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Kremlin, Moscow
Outside was all fog and snow.
Inside, Lavrentiy Beria waited.
The General Secretary was pacing.
In his left hand, a leather file, in his right, a burning cigarette with ash dangerously long.
"They let him walk into Vienna," Stalin muttered, more to himself than to Beria. "The Austrians threw flowers, and the British wrote speeches."
Beria cleared his throat.
"There is... alarm in Tallinn," he said. "But not yet panic. ...
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