Chapter 196: Snake and Bear
While Churchill and Chamberlain were still locked in fierce argument over rearmament, another meeting was taking place far from London.
Germany, Austrian Province, Vienna.
The summer heat was softened by the breeze drifting across the Danube. Beneath the wind, the river shimmered like flowing liquid gold, its ripples catching the sunlight in restless fragments.
On the cruise ship, Stalin stood by the railing and gazed at the river.
He had not wanted to come to Germany.
Part of it was because leaving Soviet Russia at this moment carried too much risk. Another part was because he did not want to meet Jörg von Roman.
Seeing that man would remind him of that late winter, and of the deal they had once made.
If he had been more resolute back then, if he had not taken those photographs that drove Trotsky out of Soviet Russia, would Jörg, without that diplomatic achievement, still have been able to govern Germany and become Soviet Russia's greatest enemy?
Stalin did not know.
He only knew that the riots in Ukraine could no longer be suppressed.
Germany's continuous shipments of aid were causing the festering wound across Ukraine to grow larger and larger. More importantly, the unrest had already created a serious ethnic problem. As the purges expanded, suspicion among non Russian ethnic groups only deepened.
He could not allow the fire of ethnic conflict to spread.
The Ukrainian issue had to be resolved today.
Soviet Russia needed a stable external environment for the purges.
Before coming to Germany, Molotov had already signed a nonaggression pact with Japan. The greatest threat in the Far East had been temporarily resolved.
Only Europe remained.
That was why, after repeated consideration, Stalin had ultimately come to Vienna.
"Mr. Stalin, the President has arrived. Please follow me."
The reception official from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs knocked lightly on the door, made a gesture of invitation, and led Stalin and his accompanying officials toward the study.
They had exchanged information beforehand and both sides understood that this would be a private meeting. Stalin therefore motioned for the translator and Molotov, who still wanted to accompany him, to stop.
Then he pushed open the door alone.
Four bookshelves formed the background of the room. Two sofas had been placed close to each other, one of which Jörg already occupied.
Several years had passed since their last meeting.
Yet this slithering viper's appearance remained almost unchanged. The unparalleled confidence around him had not faded with age. Instead, it had grown even more inflated.
But he indeed possessed the capital for such confidence.
Looking back on the six years since the economic crisis, Germany under Jörg's leadership had been advancing without pause.
"Mr. Stalin, it has been five years since we last met, has it not?"
Jörg stood, gestured for Stalin to sit, and then pushed a wooden box toward him.
"A small gift from me to you."
Stalin opened the wooden box.
Inside lay an exquisitely crafted pipe.
He merely glanced at it before closing the lid again.
"It has been almost six years."
Stalin's voice was calm.
"You truly are a formidable opponent, Mr. von Roman. The nickname our Ministry of Foreign Affairs gave you back then was indeed accurate. A venomous snake whose bite poisons the bone marrow."
Hearing himself described in such a way, Jörg did not grow angry.
On the contrary, he looked exceptionally pleased.
To be feared by one's enemy was always the finest compliment.
"I will take that as praise, Mr. Stalin."
Jörg sat back down.
"I will not speak in circles. Germany can stop its aid to Ukraine and simultaneously sign a nonaggression pact with you."
Stalin took out his old brass pipe from his pocket. It was worn, faded, and clearly had followed him for many years.
He lit it, exhaled smoke, and asked, "Your conditions?"
"Speak."
"I enjoy speaking with intelligent people, Mr. Stalin."
Jörg smiled, spread a map across the table, and placed a list beside it.
"Mr. Chicherin once exchanged a promise for the lives of most of the middle and high ranking officials of the German Communist Party."
His fingertip tapped the list.
"I am somewhat greedier."
Stalin's eyes remained fixed on him.
"First, regarding the border between Slovakia and Ukraine, each side will take one step back and establish a thirty kilometer buffer zone."
Jörg pushed the list forward.
"Second, all Ukrainian irredentists, including officers and intellectuals, anyone whose name appears on this list, I want to take with me."
Stalin's expression showed neither joy nor anger.
Only the faint tightening of the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes revealed that his heart was not as calm as his face.
"The buffer zone is acceptable," Stalin replied concisely. "The list is not."
"Mr. Stalin, as a friend, I advise you to reconsider."
Jörg's tone remained light.
"Germany has been extremely restrained. We have not supplied heavy weapons. We have not supplied aircraft or artillery."
He leaned slightly forward.
"We have also not acted like Poland, sending soldiers to stir up greater trouble. If you do not agree, the situation in Ukraine may become much worse."
Jörg paused.
"And, Mr. Stalin, I can reveal a small piece of information to you."
Stalin's gaze darkened.
"The German Ministry of Defense has received a military procurement order from Finland."
Jörg smiled faintly.
"Finland is exceptionally close to Leningrad."
At those words, Stalin's expression finally became complicated.
There was anger at being threatened.
There was also shock at the news concerning Finland.
Relations between Soviet Russia and Finland had always been poor. Recently, Finland had even rejected two territorial agreements. At such a time, their attempt to purchase weapons from Germany forced Stalin to imagine many possibilities.
"The rebels must die."
Stalin's voice became colder.
"But I can guarantee that the people on this list will remain unharmed and will be sent to the Slovakian border as ethnic German repatriates."
Jörg immediately understood the unspoken meaning of that sentence.
"No problem, Mr. Stalin."
Seeing Jörg extend his hand, Stalin reluctantly shook it.
Once the agreement was reached, Stalin did not linger.
He left the room first.
Although the furnishings were luxurious and the carpet beneath his feet was as soft as clouds, the room had given him an inexplicable chill, as if he had stepped into a snake pit.
More than speaking with a man eating python, he felt as if countless snake eyes had been watching him from the shadows.
That sense of insecurity made him deeply uncomfortable.
Only after leaving the cabin and stepping onto the deck, feeling the sunlight on his face again, did that sensation dissipate considerably.
Molotov approached quietly and asked, "Comrade Stalin... was the negotiation successful?"
When the small boat they boarded reached the shore, Stalin finally nodded.
"It succeeded, but the threat still exists."
He looked back toward the cruise ship on the Danube.
"Order Pavlov to lead the restructuring of the Kyiv Military District. After Ukraine stabilizes, deploy another twenty divisions to guard the border."
His voice was low.
"That viper is a giant python like Jörmungandr, one that devours heaven and earth. It will never be satisfied."
On the boat, Jörg was flipping through Gorky's My Universities when Heinz Guderian approached to report on military recruitment and the reconnaissance of the Maginot Line.
Just as Guderian was about to leave, Jörg called out softly.
"Heinz."
Guderian stopped.
"Prepare to receive guests from Finland."
Jörg closed the book.
"We have a new testing ground for that batch of newly manufactured cold resistant weapons."
Guderian was confused.
"Führer? Will the Finns come? I have not received any notification from Miss Leah."
Jörg took a sip of coffee and looked at the pipe Stalin had left behind.
"Not necessarily before today."
Then he nodded.
"But after today, Finland will certainly come."
He placed the cup down.
"A strong Soviet Russia is like a brown bear preparing for winter. It possesses a craving for land as natural as its craving for honey and salmon. No matter how much it changes, this remains carved into its blood."
With that, Jörg stood and walked toward the door.
The Soviet Russians had been received.
Now, it was the British's turn.
.....
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