Code Name: Kalistrat

by Arno Baker

  “Your man is in the bathroom so you can take your time.” Natasha wondered about this aggressive antagonism and why Irina appeared to be so nervous. She brought the tea with the cakes and cookies that she usually had in her bag for Feklisov while Irina was at her keyboard smoking furiously.

  When the colonel appeared refreshed and wearing his usual cologne he gave Natasha a hooded look so that she would know to grab her cup of tea and leave the dining room. But the former ballerina lingered on and ignored his hints while Irina took her cup of tea without thanking anyone and kept on looking at the screen. Finally she said,

  “Natasha, I need to talk to the colonel alone, if you don’t mind?”

  Natasha looked surprised and got up but said curtly,

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to stay out of your way.”

  She brushed Feklisov’s arm lovingly and walked out but could hear Irina’s comments through the door,

  “We need to get a few urgent things done colonel, so no further distractions like that one, please!”

  “I can assure you…”

  “Forget it, we have a scheduling problem and we‘re only half way into the book…”

  “Half-way? But there is so much more that…”

  “We must complete the honey trap incident in greater detail.”

  “But I told you I was against that…”

  Irina shot through him with her impatient look and waved his objections aside,

  “Never mind, you have been overruled by the editors and I was reprimanded for not laying down the law with you earlier.”

  “Come now, don’t dramatize!”

  “I happen to be very serious, colonel. They have cut the 250 pages about the ‘second front’ and the additional 100 pages on lend lease out of the text completely. That‘s final! I was scolded for even considering them in the first place. The idea now is to make this book as commercial as possible!” said Irina crossing her arms with the cigarette dangling from her lips. She looked like she was ready to do battle.

  Feklisov suddenly began raising his voice and pacing furiously around the room as Natasha listened just behind the door. She could hear his shortness of breath and worried about his heart condition hesitating about barging in since she feared Irina and her cold anger.

  “This can’t be. I thought we had agreed. The story will not make any sense. I mean there should be a clean Soviet account of those two problems that played such…”

  She again cut him off,

  “They prefer to add fifty pages on the honey trap. And drop the other serious parts to make the book more of a bestseller.” Said Irina exhaling loudly as her unease surfaced in her voice.

  “How stupid.”

  “I don’t make the rules, as you know. Furthermore they’re worried about …”

  Natasha understood they were referring to her.

  “But we discussed this before, there is no such problem. I can assure you. You came unexpectedly and unannounced today …”

  “Assurances will not appease those gentlemen, colonel. You should know that.” Then to his amazement Irina got up swiftly and opened the door catching Natasha listening with her tea cup in hand.

  “Why don‘t you come in and be part of the happy family!” Natasha was embarrassed and wanted to move away from the door rather than accept Irina’s invitation.

  “I am… I am…” she was unable to complete the sentence and Irina had lost her patience.

  “Why don’t you just keep quiet and listen to what I have to tell you both. This is a simple but very delicate matter…”

  The colonel and his young lover both looked very concerned and sat down at the table. Irina lit another cigarette and began pacing up and down.

  “So that you both fully understand what is going on, please be aware that you are equally sworn to secrecy in this whole matter. Not a single word of this project may be repeated outside these walls is that understood? Natasha?”

  She nodded and with her elbows on the table she held her head in both her hands as if she had a headache. Feklisov was finally able to confirm his initial suspicion that Irina had to have officer‘s rank and operational responsibility. Somehow this secretly made her even more attractive to him. She went on,

  “You may conclude easily enough that since the organs are spending quite a bit of money and energy on this project they expect to get satisfactory results to say the least. They also want the book to have the potential of being a literary success in the west. Therefore we must work quickly and efficiently. But above all, the confidentiality of how the book was written must remain protected at all costs. So Natasha you will please do what I tell you at all times and leave us alone when we are working. Just remember that you are being watched!”

  Natasha was now frightened,

  “I…I… understand perfectly!”

  “Well, then you will begin by leaving this room right now and let us get back to the task at hand.”

  Natasha left without a word.

  VI

  On a Friday in early May 1943, Fomin was waiting for Kvasnikov on the secure NKVD top floor of the consulate. He‘d just spent several days sweeping the building for bugs and hidden microphones and had found a half dozen cleverly attached at various points of the phone lines. Security requirements were therefore automatically doubled and an additional internal check was instituted on anyone even lingering near the stairs beyond the third floor.

  Kvasnikov was late and didn’t bother to take off his hat and coat; he immediately began scrawling quickly on a pad and handed the paper to Fomin.

  “Sam is completely compromised and must be put on ice. You need to take over one of his best agents. He has been dormant for over five months and must be reactivated immediately. Study the file and memorize his picture carefully: you will need a lot of background for the first meeting. Here is his address. Go there on Sunday at lunchtime; say around one to be certain you‘ll find him at home. You have two days to familiarize yourself with the details. Again: this is a major producer of very valuable information. Be extra cautious as he may be under surveillance.”

  Fomin nodded and Kvasnikov opened the safe and extracted a green file. After flipping through the file Kvasnikov extracted a photograph of Julius Rosenberg standing in a bathing suit next to his young wife Ethel at Coney Island in 1939. On the back of the picture was the address 10 Monroe Street Apt. 8G. Feklisov sat at the long table and began studying the file’s contents. Until then he had handled only four assets of which two were still active and producing acceptable information but nothing of exceptional value. This was a big step up in scientific and military espionage.

  Fomin left the consulate early on Sunday morning May 15, 1943. He took exceptionally tight precautions: first two buses that ended up in Long Island City where he had a long breakfast in a luncheonette at Queens Plaza. Then after reading the paper he boarded the subway back into Manhattan to Grand Central making sure he was in the last car and on the lookout for any tails. He spent over forty minutes walking around the terminal building looking at schedules at the newsstands until he took the Lexington Avenue exit and boarded the Third Avenue El heading downtown.

  Just before noon he was standing in the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge where he found another cheap luncheonette and ordered a cup of coffee. After one last check to be sure he wasn‘t being followed, Fomin walked over to Knickerbocker Village at 10 Monroe Street. There were very few people around and the place was quiet. He entered the small lobby of the E line that was deserted and took the slow elevator up to the eighth floor. Again there was no one on the floor but at the door outside apartment G he could hear several voices male and female, chatting happily and interrupted by children at play. He rang the doorbell twice and less than one minute later the door opened and he immediately recognized the tall young man with steel rimmed glasses and the pencil thin mustache: Julius Rosenberg.

  “I am a friend of Sam, he sends his regards from Rio. You must be Julius?”

  “Sam
likes Rio in the winter.”

  Rosenberg smiled and they shook hands.

  “Yes, that’s right, I am Julius.”

  He looked over his shoulder, the kids were running just behind him while several adult voices were laughing in background.

  “Ok, listen we have some people over for lunch, give me a minute or two. Wait for me at the foot of the stairs in the lobby. I‘ll be right down.”

  Feklisov used the stairs to go down checking at every landing to see if anyone was tracking him from a different floor, but the entire building was peaceful on that sleepy Sunday afternoon. He didn’t have too long to wait as Julius took the elevator and joined him minutes later. He’d slipped on his jacket and tightened up his flowery tie, the cheap kind of neckwear you could buy on Union Square. They were both standing alone at the foot of the stairs. Nevertheless Fomin was nervous and wanted to keep the introductions very short.

  “My name is Alex and I am your new contact.”

  They shook hands once more. Julius smiled and looked very excited,

  “Great. Where have you guys been all this time? I have so much stuff to give you Alex, we’ve been collecting it from so many people. Everybody I know wants to do his bit for the cause.”

  Fomin could see that Rosenberg was an enthusiastic type, his eyes simply lit up as he spoke quickly, his voice vibrating with the thrill of being in the ultimate game.

  “Fine, fine, but not yet. We must first bring you back in, step by step, and get acquainted. For now we will set up a formal meeting for dinner next Wednesday at 6:30 pm at the Aquarium on Times Square. I will arrive first and take a table. You will join me less than five minutes later not more, as a business acquaintance. Do not bring anything, no papers, no documents of any kind, not even a newspaper, nothing. Understood? Please be extremely cautious and discreet and follow the procedures I give you scrupulously.”

  Fomin’s words sounded new to Rosenberg because he looked genuinely puzzled but nevertheless he kept on smiling.

  “Ok comrade, I’ll be there.”

  The word “comrade” immediately sent off an alarm bell in Fomin’s mind. It was a major breach and he had to set Julius straight immediately.

  “Julius, watch your vocabulary: that word will create suspicion in anonymous bystanders and must be avoided, even as a joke. Be careful! Understood?”

  Lecturing his new agent on “konspirazia” procedures as vehemently as Kvasnikov would have demanded would have to wait until Wednesday; he had already been in that building far too long and was in a hurry to end the meeting.

  They shook hands and Fomin walked quickly away following the usual routine of multiple buses and subways until he finally reached the Consulate around 3 p.m. and reported to Kvasnikov that Rosenberg, code name “Antenna” was almost completely unschooled in security requirements. Kvasnikov became alarmed and commented in writing,

  “Damn it! That’s Sam’s fault–that idiot could have jeopardized the entire network! I‘ll have to report this.”

  “Just for my understanding colonel, asked Irina, Sam was not one of your favorite case officers, am I correct? Because that’s the way it looks from your comments.”

  Feklisov shook his head very slowly,

  “Actually it‘s a bit more complex than a simple dislike, Semyonov was very well prepared as a scientist, far better than I or even Yatskov, but as a case officer he was far too soft on his agents and let them get away with too much. He should have disciplined Antenna from the beginning and never allowed him to acquire so many slovenly and potentially dangerous habits. But in fairness Sam also had to maintain Rosenberg‘s enthusiasm at a very high level in accordance with his personality. Too severe a reprimand was also not the proper approach. It was a delicate balance and we knew that Julius was not the kind of agent you wanted to hold back too much. He produced his best results when he was under constant pressure and desperately seeking approval. Like an eager teenager!”

  “I understand. This is very good!” She kept on typing very fast on her keyboard.

  “Perhaps I should add another point: in the America of 1943, Rosenberg was always reminded that anti-Semitism was not the exclusive province of the Nazis. It was also thriving in the new world as well. Of course there were no camps, there was no persecution or extermination but there existed a kind of discrimination that made it often very uncomfortable to be a Jew in the United States. This was something that Rosenberg was acutely aware of even though he was not religious and much more of a progressive when it came to such matters as religion.

  However ethnic identity and the sense of solidarity with those persecuted in Europe by Hitler remained so the Jewish angle weighed heavily in his commitment to our cause.”

  VII

  In his bedroom in the White House, the President had just finished breakfast and the cluttered tray was on the trolley next to his wheelchair. He put down the New York Times and lit a Camel in his cigarette holder just as J. Edgar Hoover was being shown in for his regular early morning meeting. The FBI director was carrying the usual heavy briefcase overflowing with documents and displayed a fawning smile for his boss.

  “Well, good morning Edgar! I trust you have some interesting things for me today?”

  Hoover smiled and sat on a couch opposite the President and opened his briefcase.

  “Mr. President to begin with I do have a few tidbits regarding… the ambassador…as we discussed last week.”

  “Oh, yes, yes, of course! How could we ever forget him! What‘s he been up to these days?”

  Hoover’s face broke into a sly smile as he presented FDR with a whole collection of enlarged photos.

  “The ambassador, Mr. President, is relaxing at his estate in Palm Beach.”

  FDR straightened his pince-nez and looked closely at the pictures. After a few seconds he looked up at Hoover.

  “Good God! I won’t ask how in hell you ever got these, Edgar!”

  He looked at each photo as he smoked, knowing how impossibly prudish the FBI director was.

  “Whatever you may think Edgar, I have to admire the man‘s youthful enthusiasm and his boundless energy… Oh yes, and the young age of his prey! Barely legal, I presume? This is the type of thing he excels at for sure, besides making money and being a constant political menace. Well, they make‘em tough and rugged in Ireland, don‘t they?”

  Both men broke out into a hearty laugh, thoroughly enjoying the moment.

  “Now Edgar, I want you to slip these into your black and blue file just in case they should come in handy on a rainy day. One never knows.”

  Hoover guessed that the president was still convinced that Joseph P. Kennedy, better known as “the Ambassador,” might still harbor presidential ambitions in 1944 because of all the party bosses he was talking to recently and was probably even secretly testing the waters. But Hoover had more things to show.

  “Mr. President, if I may. There is also the matter of the younger Kennedy…”

  Hoover produced another set of pictures but without even glancing at them FDR waved them away shaking his head and smiling as if to indicate what he’d seen was already too much.

  “No, no, Edgar please, stick to people our age! This early in the morning I don’t want to worry about the young chap. He’s just a kid, for God’s sake! We already have our hands full with the old man.”

  “Yes, Mr. President. Of course.”

  FDR tapped the ash from his cigarette. Then looking very stern and serious.

  “On another subject Edgar, I do have some concerns about the Russians right now. I see a lot of disturbing material from many different sources as you know. I wonder whether your men could provide me with confidential information from the inside? I mean the embassy, the consulates and their purchasing commissions? You understand what I’m looking for?”

  “Yes, of course Mr. President. We’ll get on it immediately! Are you seeking specific documents?”

  FDR tightened his lips and looked up over Hoover’s shoulder as a valet
wearing a white jacket and black bow tie entered the bedroom. The president waited patiently for the trolley to be wheeled out then asked the secret service guard to prevent anyone from entering the room while he was in conference with the FBI director.

  “I need to know specifically what the Russians are after in this country, you keep telling me that they have many informers and I have to believe what you say Edgar, but at the same time I also hear rumors from other sources that they may be considering making a deal with Hitler.”–Hoover looked stunned and FDR could see the surprise in the usually unflappable director’s amazement—“Yes, that’s right, G-2 is worried and so is Admiral Nimitz and General Marshall and when those gentlemen are uneasy, I tend to become very nervous as well. It‘s a constant source of debate and the British are providing us with details and tidbits but they may also be attempting to alarm us for their own purposes. If there are any hints coming from Russian diplomats and informers here, well then we need to know. Anything you can find, any clues will greatly help the war effort! It‘s that important.”

  Hoover understood the urgency and knew the difficulties involved. FDR was convinced that the director would find a way as he usually did. He suddenly seemed relieved, smiled and checked his watch.

  “Good to see you as always, Edgar. I shall return the briefing book to you later on today. Otherwise, same time tomorrow, but make sure you check with Grace first in case something comes up. And keep up the excellent work.”

  They exchanged a warm handshake as Hoover placed the black book on the coffee table.

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  Less than two hours later Hoover held a secret meeting with Clyde Tolson regarding the president’s request. They concluded that a special team was required to concentrate on top Soviet diplomats and their friends. Tolson quickly assembled a group of ‘specialists’ from various units at headquarters to oversee the nationwide operation. There were only two Russian speakers among them.

  Neither Tolson nor anyone at the FBI at that point besides Hoover was fully aware that a top secret decrypting unit was operating using G-2 personnel out of the Arlington Hall college facility in Washington to decipher and read the enormous Soviet cable traffic that was being generated daily and sent through Western Union. The messages used a complicated encryption of seven and nine digit codes and one time pads. The telegraph company kept duplicates of all the cables sent to foreign addresses from the major cities in the United States and G-2 obtained those copies by the truckload. The Soviet coded cables dated back to 1939 and earlier in some cases; within a few months tiny but important discoveries had been made. Only Colonel Clark of G-2 could say he knew the whole picture, the FBI director and even the president were still kept in the dark about the details at that point.