate the uncomfortable feeling in Tschelov’s stomach when the C-47 rose from the runway and banked sharply as it took up its westward course towards Germany.

They landed at the Soviet Air Force base, and were driven through the gray winter countryside to a large mansion that Tschelov assumed had been requisitioned from its former German owners.

Krevetko was correct when he promised that their quarters in Germany would be superior to those in the Lubyanka. The place clearly had been built before the Great Patriotic War, and appeared to have escaped damage from bombing or shelling.

A long driveway between a row of trees, their branches bare and snow-covered, ended at the front door of the three-story house.

As the black limousine carrying Tshcelov, Grigoroski and the foreign prisoner passed, several dozen men clad in East German People’s Army fatigue uniforms stopped shoveling snow and raking the barren flower beds to come to attention, saluting the passing car and the utility truck following it.

They were greeted at the front door of the mansion by an MVD colonel, a stooped, bespectacled man whom Tschelov immediately identified as one of those Party men who had probably always been a rear-echelon functionary, rather than having ever served as a fighting soldier.

Welcome, Comrade Major! said the officer, extending his hand rather than raising it in salute. In an inferior, Tschelov would have reprimanded the man for his lack of military correctness, but he said nothing and shook his outstretched hand.

Tschelov stuck to protocol and identified himself, I am MVD Major Tschelov. And your name, Comrade Colonel?

Kereshenko, Comrade. I am the commanding officer of this place. I have been advised by headquarters that you and your charge, here, are to have priority, he said, pointing to the foreign prisoner, And I wish to assure you that I and my men will provide you with whatever you wish.

Tschelov asked if Kereshenko had an office where they might speak privately, and the Colonel led the way though the foyer to a room whose walls were lined with bookshelves, most of which had been emptied of their contents.

Kereshenko took a seat behind the large ornate desk which was the principal article of furniture, and bade Tschelov to take the chair facing him.

I would ask, Comrade Colonel, began Tschelov, unconsciously adopting the tone and attitude he had displayed when speaking as a political officer to ordinary Army personnel, How many troops do you have here, and what is the situation regarding security?

Comrade Major, said Kereshenko, seemingly unfazed by Tschelov’s approach, In addition to the station’s detachment of MVD, I have at my command a company of Soviet troops from the rifle regiment stationed in this sector. They provide perimeter security for a distance of five hundred meters in all directions. They are rotated with other companies every ninety days, so that they do not become too familiar with any of the local population.

Tschelov nodded his head in agreement, considering whether his having received his orders personally from the Directorate might have vested him with privilege superior to that of the Colonel. He determined not to make an issue of it. After all, this Kereshenko was the commanding officer of the place.

Kereshenko displayed no sign that he was reading Tschelov’s thoughts as he continued, Even though this is a closed establishment, there are opportunities for the men to have contact with people from the nearby village, especially the women.

You should discipline harshly, Comrade Colonel, to stop such behavior, said Tschelov, testing how far Kereshenko was willing to go to assert his status as commanding officer.

Kereshenko’s face reddened as he responded, The rifle company officers and noncoms are responsible, Comrade Major, and I have stressed the importance of stopping all fraternization.

Tshcelov paused, as if considering Kereshenko’s response, "And what of the many Frits I saw as we drove in? I would think the presence of Germans would present you with security problems."

Kereshenko replied, "They are students in the Volkspolizei officers’ school which is based here. Any extra time not spent in training is devoted to keeping up the appearance of the place. Most of their time is spent primarily in attending classes. They are unarmed, and they have their own mess and quarters, separate from our troops. The school keeps them here about three months, after which they are sent back as junior lieutenants in the People’s Police. Appointment to the academy is reserved only for those engrained with Socialist theory and practice. I assure you that these Germans are loyal to the State, and to us, their Soviet allies."

Despite Kereshenko’s opinion, Tschelov remained uneasy about the wisdom of allowing Germans to wander about the grounds of a top secret facility. He did not further express his concern, opting instead to address another issue.

He was acutely aware that while he had been putting forth a confident front, perhaps even an arrogant one, he had not been briefed on exactly where the mansion was located. In addition, he had been under the assumption that he would be bringing Prisoner 4326 to a prison, and instead had discovered that he had arrived at what could be construed by some as a resort.

While listening to Kereshenko, he had been carefully considering how he might obtain the answers to his questions without disclosing the extent of his own ignorance.

The Colonel was describing the recreational opportunities available to his MVD men, which included films, sports, and in summer, swimming in a lake located on the property, when Tschelov realized that he had been afforded an opening, and he asked, Are the men permitted leave in Berlin? I have heard that our troops stationed in Germany find it a source of inspiration to stand where our heroes stood as they raised the flag over the Reichstag.

No leave is permitted while assigned here, replied Kereshenko, But when my men are reassigned, most are routed through Berlin to their next posting. It is only forty kilometers away. I usually see that they have a day or two free to see the city.

That is good, said Tschelov, I regret that I was pulled from the line before our forces launched the final assault on the Fascist capital.

Yes, I understand, replied Kereshenko, I was in the south, in Czechoslovakia, when the Fascists went down. Unfortunately, most of the worst of them ran like rats to surrender to the Americans and British.

Yes, yes, said Tschelov, sensing another opening for a question, Have you had any of the big shot Fascists held here? I remember I heard that we held Field Marshall Paulus at a villa to the east of Moscow after Stalingrad was liberated.

"There are no Nazis here at present. When I was honored by this assignment four years ago, we were sent two important Frits who were to be repatriated, and they were sent to the West shortly thereafter. Right now, we have only two ‘guests,’ besides the newcomer you have brought. Both of them are foreign spies captured by our side. They have been squeezed dry of all information, and now a deal is in the works to exchange them for some of our people who have fallen into the hands of the enemy."

Your prison cells must be located in the cellar, said Tschelov, What I have seen so far appears too luxurious for the likes of such creatures.

Kereshenko smiled, for the first time seeming to be at ease, and Tschelov felt that he might have guessed the extent of his ignorance.

Kereshenko said, Surely, Comrade Major, you cannot believe that we subject our charges to the rigors of the Lubyanka, or what prevails in the labor camps. I could not help but notice that the man whom you have brought looks to be in good health, well-fed and clean. I have no knowledge of who he is, and I do not want to know, but what seems certain is that he may be on the last leg of a journey to the other side, and out of our hands.

While Tschelov was thinking this over, Kereshenko continued, All of those held here must be in good condition, so that no embarrassment should fall on the Motherland or the Party. If outward appearances are maintained, the American press can be counted upon to say that there are no signs of mistreatment.

Kereshenko stood, Comrade Major, let me show you to your quarters. My adjutant has no doubt already seen to your prisoner and your men.

Kereshenko led Tschelov up a wide set of stairs to the second floor, and as they strolled down the wide hallway, Kereshenko asked, May I call you by your first name, Major? Mine is Alexis.

Of course, said Tschelov, You may call me Sergei, but I prefer that you do not do so in front of my men or my prisoner.

They arrived at an ornately decorated door, which Kereshenko pushed open. They stepped through into a room which Tschelov estimated was larger than