The Main Enemy Milton Bearden (read full novel .txt) 📖

pressed, Polyshchuk couldn’t remember the woman’s name, and when he led Sharavatov, who by this time had arrived on the scene, to his parked car, Sharavatov found two wooden chock blocks in the car’s trunk. Why didn’t he use these? Sharavatov asked. All Polyshchuk could conjure up was that he had forgotten he had them. He’d been off on a diplomatic assignment for a long time and hadn’t inventoried the contents of his car trunk.

Later that night, a thorough search of Polyshchuk and his car sealed the KGB colonel’s fate. The hand-drawn sketch of the field where the dead drop was located contained an error in a street name, one of several Krassilnikov knew appeared in an American-produced Moscow city plan used by the CIA. Polyshchuk also carried with him another map with a spot marked on Gorky Street where he was to leave his “have unloaded dead drop” signal, so that the American special services would know their package had been safely retrieved. And as the methodical search continued, a detailed communications plan printed on water-soluble paper was found sealed inside the lining of his glasses case.

Krassilnikov knew he had his man. Just two days earlier, he’d brought the KGB colonel before the KGB Chairman, Viktor Chebrikov, who had made a simple demand of the haggard prisoner. “Remember your officer’s honor,” Chebrikov had demanded. “Do the right thing.” Krassilnikov had then left Polyshchuk with his own thoughts for a few days. He’d become helpful sooner or later, Krassilnikov thought. They all did, eventually—and there was plenty of time.

Now, in the cold light of day, Krassilnikov waited in the second-floor interrogation room of Lefortovo’s newer wing. The time for a cover story defense has passed, he thought as he rose to answer the knock on the door that signaled Polyshchuk’s arrival. Krassilnikov carefully signed the jailer’s receipt for his ward, flipped a switch at the door that lit a red light in the hallway to signal an interrogation in progress, and let Polyshchuk into the sparsely furnished interrogation room. The KGB colonel had showered but not shaved. He would get a visit from the Lefortovo barber in a few days. His eyes still had traces of red from either the alcohol of the night before or a sleepless night with his thoughts. The ill-fitting blue Lefortovo running suit, and the shoes with the laces removed, further diminished his presence.

Laid out on a conference table jutting off at right angles from Krassilnikov’s desk were the materials Sharavatov’s men had seized the night before. The effect was shattering. There could be no denial when faced with the maps, the money, the secret messages, the high-tech concealment, and all the incriminating evidence Polyshchuk had carried on his person. Krassilnikov let the enormity of the display sink in for a few minutes. He knew that once again he had his man cold.

Colonel Leonid Georgiyevich Polyshchuk’s life as a CIA spy had actually begun eleven years earlier. He had come to the CIA’s attention in 1974 during the first years of détente; under more relaxed rules of engagement, Soviet intelligence officers were allowed to have greater contact with American diplomats and even CIA officers. Polyshchuk, taking advantage of the new opportunities, had started to cruise the watering holes of his backwater posting in Katmandu, Nepal. He quickly popped up on the radar screen of the CIA’s chief in Katmandu, who picked up on the man’s taste for liquor and the local casino. He soon learned that Polyshchuk had worked himself into a classic fix—he’d run through his KGB cash by trying to make a killing at the tables. Polyshchuk desperately needed cash to balance his books before his bosses discovered the money was missing. Polyshchuk agreed to take a “personal loan” from the American, and the transition from their personal agreement to the next step was easy. Polyshchuk would become a spy and cancel his debt.

As Polyshchuk’s tour in Katmandu came to an end, he agreed to be trained in clandestine communications for “internal handling” by the CIA in Moscow. SE Division officer Sandy Grimes traveled to Katmandu and trained him in the skills needed for secure internal operations. With clandestine communications materials, Polyshchuk was sent on his way to Moscow. He was told not to do anything for the CIA for the next year, to cool off, and to work his way into a job with the most interesting access. In a year, Polyshchuk would give a “sign of life” in Moscow, standing at a specific corner wearing a fur hat he had bought in Katmandu, with a special leather bag over his shoulder. A CIA drive-by would spot him and confirm that he was alive. Then the operation would resume.

There were alternate dates for the sign of life, plus a few preaddressed postcards Polyshchuk could mail as backups to signal that he was ready to begin receiving his encrypted radio broadcasts. The CIA knew that Polyshchuk could perform all these tasks and still be under KGB control. But that was one of the risks of running a spy in Moscow.

Polyshchuk was a no-show at all of his sign of life sites in Moscow, and not one of his postcards was ever received by the CIA.

Back home, Polyshchuk had destroyed the incriminating equipment given him by the CIA and hoped his relationship with the Americans would be dropped and forgotten. He burned everything that would burn and buried the rest, thinking that no one would ever know.

SE Division assumed he got cold feet. It was possible he had been compromised, but there was no evidence of that. At the CIA, he was listed as “INACTIVE/WATCHLISTED.” The agency would be watching for the next time that Polyshchuk was posted overseas.

The operation came back to life eleven years later, in February 1985, when Polyshchuk was assigned to Nigeria as the Line KR counterintelligence officer in the Soviet Rezidentura. Before long, he was back in business. Most of the CIA’s contacts with Polyshchuk in Lagos were brief