Code Name: Kalistrat

by Arno Baker

  “Now that Davy has been arrested I guess we can expect the worse.”

  Julius looked up over his eyeglasses at his wife and could see how frightened she was,

  “If only he could stall them a bit then we may have a chance, a small chance of getting away. Otherwise there’s no escape, Davy was too slow and refused to take things seriously. Plus there‘s Ruth and her problems. They were encumbered just when they shouldn’t have been.”

  “We are encumbered as well Julie, with two boys and all the other problems. But I guess at least we are better off than poor Ruthie with her health predicament right now. But she‘ll snap out of it, you‘ll see.”

  “I know what you mean but if he refuses to cooperate we will have a chance. If he loses his nerve…well then…”

  Ethel shook her head sadly.

  “He‘ll lose his nerve, you can bet on it Julie.”

  Julius took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes suddenly sounding almost upbeat,

  “Well, then I’ll be next. They’ll just come over and pick me up. I really don’t think they‘ll come after you. To me that’s clear enough. Look…I have no regrets or apologies to offer. I feel I did the right thing, I gave every best part of my life to the cause and served to the maximum. I did what I was slated to do. The risks were obvious but I never would have thought it would end this way, and that America and the Soviet Union would go to the brink. I think the people will understand and will change the system in this country. They will demand it.”

  He was about to embark on his standard soapbox speech and Ethel interrupted politely but firmly.

  “Sometimes I wondered whether you were really strong enough to take all this on, Julie. I worried that you wouldn‘t carry it through but you did and I’m so proud of you and of the incredible work you have done for the cause. The ideals we both share that mean so much to us are of far greater importance than our tiny personal lives. You are my hero and I want you remain that way to the end.”

  Julius stood up and went over to Ethel and hugged her, kissing her with longing and passion.

  “Ethel, my dearest Ethel, nothing could have been done without you. At every moment you were behind me even though you didn‘t know exactly what I was actually doing or what the mission was. And that was the right way to proceed: you shouldn’t know. Now that we face the worse possible situation and may pay dearly for it I want you to remain outside the process. We must not and cannot admit to anything, especially if Davy breaks down and turns state’s witness. I know from the Russians that they will not want us to talk and give away names. I can‘t turn my back on all those friends I recruited and convinced to help us, including your brother and Ruthie and so many others whom I brought under our banner!”

  Ethel felt the solemnity of the moment and was suddenly fired up at the thought that the Russians were still giving instructions that they could both follow as dedicated agents of the worker‘s state.

  “Yes Julius Rosenberg, you are a true revolutionary hero, a partisan fighter for the masses inside the citadel of capitalism. I know of no other man or woman who could have been as effective and as selfless as you have been. I can sense what awaits you and how we will triumph in the end because our cause, the cause we believe in, is just and the world will recognize it and give us victory!”

  Julius still holding her close to his chest said,

  “Yes Ethel, our cause is just. But still we must try to save what we can and keep focused on the practical aspects. I have removed and destroyed any evidence among our belongings. I can feel that they will come for me very soon. And I agree with you that Davy will surely break down. He’s too weak, too scared to hold up on his own. If only Ruthie hadn’t been so sick after her accident maybe he would have been persuaded to leave the country. It was just a series of bad breaks, one after the other, that‘s all.” Julius thought for a moment then sat down in front of the newspaper once more and added: “I’ll get a lawyer.”

  Julius Rosenberg was arrested the following day with much fanfare. But his time in the spotlight was to last less than ten days. On June 25 North Korea invaded South Korea in the first bloody conflict of the Cold War and those dramatic events overtook every other news in America. The country was gripped by the sudden fear that these were the opening shots of the Third World War and the Rosenberg spy case took on an altogether different meaning.

  XXV

  Stalin was at his desk and there was a hushed silence from the two men who were standing in front of him until Lavrenti Beria decided to volunteer a number of explanations that would necessarily include a hefty dose of self criticism. Stalin said nothing and then looked up as he carefully lit his pipe,

  “Comrade Stalin…” Beria began but was immediately intimidated when he saw the expression he knew so well on his boss’ face with those frightful yellow eyes reduced to the slits of an angry cat. Stalin interrupted very softly,

  “I already know about that shit in America, Lavrenti! How could you fail to get them all out in time? This is an awful disaster and I will not stand for it, nor will the Soviet people.”

  Then the dreaded silence returned for many long minutes as the dictator looked down once again and began his usual elaborate doodles on a pad. Abakumov timidly volunteered an attempt at an explanation,

  “The problems originate in the family ties between Greenglass and Rosenberg and the relationship of the two wives…”

  But the dictator rejected that excuse and interrupted once more,

  “What can you expect from those fucking rotten Jews anyway, eh? Why haven’t they been liquidated? The two brothers in law, I mean? They should have been shot as soon as this thing broke!”

  Beria knew that he was on slippery ground, anything he said would be held against him,

  “We never considered that possibility. It would be a very complicated matter, comrade Stalin.”

  By then Stalin was thundering and furious, he stood up shaking his pipe at the secret police chief and yelling at him in Georgian,

  “And why not? Beria! You of all people should have put that option on the table from the start. If they refused to cooperate with us they should have been immediately liquidated. Do you hear me?”

  He began pacing behind his desk puffing on his pipe and expelling the smoke just as quickly.

  “Lavrenti, don’t you think I haven’t read the entire file by now? I have seen the glowing reports on this one and that one: Harry Gold…a wonderful scientist, a dedicated communist, a true believer…Bullshit! He was the second one who screwed us; the first was that whore, Elizabeth Bentley. Then the pederast Whittaker Chambers… I had the pleasure of reading those glowing reports on David Greenglass, another dedicated communist, married to a communist and so on...I have no patience with any of this crap of counting on people‘s beliefs …nonsense… beliefs can always change, the only way to hold on to people is through terror and fear, don’t you understand that? The organs of the USSR will look incompetent in the eyes of the Soviet people and of the world because of those lousy stinking rats. Why weren’t they eliminated last winter as they should have been? Why? Why? Why? I demand answers and solutions! Never come into this office if you do not have a solution, and rest assured that I already know about the problem!”

  As he yelled out that tirade the dictator was banging on the desk with his pipe letting some sparks fall on the glass surface. Beria and Abakumov looked white as sheets knowing full well that this could be the prelude to their own arrest and liquidation.

  “I wish we could kill them all now, those two little hairsplitting Yids, those born traitors and those silly wives of theirs! Yes that’s all they are: traitors, screw-ups, cunts and whores. They should at least commit suicide and spare us the bullets!”

  No one made a sound and the two policemen stood at attention. Then Stalin said very calmly and quietly as though nothing had happened,

  “Well, the Americans will take care of the liquidation for us and I‘ll be happy when they are all barbecued on the el
ectric chair! Enough!”

  Beria and Abakumov made an about face and left the office. It was only when they were waiting for the car to appear in the Kremlin courtyard that Abakumov ventured in a low whisper,

  “Do...do you think we are done for?”

  Beria smiled and shook his head,

  “No, that was for show. The Boss never loses his sense of direction. If we were to be executed it would have already happened without that last session and we wouldn’t be here waiting for the car. But we must take immediate action, and offer up some sacrificial lambs very quickly, otherwise yes, we will be finished!”

  Abakumov nodded and said as the ZIL arrived,

  “Semyonov first, then Ovakimian…”

  “Naturally, but more importantly, what do we do in America? Can we avoid the total destruction of all our networks?”

  “It looks difficult. The case is all over the news.”

  Beria and Abakumov were silent during the drive since their conversation could be easily recorded. Once they arrived in front of the Lubyanka they took a short walk around the square. Beria said,

  “Obviously, the Boss will not hesitate to knock us both out tomorrow if he thinks it would be beneficial. So how about shooting Julius Rosenberg now? Is it too late?”

  Abakumov nodded and agreed,

  “Clearly, that would be the best solution. It may take a few days and it could also become very messy.”

  Beria was impatient with Abakumov’s hedging and he suddenly realized that Stalin had already decided to liquidate the minister of the interior. It was high time that he be saddled with the blame for the entire fiasco.

  “Abakumov, the best way to solve a problem is to eliminate it! Have your plan ready in two hours. Come directly to my office.”

  “Yes, you’re right, Lavrenti Pavlovich.”

  Beria entered the office building while Abakumov returned to MGB headquarters.

  A few hours later a telex message in code clattered in on one of the secret machines located in the inner offices of the Soviet Delegation to the United Nations. An NKGB office was functioning at the UN near the temporary headquarters at Lake Success on Long Island. Several code clerks were on 24 hour duty to send and receive secret coded messages to and from Moscow Center. It was the most important illegal cover in North America since the Korean War erupted a few days before and was instrumental in concealing the enormous quantity of NKGB messages exchanged on the Rosenberg case.

  The senior code clerk was decrypting a short message from Abakumov to Menchikov, the counter-intelligence officer handling the damage control effort. Menchikov came into the room after going through the double doors and elaborate security measures and began reading what had been decrypted so far. He mumbled a few words at the code clerk,

  “Damn it! Ivanov, should I now thank you for managing to interrupt my digestion! You just made my day with this fucking crap!”

  Menchikov waited for the page to be complete and tore it off the pad while Ivanov was still writing. He spread the sheet with number sequences on his desk and opened a safe where he selected a volume of Tolstoy’s letters that was being used as a one-time pad. The message from the Center read,

  “REPORT WITHIN 24 HOURS FEASIBILITY LIQUIDATION KING ---REPEAT--- KING ---STOP--- IN AFFIRMATIVE IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED–STOP–ANGEL”

  Menchikov looked in amazement and burned the message before he acknowledged receipt. Without a word he rushed outside to the parking lot and drove his Ford sedan as quickly as he could back to Manhattan over the 59th Street Bridge. He parked near the consulate at 67th Street and after a long security check and several false moves to throw off any potential tails he took the subway to Grand Central Station where he got into a phone booth and dialed a local number.

  “It’s me. I’ll be at the Shamrock. Fifteen minutes.”

  Then he walked directly to Third Avenue and 40th Street where the Irish pub was located under the El. The place was ideal because of its very dark private booths that were perfect to exchange documents and information. He didn’t have to wait long and just as the waiter was serving him a bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon in a frosted glass a man took the seat in front of him and kept his fedora on.

  “Well, well, hello George.” Said Menchikov, with his slight Russian accent. The man was stout, with a bull neck and short stubby fingers that stuck almost obscenely out of his grey suit. But he had a warm smile and a pleasant round look about him so you immediately forgot that he was no poster boy.

  “Long time no see my friend. What’s up?”

  Menchikov’s voice betrayed his nervousness. He put down the beer.

  “There’s a job to be done as quickly as possible, preferably tonight. Downtown, near the Brooklyn Bridge. It won’t be easy.”

  “Are you kidding? It‘s never easy. There’s no time to plan anything.”

  “Well that’s the question, can it even be done?”

  “Sure, anything can be done but this time it won’t look like an accident. It will look like a mob rubout with guns and blood galore. Too much shit.”

  “That’s not so good. But can you do it? What do you think?”

  “What’s the situation?”

  Menchikov quietly explained the scenario for a few minutes getting into some detail then he sat back and asked,

  “You get the picture George? Can it work on such short notice?”

  George looked very dubious.

  “Frankly, I think it stinks. To cowboy a guy who’s under tight police surveillance is almost impossible. How do you expect me to find a shooter and get him in and out under those circumstances? My gut feeling is that it can’t be done. It won’t be a clean operation. But let me take a close look and get back.”

  Menchikov was relieved; at least George would assess the situation on the ground and report back. That would give the New York section ample room to hide behind the mathematical fact that the liquidation could not be done.

  “Ok, George, we meet again in two hours in the lobby of the Roosevelt Hotel. No phone calls. If you don’t see me it will mean the project has been cancelled.”

  XXVI

  Abakumov was on the secure line to Beria,

  “It can’t be done, it’s too risky Lavrenti Pavolovich. The FBI has the entire area under close twenty four hour watch. There are surveillance vans at both ends and plainclothesmen in cafés and bars, barely concealed. The New York City Police is on the case as well, with reinforcements: a whole army. That‘s the final word. We missed the opportunity.”

  Long silence on the other end, then a sigh.

  “If only we had reacted faster we could have knocked both those fuckers off.”

  “Now we are just like passive spectators at a silly operetta! The Americans will squeeze this story for all it’s worth, I am sure. We can only wait and see.”

  “Still there may be other ways to silence them both. We didn‘t react when Harry Gold was arrested and that was a big mistake. Every person he was in contact with was compromised from that point on.”

  “But what can we do now?”

  “Abakumov, you are asking me? You are in charge of this operation; this is your baby. Give me a plan I can approve and bring to the boss! And do it now, without delay!”

  Abakumov was frightened; he could sense that Beria was only too happy to destroy him. Since he had already missed a few opportunities to eliminate Beria physically and was attempting to regain his friendship, he knew that his time on earth could be reduced to a matter of minutes.

  “Yes, Lavrenti Pavolovich.”

  But Abakumov had no plan to offer and further meetings with Beria produced no results. He lost credibility with Stalin who became determined to liquidate him in any case for many other reasons. The occasion came a year later in December 1951 when the head of the MGB was denounced for his negligence in uncovering the Doctor‘s Plot. The orchestrated campaign indicated to most insiders that Beria’s star was also probably on the wane. Abakumov was shot later on, after Stalin’s d
eath in December 1954.

  Ovakimian and Semyonov were freed, deprived of their positions and forced to take menial jobs but they were lucky enough to be eventually reinstated with their pensions. However by then Ovakimian had turned into a hopeless drunk and Semyonov was near death.

  Three days after the start of hostilities in Korea on June 28, 1950, Feklisov, Kvansnikov and Yatskov were meeting in Kvasnikov‘s office in the Lubyanka.

  Kvasinkov spoke first,

  “The original King network is now completely wrecked and there‘s no point in salvaging any of its components. I even think that by now any attempt to react would be counterproductive.”

  Feklisov wanted to save the reputation of his former agent,

  “One thing I do know is that King will attempt to help us even while he’s under arrest. Of course, with Korea the American public will demand severe and exemplary punishment. Perhaps even the death penalty!”

  Yatskov agreed with that analysis,

  “I agree, it may become a very public case and the outcome will affect operations for a very long time. I heard that ‘upstairs’ they were considering liquidation? That‘s a big hint about the way this story is viewed at the top! As an unmitigated disaster. Anything that can be done to minimize the effects must be attempted, whatever the cost.”

  Kvasnikov then added,

  “I also heard that Semyonov and Ovakimian are being held indefinitely in the basement of the political isolator… and continue to be beaten and interrogated on orders from Abakumov. I am sure this is being leaked within the services as a reminder of what awaits those who fail!”

  “The question is: who is the warning intended for at this point?” asked Yatskov as they looked at each other in silence.

  Feklisov then made a practical point,

  “If King was to be liquidated it should have happened at least six months ago. Now it is much too late. If the attempt fails it will create even greater complications and might lead to far more damage than just one network.”