To the memory of my grandparents, Tom and Minnie Follett Arthur and Bessie Evans Cast of characters American Dewar Family Senator Gus Dewar Rosa Dewar, his wife Woody Dewar, their elder son Chuck Dewar, their younger son Ursula Dewar, Gus’s mother Peshkov Family Lev Peshkov Olga Peshkov, his wife Daisy Peshkov, their daughter Marga, Lev’s mistress Greg Peshkov, son of Lev and Marga Gladys Angelus, film star, also Lev’s mistress Rouzrokh Family Dave Rouzrokh Joanne Rouzrokh, his daughter Buffalo Socialites Dot Renshaw Charlie Farquharson Others Joe Brekhunov, a thug Brian Hall, union organizer Jacky Jakes, starlet Eddie Parry, sailor, friend of Chuck’s Captain Vandermeier, Chuck’s superior Margaret Cowdry, beautiful heiress Real Historical Characters President F D Roosevelt Marguerite ‘Missy’ LeHand, his assistant Vice-President Harry Truman Cordell Hull, Secretary of State Sumner Welles, Undersecretary of State Colonel Leslie Groves, Army Corps of Engineers English Fitzherbert Family Earl Fitzherbert, called Fitz Princess Elizaveta, called Bea, his wife ‘Boy’ Fitzherbert, Viscount Aberowen, their elder son Andy, their younger son Leckwith-Williams Family Ethel Leckwith (née Williams), Member of Parliament for Aldgate Bernie Leckwith, Ethel’s husband Lloyd Williams, Ethel’s son, Bernie’s stepson Millie Leckwith, Ethel and Bernie’s daughter Others Ruby Carter, friend of Lloyd’s Sir Bartholomew (‘Bing’) Westhampton, friend of Fitz’s Lindy and Lizzie Westhampton, Bing’s twin daughters Jimmy Murray, son of General Murray May Murray, his sister Marquis of Lowther, called Lowthie Naomi Avery, Millie’s best friend Abe Avery, Naomi’s brother Real Historical Characters Ernest Bevin, MP, Foreign Secretary German & Austrian Von Ulrich Family Walter von Ulrich Maud (née Lady Maud Fitzherbert), his wife Erik, their son Carla, their daughter Ada Hempel, their maid Kurt, Ada’s illegitimate son Robert von Ulrich, Walter’s second cousin Jörg Schleicher, Robert’s partner Rebecca Rosen, an orphan Franck Family Ludwig Franck Monika (née Monika von der Helbard), his wife Werner, their elder son Frieda, their daughter Axel, their younger son Ritter, chauffeur Count Konrad von der Helbard, Monika’s father Rothmann Family Dr Isaac Rothmann Hannelore Rothmann, his wife Eva, their daughter Rudi, their son Von Kessel Family Gottfried von Kessel, deputy for the Centre Party Heinrich von Kessel, his son Gestapo Commissar Thomas Macke Inspector Kringelein, Macke’s boss Reinhold Wagner Klaus Richter Günther Schneider Others Hermann Braun, Erik’s best friend Sergeant Schwab, gardener Wilhelm Frunze, scientist Russian Peshkov Family Grigori Peshkov Katerina, his wife Vladimir, always called Volodya, their son Anya, their daughter Others Zoya Vorotsyntsev, physicist Ilya Dvorkin, officer of the secret police Colonel Lemitov, Volodya’s boss Colonel Bobrov, Red Army officer in Spain Real Historical Characters Lavrentiy Beria, head of the secret police Vyacheslav Molotov, Foreign Minister Spanish Teresa, literacy teacher Welsh Williams Family David Williams, called Dai, ‘Granda’ Cara Williams, ‘Grandmam’ Billy Williams, MP for Aberowen Mildred, Billy’s wife Dave, Billy’s elder son Keir, Billy’s younger son Griffiths Family Tommy Griffiths, Billy Williams’s political agent Lenny Griffiths, Tommy’s son Contents Part One: THE OTHER CHEEK Part Two: A SEASON OF BLOOD 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 Part Three: THE COLD PEACE 21 22 23 24 25 resumed correspondence at the end of the war Maud’s letters put a brave face on what was undoubtedly severe hardship She did not ask for help, and anyway there was nothing Ethel could for her – rationing was still in force in Britain The place looked very different In 1933 it had been a fine town house, a little run down but still gracious Now it looked like a dump Most of the windows had boards or paper instead of glass There were bullet holes in the stonework, and the garden wall had collapsed The woodwork had not been painted for many years Lloyd sat in the car for a few moments, looking at the house Last time he came here he had been eighteen, and Hitler had only just become Chancellor of Germany The young Lloyd had not dreamed of the horrors the world was going to see Neither he nor anyone else had suspected how close Fascism would come to triumphing over all Europe, and how much they would have to sacrifice to defeat it He felt a bit like the von Ulrich house looked, battered and bombed and shot at but still standing He walked up the path and knocked He recognized the maid who opened the door ‘Hello, Ada, you remember me?’ he said in German ‘I’m Lloyd Williams.’ The house was better inside than out Ada showed him up to the drawing room, where there were flowers in a glass tumbler on the piano A brightly patterned blanket had been thrown over the sofa, no doubt to hide holes in the upholstery The newspapers in the windows let in a surprising amount of light A two-year-old boy walked into the room and inspected him with frank curiosity He was dressed in clothes that were evidently homemade, and he had an Oriental look ‘Who are you?’ he said ‘My name is Lloyd Who are you?’ ‘Walli,’ he said He ran out again, and Lloyd heard him say to someone outside: ‘That man talks funny!’ So much for my German accent, Lloyd thought Then he heard the voice of a middle-aged woman ‘Don’t make such remarks! It’s impolite.’ ‘Sorry, Grandma.’ Next moment Maud walked in Her appearance shocked Lloyd She was in her mid-fifties, but looked seventy Her hair was grey, her face was gaunt, and her blue silk dress was threadbare She kissed his cheek with shrunken lips ‘Lloyd Williams, what a joy to see you!’ She’s my aunt, Lloyd thought with a rather queer feeling But she did not know that: Ethel had kept the secret Maud was followed by Carla, who was unrecognizable, and her husband Lloyd had met Carla as a precocious eleven-year-old: now, he calculated, she was twenty-six Although she looked half-starved – most Germans did – she was pretty, and had a confident air that surprised Lloyd Something about the way she stood made him think she might be pregnant He knew from Maud’s letters that Carla had married Werner, who had been a handsome charmer back in 1933 and was still the same They spent an hour catching up The family had been through unimaginable horror, and said so frankly, yet Lloyd still had a sense that they were editing out the worst details He told them about Daisy, Evie and Dave During the conversation a teenage girl came in and asked Carla if she could go to her friend’s house ‘This is our daughter, Rebecca,’ Carla said to Lloyd She was about sixteen, so Lloyd supposed she must be adopted ‘Have you done your homework?’ Carla asked the girl ‘I’ll it tomorrow morning.’ ‘Do it now, please,’ Carla said firmly ‘Oh, Mother!’ ‘No argument,’ said Carla She turned back to Lloyd, and Rebecca stomped out They talked about the crisis Carla was deeply involved, as a city councillor She was pessimistic about the future of Berlin She thought the Russians would simply starve the population until the West gave in and handed the city over to total Soviet control ‘Let me show you something that may make you feel differently,’ Lloyd said ‘Will you come with me in the car?’ Maud stayed behind with Walli, but Carla and Werner went with Lloyd He told the driver to take them to Tempelhof, the airport in the American zone When they arrived he led them to a high window from which they could look down on the runway There on the tarmac were a dozen C-47 Skytrain aircraft lined up nose to tail, some with the American star, some with the RAF roundel Their cargo doors were open, and a truck stood at each one German porters and American airmen were unloading the aircraft There were sacks of flour, big drums of kerosene, cartons of medical supplies, and wooden crates containing thousands of bottles of milk While they watched, empty aircraft were taking off and more were coming in to land ‘This is amazing,’ said Carla, her eyes glistening ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’ ‘There has never been anything like it,’ Lloyd replied She said: ‘But can the British and Americans keep it up?’ ‘I think we have to.’ ‘But for how long?’ ‘As long as it takes,’ said Lloyd firmly And they did 25 1949 Almost halfway through the twentieth century, on 29 August 1949, Volodya Peshkov was on the Ustyurt Plateau, east of the Caspian Sea in Kazakhstan It was a stony desert in the deep south of the USSR, where nomads herded goats in much the same way as they had in Bible times Volodya was in a military truck that bounced uncomfortably along a rough track Dawn was breaking over a landscape of rock, sand, and low thorny bushes A bony camel, alone beside the road, stared malevolently at the truck as it passed In the dim distance, Volodya saw the bomb tower, lit by a battery of spotlights Zoya and the other scientists had built their first nuclear bomb according to the design Volodya had got from Willi Frunze in Santa Fe It was a plutonium device with an implosion trigger There were other designs, but this one had worked twice before, once in New Mexico and once at Nagasaki So it should work today The test was codenamed RDS-1, but they called it First Lightning Volodya’s truck pulled up at the foot of the tower Looking up, he saw a clutch of scientists on the platform, doing something with a snake’s nest of cables that led to detonators on the skin of the bomb A figure in blue overalls stepped back, and there was a toss of blonde hair: Zoya Volodya felt a flush of pride My wife, he thought; top physicist and mother of two She conferred with two men, the three heads close together, arguing Volodya hoped nothing was wrong This was the bomb that would save Stalin Everything else had gone wrong for the Soviet Union Western Europe had turned decisively democratic, scared off Communism by bully-boy Kremlin tactics and bought off by Marshall Plan bribes The USSR had not even been able to take control of Berlin: when the airlift had gone on relentlessly day after day for almost a year, the Soviet Union had given up and reopened the roads and railways In Eastern Europe, Stalin had retained control only by brute force Truman had been re-elected President, and considered himself leader of the world The Americans had stockpiled nuclear weapons, and had stationed B-29 bombers in Britain, ready to turn the Soviet Union into a radioactive wasteland But everything would change today If the bomb exploded as it should, the USSR and the USA would be equals again When the Soviet Union could threaten America with nuclear devastation, American domination of the world would be over Volodya no longer knew whether that would be good or bad If it did not explode, both Zoya and Volodya would probably be purged, sent to labour camps in Siberia or just shot Volodya had already talked to his parents, and they had promised to take care of Kotya and Galina As they would if Volodya and Zoya were killed by the test In the strengthening light Volodya saw, at various distances around the tower, an odd variety of buildings: houses of brick and wood, a bridge over nothing, and the entrance to some kind of underground structure Presumably the army wanted to measure the effect of the blast Looking more carefully he saw trucks, tanks, and obsolete aircraft, placed for the same purpose, he imagined The scientists were also going to assess the impact of the bomb on living creatures: there were horses, cattle, sheep, and dogs in kennels The confab on the platform ended with a decision The three scientists nodded and resumed their work A few minutes later Zoya came down and greeted her husband ‘Is everything all right?’ he said ‘We think so,’ Zoya replied ‘You think so?’ She shrugged ‘We’ve never done this before, obviously.’ They got into the truck and drove, across country that was already a wasteland, to the distant control bunker The other scientists were close behind At the bunker they all put on welders’ goggles as the countdown ticked away At sixty seconds, Zoya held Volodya’s hand At ten seconds, he smiled at her and said: ‘I love you.’ At one second, he held his breath Then it was as if the sun had suddenly risen A light stronger than noon flooded the desert In the direction of the bomb tower, a ball of fire grew impossibly high, reaching for the moon Volodya was startled by the lurid colours in the fireball: green, purple, orange and violet The ball turned into a mushroom whose umbrella kept rising At last the sound arrived, a bang as if the largest artillery piece in the Red Army had been fired a foot away, followed by rolling thunder that reminded Volodya of the terrible bombardment of the Seelow Heights At last the cloud began to disperse and the noise faded There was a long moment of stunned silence Someone said: ‘My God, I didn’t expect that.’ Volodya embraced his wife ‘You did it,’ he said She looked solemn ‘I know,’ she said ‘But what did we do?’ ‘You saved Communism,’ said Volodya (ii) ‘The Russian bomb was based on Fat Man, the one we dropped on Nagasaki,’ said Special Agent Bill Bicks ‘Someone gave them the plans.’ ‘How you know?’ Greg asked him ‘From a defector.’ They were sitting in Bicks’s carpeted office in the Washington headquarters of the FBI at nine o’clock in the morning Bicks had his jacket off His shirt was stained in the armpits with sweat, though the building was comfortably air-conditioned ‘According to this guy,’ Bicks went on, ‘a Red Army intelligence colonel got the plans from one of the scientists on the Manhattan Project team.’ ‘Did he say who?’ ‘He doesn’t know which scientist That’s why I called you in We need to find the traitor.’ ‘The FBI checked them all out at the time.’ ‘And most of them were security risks! There was nothing we could But you knew them personally.’ ‘Who was the Red Army colonel?’ ‘I was coming to that You know him His name is Vladimir Peshkov.’ ‘My half-brother!’ ‘Yes.’ ‘If I were you, I’d suspect me.’ Greg said it with a laugh, but he was very uneasy ‘Oh, we did, believe me,’ Bicks said ‘You’ve been subjected to the most thorough investigation I have seen in twenty years with the Bureau.’ Greg gave him a sceptical look ‘No kidding.’ ‘Your kid’s doing well in school, isn’t he?’ Greg was shocked Who could have told the FBI about Georgy? ‘You mean my godson?’ he said ‘Greg, I said thorough We know he’s your son.’ Greg was annoyed, but he suppressed the feeling He had probed the personal secrets of numerous suspects during his time in Army security He had no right to object ‘You’re clean,’ Bicks went on ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’ ‘Anyway, our defector insisted the plans came from a scientist, rather than any of the normal army personnel working on the project.’ Greg said thoughtfully: ‘When I met Volodya in Moscow, he told me he had never been to the United States.’ ‘He lied,’ said Bicks ‘He came here in September 1945 He spent a week in New York Then we lost him for eight days He resurfaced briefly then went home.’ ‘Eight days?’ ‘Yeah We’re embarrassed.’ ‘It’s enough time to go to Santa Fe, stay a couple of days, and come back.’ ‘Right.’ Bicks leaned forward across his desk ‘But think If the scientist had already been recruited as a spy, why wasn’t he contacted by his regular controller? Why bring someone from Moscow to talk to him?’ ‘You think the traitor was recruited on this two-day visit? It seems too quick.’ ‘Possibly he had worked for them before but lapsed Either way, we’re guessing the Soviets needed to send someone whom the scientist already knew That means there ought to be a connection between Volodya and one of the scientists.’ Bicks gestured at a side table covered with tan file folders ‘The answer is in there somewhere Those are our files on every one of the scientists who had access to those plans.’ ‘What you want me to do?’ ‘Go through them.’ ‘Isn’t that your job?’ ‘We’ve already done it We didn’t find anything We’re hoping you’ll spot something we’ve missed I’ll sit here and keep you company, some paperwork.’ ‘It’s a long job.’ ‘You’ve got all day.’ Greg frowned Did they know ? Bicks said confidently: ‘You have no plans for the rest of the day.’ Greg shrugged ‘Got any coffee?’ He had coffee and doughnuts, then more coffee, then a sandwich at lunchtime, then a banana mid-afternoon He read every known detail about the lives of the scientists, their wives and families: childhood, education, career, love and marriage, achievements and eccentricities and sins He was eating the last bite of banana when he said: ‘Jesus fucking Christ.’ ‘What?’ said Bicks ‘Willi Frunze went to the Berlin Boys’ Academy.’ Greg slapped the file triumphantly down on the desk ‘And ?’ ‘So did Volodya – he told me.’ Bicks thumped his desk in excitement ‘School friends! That’s it! We’ve got the bastard!’ ‘It’s not proof,’ said Greg ‘Oh, don’t worry, he’ll confess.’ ‘How can you be sure?’ ‘Those scientists believe that knowledge should be shared with everyone, not kept secret He’ll try to justify himself by arguing that he did it for the good of humanity.’ ‘Maybe he did.’ ‘He’ll go to the electric chair all the same,’ said Bicks Greg was suddenly chilled Willi Frunze had seemed a nice guy ‘Will he?’ ‘You bet your ass He’s going to fry.’ Bicks was right Willi Frunze was found guilty of treason and sentenced to death, and he died in the electric chair So did his wife (iii) Daisy watched her husband tie his white bow tie and slip into the tailcoat of his perfectly fitting dress suit ‘You look like a million dollars,’ she said, and she meant it He should have been a movie star She remembered him thirteen years earlier, wearing borrowed clothes at the Trinity Ball, and she felt a pleasant frisson of nostalgia He had looked pretty good then, she recalled, even though his suit was two sizes too big They were staying in her father’s permanent suite at the Ritz-Carlton hotel in Washington Lloyd was now a junior minister in the British Foreign Office, and he had come here on a diplomatic visit Lloyd’s parents, Ethel and Bernie, were thrilled to be looking after two grandchildren for a week Tonight Daisy and Lloyd were going to a ball at the White House She was wearing a drop-dead dress by Christian Dior, pink satin with a dramatically spreading skirt made of endless folds of flaring tulle After the years of wartime austerity she was delighted to be able to buy gowns in Paris again She thought of the Yacht Club Ball of 1935 in Buffalo, the event that she imagined, at the time, had ruined her life The White House was obviously a lot more prestigious, but she knew that nothing that happened tonight could ruin her life She reflected on that while Lloyd helped her put on her mother’s necklace of rose-coloured diamonds with matching earrings At the age of nineteen she had desperately wanted high-status people to accept her Now she could hardly imagine worrying about such a thing As long as Lloyd said she looked fabulous, she did not care what anyone else thought The only other person whose approval she might seek was her mother-in-law, Eth Leckwith, who had little social status and had certainly never worn a Paris gown Did every woman look back and think how foolish she had been when young? Daisy thought again about Ethel, who had certainly behaved foolishly – getting pregnant by her married employer – but never spoke regretfully about it Maybe that was the right attitude Daisy contemplated her own mistakes: becoming engaged to Charlie Farquharson, rejecting Lloyd, marrying Boy Fitzherbert She was not quite able to look back and think about the good that had come of those choices It was really not until she had been decisively rejected by high society, and had found consolation at Ethel’s kitchen in Aldgate, that her life had taken a turn for the better She had stopped yearning for social status and had learned what real friendship was, and she had been happy ever since Now that she no longer cared, she enjoyed parties even more ‘Ready?’ said Lloyd She was ready She put on the matching evening coat that Dior had made to go with the dress They went down in the elevator, left the hotel, and stepped into the waiting limousine (iv) Carla persuaded her mother to play the piano on Christmas Eve Maud had not played for years Perhaps it saddened her by bringing back memories of Walter: they had always played and sung together, and she had often told the children how she had tried, and failed, to teach him to play ragtime But she no longer told that story, and Carla suspected that nowadays the piano made Maud think of Joachim Koch, the young officer who had come to her for piano lessons, whom she had deceived and seduced, and whom Carla and Ada had killed in the kitchen Carla herself was not able to shut out the recollection of that nightmare evening, especially getting rid of the body She did not regret it – they had done the right thing – but, all the same, she would have preferred to forget it However, Maud at last agreed to play ‘Silent Night’ for them all to sing along Werner, Ada, Erik, and the three children, Rebecca, Walli, and the new baby, Lili, gathered around the old Steinway in the drawing room Carla put a candle on the piano, and studied the faces of her family in its moving shadows as they sang the familiar German carol Walli, in Werner’s arms, would be four years old in a few weeks’ time, and he tried to sing along, alertly guessing the words and the melody He had the Oriental eyes of his rapist father: Carla had decided that her revenge would be to raise a son who treated women with tenderness and respect Erik sang the words of the hymn sincerely He supported the Soviet regime as blindly as he had supported the Nazis Carla had at first been baffled and infuriated, but now she saw a sad logic to it Erik was one of those inadequate people who were so scared by life that they preferred to live under harsh authority, to be told what to and what to think by a government that allowed no dissent They were foolish and dangerous, but there were an awful lot of them Carla gazed fondly at her husband, still handsome at thirty She recalled kissing him, and more, in the front of his sexy car, parked in the Grunewald, when she was nineteen She still liked kissing him When she thought over the time that had passed since then, she had a thousand regrets, but the biggest was her father’s death She missed him constantly and still cried when she remembered him lying in the hall, beaten so cruelly that he did not live until the doctor arrived But everyone had to die, and Father had given his life for the sake of a better world If more Germans had had his courage the Nazis would not have triumphed She wanted to all the things he had done: to raise her children well, to make a difference to her country’s politics, to love and be loved Most of all, when she died, she wanted her children to be able to say, as she said of her father, that her life had meant something, and that the world was a better place for it The carol came to an end; Maud held the final chord; and little Walli leaned forward and blew the candle out ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS My principal history advisor for The Century Trilogy is Richard Overy I am grateful also to historians Evan Mawdsley, Tim Rees, Matthias Reiss and Richard Toye for reading the typescript of Winter of the World and making corrections As always I had invaluable help from my editors and agents, especially Amy Berkower, Leslie Gelbman, Phyllis Grann, Neil Nyren, Susan Opie and Jeremy Trevathan I met my agent Al Zuckerman in about 1975 and he has been my most critical and inspiring reader ever since Several friends made helpful comments Nigel Dean has an eye for detail like no one else Chris Manners and Tony McWalter were as sharply perceptive as ever Angela Spizig and Annemarie Behnke saved me from numerous errors in the German sections We always thank our families, and so we should Barbara Follett, Emanuele Follett, Jann Turner, and Kim Turner read the first draft and made useful criticisms, as well as giving me the matchless gift of their love Also by Ken Follett The Modigliani Scandal Paper Money Eye of the Needle Triplee The Key to Rebecca The Man from St Petersburg On Wings of Eagles Lie Down with Lions The Pillars of the Earth Night Over Water A Dangerous Fortune A Place Called Freedom The Third Twin The Hammer of Eden Code to Zero Jackdaws Hornet Flight Whiteout World Without End Fall of Giants First published 2012 by Macmillan This electronic edition published 2012 by Macmillan an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited Pan Macmillan, 20 New Wharf Road, London N1 9RR Basingstoke and Oxford Associated companies throughout the world www.panmacmillan.com ISBN 978-0-230-71010-8 EPUB Copyright © Ken Follett 2012 The right of Ken Follett to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 The Macmillan Group has no responsibility for the information provided by any author websites whose address you obtain from this book (‘author websites’) The inclusion of author website addresses in this book does not constitute an endorsement by or association with us of such sites or the content, products, advertising or other materials presented on such sites You may not copy, store, distribute, transmit, reproduce or otherwise make available this publication (or any part of it) in any form, or by any means (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the publisher Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Visit www.panmacmillan.com to read more about all our books and to buy them You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events, and you can sign up for e-newsletters so that you’re always first to hear about our new releases ... Carla and her mother stepped into the hall The instrument stood on a spindly legged table near the door Mother picked it up and gave the number of Father’s office at the Reichstag, the parliament... immediately the people from the conference room appeared at the far end of the corridor Jochmann was first ‘What the devil is going on?’ he said angrily, shouting over the noise of the alarm One of the. .. him robbing the office You will find a stolen jar of coffee in his pocket.’ ‘Release him, please,’ said the older of the two policemen Reluctantly, the reporter let the Brownshirt go The second