Maj. Anatoly Vasilevich Chernysh began by removing a sheet of paper from an envelope on his desk. Then he stood up and walked over to me.
”What do you have to say about this document?” Chernysh asked as he placed it in front of me and sat down at my table to monitor my reaction.
The session that followed was the shortest one I underwent in Lefortovo, and I remember it especially vividly. It was the day I thought I caught the outlines of the case the KGB was trying to make. It was the day I was confronted by the highest-ranking KGB official I ever met, who harangued me, warned me it was hopeless to resist and offered me the opportunity to save my own life. And it was the day I tested all the skills of resistance I had developed.
Chernysh`s paper turned out to be a fundamental part of the KGB`s supposed evidence in my case. I immediately recognized the handwriting of Ina Rubin, Vitaly`s (a Soviet academic and dissident) wife. The document, which began ”Dear Tolya,” was evidently a letter to me from Israel, where Vitaly and Ina had been living for the last year or so.
At the end of the letter, which I had never seen before, she added that it would be a good idea to distribute the questionnaire on the back of the page to refusenik scientists, as this could help them in advance to find work in their specific fields, when they arrived in Israel.
Turning the letter over, I found a list of routine questions: What was your education and when was it completed? What courses have you taken for retraining or improving your professional skills? When and where did you work, and what exactly did you do? What articles or books have you published? What languages do you know? In what areas would you like to work?
Aha, I thought, at last they`re getting to the point. Until now I hadn`t seen any link between the questions my investigators had asked me and the charge of treason. But the questions on the back of Ina`s letter-especially those asking the scientists about their professional experience-could easily be connected to the wild charges in (the Soviet newspaper) Izvestia. In the article, Sanya Lipavsky had claimed that Alexander Lerner (a Soviet scientist and dissident) had been assigned by the CIA, through Vitaly Rubin, to collect information about secret enterprises in the Soviet Union and that Lerner had entrusted me to carry out the mission.
When the article appeared, we all wondered how the KGB would ever try to prove such a ridiculous charge, and I had been asking myself the same question in Lefortovo (the prison). But now I felt that this seemingly innocent letter from Ina Rubin might actually be the tip of the monstrous iceberg being fabricated somewhere in the depths of the KGB. Knowing how they worked, I realized that they might try to link the question asking refuseniks where they had worked to some alleged attempt by the Americans, or perhaps the Israelis, to uncover state secrets.
I had no doubt that the questions on the back of Ina`s letter were completely innocuous. Years later, when I arrived in Israel, I checked, and just as I expected, they were part of a standard questionnaire filled out by Soviet scientists who emigrated to Israel and were looking for work. It was clear that Ina had simply copied them down.
But why had I never seen this letter before? Could it be that I had received it and somehow forgot to read it? This was possible but unlikely. Could it be a forgery? So far, every document they had shown me was authentic. But if they relied only on the truth, they`d never be able to prove the charges.
I wasn`t sure how to respond. If I told Chernysh the letter was forged and it turned out to be genuine, I would be helping them prove we had something to hide. But if I acknowledged receiving the letter, well, who knew how they intended to use it in building their case against me?
Slowly and deliberately, I took a clean sheet of paper and began to write-and immediately edit-my reply, keeping in mind that the points ”don`t lie” and ”don`t help them represent our activities as secret.”
I wrote as follows: ”I am seeing the letter which was presented to me for the first time. If it was really written by Ina Rubin, her desire to help refusenik scientists find work in Israel seems perfectly natural to me. Indeed, Vitaly Rubin himself, who for many years was groundlessly refused permission to emigrate, was able, while still in the Soviet Union, to maintain professional contacts and to continue research in his areas of expertise in preparation for working at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. Moreover, it was the solidarity and struggle of his fellow scholars that helped him finally get out of the Soviet Union and arrive in Israel, where he was able to continue his work at the university in Jerusalem.”
After I dictated the statement to Chernysh, he framed my response in his own words and read me the result: ”This letter was written by Ina Rubin. Her desire to help. . . .”
”Wait,” I said, ”That`s not what I said.”
”What`s wrong, you don`t recognize Ina Rubin`s handwriting?” he asked in annoyance. Instead of arguing, I simply dictated my statement again, refusing, as usual, to answer other questions.
After several unsuccessful attempts to edit my answer, Chernysh said,
”Wait here while I take the protocol (a record of exchanges between prisoners and officials) to the typist.” He summoned another investigator to sit with me until he returned.
Chernysh had been gone no more than five minutes when an official came in whom I had seen before but never met and who pretended to be looking for Chernysh. Col. Viktor Ivanovich Volodin was the coordinator of all KGB cases against political dissidents, and Chernysh reported to him regularly, sometimes even interrupted an interrogation to run to Volodin with a report. Volodin was elegant and sporty-looking, and although his hair was gray and thinning, he looked much younger than his 50-odd years.
When Volodin saw that Chernysh had left, he ”accidentally” noticed me and approached my little table with a friendly smile. ”Well, Anatoly Borisovich. How are you feeling? What were you discussing today with Anatoly Vasilevich?”
In the wake of Chernysh`s attack, I resumed my defensive posture: ”If you have the right to interrogate me, then do it according to the rules. Without a protocol, I have nothing to say.”
Just then Chernysh returned with the protocol, and Volodin grabbed the text and read it. Then, in a fit of anger, he cried out: ”Is this the honest answer of a fighter for Jewish rights? In your place, I would have said, `Yes, I engaged in such activity. I conducted-or did not conduct-these surveys with those people. . . .”
”Go right ahead,” I interrupted. ”Please, record your answer in the protocol.”
”No, I`m only telling you what yours should be if you want anyone to believe you.”
”My response is in the protocol. You don`t have to feed me answers.”
”You see?” Volodin said. ”It`s always the same with these dissidents. They scream about freedom of speech and openness, but as soon as they end up with us, they clam up. Where has all your oratorical ardor disappeared?”
”Oh, yes,” I replied. ”This is really freedom of speech, Soviet-style. You grab a man, cut him off from the rest of the world, stick a pistol in his ribs and say, `Now, let`s discuss things openly.` ”
Instead of acting insulted, Volodin seemed pleased to have gotten a rise out of me.
”Do you understand what lies in store for you?” he asked.
”Yes,” I replied with a broad smile. ”They`ve already explained that I`m definitely going to be shot. Rasstrel.”
”You talk about rasstrel with a smile? Then you still don`t appreciate the seriousness of your situation.” Whereupon he launched into an extensive monologue about how the KGB had long tolerated the hostile activity of a handful of Zionists who were struggling against the Soviet Union.
”We tolerated you for a long time. We warned you and your friends. But even our patience has its limits. You ought to know our Soviet history. In every case where somebody was charged with crimes such as yours and did not confess and repent, he was executed. Well, not every case. There were times when there was no death penalty, and the accused received 25 years. We`re not threatening you. I`m merely explaining your situation, which is my duty as an investigator.”
It felt good to stay calm while a high-ranking KGB officer was trying to intimidate me. I studied Volodin, watching him from the sidelines like a film director on a movie set. Now there could be no doubt that all my mental conditioning had paid off. As Volodin`s speech began to die down, I decided to throw another log on the fire.
”What`s left for me to think about when everything has already been decided? I was declared a spy in the Soviet press even before my arrest.”
Volodin seemed to interpret this remark as a cry of despair, and his response was cynical and frank: ”All the more reason, then, for you to understand the gravity of your situation. Yes, we announced to the entire world that you`re a state criminal, and we shall never take it back. Your situation is hopeless. Besides, you`re not such a hero as to sacrifice your own life. Look at Krasin. He carried on like a rooster, and he wasn`t even threatened with rasstrel. He lasted three months, but you won`t survive that long. How can you be compared to Krasin?” he said with a scornful wave of the hand.
This, too, was part of their game, but they couldn`t reach me with such primitive tactics. In fact, Volodin`s mention of Krasin came as a pleasant surprise, for every time I thought of Victor Yakir and Pyotr Krasin, two members of the democratic movement who had condemned their dissident activities at a press conference and then were given light sentences for their ”crimes,” it strengthened my resolve not to listen to the KGB.
And now, having finished with the stick, Volodin introduced the carrot.
”We are not bloodthirsty,” he said. My interrogators were especially fond of that phrase and repeated it often. ”Our only goal is to defend state interests. You`re young, and your wife is waiting for you in Israel. If you help us suppress the antigovernment activity of the Zionists and the so-called dissidents, you`ll receive a very short sentence, maybe two or three years. Perhaps you can even be freed right after the trial. We can make a deal about everything. We are not judges, of course, but we do have some influence in the courtroom.”
I felt like a chess player who had lured his opponent into a trap. For Volodin had just made explicit what his subordinates had only hinted at: the conditions and the reward for my surrender. They were much as I had expected, and it felt good to hear them spoken aloud. Now I could no longer restrain myself.
”Why wait for the trial?” I asked. ”Why not release me even sooner, like you did with Irina Belogorodsky?” I was referring to a colleague of Yakir`s and Krasin`s who confessed her guilt after being arrested and was of considerable help to her captors. By a special order, she was actually pardoned before the sentencing. In other words, they absolved her of the crime even before the court ”decided” that she had committed one! But the irony floated right past Volodin.
”Of course, it can be done before the trial,” he replied. ”It all depends on you. So you remember her case, and the case of Yakir and Krasin?
Then you know we played straight with them and did exactly as we had promised. I directed that case.”
This I hadn`t known. But it was obvious that Volodin had a similar scenario in mind for me.
He continued: ”I showed Krasin more than 70 examples of slander in his documents, and he finally recanted. He and Yakir appeared at a press conference, admitted their crimes and were released. Krasin wanted to leave the country, and he did.”
”Yes,” I said, knowing exactly where I wanted to take this conversation. ”But is it true that you had promised not to use their testimony against other dissidents?”
”Slander and lies!” Volodin shouted, fearing that I now doubted his word. ”With the evidence I had we could have jailed many people. But we are not bloodthirsty. We arrested only those who absolutely refused to stop their hostile activity. But I made no promises.”
”Just as I thought,” I said in a conciliatory tone. ”Then Krasin lied both times. He lied when he spoke against the dissidents at the Moscow press conference, and he lied again at a press conference in New York when he spoke against the KGB. So why should I lie twice? It`s better if I don`t lie at all!”
By now I was smiling, for it seemed that I had successfully steered the conversation to a close. ”My supper turned cold long ago,” I said. ”It`s time for me to leave.”
Only now did Volodin realize that he hadn`t succeeded in controlling our conversation. ”So you want to play the hero?” he said spitefully. ”Go ahead, be a hero. Only remember, we don`t let heroes out of Lefortovo alive!” He shouted these words so they would echo in my head for a long time.
Tuesday: Sharansky uses games of logic to learn some truths about his arrest.
