Chapter 81 of 100

Chapter 81

13 min read3,216 words

The tense debate in the kitchen seemed to have never happened. The next day, Shelestov escorted Khrushchev, Mikoyan, Brezhnev, and their wives to the American embassy for a banquet. The atmosphere today was unexpectedly harmonious, as if there was a hint of developing friendship. Shelestov knew it was all an illusion...

The American embassy, after all, was just an ordinary place. After taking a quick look at its basic structure and decor, Shelestov didn't pay much attention. It wasn't a particularly secret place; three years ago, he had even ordered the bombing of one.

Tasting a few sweets, Shelestov gave up on the idea of continuing to freeload. The food was so terrible that it was hard to swallow. It seemed as if these Western countries had never seen sugar. He casually picked a few shrimp from the plate and leaned by the window, looking at the scenery outside. About twenty meters from the window was a square meter of brown stone, very smooth on the surface, originally fished out from a river and placed there as an ornamental stone. If one got tired from walking, they could sit on it to rest. But in fact, the stone had been hollowed out and was filled with surveillance equipment from the KGB, covering the entire American embassy.

Prolonged exposure to the full-power surveillance equipment could lead to hair loss, dizziness, and nausea. If this continued for years, it could cause health issues, leading to a higher risk of cancer. However, the scientist who had assured Shelestov that there was no problem with the equipment, comparing it to the high risk of lung problems among cement factory workers, had no one doubting it. Diplomats were already under a lot of stress.

Blinking his eyes, he could see a state-owned construction company about two hundred meters away, with people in dark blue work uniforms coming and going. This was just the surface; the seemingly bustling construction company was actually the headquarters of the KGB's Seventh Directorate, responsible for all foreigners entering the Soviet Union. It was the KGB's most extensive department, covering all tourist areas in the Soviet Union where foreigners visited.

Nixon, who frequently raised his glass to toast, had already noticed Shelestov, who seemed out of place amidst the enthusiastic Soviet leaders and their wives. This young head of the secret police stood by the window, looking at the scenery. Nixon, who had done his homework, expected everyone's behavior during this visit to the Soviet Union, but the one who left an impression was Brezhnev. The one who surprised him the most was this young general with the lowest rank.

"General Shelestov seems uninterested in this banquet?" Nixon, holding a glass of wine, looked at this mysterious head of the secret police. Before his visit, he had met with Secretary of State Dulles, and no one knew about it, but Shelestov did. Could this Soviet officer, who was considered the most successful KGB officer in the past decade, really be so well-informed?

Shelestov slowly turned his gaze back and looked directly at the future U.S. President, "I'm thinking about what will happen after Mr. Nixon leaves. Since you arrived in the Soviet Union, I've missed five painting classes and four music classes! And there are five days' worth of accumulated documents!"

After speaking, Shelestov naturally picked up a large shrimp, about ten centimeters long, and put it in his mouth, chewing it like a wild animal, including the head, tail, and shell, making a crisp sound! It was as savage as a Caspian tiger.

"General Shelestov, your way of eating is quite unique!" Nixon clearly thought Shelestov had never eaten Canadian shrimp before and wanted to teach him.

"Mr. Nixon, I usually eat like this. It saves time!" Shelestov smiled and said, "The Maritime Department is forming a long-distance fleet, and soon, all kinds of seafood from anywhere in the world will be on the Soviet people's tables. When everyone can enjoy it, it won't be a rare item anymore..."

Shelestov's attitude made the American Vice President, who had come to the Soviet Union, very uncomfortable. But Nixon could sense that Shelestov's attitude was not an act, as if he always faced others this way. His guess was correct; Shelestov always treated strangers and enemies with this attitude!

"So, General, you must be a lifelong learner, quite accomplished in painting and music?" Nixon launched his own counterattack, having already decided that Shelestov, like other Soviet officials, was just putting on a show. A head of the secret police learning painting and music? It was impossible.

"Studied sketching and piano? Now?" Seeing Nixon's inviting gesture, Shelestov inwardly sneered but showed no expression on his face. He walked to the piano in the hall, sat down, and tested the sound, rejecting the sheet music offered by the pianist. His fluid test of the piano made Khrushchev, Mikoyan, and Brezhnev stop what they were doing. Khrushchev asked someone nearby what was happening.

After testing the piano, Shelestov began to play. The gentle piano music flowed through the banquet, and as the prelude began, everyone's hearts skipped a beat. Shelestov, wearing a major general's uniform, sat at the piano, head held high, eyes looking at some unknown point, his hands moving like flowing water, playing a lively piano piece. The expressionless Shelestov had a quality that matched the piano music.

No one had heard this piano piece before. Although the piano was slightly monotonous, the unique melody captivated everyone. Even Khrushchev, who had never been exposed to such music, was applauding. After finishing the piece, Shelestov came down, and Khrushchev led the applause, "Look at our Soviet youth, what beautiful music..."

"As for the painting you need, Mr. Nixon, I can give you a painting before you leave!" Shelestov said without changing his expression, standing behind Khrushchev, "What is the name of this piano piece?"

"What is the name of this piano piece?" Shelestov opened his mouth and then closed it, thinking for a moment, "Rhapsody..."

"Let's call it the Shelestov Rhapsody..." Khrushchev waved his hand, very pleased, making Shelestov's lips twitch. This was plagiarism, it was clearly called the Croatian Rhapsody!

After the banquet, Khrushchev invited the Nixons to a villa in the suburbs. This villa, before the October Revolution, was a summer palace for the Tsar, almost as large as the White House. After the October Revolution, it became Stalin's villa and later Khrushchev's. The villa was surrounded by beautiful lawns and gardens, with a forest on one side. A marble staircase led directly to the banks of the Moscow River. Khrushchev had already sent people to the villa's gate to welcome Nixon.

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