Authors: Benjamin Weiser
Tags: #History, #Europe, #Germany, #World, #True Crime, #Espionage
A Secret Life (23 page)
He added:You were and are for me a symbol of the country with which I associated myself and, seen in a wider national and social perspective, my feelings and hopes. In the now beginning fifth year of our cooperation, they seem to be still more rational and possible to achieve.I do not know how much more my physical strength will suffice, but one thing is certain: that I would like to maintain this bond till the end, or at least as long as it will effectively serve the cause of freedom for Poland, Poles, and of other nations.Yours,P.V.
6
“STANDING ON ICE”
DANIEL WAS HEARTENED to learn that Kuklinski had received permission to sail again into ports in Western Europe, including a possible stop in Britain. But responding in a letter in April, Daniel said the agency would not meet Kuklinski there. Under long-standing agreement, if the CIA met a source in Britain, the agency had to notify British intelligence officials and invite them along.
“We share many things with them, but you and your product are not among these,” Daniel wrote. He suggested that they meet instead in Copenhagen, Amsterdam, or a smaller port along the coast. He and Henry would appear outside the city hall of each city Kuklinski visited, except in Britain, at 12:15 P.M. each day. If they did not see Kuklinski, they would reappear every two hours thereafter, until 10:15 P.M.
In his letter, Daniel asked about Kuklinski’s family. “It seems clear from your letter,” he said, “that your sons follow the example of their father―they work hard, successfully, and have the strength of character to bounce back when there’s been a disappointment. . . .”
Meanwhile, Daniel and other Soviet Division officers urged that Kuklinski be recognized with the Distinguished Intelligence Medal, the agency’s highest honor, which is generally bestowed only on CIA officers. On April 18, 1977, the Soviet Division chief sent a memorandum to the DDO requesting such approval, declaring, “For the past five years, Gull has been this agency’s best placed and most productive source within the Soviet Bloc.” Since 1972, Kuklinski had provided about 20,000 pages of “Secret” and “Top Secret” documentary intelligence, resulting in more than 1,200 disseminations to the intelligence community.
His access remains undiminished and his career potential is excellent. . . . Gull continually reiterates his dedication to the principles of peace and often comments that he hopes to be able to assist the United States Government even more in the future. He has never given any indication of a desire to resettle in the West, and believes that he can perform the greatest service by remaining in his homeland and continuing to provide us high-level documents.
Citing his “demonstrated dedication and extraordinary service,” the chief recommended awarding the medal to Kuklinski during their next meeting. “Following the presentation of the medal, we would return it to headquarters for safekeeping.”
In April 1977, Kuklinski was promoted to succeed the late Colonel Zarek as chief of the First Department for Strategic Defense Planning. In the new post, he would continue to work closely with Siwicki and his deputy, Skalski, and would have a range of other responsibilities. Kuklinski’s department was also the one in the Defense Ministry that had a continuing and exclusive relationship with the Warsaw Pact command in Moscow, led by General Viktor Kulikov. The Soviet general had been appointed commander of the Warsaw Pact forces just a few months earlier and had been elevated to the rank of marshal. Virtually everything Kulikov and his staff sent to the Polish Defense Ministry went though Kuklinski’s office.
Kuklinski would also be a member of the Polish delegations to each of the three critical Warsaw Pact committees, preparing speeches and acting as secretary. These included the Political Consultative Committee, or PCC, which included the party secretaries of the seven Warsaw Pact countries; the Warsaw Pact defense ministers committee; and the military council, which was made up of deputy defense ministers. Kuklinski would also be in charge of Polish armed forces development, which included long-term armament planning.
Shortly after assuming his new post, Kuklinski learned of a massive and unscheduled command-staff strategic exercise, called “West 77,” which was being organized under tight secrecy by Soviet Defense Minister Dmitri F. Ustinov and the Soviet General Staff. The exercise, to be held in May, would include the Poles, Czechs, East Germans, and Soviets and was designed to demonstrate the need for Moscow to have centralized command of Warsaw Pact forces in wartime. Moscow had controlled the Warsaw Pact armies since World War II, but the arrangement had never been formalized legally. It was just another step in the eradication of Polish sovereignty.
Worse news followed. Siwicki told Kuklinski that the summer cruises were being canceled. Polish counterintelligence had come to believe they were too risky and had decided to restrict future trips to the coasts of Poland, East Germany, Finland, Sweden, and the Soviet Union.
Kuklinski was dismayed, but he tried to sound upbeat when he wrote to the CIA on April 17. “The events of the past two months can be compared to this year’s spring. Although there is no shortage of shocking winter recurrences, spring comes in the end, enlivening the world with the beauty of life.”
He said his new post would afford him greater access to sensitive materials, and he described the forthcoming West 77 exercise, which he said was under preparation in great secrecy “on a hitherto unencountered scale.”
Daniel and his colleagues in the agency saw the canceled voyages as a major setback and contemplated a future without the personal encounters. On the list of permissible countries, only Sweden seemed feasible. Finland was too risky. “Chances of an outside meeting with Gull this summer appear dim,” Warsaw Station cabled Langley on May 10, 1977. The station suggested that as a result of “the increasingly heavy psychological pressure on Gull,” there was a “need to take some kind of action that will bolster his morale on a routine basis.”
It proposed holding “black,” or clandestine, meetings inside Poland, but headquarters rejected the idea as too dangerous and unlikely to “substantially alter Gull’s mental attitude.” In a message prepared for Kuklinski in June, the CIA expressed its disappointment at the cancellation of the cruises, but said it was pleased to hear of his new job responsibilities, which would give him greater access to Soviet plans, research, and development.
One morning in May, Lt. Colonel Jozef Putek, an officer in the Wojskowe Sluzby Wewnetrzne (WSW), the military’s counterintelligence arm, barged into Kuklinski’s office. “Comrade Colonel,” he declared brusquely, “tell me, please, why do Western diplomats know about the West 77 exercise?”
Kuklinski had no idea. Putek had not said military counterintelligence knew of a leak or that one had actually occurred, and Kuklinski wondered if he was being put to a test. On June 13, Kuklinski described Putek’s visit in a letter to the CIA. “Fortunately, I was able to preserve my cool and react calmly,” he wrote. He was not overly worried, because Putek’s questioning seemed to be directed at him simply because he was in charge of organizing the army’s role in the initial phase of exercise.
A few weeks later, with assistance from the army quartermaster’s office, Kuklinski moved his family into their new home at 11 Rajcow Street. His neighbors on the block were all military officers, including General Hermaszewski, whose daughter was still romantically involved with Bogdan.
Kuklinski’s townhouse measured about eighteen feet wide and stood like a small fortress, built of stone and stucco, with hardwood floors and steel beams within its walls. Kuklinski was proud of the design and workmanship, much of which was his own. Beneath the house was a two-car garage, which led into a finished room with a stone fireplace. On the same floor, next to the garage, Kuklinski had built a darkroom. A stairway led one level up to the kitchen and living and dining areas and the front entrance to the house. From the windows in the front of his house, Kuklinski had a panoramic view of the eastern part of Warsaw, including the Wislostrada and the Vistula River.
On the third level were the master bedroom and bathroom, a family room with a television, and Kuklinski’s study. Waldek had the fourth level, where Kuklinski had built a library for his son’s book collection. Bogdan slept on the fifth level. The room had a skylight and was flooded with light. The room quickly became strewn with clothes, books, fishing poles, and photographs of cars and motorcycles.
The family had no heirlooms; all had been lost in the war. But they decorated their home with symbols of Poland, such as a chandelier featuring an eagle and a crow, and a saber that dated to the Polish-Soviet war in 1920. They also hung paintings of maritime scenes throughout the house. The move “gives me much joy,” Kuklinski wrote to the CIA on July 24.
The exchanges with the CIA continued through the summer and fall. On October 14, 1977, Kuklinski wrote that his frame of mind was as good as it had been in five years; he felt secure, and his new post made him feel that he would be able to improve his “modest efforts on behalf of our great common cause of human freedoms.”
He also cited President Carter’s inaugural address. “Carter’s political dynamism and his involvement and unprecedented offensive in the questions of human rights place special obligations on those in whose name the struggle is being waged,” Kuklinski wrote. He closed with a greeting to all his friends in the United States―“that distant and, at the same time so uniquely close to me, great country.”
In early December 1977, Kuklinski traveled to Budapest for the Tenth Warsaw Pact Defense Ministers Committee Meeting. Of particular interest were presentations by Soviet officials about the strengths and development perspectives of the Warsaw Pact air defenses, projected through 1985, and a new and highly sophisticated command-and-control system for the Warsaw Pact. During a break, in which a detailed chart of the air defense systems remained on the wall, Kuklinski stayed back as the participants were ordered out of the room. Standing alone, he began to copy the chart on his pad. Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Colonel, what are you doing?” a Russian officer said brusquely.
Kuklinski froze. “You see what I’m doing―I’m drawing,” he said.
“It is prohibited,” the Russian snapped.
Kuklinski insisted that he had authority from Jaruzelski to make a copy of the chart.
“Get lost,” the Russian said.
Kuklinski had been bluffing about Jaruzelski, who was attending the meeting, but he was supposed to have detailed knowledge of the chart so that he could answer his superiors’ questions.
Eventually, he was able to prepare a report on the Budapest conference―for his bosses and the CIA.
Late in the year, the CIA told Kuklinski it was canceling an exchange in December because President Carter was going to be in Poland at that time. The agency did not want to risk a diplomatic crisis if the operation was exposed during Carter’s trip. Carter landed in Warsaw on December 29 and was greeted by party chief Edward Gierek and hundreds of other Polish officials. President Carter declared that Polish and American ties were “ancient and strong.”
At about 9:30 P.M. on Saturday, January 7, 1978, Kuklinski was scouting an intersection where an exchange was scheduled for the following night when he noticed a Fiat 125 parked on the southwest corner. From the spot, people in the car could see the exchange site. Kuklinski returned the next afternoon and again saw the Fiat, and two men standing on the corner. “I left the area after about one hour, not in the best of moods,” he wrote later. He left a signal that he was aborting the exchange and would try a backup site.
But when he went the following Sunday, January 15, he spotted three militia cars at the corner. Perhaps it was coincidental, he thought, but he refused to take the risk. He would try for a third time in a week.
Kuklinski also was coping with a near-tragedy at home. In early January, Bogdan dropped his father off at the General Staff and drove on to a consignment shop to buy parts for their car. Along the Wislostrada, a young man darted into the street. Bogdan braked quickly but hit the man, who was seriously injured.
On Thursday, January 19, Kuklinski drafted a letter to the CIA, saying he agreed that canceling the exchange during Carter’s trip to Poland was a good idea. Carter’s visit was “an extremely desirable act, and there should not have been even the slightest shadow on the way to its realization. I am deeply impressed by that event just as are millions of other Poles, including high military personalities.”
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