Chapter 161:

Chapter 161:

Chapter 161

An order is absolute. Do you understand?

Yes! Yes! Comrade Director. I will complete the task you ordered as soon as possible

Ha, these days, these bastards

Beria spat out careless remarks that would have shocked Stalin, as he scolded his subordinates.

The last time the US intelligence was involved, the conclusion was that the US did not actually confirm any information and the agents were safe, but it was certain that the Secretary-General was angry for a while.

He had to bring more achievements. For more power.

Damn Zhukov

The generals captured Warsaw, besieged Knigsberg, and gradually pressured the Nazi fascists.

As a result, the honors he could earn from the intelligence side decreased, and he could be pushed back in the future power struggle.

He had played a leading role in purging many military officials, but what if a military official eventually ascended to the supreme position?

He had thought about it many times, but his spine chilled.

The more anxious he was, the more he repeated his usual obsessive screams to his subordinates.

In our time, we didnt need to be ordered like this. We handled everything quickly and efficiently. Why are there no decent ones among these days bastards?

Im, Im sorry!

Beria felt a sadistic pleasure and an obsessive anxiety at the same time, seeing the young staff who jumped out as if they had been struck by lightning at his words.

The subordinates who jumped like herbivorous animals scared by every word satisfied his sadistic desire and more.

He had one of the largest organizations in the Soviet Union in his hand, and his power was one of the best in this powerful and huge country.

But at the same time, there was a very powerful authority above him.

Secretary-General Stalin

The Secretary-General wielded a divine power in the Soviet Union at present. Beria, one of the most involved in the execution of orders as his subordinate, was driven by his endless power and coveted power.

The more he indulged in his power, the more his brain, which should have been excited, cooled down and faced reality.

The power that could manipulate even the powerful authorities like himself as if they were mere low-level employees made his brains desire center work furiously.

Is this all the report?

Ah yes! That, thats right!

Write it again.

He didnt read the report properly because he was dizzy with desire, but his subordinate was not in a position to resist his order.

He savored the taste of power once again and picked up one of the report bundles he had been waiting for.

<Regular report on John Edgar Hoover, director of the US FBI>

A slightly different sweetness attacked him again.

Pathetic fools

He lost his appetite as he watched his subordinates carrying reports and various materials in front of him.

They were pathetic.

When he could do whatever he wanted with those who could decide their life and death here, the taste of power was sweet but not very intense.

But the more powerful the authorities he controlled and played with, the more the sweetness came with a thunderous intensity.

FBI director, Soviet army federal commander, they had to be at least that level to be good pieces to play with in the long game.

John Edgar Hoover, born in 1895. Served as FBI director since 1924.

As if he had been waiting, his son, Sergo, opened the door and walked in slowly.

A different kind of satisfaction crept up on his lips. How did his son turn out to be so handsome?

He had a tall stature, a sturdy build, and deep eyes that resembled his mother.

Hey, son.

Yes?

Who did you inherit your good looks from? Hahahaha!

Seeing his father laugh happily, the son smiled bitterly. Beria felt even better as he watched him.

He wouldnt have been happy as a father if he was a cold-blooded person like his father, who had no blood or tears. Sergo rummaged through his uniforms chest pocket and dropped a few sheets of paper on Berias desk.

I dont want to do this kind of thing anymore, father.

Its all for your sake. Lets take a look, shall we?

He spat out the clichd parental words dryly and picked up the pile of papers as if he had been waiting.

Did his son know how excited and sweaty he was? Beria felt a strange sense of satisfaction in his chest.

Sergo glanced at him briefly and seemed uninterested. Sergo was not a schemer or a spy like him.

He had a handsome appearance and a talent for engineering, like his mother. But Beria did not want his son to live quietly as an engineer and end there.

Hmm very good. Good.

Can I go now that youre done?

Heh, heh, heh, it was funny somehow. His son was good.

He was so good that he did whatever his father told him, wanted to leave the place where he could run away right away, and asked his father until the end.

Maybe thats why Svetlana fell for him.

Okay, go ahead. Oh!

?

Dont you need some money?

No, Im fine.

He tried to give him some money as a reward for the information, the price of breaking his faith, and the date with Svetlana, but Sergo refused until the end.

Forcing him to do something and rewarding him was a very effective way to break his faith, according to his experience. His son refused to take the money his father gave him because he thought it would dirty his mind.

But it went through his mother anyway. It didnt matter either way. His son, who tried to keep his pitiful pride while confessing his girlfriends secret diary to the director of the intelligence agency, was cute. He was just a baby yesterday

Son, dont be like that.

Then dont make me do it.

You were born in the Soviet Union. I was born in the Tsars empire. Many Soviets were born in the Tsars empire.

He repeated the same words over and over, and Sergo grabbed the doorknob and shook his head impatiently.

But Beria spoke as if he enjoyed repeating it, without checking whether he was listening or not.

The Tsars empire can return to this land anytime! Who knows who will take the throne now that Yakov and Vasily are dead. There was no precedent for a bastard to inherit the throne in the empire, but this is not the empire, is it?

Sergo trembled at his blatant words.

His father always spoke of his desire like that. He wanted to be the supreme leader of the Soviet Union, and he wanted to use his son and Svetlana as a means.

Im clearing the way for you and me. No one can stop us.

Neither Budenny, nor Zhukov, nor the Americans across the sea.

Heh, heh, heh, he laughed wickedly, carried away by his excitement, and his son left the room behind him.