“Does he?” Molotov had a good reason to stall for time: having nearly exhausted its store of explosive metal with its first blast, the Soviet Union, despite frantic work, was nowhere near ready to loose another one. Hearing that the Nazis were close enough to having a weapon of their own to want to talk with the USSR about how best to use it was disquieting, to say the least.
But Ribbentrop nodded, his pop eyes bulging like a netted bream’s. “That is his purpose, yes. Between these explosive-metal bombs and our poison gas, we are in a position to make this world a very unpleasant place for the invaders.”
“And for ourselves,” Molotov said. “The last time I discussed with Hitler the use of explosive-metal bombs, his principal aim was to level Poland with them, and to use the poisons that spread from them to wreck the Soviet Union as well. To this we could not possibly agree. I hope also that your engineers and scientists are more careful than they were earlier at producing explosive metal without wrecking themselves in the process.”
He wondered if Ribbentrop would resent any of that. It sounded sardonic, but every word of it was true. The German foreign minister said, “Production problems seem well on their way to solution.”
“That is good news,” Molotov lied.
“Is it not?” Ribbentrop agreed, not noticing the lie at all.
“How fortunate for you that they were halted,” Molotov agreed tonelessly, if he’d been Himmler, he would have had Ribbentrop’s interpreter reporting back to him. And, if he’d been Himmler, he’d have had some sharp things to say to Ribbentrop about talking too much. Molotov knew better than to reveal, even in the most general terms, where the Soviet nuclear weapons project was based.
“Yes, wasn’t it?” Ribbentrop said without a shred of guile. “The
“The war against whom?” Molotov asked. “General Secretary Stalin views the Lizard presence in Poland, at least for the time being, as a useful buffer between us. If we do not touch, we cannot fight.”
Ribbentrop looked so innocent, Molotov expected a halo to spring into being above his head at any moment. “The
“Circumstances changed, as you put it, in 1939, and then changed again in 1941. They could change yet again at a moment’s notice,” Molotov said. “Thus the value of the buffer.”
“If we do not cooperate against the Lizards, we shall never have the chance to pursue our private grievances,” Ribbentrop answered.
That was the first sensible thing he’d said since he boarded the Russian freighter. Molotov eyed him warily. “True enough, but cooperation must run both ways. If you enjoy all the advantages, you must not expect us to be your dupes.”
“If we did not honestly cooperate with you, you would not have got the explosive metal from which to make your bomb,” Ribbentrop said. “Do remember that half the team which took the metal was made up of German soldiers, who supplied all the heavy weapons for the raid.”
“True enough,” Molotov said, and then paused to think. Ribbentrop had now made sense twice running, which, as far as the foreign commissar knew, equaled his all-time record. Was the jumped-up champagne salesman actually developing competence in his old age? An alarming notion, if true. More cautiously than he’d spoken before, Molotov asked, “When will your country have its own explosive-metal bombs? We cannot very well coordinate our strategy if we do not know when that strategy becomes effective.”