Farewell (33 page)

The sudden activation of the viruses in December 1983 led to a huge three-kiloton gas explosion in the Urengoi gas field, precisely in Siberia where, ironically, Vetrov had just started his jail time for a crime of passion. There was another extraordinary coincidence. The contract for the management software of the Urengoi-Uzhgorod pipeline pumping stations had been awarded to the French company Thomson-CSF, and the Thomson executive who had led the negotiations worked in collaboration with a certain Jacques Prévost.

Observed from space by satellite, the explosion was allegedly so powerful that it alarmed NATO analysts, who later described it as the most powerful non-nuclear (man-made) explosion of all times. NORAD, responsible for the air defense of the U.S. territory, even thought that there had been a missile launch from an area where no base was known. Weiss had to reassure, one by one, his NSC colleagues, explaining that “all this was normal.”
¹⁰

The American administration thought the pipeline sabotage operation was a new blow for the Soviets. First, it disturbed natural gas exports and, consequently, earned revenue in hard currencies. Since the military-industrial complex was resting, for the most part, on technology stolen in the West, the American side was hoping that this “accident” would create a general climate of paranoia within the KGB regarding Soviet industrial equipment. It was also expected that the KGB would no longer trust its technology espionage, at a time when the Soviet Union needed it most.

In March 1983, Reagan launched his Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI). The famous “Star Wars” plan was expected to go through Congress and pass with a budget above thirty billion dollars. To use a metaphor, the poker player had just raised the stakes, knowing his adversary’s poor hand.

The Americans did not stop there. Under the coordination of William Casey and Defense Secretary Caspar Weinberger, the plan of economic war against the Soviet Union became systematic in all federal organizations. Financially, the plan was to bar Soviet access to credit from Western banks. This effort was conducted by Roger Robinson, a New York banker familiar with the world of international finance. In the Defense Department, Fred Ikle and Richard Perle were in charge of coordinating with their allies to limit, and even prohibit, technology transfers to the Eastern Bloc. This was where the Farewell dossier had its greatest impact. When Richard Perle received the Farewell dossier from the hands of a CIA agent, he was absolutely astonished: “Of course everybody knew the Soviets were stealing whatever they could, but this was beyond everything we imagined. Each request for technology had the corresponding budget necessary to reach the stated objective. It was really like a
catalogue de la Redoute
[equivalent of the Sears catalog].”
¹¹
The Defense Department was also interested in using this catalog to determine exactly which advanced technologies should be off-limit to the Soviets.

The Farewell dossier was progressively being exploited in Europe as well. The Americans had directly transmitted elements of the dossier to their NATO allies. These pieces of information would, therefore, eventually reach the French secret services, who were very “honored” to be trusted with such “confidential” information…which had actually originated from their services.

At the DST, on Rue des Saussaies, the new boss, Yves Bonnet, was managing how the Farewell information was to be used. After a briefing in Langley by the CIA on how to use the Farewell dossier (the CIA agents knowing nothing of the French origin of the sources), Bonnet regained control of the situation and personally organized the process of informing his peers in the other fifteen countries concerned by Line X activities. The heads of British and German services came to Paris, in turn, to be briefed by the DST.

The French also took part in a deception operation launched by the CIA. This was a particularly vicious campaign, giving a more precise idea of the manipulation techniques used in the world of espionage. The operation, as recounted by one of its masterminds, General Guyaux, had to do with the assumed properties of osmium-187 metal for use in weaponry implementing laser technology. With the launching of the SDI project by Ronald Reagan, this technology had become one of the priorities for Soviet intelligence. Here is what General Guyaux had to say about it: “By the end of the seventies, there was a lot of talk going on about the ‘graser,’ a kind of laser using high energy gamma rays from radioactive elements instead of using optical radiation ranging from infrared to ultraviolet. Even though, in France, Professor Jaéglé had obtained a weak laser effect with X-rays, it was out of the question to rush headlong into the domain of gamma rays. This technology was far from being developed, although it would have been a formidable weapon since gamma rays are highly penetrating.”
¹²

The Farewell dossier, as a matter of fact, included a document from a Soviet research lab wherein scientists were protesting the decision of Directorate T not to launch any research program devoted to osmium. The letter went on to accuse scientists opposed to the project of betrayal. Convinced that the Soviets had a serious interest in that particular isotope, secret services of the Western alliance decided to encourage, in a subtle way, the Russians to err further.

The American journal
Physical Review
and the British magazine
Nature
published a few articles signed by renowned physicists detailing the number and the diversity of osmium-187 energy levels. Then, technical papers on the subject stopped. When this happens in technical and scientific areas, it signals to all intelligence services that this is of strategic importance. Directorate T immediately ordered its operatives to follow that trail, and more specifically in France, where the KGB had attempted to recruit quite a few scientists. At scientific conventions, where intelligence officers spent a lot of time, renowned researchers from all over the world started discussing with credibility osmium properties, describing the metal as a good candidate for use in a possible “graser.” A few labs went as far as publishing posters claiming successful experiments conducted in highly protected research centers. And last, American labs conspicuously bought significant quantities of natural osmium from the Soviet Union, major provider of this metal on world markets.

“For a long time, we did not know the results of this maneuver,” explains General Guyaux. “So we thought the Soviets had not risen to the bait. Then came the coup attempt in 1991. The KGB was dissolved. The entire Soviet Union imploded. To our amazement, all of a sudden large quantities of osmium-187 showed up on the Russian market of rare materials, along with the too famous red mercury! It was as if the Russians did not know what to do with osmium anymore! This was the sign that, at the time, they had fallen into the trap.”

The major DST operation, however, was meant to address the DST’s main concern about the disproportionate presence of the KGB in Paris. This operation resulted in the spectacular expulsion of Soviet “diplomats” identified by Farewell as KGB agents. It was launched soon after Ronald Reagan’s Star Wars speech, causing a rift in French-Soviet relations, thus sealing the fate of Vladimir Vetrov, whose departure for prison camp 272/3, near Irkutsk, was already scheduled.

After his first trial, Vetrov spent a surprisingly long time in Lefortovo, almost six months. The fall and then the long Moscow winter were gone, and Vetrov was still in his prison. Vladik even let himself hope his father would serve his sentence in Moscow. Even though he later regretted his naïveté, it was not so far-fetched.

In the case of Valery Rechensky, for instance, the PGU did everything to keep him at Lefortovo as long as possible. He had been sentenced to five years imprisonment. According to Soviet law, one day in prison counted for three days in a camp. Rechensky had already spent several months in Lefortovo first when charged, then when convicted, but his KGB friends insisted he serve his whole sentence in prison. The prosecutor had this to say to them: “Listen, guys, keeping him here until the end of his sentence would be in serious breach of the law. We can’t do it!” The PGU did its absolute best for Rechensky to stay six months in Lefortovo, the equivalent of a year and a half in the Gulag. He was then transferred to a penitentiary; he was released on parole a year later. Which is to say, he served only an eighteen-month sentence for homicide.
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Everyone viewed Rechensky’s case as an unfortunate situation that could have happened to anybody. Vetrov’s case was different—above all, because of his shocking crime, but also because he was under serious suspicion.

“Decent” people were usually not sent to camps for common criminals. The mobsters would have needed no time to take care of convicted policemen, magistrates, prosecutors, or KGB members. There were three prison camps (or “zones” as they were called) for those “accidental” criminals: in Perm, in Nizhny Tagil in the Urals, and in Irkutsk, Siberia. The further away Vetrov was from Moscow, the more difficult it would be for him to send or receive secret messages during visits with his family or through food parcels. So they chose Irkutsk.

By transferring him to this Siberian camp, the KGB was by no means renouncing its intention of digging deeper into Vetrov’s suspected collaboration with a Western secret service. Quite the contrary. The Irkutsk KGB directorate asked its colleagues who were policing the penitentiary to closely study the prisoner. In short, this was now a task for informers.

One day in March 1983, as she met with Petrenko for one of those not exactly allowed visits, Svetlana felt something new had happened. Her protector asked her, “Sveta, could you buy lard and prepare warm clothing?”

“Today?”

“Yes. He leaves tomorrow morning.”

At that moment, not knowing why, Svetlana broke down. Since the evening of the murder, she had held herself together. And now, as she traveled by tram to the Baumansky market, the closest to the prison, she felt tears running down her face, unable to stop them. “I was like a geyser,” she said.

The drama had once more put their relationship to the test. It was no longer a question of who was wrong and who was right. It was a matter of survival. This last year did not square with the twenty-five they’d spent together, in perfect harmony Svetlana assured. This was to her an inexplicable, painful, but brief episode. The tragedy that had taken place that evening in February made her forgive. Svetlana knew Vladimir had truly loved her. She was ready to wait for him and fight for his early release. Vetrov left Moscow with this certitude in his heart. Despite his fifteen-year sentence, he had a chance, with exemplary behavior in the prison camp, to go back home after seven years.

Svetlana received the first letter from her husband in April 1983. In the letter, Vetrov told her about the journey to get to the camp, the most terrible ordeal he ever underwent in his entire life. After Lefortovo, considered a paradise by those who had the opportunity to compare it to the rest of the Soviet prison system, it was a descent into hell—cattle cars, an unbelievable mixed bag of characters, the guards’ brutality, and the ruthlessness of the underworld mobsters. Svetlana even called Petrenko to repeat to him the kind words written about his facility. Ivan Mitrofanovich asked her to give him the letter; he was proud of his smooth running of Lefortovo.

Irkutsk was five thousand kilometers from Moscow. As far as he was from home, and as horrified as he was in this new reality, Vetrov could still be considered a privileged prisoner. Prison camp #272/3 was indeed reserved for criminals with nothing in common with the underworld. Its residents were corrupt policemen, prosecutors, and magistrates or, on the contrary, people of integrity convicted on false accusations made by powerful enemies, and unit directors who implemented unusual management methods; there was even a deputy minister.

Vetrov wrote often, at least once a week. Apparently, the camp rules were not that strict. He described the prisoners’ lives, his companions in misfortune, their stories and memories. He asked Svetlana to keep all his letters; after his release, he hoped, he would write a book about his jail experience.

Penitentiary 272/3 inmates, or “zeki,” were kept busy felling and logging trees. It was hard work, even for men in good physical shape. Vladimir had been growing a beer belly, and drinking had significantly undermined his health. He was assigned to making crates for the transportation of fruit and vegetables. The camp management, as well as the other prisoners, knew he was a former KGB officer. Vetrov was able to make a good reputation for himself. He was put in charge of educational and cultural activities, and he was about to be appointed warehouseman, a promotion that may sound dubious for a KGB lieutenant colonel, but in the camp that was one of the most sought-after jobs.

Large parts of his letters were about family. Vladimir wrote about his love for Svetlana, his concern and worries for Vladik. He asked his wife to come visit. She would have done it, but visits were not allowed before a certain time had elapsed. Svetlana managed to send him a parcel with a Muscovite woman who went to see her husband, befriended by Vetrov. Another time, one of Vetrov’s companions came to see Svetlana after his release, along with his wife. He could not stop singing Volodia’s praises for he was respected by all and liked by many. This visit, though, caused Svetlana to be scolded by Petrenko, who continued to act as her protector: “I told you to meet with no one from the camp! How would you know who those rascals are?”

Unfortunately, the letters were not all saved. Svetlana and Vladik lent Sergei Kostin five letters and three postcards. Vetrov’s handwriting is striking: it does not correspond to a tormented man full of contradictions who had an exceptional fate. It is the handwriting of an ordinary man with no asserted personality. The reading of those letters had other surprises in store. Although, come to think of it, there was nothing that surprising; everything they brought out was perceptible, in a more latent state, in the deeds and words of the hero of this book. These letters are the only opportunity given to Vetrov to speak for himself. This is why they are reproduced here in their entirety; their analysis will be helpful later on. We added excerpts from letters that were confiscated during the second investigation and archived in the new investigation file.
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Greeting card for the New Year 1983 (given to Svetlana during a visit in Lefortovo)

Dearest Vladik, Sveta, Babushka [His mother-in-law, who lived with them]:

Sending my best wishes to you, and to Lev, Lila and Nastenka [Lev Barashkov, Svetlana’s brother, his wife and daughter], for the New Year, this wonderful holiday. Wishing you a happy, bright and warm New Year. Sweep away boredom, disappointments and gloom. Be merry, live your lives fully, stay peppy and healthy.

Time is a healer. In life, things come and go, nothing lasts forever, and we forget the bad moments. I want you to believe that our life goes on. It’s on purpose that I say “our,” because I am still with you, my loved ones who are the closest to my heart.

Once again, my best wishes of happiness to you all.

Happy New Year!

Hugs and kisses

Volodia

April 18, 1983-Postcard sent from Irkutsk

My dearest!

Wishing you a Happy Spring Holiday. Be merry and stay healthy. Life goes on. Those are not just words for a song, but the harsh, crude reality. We’ll be happy together again.

Gathered around the festive table, have a symbolic tiny drink to my health.

Once again, hugs and kisses to all.

(Signature)

Letters from Irkutsk

April 6, 1983

Sweetheart, my girl: I have no idea how long I’m going to be here. With a sentence like mine, article 102 of the penal code, you have to serve your fifteen years to the bitter end. Volodka Shevch. [Shevchenko] must have kept contacts in the MVD [Ministry of the Interior], or at the CC [CPSU Central Committee]. Can’t he attempt something? Half of the sentence is a long time away!
³
Will I be able to survive?

I think of you all the time, you and Vladik. There are so many things we’ve not had the time to do! And yet, it was all so real; I can only imagine this reality, now. In my mind, our apartment turns into a museum.

May 4, 1983

Svetik!

Sweetheart, I received your letter telling me you got my first message. I am here, nowhere to go to evade punishment and regrets. You’re my smart girl, you do everything you can to console me, calm me down and appeal to my reason. I am being reasonable, don’t worry. Everything is normal. How awful life is here, I already wrote about that. There is no point adding to it. First, that would upset you, secondly, it’s impossible to describe everything. You’ve got to live it to understand. How does a good writer work? Before starting writing, he needs to immerse himself in the atmosphere he wants to re-create. You have to feel reality by all the pores of your skin. The curse here is going hungry all the time, like all my companions; and boredom day in, day out. We don’t know what to do with ourselves.

Currently I have a cold. God forbid! You don’t want to get sick here! They give you the same medicine for everything. The same as in Lefortovo.

Sweetie, don’t panic, please, keep your cool. They say nerve cells can’t repair themselves, true, but how to escape the blues? I understand. In any case, take good care of yourself.