Is Journalism Worth Dying For?: Final Dispatches (10 page)

As one of the witnesses testifies: “Aslan Maskhadov used his mobile telephone for sending text messages. When I asked him why he didn’t
ring anybody, he replied, ‘The whole world knows my voice. They would work out where I am instantly.’ ”

It was through mobile telephone traffic that Maskhadov’s whereabouts were established. More precisely, the intelligence services registered the fact that the source of the traffic was in Tolstoy-Yurt.

If we try to summarise what happened in the last months of Maskhadov’s life, we find that he was weary of the war and of living in hiding. He did his utmost to achieve peace by making major compromises; he accepted the need to take extremely radical steps, and, to demonstrate his willingness, announced a unilateral cessation of military operations on January 14, with an extension on February 23. In other words, throughout the winter of 2004–5 Maskhadov was, on the one hand, being drawn into the Kremlin’s games, but on the other was clearly outsmarting Moscow in the management of the peace process. “Management” is perhaps not the ideal expression, but it best approximates to what was going on during the winter on the Tolstoy–Yurt–Moscow–Helsinki-Brussels (where Gross’s round table was conducted)–London axis.

By March, Moscow was finding Maskhadov’s activity intolerable and the process moved beyond Gross’s control, even though he is an influential individual. “Maskhadov’s peace initiatives’ were a constant topic of conversation in the political salons of Europe: the European Parliament, the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe. I know what I’m talking about because I was there. In the continent’s highest diplomatic circles Putin began to recede into the background, acquiring the reputation of a man who ‘would not compromise despite what common sense dictated,” a man “moving matters towards the next Beslan.” A moment came when Putin was clearly under considerable pressure from Western leaders as a result of Maskhadov’s peace initiatives.

So, what are we talking about here? About the fact that Maskhadov’s assassination was a direct result of his peace efforts last winter. He signed his own death warrant by seizing the peace initiative, if only briefly.

To all appearances, Maskhadov was very seriously preparing to
declare a unilateral ceasefire, which he believed should be timed for the beginning of contacts between Akhmed Zakayev’s group and the Soldiers’ Mothers in London, as a sign of goodwill on the part of one of the warring parties. The ceasefire would be extended to coincide with Gross’s round table in Brussels.

In order to achieve a real armistice, however, Maskhadov needed to reach agreement with the principal actor in the Chechen War, Basayev. Accordingly, on November 13, 2005 Basayev, summoned by Maskhadov, appeared at No. 2 Suvorov Street and stayed for six days. There is some lack of clarity about dates in the case materials, where it is asserted both that Maskhadov moved to Tolstoy-Yurt on November 17, and also that on November 13 Basayev came to visit him there. Our information is that Basayev stayed in Tolstoy-Yurt from December 13.

He stayed for six days, and the amount of time they spent together is very important. In the first place it refutes rumors that Maskhadov and Basayev never stayed in the same place, let alone for so long, in order not to be killed simultaneously. But the fact is a fact: they remained together in a very small residence.

From the testimony of one of the witnesses: “He (Basayev) stayed for about six days in the old house (at that time the owner, Musa Yusupov, had two houses standing on a plot of 1,500 square metres: an old adobe house, and a new stone house). He and Maskhadov were together all the time and talked at length. When they were together they did not allow anybody else near.”

In the second place, those six days spent in conversation are clear proof that Basayev had no wish at all for a truce. Maskhadov did not let him off the hook and succeeded in bringing him round; Basayev deferred to Maskhadov and the truce was more or less observed by Basayev’s men. As even the official media later stated, explosions in early summer 2005 were the work only of malcontents taking revenge. These had long been a third, and very serious, force in Chechnya, taking orders neither from Maskhadov nor from Basayev.

Agreement to observe a ceasefire was achieved between Maskhadov and Basayev. This raises an agonising question, to which for the present
we have no answer: if Maskhadov was able to influence Basayev in this matter, why did he not do so over Beslan? Why did Maskhadov not use all his influence to prevent the seizure of the children?

As the evidence of one of the witnesses relates: “Maskhadov also told me in conversation that the seizure of Beslan had been a mistake. He was very displeased about it.” A “mistake”? Not a catastrophe?

Now, some accompanying detail about the last months of Maskhadov’s life, which also tells us a lot. Would it have been possible for the federal forces to have arrested Maskhadov and Basayev earlier? Were they within their reach? Judge for yourselves, for instance, from the manner in which both were travelling around Chechnya last winter when, supposedly, everything had long ago been brought under control and, supposedly, operations were “constantly being mounted to track down those guilty of the Beslan tragedy.”

This from the testimony of one of the witnesses: “November 17, 2004. During the night we went to a meeting (with Maskhadov, near Avtury). We drove into Soviet Farm No. 4 at approximately 2130 hours. Some 200 metres from the bus stop we stopped the car, flashed the lights two or three times, and approximately two minutes after this a car standing at the bus stop drove off in the direction of Mozdok. (At the bus stop) stood Vakhid and Viskhan, who are distant relatives of Maskhadov, and Maskhadov himself. Beside them were five or so large bags. They had at least three rifles and one sniper’s rifle, black with a thick barrel. They also had three pistols. Maskhadov’s was much longer than those of his bodyguards. The three of them were wearing green combat uniforms. In one of the bags I could see a military combat uniform.”

There follows a description of how all this baggage was casually loaded by Maskhadov and his bodyguards into the boot of the car and the back seat, and they headed off towards Tolstoy-Yurt. Through all the checkpoints, through localities riddled with nocturnal secrets and patrols. Avtury, where Maskhadov and his two bodyguards were standing at a bus stop, is completely under the control of one of the regiments of the Interior Ministry’s troops, and there are legions of Kadyrovites there around the clock. Or at least, that is what the Kadyrovites claim.
These details give support, if only indirectly, to the belief that in November 2004 no order had been issued to kill or even arrest Maskhadov. In late February 2005, however, it was.

Even more startling is the testimony regarding Basayev’s trip to Tolstoy-Yurt to meet Maskhadov: “Halfway to Farm No. 4 (again, in closely monitored Avtury) there was a vehicle. Some 200 metres before we reached it, the vehicle drove off and we approached Shamil Basayev. He was alone. Shamil Basayev had a plastic sack and a large sports bag. He was armed with a rifle. When I asked him what he had in the sack, he replied, ‘a sleeping bag.’ ”

If Maskhadov’s voice may not, in fact, be known to the whole world, Basayev’s face is surely familiar by now to everybody on the planet. Here he was, standing at a bus stop, completely alone, with no mask, carrying a rifle and a sleeping bag.

Let us recall the official version of why Basayev supposedly could not be caught. He was said to be hiding all the time in the mountain forests, lurking in a network of caves, and if he moved he was invariably surrounded by a host of men armed to the teeth, so that to capture him would cost too many of “our” lives. Does that mean that as of this date there were no orders for Basayev’s arrest? We have no answer to that question.

Maskhadov spent almost four months in Tolstoy-Yurt, hemmed in virtually the whole time, at first in the old adobe house, but then from the end of December he and his bodyguards went down to the cellar. The case materials give its dimensions as 2 × 2 × 2 metres. A cramped vault.

From the testimony of one of the witnesses: “They only came out of the cellar to pray namaz, at dawn and in the evening. Aslan Maskhadov, Vakhid and Viskhan (Murdashiev and Khadzhimuratov) had three computers which opened like a book, and two video cameras. Maskhadov spent practically the whole day at his computer. They sometimes videoed themselves with the cameras. In approximately early February 2005, a man who appeared to be about 40 years old came to the house. He had a short beard and was wearing civilian clothes. In conversation with Maskhadov they called this man Abdul
Khalim (Sadulayev, Maskhadov’s successor. He just walked in, and equally easily left).

“On March 8, at about 9:00 a.m. armed men ran into the courtyard of No. 2 Suvorov Street shouting ‘Come out one by one with your hands up!’ They asked Musa Yusupov whether his house had cellars. ‘I showed them the cellar area beneath my new house. Then they started conducting a search and in the old house found the entrance to the cellar in which Aslan Maskhadov, Vakhid and Viskhan were living. The soldiers blew up the entrance to the cellar and after that one of them shouted, ‘I can see a body.’ They shouted through the opening they had made to ask if anybody was alive in the cellar, and shortly afterwards took Vakhid and then Viskhan out of the old house.”

At the moment the entrance to the cellar was blown up, according to the case materials, Maskhadov was closest to it and took the full force of the blast. That is why he died instantly. His bodyguards survived only because Maskhadov died.

Do you remember the television images of the dead Maskhadov, stripped to the waist, lying on concrete in a courtyard? That was the Yusupovs’ courtyard, despite all the official fairy tales suggesting it was Kadyrov’s.

The Yusupovs’ courtyard no longer exists. The adobe house collapsed during the operation on March 8, and some four days later federals arrived, laced the Yusupovs’ new house with ribbon explosives and destroyed all the evidence, thereby ruling out any tests or the possibility of an independent inquiry. One important question is: how sure were the soldiers that it was Maskhadov in the cellar?

Some three days before the operation they knew only that an important figure of some description was in this part of Tolstoy-Yurt. Maybe Basayev, maybe Umarov [Doku Umarov, a later President of Ichkeria], or maybe Maskhadov. That was all. By late in the evening of the seventh, however, from tracing the text messages it was evident that, with a high degree of probability, it was Maskhadov living on Suvorov Street. The information was sent to Moscow, and overnight a special Russian unit, answerable directly to the Director of the FSB,
flew out. The reason why the culmination of the operation was not entrusted to soldiers of the Special Operations Center of the FSB, which is permanently deployed in Chechnya, was simple: mistrust even within a single Ministry, and particularly of officers who are permanently stationed in Chechnya. The problem of the selling of information is acute.

The special flight of Moscow troops, and the fact that they were waited for in Chechnya for several hours without anybody else moving to the concluding phase of the operation, is further evidence that they knew it was Maskhadov they were dealing with. The Moscow agents who flew to Tolstoy-Yurt were a group of Russia’s best commandos whose only task is to kill. And kill they did, because this time the order had come.

What resources did Maskhadov have for defending himself, if, indeed, he was intending to defend himself at all? What was found in the cellar?

It has to be said that there was precious little. He had a typical Chechen array of four assault rifles (between five men). Three of 5.45 mm calibre, and one of 7.62 mm. There were three home-made grenades, and one F1 grenade for blowing himself up. There should also have been the renowned Maskhadov Stechkin, his personal Army officer’s pistol. The Stechkin, however, disappeared. We find the papers of the criminal case peppered with the investigators’ questions about where the Stechkin had gone. Nobody kept an eye on it at the time.

Death, of course, is no laughing matter, but the morals among the Army in Chechnya, where looting has become ingrained over many years, make it difficult to suppress a wry smile. Even the operation to liquidate Maskhadov was not free of a spot of looting. To put it politely, the Stechkin was filched by the killers. Maskhadov had it when he was in the cellar but after the operation it was nowhere to be found. It’s not difficult to imagine the details: the Stechkin is now hanging on a wall, or perhaps it is in a safe, belonging to a member of the FSB’s special operations unit, and when he has had a drink or two its new owner shows off his trophy to his comrades-in-arms, or girlfriends, or,
heaven knows, perhaps even to his children. The Stechkin will turn up at auction 50 years or so from now. It is the sort of thing that has happened often enough in the past.

So where does that leave us, in September 2005, as a trial begins at which the circumstances of the last months of Maskhadov’s life will be under scrutiny, full as they were of peace initiatives, the Internet, and text messages bleeping from morning until night?

Basayev and Sadulayev want to hear nothing about peace. Their answer to the assassination of Maskhadov is only a long war, a parallel clandestine government, and explosions, armed conflict, and people dying on all sides every day.

And against this background, we have the constant bluffing by government officials about how wonderful it is in the newly Chechenised and Kadyrovised Chechnya. Mike Tyson, a semi-naked Miss Sobchak, an aquapark, a Disneyland, free parliamentary elections, Zhirinovsky and the rest of them posing against the backdrop of Grozny to which peace has supposedly returned. In fact they are all in a bunker, in a besieged city within a city, a government complex where they have now even built houses for the bureaucrats so they don’t ever have to risk taking a step outside the confines of this stronghold. The reality – not the politicians’ virtual reality – is that there is a total absence of even elementary control of the country, and an equally total absence of security for people who have nowhere to run to, and are forced to survive by fair means or foul.