Chapter 424: Who Is V
Ben Bradley listened to the voice coming from thousands of miles away on the phone, his brows furrowed tightly.
On the other end of the phone, Sir Hailey, the editor-in-chief of The Times in London, had a trembling voice filled with disbelief; the information he had just conveyed was enough to shock the entire free world.
Hoover could even be a Soviet person; who in this world is still trustworthy?
“John, are you sure this is real?” Bradley was very tired.
He had seen all the chaos in Washington recently with his own eyes.
In today’s America, the media still works for the country, not for political parties.
Like Project Mockingbird: a large-scale program that a certain IA was accused of, relying on buying off and influencing reporters, editors, and media institutions domestically and internationally in America.
According to relevant accusations and declassified documents, the program shaped public opinion by embedding propaganda information favorable to the American Government in news reports and suppressing reports unfavorable to its narrative.
Unlike China’s media, America’s media at this time hoped America would win the Cold War; they worried for America’s future.
Ben Bradley was even more so.
“I don’t know, Ben,” Hailey sighed on the other end of the phone, “this letter was sent to the BBC editorial department, with no sender, just a short sentence and a video tape: ‘Hoover has been working for Moscow all along.’ It sounds like the ravings of a madman, but you know, everyone has gone crazy this week.
We opened the video tape and watched it; it was in a room like a secret chamber, where Hoover was talking with Dobrynin, the two were intimate, and they even hugged before parting.
Most importantly, this email was signed V.
V, the nightmare of the free world; no one knows what he wants to do.
Bradley was silent for a moment, his mind flashing with recent chaos: the White House’s decision to send more troops, President Nixon’s distrust of Secretary of Defense McNamara, and the Kremlin’s denial of Dobrynin appearing at Hoover’s villa.
All of this was like a carefully designed stage play, but the lines and script seemed to have gone wrong.
“That video tape,” Hailey’s voice became more serious, “not only did we receive the video tape, but all major newspapers in Europe, such as France, Germany, Italy, also received letters and video tapes.”
“This is a trap,” Bradley instinctively refuted, “the Soviet people want to use this to smear our people and make us fight internally.”
“Perhaps,” there was a hint of helplessness in Hailey’s voice, “but you know, the difference between rumors and truth isn’t that big. Especially when it comes from V.”
The two said no more.
Because it was outrageous.
Once the information came from V, everyone acted like they had lost their minds.
From the moment V appeared and exposed President Kennedy’s death, no one had doubted the authenticity of his information.
Because every video was too clear.
Taking Kennedy’s death as an example, the video itself was clear enough, and the sound captured matched other audio-visual materials.
Even if there were unreasonable parts, everyone automatically ignored them.
For example, how could Dobrynin’s face be so clear at four in the morning.
Or how was the meeting between Dobrynin and Hoover filmed, and filmed so clearly.
No one knew.
Just like no one knew V’s identity.
Not knowing doesn’t mean it’s fake.
Bradley hung up the phone and immediately gathered all the core members of the editorial department.
“We received an anonymous letter from London stating that Hoover had been working for the Soviet Union during his lifetime, with a video tape as proof.” He looked at the shocked faces in front of him, his voice calm as if talking about something ordinary: “I know this is absurd, but we must prepare; once this news is made public, it will become a huge bomb.”
London, The Times editorial department; Sir Hailey sat at his desk piled with newspapers, his head splitting with pain.
They ultimately decided to publish a screenshot of that video tape, but also raised questions in the editorial.
“We’re playing with fire, John,” his deputy editor-in-chief George said worriedly, “we might become V’s accomplices in destroying our staunchest ally.”
“No, George, we’re approaching the truth,” Sir Hailey explained: “If it’s true, we have a responsibility to expose it, no matter how terrifying it is. If it’s fake, we have a responsibility to track down the mastermind behind it, no matter how dangerous it is.”
He knew they had become a pawn on the chessboard, being used by V.
But at the same time, he also knew that this pawn could have its own will.
“We need to give the Americans a chance, a chance to seek the truth,” Sir Hailey said, “instead of being drowned in fear and suspicion as they are now.”
Two days later, all of Europe was rocked by this news.
Paris tabloids were the first to publish screenshots of the video tape, after which the news spread like wildfire.
In the photo, Hoover’s angular face looked eerily secretive under the dim lights; he was whispering with a man confirmed to be Dobrynin.
The background was a secret chamber filled with documents and bookshelves.
The Washington Post did not release the news immediately but conducted an internal investigation.
However, this could not stop the spread of rumors.
Major European mainstream media such as Le Monde, The Guardian, Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, etc., all republished it, accompanied by front-page editorials.
The editorials mostly tended toward doubt and shock, questioning the internal security of the American Government and speculating whether this was the Soviet Union’s stratagem to sow discord.
In America, the media’s reactions were more complex.
The New York Times called for a thorough government investigation, while the Los Angeles Times criticized it as another “fake news operation” by the Soviet Union.
Some tabloids sensationalized it, portraying Hoover as a double-faced spy and even fabricating various plots.
Washington, White House West Wing, outside the Oval Office
Kissinger returned from Europe, exhausted from nonstop negotiations.
He saw Nixon sitting at the desk, newspapers spread all over the floor in front of him, every front page printing the same blurry photo: Hoover and Dobrynin.
The president’s face was buried deep in the shadows, like a frozen sculpture.
“Henry,” Nixon’s voice was hoarse and low, “they believed it.”
He finally understood that the last time Lyndon Johnson talked to him in the White House before resigning, the ease in his tone was not fake; it was real.
This position was truly hard to sit in.
Every now and then, it threw you a big surprise you never expected.
PS: Lyndon Johnson had some suspicion about Hoover working for the Soviet Union, as mentioned earlier, but he did not share the relevant intelligence with Nixon.
Kissinger said nothing, just placed the briefcase in his hand on the desk.
He knew the “they” the president referred to were not only the public but also those wavering European allies.
In Paris, the head of French intelligence hinted that their trust in America had been shaken, which was everyday for France.
In London, the prime minister directly asked if Washington had become a sieve that was infiltrated, with London asking Washington showing the intense impact of the Hoover incident.
“This doesn’t look like KGB tactics, Henry.
In the past, they would only sneak around causing destruction, but now they directly threw the weapon onto our streets,” Nixon looked up, his eyes filled with confusion and bewilderment, “they want us to kill each other, and we are doing just as they wish.”
Kissinger stood there, scenes from Paris and London flashing in his mind.
European newspapers were like hungry hyenas, not letting go of any rumor.
He knew this was not just a photo; it was psychological warfare, a nuclear strike on the basis of trust.
Kansas, at the counter of a small diner, a farmer named Frank slammed that day’s Kansas City Star onto the counter. He couldn’t remember how many times he had argued with people.
“This must be fake!” Frank slapped the newspaper with his rough big hands, “Mr. Hoover is a hero of this country; he fought against socialism people for half a century for us!”
Across from him, a young retired soldier named John was drinking a glass of iced tea.
He had just returned from Annam, full of exhaustion and confusion. He pointed to the photo in the newspaper, his voice calm: “Then how do you explain why he appeared there? And why didn’t the president let McNamara stay in the White House? These things are not baseless.”
“Listen to what you’re saying? You shed blood for this country, and now you believe the nonsense in the newspapers?” Frank stood up angrily; he couldn’t accept that the hero he had always believed in was a traitor.
“It’s because I shed blood that I need to get to the bottom of it,” John’s voice insisted: “If he really is a traitor, then what was the blood I shed for? For a war machine manipulated by traitors?”
Everyone in the diner fell silent; no one could answer this question.
Each of them felt deceived, but they preferred to believe it was a lie rather than face that possible truth.
Lin Ran was stunned; when did I have this video? Why didn’t I know?
He immediately knew this was a video released by the Soviet people.
“Mr. President, I think none of that matters now; the good news from the battlefield is most important.
News can be covered up; everyone will forget it sooner or later.
But we cannot fail; we cannot tolerate more failures on the Vietnam War frontline.”
“Professor, have you heard of the Prague Spring joke?” Nixon suddenly spoke up to change the subject.
Lin Ran was stunned for a moment; he knew Nixon’s leaping thoughts but still followed: “Of course, the Soviet people rampaged through Prague, crushing Dubček’s attempt.”
“Exactly,” Nixon took a deep drag on his cigar and exhaled smoke rings: “But do you know the world’s reaction at the time? Nothing but condemnation, just condemnation.
Washington maintained restraint in its toughness toward Moscow, without crossing any red lines.
Because we knew that as long as the Soviet Union did not directly threaten our interests, we could maintain a controllable confrontation.”
He pressed the cigar out in the ashtray, watching that extinguished spark, his eyes turning stern.
“But this time, they didn’t use tanks, not even missiles. They used a ghost, a long-dead man, to incite our own internal fighting.
Whether it’s the Soviet Union or V, they are all our enemies.
This is not controllable, Henry.
This is a direct hit to our nervous system.”
Nixon stood up and walked to the window, overlooking the White House lawn.
“They make us doubt ourselves, doubt our heroes, doubt our faith.
If a country’s foundation starts to shake, then no amount of victories is just a castle in the air.
Failure in the Vietnam War is tactical; failure in the Hoover incident is one of faith.
Once a country’s faith collapses, it can never be rebuilt.”
He turned around and stared straight at Lin Ran.
“So, victory on the battlefield is certainly important, but more important is how we win back in this invisible war.
We need to show the world that no matter what lies the Kremlin throws out, America will not be divided.
We need to shape Hoover into a martyr slandered by communism, and portray Dobrynin as a despicable liar.”
Nixon’s voice was firm and powerful, as if he had regained direction.
“This is not a news war, professor; this is a struggle between justice and evil.
We must win, not only in the Vietnam War, but here, in Washington, in every American’s heart.”
Nixon’s tone was firm.
Lin Ran thought to himself, oh my god, do you know how intimate Hoover’s cooperation with Moscow was?
How dare you say that?
How can you do this?
Lin Ran felt that this play had gone out of control since the Kremlin chose to throw out Hoover under V’s name to cool things down.
Washington, White House press conference
“I emphasize again that the accusations against Director Hoover are complete lies.”
White House Press Secretary Ronald Ziegler stood at the podium, sweat beads sliding down his forehead.
He repeated the same lines over and over; facing questions from hundreds of reporters below, his voice grew increasingly powerless.
“The video tape is forged! The documents are forged! This is fake news carefully planned by the Kremlin to destroy our internal unity!”
The reporters below were not buying it.
A New York Times reporter raised his hand: “Mr. Ziegler, didn’t these video tapes come from V? Does the White House have evidence that they came from the Kremlin?
And if what you say is true and they are all forgeries, why would the Kremlin choose Ambassador Dobrynin as the protagonist? Why is the location such a secretive secret chamber? Why are the two so intimate? Do they have anything to discuss for so long?”
Ziegler could not answer.
He was only here to carry out the president’s will.
Anyway, we just don’t admit it.
We cannot admit it, and we have no way to admit it.
To the reporters below, silence became the best evidence.
Moscow, Kremlin; Dobrynin sat at the desk, the teacup in front of him long cold; he had returned to Moscow, temporarily ending his ambassadorial term.
After the Kremlin decided to expose Hoover’s identity, they urgently recalled Dobrynin to prevent America from going desperate and forcibly inviting Dobrynin for an “investigation”.
If a poll were taken now, Dobrynin would top the American hate list.
Second is V.
He looked at the telegraph from Washington, a victorious smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
“They’re still denying it,” he said to Yuri Andropov sitting across from him, “that’s exactly what we want. The more they deny, the more the public doubts.”
“Next, I’ve prepared more surprises for them; it’s time to bring out our second gift.” Andropov laughed.
He took an envelope from the drawer and handed it to Dobrynin: “This is a new video tape; it records Hoover telling us about the personnel arrangements made after Lyndon Johnson came to power.”
The new video tape had sound.
“This will completely destroy Nixon’s credibility,” Andropov smiled slightly, “they can’t refute it, and we just need to continue releasing these messages through our ‘spokespersons’ in Europe to keep them busy with their own affairs.”
As Andropov said, a new round of evidence leaks began.
This time, it was no longer just video tapes with images, but more authentic ones with clear sound.
The video tapes were anonymously sent to tabloids in Europe and America, signed by V.
They detailed exactly what Hoover said.
European mainstream media such as The Guardian and Le Monde this time did not just forward; they began in-depth analysis of these documents.
In America, media positions began to split.
But no one dared deny the authenticity of this evidence.
Some media began to stand up and openly accuse the White House, defending betrayers like Hoover.
Nixon was under unprecedented pressure.
Ben Bradley sat in his office, with the latest issue of the Washington Post in front of him; the front-page title was “Hoover: Hero or Traitor?”.
He knew this title itself was a compromise, and also a dangerous signal.
“We can’t wait any longer, Ben,” his deputy editor Carl said anxiously, “we must make a choice; we can’t let this division continue; we must expose the truth, whoever’s truth it is.”
“Carl, what should we do? We have no evidence to prove these are fake, nor evidence to prove they are real,” Bradley’s voice was full of exhaustion, “we’re like walking on a tightrope now; one misstep and we’ll fall into the abyss.”
“We go find V,” Carl’s voice was full of determination, “whether it’s the Soviet people, or other factions in the American Government, or ghosts of the Third Reich, we need to find the source of these intelligence leaks.
Only by finding this source can we unravel the entire mystery.
Otherwise, in this propaganda war, we will always be the losers.”
Bradley looked at him, speechless in his heart: “? We can find V?”
No need to find; Lin Ran was fed up with being used as a gun by the Soviet Union.
He planned to make V appear and make this fire burn even more fiercely.
