PREVIEW
... ight air and curious eyes outside.
Two guards stood at the far end of the hallway, unmoving, as though carved into the woodwork.
Inside the room, only two men sat across a low table that carried a glass of vodka, untouched.
Vyacheslav Molotov adjusted his glasses, his face impassive.
Across from him, Joachim von Ribbentrop leaned forward in his chair.
He poured himself a glass, even though Molotov hadn’t moved for the bottle.
"It is rare," Ribbentr ...
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