The Falstaff Enigma (21 page)

Borskov arrived home a little after five o'clock. It was much earlier than usual, but he was eager to begin the real work of the day. David and Robert were in the living room. The television was turned on and a boxing match between the Cuban and Czechoslovakian national teams was being aired. Each man, however, was busy reading and glanced up only occasionally as the volume of the crowd indicated a well delivered punch. David was reading selected parts of a book about the life of Leonid Brezhnev and Austin was leafing through "Soviet Union," a pictorial propaganda magazine. Svetlana was in the kitchen doing the dishes.

"Good evening, gentlemen," said the KGB
colonel as he stepped into the living room, ignoring his wife.

Both men stood. "Mr. Borskov," said Austin as he extended his hand. "We didn't expect you so early." Cordiality was still lacking.

Borskov shrugged off the remark. "Please be seated. I shall be back momentarily." He left the room.

He returned
a little while later, escorting his wife to the front door. As he saw her out, he picked up a briefcase he had placed just inside the door when he arrived home. He walked into the living room and placed the briefcase down on the cushion of the sofa not occupied by Austin. He opened the leather case and paused to put a finger to his mouth before pulling out a device that looked like a small transistor radio. He pressed a small button on the bottom of the face. A green light appeared at the top. The veteran agent held the device in his left hand and pointed it in every direction.

"I sent my wife to see a movie," Borskov said matter-
offactly as he walked into the adjoining hallway and repeated the ritual.

"Good. One last thing," he said as he unplugged the phone from the wall.
He placed the small box on an end table, its electronic wizardry still engaged. "The room is free from eavesdropping devices. My toy is an active detector of microphones. Instead of the usual passive device which picks up the emissions from wired or wireless microphones, this unit emits short pulses, similar to radar, and then picks up the unique 'signature' produced when the pulses bounce off any type of microphone." David was impressed; he was unaware of this technology. "Also contained within this device is a small microwave detector in case the windows are being beamed. Borskov was referring to the process of 'listening' to a conversation by reading the vibrations caused by sound waves striking a large window with the use of microwaves that reflect off the glass.

"And unfortunately, you Americans taught us only too well that any phone that is hooked up to an outside line can be used to listen in on a conversation even while the phone is on the hook. But before I forget, there is one final precaution." The
colonel stepped over to a Japanese-made stereo system and turned on a tape cassette. Immediately, the soft melodic rhythms of Rimsky-Korsakov's 'Scheherazade' poured from what seemed to be every possible direction. The speakers were designed to embrace each wall and window with sound, any sound other than those of importance, those being produced in the center of the room.

Borskov pulled two manila envelopes from his briefcase, handing one to each man.

"Before we start," broke in David, "what was said today about us?"

"Absolutely nothing," Borskov
replied. "I told you that some things are never questioned in the KGB, and one of those is whenever prisoners are taken away by superiors."

"Yes, but we are talking about a KGB that quite p
robably is divided into two factions. You yourself said that you can trust only your own two men," retorted Austin.

"Anything is possible and it will be easy for us to be caught in a quagmire of possibilities, with each new window exposing ten other avenues," the KGB officer
replied. "It suffices to say that we face an unusually high risk in this whole operation, but in this instance the risk does not merit further attention."

"Your point is taken, Mr. Borskov," David
said.

"Please call me Anatoly."

"Fine. Anatoly.” David’s words were forced. “Anyway, I am concerned with how much your two men are associated with you directly."

"Valid concern. They are known to be loyal to me and this is why I must be ver
y careful about how I use them. In all honesty, their effectiveness is severely curtailed by this fact."

"So it is safe to assume that the men holding us last night know, or at least think, that you issued the
orders for our release?" David asked.

"Of course, but it was my operation from the start and they
will assume one of two things: either I had you sent to a mental institution or …" Borskov’s voice cracked slightly and his eyes sought the floor "… I had you killed, never to be heard of again."

"Is that your standard modus operandi,
Colonel?" asked David in a scolding and aggressive tone.

"I am not a Nazi, Mr. Margolis," the officer
replied, his voice louder and more determined than before. "In my career, I have ordered the killing of only one man, a traitor who sold information to British intelligence and whose information cost the life of my junior officer at the hands of the CIA." There was a pause. Each man realized the tension was rising too high; each sought a relief valve. Finally Borskov spoke, "But that was in the fifties, the height of the cold war, when each action demanded a reaction and we fought a silent war where the only rule was Hammurabi's Code. As for my original comment about the guards, I have taken great pains to foster certain myths about myself. I admit that fear in one's subordinates is necessary to maintain one's position in the KGB."

Borskov was both a professional and an adroit politician. He spoke with an underlying pride and he was telling the truth, holding nothing back. David realized this and knew that the KGB
colonel could be a master of deceit if he so desired. "I am sorry, Anatoly," said David.

"I understand.
It is not easy for lifelong enemies to become allies overnight. I’m sure we will face more hurdles.

"Now for the business at hand,
" Borskov continued. Austin was amazed at the ease with which Borskov went from confrontation to colleague. "Please open your envelopes and pull out the papers.” The two Westerners followed instructions. "On the top you will find your new identification. There are two major pieces of identification. The small blue wallet contains your KGB identity card with your name and number on it. Needless to say, you must memorize all the details, such as your number, before you leave here. Your number correlates to our central computer file number. I have already entered your complete personal details into the computer and any KGB can verify you with that number.

“
The other item is your KGB badge.” The two men each held the gold-plated badge in their hand. The design was a shield with a blue field and a sword over the shield pointing downward. On top of the sword was the Soviet star with the hammer and sickle embedded in it. “Remember,” continued Borskov, “that a KGB officer never shows anything but the badge to anyone other than another KGB officer, a high ranking police or Army officer, or a respected and powerful member of the Party. You are elite and you must act that way or you will draw suspicion.

"Robert, you are now Andrei Glinka, rank of
captain, age 40, born in Moscow, and David, you are Mikhail Kutuzov, rank of major, age 44, born in what was then Stalingrad. You will notice that I tried to retain the details of the identities you were using, even down to keeping your first names. These identifications are called 'passports' within the KGB due to their appearance and the fact that with them you can get a seat immediately on any train, bus or flight to anywhere regardless of whether or not a seat is available. You should keep your 'passport' with you at all times.

"The next sheet contains the specific biographical information that I put into the computer. You can learn that later tonight.
” Borskov paused to allow the two men time to scan the data.

"Please look at the next sheet
,” Borskov continued. “It is a breakdown of the unit you are assigned to, with the names of your superiors and others you would know. You belong to Seventh Directorate, Moscow District. As the name of the unit implies, you are charged with insuring the loyalty and honesty of all Soviet citizens – including KGB officers and party members – and foreigners within the Moscow area. You report normally to lvan Krenovich, Major, Seventh Directorate, Moscow District. He reports to me and is a short, overweight and arrogant man who tells terrible jokes. He is 69 years old and walks with a slight limp from an injury received in the siege of Leningrad. He is completely bald and not a handsome man. If you are ever asked about what you are doing – and again, you never tell anything to a non-KGB officer – you are on a 'Politburo Directorate' mission and report to me. Those words are enough to make anyone under the rank of general cater to your every command."

Borskov spent another hour discussing various operational aspects of the KGB.
If either Robert or David had any doubt about the KGB officer, they were all but eliminated during this period. Borskov was giving up a wealth of information, knowledge that Western intelligence agencies would consider invaluable.

When he was finished, Borskov opened his briefcase again. "You will need these." He pulled out two automatic pistols. "KGB standard i
ssue, the Makarov 9 millimeter – the ‘PM’. Here is an extra magazine." He handed a four-and-a-half inch metal box to each man. "Each magazine carries eight rounds. Carrying it in your coat pocket is a common and accepted practice. Hopefully, you will never have to use it." He then removed an envelope and opened it. “And you can use this.” He handed each man a paper-clipped stack of ruble notes. “What your KGB badges can’t get you, money will.”

Austin put the pistol down on the end table next to him. Unlike David, he had almost no interest in learning the methodology of the KGB. He was ready to put his analytical skills to work. His mind had been racing all day and now he was ready to talk. "Now
, if you don’t mind colonel, let's map out our strategy. I'll start by summarizing what we know.” Austin looked at Borskov and waited for a response. The KGB officer nodded slightly, giving the American the green light.

Austin continued.
"One: Soviet officers are being systematically killed and the primary common element is that these men all were liberal in their attitudes toward the West.

“
Two: A team of highly skilled assassins is based somewhere in the Soviet Union and is operating worldwide, even going so far as to attack a U.S. Embassy. We know absolutely nothing about this group except that they are probably headed by one Leonid Sorovin and they are probably based here in Moscow.

"
Three is new to you, Anatoly. Or maybe it is not. There is a Soviet agent well placed within the CIA and he is working for the same group Sorovin is working for. And he is not a junior clerk like Bill Kampiles." Austin was referring to the CIA clerk who in 1977 stole the manual for the top secret KH-11 Key Hole satellite and sold it the Russians for $3,000 in cash. “This would be someone senior.”

Borskov assumed a quizzical look. He thought for a moment, trying to gauge the analyst's sincerity. "I do not understand," he said, unable to formulate a legitimate reaction.

"It's very simple. A mole within the CIA. You should be an expert at knowing such men," replied Austin.

"If this is true, I knew nothing be
fore now. The international side of the KGB is completely isolated from me. It has always been my belief and the generally accepted wisdom of the internal side of the KGB that we had never successfully penetrated the CIA."

"I don't have absolute proof, but the circumstantial evidence is overwhelming.
” Austin said. “To explain, I must start with my review of the May Day films."

Austin told his story to Borskov but he withheld most of the details he had given David in Tel Aviv. He stuck to the necessary facts only; he couldn't bring himself to reveal more than he had to.

Austin traced the sequence of events to Ankara and recounted the death of Poltovsky, when he first heard Borskov’s name. He summarized the conclusions at which he and John Kemp had arrived and how those conclusions were confirmed the evening in Zurich by the presence of three Russian killers. He covered the meetings with Jim Welch and Steve Palucci and the discovery of the Russian agent at Arlington National Cemetery. He finished with a mention of their contact with the inspector general and the subsequent death of Kemp.

“I am sorry, Robert. I realize how difficult it must have been last night to trust me.” Borskov’s voice held the compassion one has for a comrade-in-arms who has suffered loss.

"From what you said," continued the colonel, "I find myself agreeing with you. Somebody in your intelligence services pegged you as a threat before you were sent to Ankara and that person obviously was in contact, however removed, with Sorovin."

"Agreed," David
said in an impatient voice, "but we can't dwell on this man. He is clearly secondary."

"Yes, you are right," Borskov
agreed.

"We have only one intelligent lead and that's Sorovin," Austin
stated. "What have you found on him, Anatoly?"