Operation Solo (17 page)

Jack was content to listen as Castro rambled on in English about sugar crops, genetic research, nuclear war, industrialization, chicken breeding, and ways to circumvent the U.S. trade embargo, until he exhausted himself. At the end of the evening, he thanked Jack for coming and Hall for sending him. “You have covered the longest 90 miles in the world. Let this be the beginning of new, closer and better relations between our parties.”

Throughout the stay in Havana Jack lived under a shadow of fear cast by “Mr. X” in Moscow. He struggled to conceive ideas of how to persuade the Soviets to disbelieve the Riesel column. Again and again he shuddered because it was so accurate, and he felt helpless. When he returned to Moscow May 30, he was not sure he would ever leave it alive.

Accompanied by Mostovets, he called upon Ponomarev at the International Department and, just before entering the conference, said, “I'm going to fight like hell against their decision [to cease contacts in New York].”

“Look, Jack, let me tell you something,” Mostovets said in a warning tone. “Your New York contact [KGB officer Aleksey Kolobashkin] is in Moscow. He arrived yesterday.”

“Is he here on vacation?”

“He's in Moscow because of an article of May 14 by Victor Riesel concerning Soviet connections with the CPUSA and also because of Nosenko, who defected in Geneva.
¹²
The article has created a very serious situation, and there has been talk about it
in Washington. I advise you to be quite careful in your comments to Comrade Ponomarev.”

Instead of the inquisition he feared, Jack received enthusiastic congratulations from Ponomarev, who considered the Cuban trip, which he helped engineer, a brilliant coup. In an ebullient mood, he declared that Jack had “performed an important service” for the parties of both the Soviet Union and the United States.

After answering a few questions about his experiences in Cuba, Jack, despite Mostovets' admonishment, decided to gamble. “With all respect, I must request that you try to use your influence as secretary of the Central Committee to change the decision of the New York comrades,” he began. “It will cripple our party, our efforts in the coming presidential election, and all other operations.”

“This is a very serious situation which puts both our parties in a most difficult position,” Ponomarev replied. “Under the circumstances, I think the New York comrades are the best judges about what should be done.”

Jack said that in Cuba he had thought a lot about the Riesel article and concluded that it had to be a fabrication either by Riesel himself or the FBI. First of all, unless one of the New York comrades was leaking information, there was no way the FBI could know about the money transfers, and he was sure all the people in New York were loyal comrades. During the past five years, he received money on many occasions, and if the FBI had known about the deliveries it could have arrested him and the New York comrade with him on any one of those deliveries. The arrests would have caused great embarrassment to the American party and the Soviet Union while enhancing the prestige of the FBI. Why had there been no arrests? If Congress and the Treasury Department ever discovered that the FBI knowingly was allowing the Soviet Union to smuggle large amounts of money into the United States, there would be hell to pay. And if the FBI possessed such secret information, why would it want to publicize it and why through a newspaper that did not enjoy all that much standing?

Ponomarev had no answers, and Jack elected to gamble further. “Has any other newspaper published these allegations?” he asked. Ponomarev knew of none.

Finally, Jack emphasized the contributions that Hall, Morris, and he had made by aligning the American party firmly with the Soviet Union and against the Chinese, by supplying a wealth of political intelligence, and by supporting Soviet causes. Ponomarev acknowledged that these contributions were important and appreciated. “Well,” Jack threatened, “if the decision of the New York comrades stands, they can't continue.”

Ponomarev rose to shake hands and said, “I will see what can be done to ease the tensions created by this unfortunate situation.”

Back in the United States Gus Hall, who disliked Riesel, was disposed to disbelieve the column, and Morris persuaded him that it either was made up out of the whole cloth or that it was an FBI publicity stunt to increase its appropriations. But for the moment, there was nothing he, Morris, or Jack could do.

Jack and the FBI listened, as the radio schedule required, for messages from Moscow. All they heard was “SK,” which meant “nothing to transmit.” The fate of the operation was still being debated in Moscow.

Then in late June a transmission said that the “300 pairs of shoes” ($300,000) would be delivered as previously planned. A political decision to overrule the professional judgment of the KGB had been made, and in the future it would be difficult for those who had made it—Ponomarev, Suslov, and others—to admit they were wrong.

eight

THE SENSATIONAL BECOMES ROUTINE

THE INDISCRETION IN WASHINGTON that endangered Jack in Moscow infuriated Burlinson, Freyman, and Boyle, and without ranting they vented their wrath in messages to headquarters.

Morris and Jack always feared for their lives when in the Soviet Union. By the early 1960s, Soviet rulers had stopped killing each other but they still sanctioned murder of lesser beings. As Morris said to the FBI, “If ever they find out that we have duped all their leaders and the KGB for all these years, hundreds would die for the honor of destroying us.” Everyone knew that Morris suffered from chronic heart disease and that Jack's health was no better. The Soviets easily could liquidate them: an incapacitating injection, then a lethal injection, then an announcement that Comrade Childs had died of cardiac arrest. Who could prove otherwise?

Neither Morris nor Jack risked their lives for money. Both had enough to retire to the hospitable climates of Southern California, Arizona, or Florida and live in financial security. They asked only
that the FBI keep the faith, the secret, and not betray them. Now they felt betrayed, and they were frightened.

“How can we ask these sick old men to go on?” Boyle said to Freyman. “How can we ask them to keep risking their lives, how can we look them in the face if headquarters can't keep a secret? How can I send 58 off on another mission? What will happen to 69 at his next meeting in New York?”

Freyman replied, “When you were over North Korea in that little plane and your pilot was shot up and you didn't know how to fly, did you wail and moan about your problem? Or did you land the plane and save the pilot and live to keep fighting?”

Headquarters did not try to minimize the gravity of the leak to the newspaper columnist. Instead, it implemented new security measures in hopes of preventing future leaks. It further restricted the number of people outside the FBI to whom SOLO reports were shown and the number of people inside the FBI who could have knowledge of SOLO. It established a new system of accountability that would make everyone with knowledge of SOLO suspect if another leak occurred. Heretofore, if Morris at the end of a mission had landed in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, or Boston, Boyle had gone to the local FBI field office and transmitted the initial mission report. Now headquarters decreed that, except for an extreme emergency, SOLO reports could be filed only from the Chicago and New York offices. And it authorized Chicago and New York to inform Morris and Jack of these and other new precautions.

Mollified, if not completely reassured, they elected to go on. So did the Soviets, having seen no repercussions from the Riesel column nor any evidence to corroborate it.

A cataclysm rocked the communist world in October 1964 when the Soviet oligarchy suddenly deposed Khrushchev. Hall instantly dispatched Morris on a crash mission to Moscow to ascertain what had happened and what the coup might mean for the American party. Although they had not expected him, the new Soviet rulers, including Brezhnev, took time to brief Morris fully and frankly. They considered Khrushchev guilty of many “harebrained” and destructive acts. One was his impulsive pledge to
finance construction of the Aswan dam in Egypt. “He carried the national treasury around in his pocket,” Brezhnev said. His quixotic agricultural policies, among them costly attempts to grow corn on untillable Siberian soil as if it were Iowa farmland, had produced only disaster. His industrial policies had wrecked the economy. And his mad venture in Cuba very nearly had precipitated nuclear war and gotten everyone blown up.

The new “collective leadership” that had succeeded Khrushchev intended to revitalize the Soviet economy, particularly agriculture. Morris, however, saw no indications that they contemplated major departures in foreign policy. Suslov remained entrenched as head of the Ideological Department of the Central Committee, and Ponomarev was secure at the ID. They told Morris that Hall and the American party could continue to rely on the Soviets for financial and political support.

Morris returned to Moscow in December 1964 and again in the spring of 1965, this time with Eva. On both trips they copied or made extensive notes from secret documents entrusted to Morris for study. One provided a detailed account of discussions between the Soviets and Chinese in Moscow during November 1964.

Chou En Lai at the outset declared, “We are talking to you as victors because we believe that Khrushchev's removal was due to the pressure of genuine Marxist–Leninists.”

Premier Anatoly Kosygin, Brezhnev, and Suslov successively responded that the ouster of Khrushchev had not changed Soviet policy.

“Will you change your program which emphasizes peaceful coexistence?” Chou asked.

“No,” answered Brezhnev.

“In that case, there is nothing to discuss,” Chou said. “We thought that after the removal of Khrushchev, you at least would abandon the erroneous decisions of the Twentieth and Twenty-second Congresses.”

“Comrades of the Chinese Party, suppose we forget the past,” Brezhnev replied. “Let us imagine we are starting with a blank sheet. Our task is to find ways and means to end our split and restore unity to the socialist camp.”

“Well, since it is obvious that nothing has changed in the Soviet Union, we cannot discuss anything; to put it bluntly, there is no point to this discussion,” Chou said. To further conciliatory proposals by Brezhnev, he responded, “If you persist, your fate will be the same as that of Khrushchev. It is obvious that no agreement between the Communist Party of China and the Communist Party of the Soviet Union is possible. You are the willing tool of U.S. imperialism.”

Brezhnev interrupted him, “Why make such an irresponsible charge? You are slandering not only our party, but our government and people.”

Chou continued, unfazed, “Is it not a fact that Comrade Kosygin shook the hand of the American ambassador who is a representative of U.S. imperialism? You, the leadership of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, are not fighting U.S. imperialism. You are running in the same harness and along the same path with U.S. imperialism.”

Everyone fell silent, embarrassed by the acrimonious atmosphere. As the talks ended, the Soviets could not elicit from the Chinese even an agreement to talk again. To Morris, Suslov described the meeting as “horrible.”

The Soviets did persuade the Chinese to receive Kosygin in Peking after he visited North Vietnam and North Korea in February 1965. Extracts from other documents showed that, from the Soviet perspective, the Peking conference with Mao and the rest of the Chinese leadership was even more “horrible” than the meeting in Moscow.

According to one of the extracts, “Mao Tse Tung made cohesion between the Communist Party of the Soviet Union and the Communist Party of China directly contingent upon the aggravation of international tensions and the outbreak of war.” Mao said that until then “the split has to go on.” As for Soviet pleas to put an end to the war of polemics between China and the Soviet Union, Mao declared, “There is nothing to fear from them. They will continue for another ten thousand years.” He dismissed Kosygin's pleas for “comradely, business-like” discussions of Sino–Soviet differences as “unsavory.” The Chinese, again according to the Soviet account,
intransigently and insultingly rejected every gesture of friendship Kosygin offered—cooperation in foreign policy; increased trade; more cultural, scientific, and technical exchanges. To each, they said, “The time is not ripe.” The Soviet specialist who compiled the document from which this particular extract came, added, “Vietnam is the most graphic example. The Chinese refuse cooperation. Mao said, ‘The people of North Vietnam are doing a fine job fighting without us.' Regarding U.S. bombings in Vietnam, Mao said, ‘They are American stupidities. Their bombings have caused only a small loss of life. There is nothing terrible in the death of a small number of people.'”

In this single extract that Eva had wrapped in plastic around her waist before leaving Moscow on April 25, 1965, there was more chilling intelligence submitted by the best Soviet analysts to the highest Soviet leaders: