Chapter 405
The sharp and piercing sirens tore through the rainy night in Moscow. The sirens were first sounded in the Kremlin, and then the sirens in all fire stations in the city began to sound one after another.
In the provincial party committee office building on Marx Street, Alexander Petrovich Volkov was awakened from his deep sleep by the alarm. He suddenly sat up from the bed in the duty room, without even wearing shoes, and rushed to the window barefoot and pushed open the locked window.
The night wind brought heavy rain in from the window, soaking his head and face, but he didn't care about anything else. He just pricked up his ears and listened to the direction where the alarm came from. But after listening for a long time, he couldn't hear where the sound came from. It seemed like... it seemed to be everywhere.
Without even bothering to close the window, Volkov rushed out of the duty room and rushed back to his office. When he entered the door, his right big toe hit the threshold, causing him excruciating pain. He didn't even bother to pay attention to the pain, staggered to the desk, grabbed the phone on the desk, and shook the handle twice.
"My name is Alexander Petrovich Volkov. Please connect me to the Fire Department immediately!" Volkov said impatiently when he heard the operator's voice coming from the receiver.
"I'm sorry, Comrade Secretary Volkov, the General Police Department..." the operator said on the phone.
"I don't care who is occupying the line, you can connect me to the Fire Department now! Connect me to Protasov!" Volkov roared angrily without waiting for the operator to finish his words.
Now Volkov is the first secretary of the Moscow Provincial Committee and alternate member of the Central Committee. He knows what such an alarm means, so he can't wait to know what happened.
"Okay, Comrade Secretary Volkov," the operator was silent for a while, but finally connected the call for him.
Volkov soon heard a "Hello" sound coming from the phone. The person on the other end should be talking to someone from the Police Headquarters, but the call was suddenly cut off.
"I'm Alexander Petrovich Volkov..." Volkov said patiently to the person on the other end of the phone.
But just as he introduced himself, there was a beep on the line, and then the operator's voice came again: "Comrade Secretary Volkov, Comrade Marshal Yuri Arkhipovich Kulyokov is calling from the Kremlin and wants to speak to you."
"Who are you talking about?!" Volkov felt a chill on his back, but asked subconsciously.
"Comrade Marshal Yuri Arkhipovich Kulyokov," the operator replied cautiously.
Tonight must be a very difficult time for the telephone operators, because a large number of calls are coming in, and on the other end of each call is a big shot whom they and even their director cannot afford to offend.
Volkov was silent, and he had a bad feeling in his heart.
"Shall I connect you?" the operator asked, unable to hear any response from the other end.
Volkov was furious. He suspected that the operator was mocking him. Never mind Yuri's status as a marshal or the chairman of the Central Supervisory Committee. He was just a secretary of the Central Secretariat... Did he have the right to not answer the call?
He secretly swore in his heart that he would find this abominable operator and throw him to Siberia. But Volkov said calmly, "Take it."
As the phone beeped again, a young but majestic voice came from the other end: "Comrade Volkov? This is Yuri."
"Ah, good evening, Comrade Secretary," Volkov said in a trembling voice.
"Now is not the time to say hello, Comrade Volkov," Yuri said on the phone. "I am giving you an order now. Come to the Kremlin immediately. The car to pick you up is on the way. I believe it will be back at the provincial party committee building in five minutes. You should be ready."
After he finished speaking, the phone was hung up with a click, without even giving Volkov a chance to speak.
Listening to the busy tone coming from the receiver, Volkov felt his mouth dry. He swallowed hard, then pressed the handle of the phone and shook it again.
Then, a scene that made Volkov feel extremely dangerous occurred: he couldn't make any calls.
Anxiously throwing the phone on the table, Volkov changed to another phone, but the result was the same. The phone was busy and he couldn't make a call.
He rushed out of his office and went to another office. Finally, after a lot of trouble, he came to a horrifying conclusion: all the calls could not be made.
At this time, it was not just the provincial party committee building where Volkov was located that could not make calls. All wired telephone communications in Moscow were interrupted. Yes, all telephones, not just government agencies, but also ordinary home phones and embassies of various countries in Moscow. All were in a state of telephone communication interruption.
The guards dispatched by the Kremlin took control of the telephone exchange's communications center and cut off all communications within the city. It was 2:20 in the morning. From this point on, all other telephone lines were not allowed to be connected except for calls from the Kremlin.
If the alarm that sounded late at night only woke up everyone in Moscow, then the interrupted communications cast a heavy cloud over everyone's head - of course, there were also people who felt excited, such as the Western embassies in Moscow. Everyone there had a premonition of an exciting possibility. A coup had taken place in Moscow, no, in the Soviet Union. Without a doubt, this would be news that would shock the whole world .
Kremlin, Building 14.
Vlasik, all wet, squatted on the steps in front of the building, his left shoulder against the wall, a cigarette butt between the index and middle fingers of his right hand. If he was on the street and he was not wearing that uniform, he would probably be mistaken for a beggar.
Just as I was feeling distraught, a car slowly drove up to the front of the building, the door opened, and Comrade Bulganin, dressed in a bathrobe, jumped out of the car. Yes, he jumped out, and the agility of his movements was completely inconsistent with his age, weight, oh, and the pair of slippers on his feet.
"Ah, Nikolay Alexandrovich..." Vlasik stood up hurriedly, threw the cigarette butt in his hand aside, straightened his body as much as possible, and said.
Unfortunately, Bulganin didn't even look at him, and rushed past him as if his butt was on fire.
Really... really a man who walks with the wind!
Vlasik was still hesitating whether to follow in when he saw another car driving over quickly and stopping directly in front of the steps.
The car door opened, and Comrade Andreevich, who was obviously older, got out of the car with a serious face. He also didn't even look at Vlasik, and just walked into the building without stopping.
Then, within just a few minutes, Khrushchev, Mikoyan, Suslov and others arrived. Vlasik counted and found that all the members of the Presidium were present except Malenkov and Beria.
At some point, Vlasik felt that his legs were no longer weak, his hands were no longer shaking, and his body was no longer cold. On the contrary, he felt his body starting to heat up, and he seemed to have endless energy.
"It's so late, but the leaders still have to rush over to attend the meeting and work. They are so tired. Maybe we need to prepare a midnight snack for them now!" Vlasik licked his lips, stretched his neck to look around, and then shouted at the top of his voice, "Belanov! Belanov! Where have you been, you coward!"
In the large conference room of Building 14, the Standing Committee members who had rushed from their homes in the rain had solemn expressions on their faces. These people were all standard heavy smokers. In just a few minutes, they had filled the entire conference room with "drugs". The smoky scene was like a fairyland.
"We don't know anything ," Yuri stood beside a chair and introduced his previous arrangements, "but what is certain is that Comrade Stalin had an accident, and Malenkov and Beria are blocking the news. We don't know what they are planning, but we must be prepared for anything that may happen."
"Perhaps things are not that bad, or perhaps Comrade Stalin gave the order himself, not wanting bad news to cause some misunderstanding," Andreyev said hesitantly.
His words attracted the attention of everyone present: He is such a good guy, that's why he is marginalized so seriously.
"This is not a question of whether the situation is bad or not," Suslov said lightly, "nor is it about whether Comrade Stalin issued the order. Comrade Stalin is the pillar of this country and the leader above all else. Therefore, his health problem is no longer a personal problem, but a national problem. On this issue, every member of the Presidium has the right to know. Any concealment of the Presidium is irresponsible."
These words again attracted everyone's attention to him. Unlike Andreyev's speech, everyone appreciated Comrade Suslov's speech. Of course, the most crucial point was that this speech was in the interests of everyone present.
"Comrade Stalin is the founder of the alliance and the most qualified revolutionary. His consciousness is worthy of everyone's trust," Bulganin said meaningfully, stroking his lips with his right index finger.
This is called characterization. Yes, what happened tonight was that Malenkov and Beria concealed the health condition of Comrade Stalin. What is the fact? What everyone agrees on is the fact. No matter what happened tonight, it was these two people who were causing trouble. They are responsible for everything that happened tonight.
