Chapter 68

"Have the twelve department heads prepare for a meeting this afternoon to review the work of the past six months, and then have them prepare materials for the start of the second half of the year. We need to get things sorted out!" After a busy period, Yury Andropov finally set foot on Soviet soil in early July, heading to the KGB headquarters at Lubyanka Square, No. 11. In fact, Andropov did not want to return so early. Ukraine was a wonderful place; the familiar black soil made him feel like he was back home.

The black soil of Ukraine is slightly smaller in area than the combined black soil of the United States and China. Although it is a bit colder than the Mississippi Plain in the U.S., it is much better than the northeastern region of China. Moreover, Ukraine has fewer mountains. According to the calculations of the mathematicians in the Economic Committee, Ukraine theoretically could support a population of four hundred million without much difficulty. But you can't rely on those experts whose heads are full of granite. They dare to calculate things they shouldn't, and they ignore what they should. It would be better to rely on the Seventh Directorate to handle this work.

Shelepin visited the Kremlin more frequently than any other official of the same rank, almost as often as Andropov visited Lubyanka Square, No. 11. He saluted the statue of Dzerzhinsky in front of the headquarters and, under the familiar gaze of the guards, Andropov walked into the KGB headquarters building with his characteristic thug-like gait, as if he were entering his own home.

"Yuri Yefimovich Andropov, back from Berlin and Ukraine!" Standing before Shelepin, Andropov maintained a serious expression for a second before collapsing into the sofa opposite the desk like a rubber man with all his bones broken.

"Did you walk back?" Shelepin scratched his large forehead and asked, not getting angry at Andropov's antics. This young man was too familiar with him! It was impossible to expect him to be serious when he had free time. His usual lazy demeanor was his norm.

Ignoring the insinuation, Andropov called out to a passing staff member to close the door and said directly, "Old Secretary, I've completed my mission, haven't I? Do I need to report for a quick trip to Ukraine? I had to handle family matters; I can't let down the banner awarded by the city government! Old Secretary, can you ask the canteen to prepare some food? I'm hungry..." Throughout the conversation, Andropov remained seated, slumped on the sofa like a pile of meat, exuding a lazy aura from head to toe.

Sighing, Shelepin picked up the phone. Usually, he used it to call the directors of various directorates and the Kremlin. The few times he called the canteen were all because of the person in front of him. "This is Shelepin..."

"Chairman?" The voice on the other end of the line was surprised, then quickly responded, "Is Director Andropov at headquarters?" It was hard to describe the feeling, but he took a deep breath and said, "Yes, prepare a lunch and bring it to my office!"

"Chairman, one portion isn't enough. Director Andropov usually needs two..." Shelepin's brow twitched. "Comrade Garilov, follow the usual routine and replace the beef with pork!" Andropov, still slumped on the sofa, shouted into the phone.

Putting down the phone, Shelepin asked with a constipated expression, "How many times have you used my phone to call the canteen? And how do you know the headquarters' phone number?"

"About a dozen times. Who makes you run to the Kremlin so often? I can't just sit around waiting; I have to eat! As for the phone number?" Andropov pointed to the top right corner of the desk, where a sheet of paper with a list of phone numbers was pressed down. The 27th number was the canteen's.

With a few more subordinates like this, Shelepin felt his lifespan would be shortened. His tolerance limit was one, and he couldn't handle another Andropov. However, this guy had an unusually good appetite since the beginning of the year. Watching Andropov eat voraciously, Shelepin himself felt hungry again. "Are you back at headquarters?"

"No, the pork has too much sugar!" Andropov commented while eating. "I taught the canteen this dish, and Comrade Garilov said it's very popular among the headquarters staff!" Before he finished speaking, a piece of braised pork was speared by a fork, and Shelepin asked while eating, "You never cook, do you?"

"Being unable to cook and being unable to teach are two different things!" Ten minutes later, Andropov finished two portions of food, clutching his stomach with a pained expression, clearly overeating again. Why "again"? Because Shelepin often saw Andropov clutching his stomach after eating, and despite warnings, he believed his young age and good digestion could handle anything.

"You never listen, and even when you do, you don't act! Have some water!" Shelepin poured a glass of water and placed it in front of Andropov. "Is there a problem? You've finished eating. Tell me about Berlin. You stood on a tank and asked the Red Army soldiers if they could capture Berlin in two hours?"

"It was a small matter. They didn't fight, did they? When I showed up, how could those imperialist lackeys be my match? I built the Berlin Wall, I planned the West Berlin riots, and I dug up the British treasure! A bunch of defeated enemies can only learn to stand straight when they get beaten!" Even with a stomachache, Andropov couldn't resist boasting. It only took a few minutes, and the opportunity to boast in front of the KGB chairman was rare.

"The West Berlin plan was well-executed. The residents of West Berlin are already in opposition to the occupying forces! When you returned from Ukraine, there was movement in Berlin. The U.S. Seventh Army sent an armored division into West Berlin!" Shelepin glanced at Andropov. "Now, it's not a matter of two hours in West Berlin..."

"Old Secretary, this is a good thing. Who doesn't want more cannon fodder? Given West Berlin's position, even if the entire Seventh Army were to move in, it wouldn't make a difference. It would just mean more prisoners! The more U.S. troops in West Berlin, the better. I still need more hostages!" The Seventh Army was the main U.S. force in Europe and the primary opponent of the Soviet Western Group of Forces. Stationed in West Germany, the Seventh Army was responsible for defending against the Western Group of Forces, but it could only hold out, not counterattack. Surviving a month of the Western Group's attack would be considered exceptional.

"You've been away from the Military Administration Directorate for almost five months, and there's probably a pile of work waiting for you. If you have any difficulties, just say so! A promotion is out of the question, but the director of the Second Directorate is retiring in a year. Once the Military Administration Directorate is on track, you can take over the domestic counterintelligence work."

"I've already notified the Military Administration Directorate to hold a meeting this afternoon, but I do have one request!" Andropov, relieved of his stomachache, sat up, no longer slumped. "I want Colonel Shirekov, the head of the Disinformation Directorate, to go to Ukraine and serve as the deputy chairman of the KGB of the Ukrainian SSR. Chairman, please talk to the director of the First Directorate. Comrade Sakhatovsky will listen to you..."

"The deputy chairman of the KGB of the Ukrainian SSR is a rear-ranking major general, and Shirekov is not yet forty..." Shelepin suddenly remembered the age of the oddball in front of him. "Age isn't an issue. I'll talk to Major General Sakhatovsky!"