Farewell

by Eric Raynaud

  The Ferrants had hired a Russian housekeeper to help Madeleine with their five daughters and with the apartment. Patrick had to know that Soviet domestic staff employed by foreigners were in the service of the KGB. Nonetheless, one morning, while Ferrant was at the embassy, the housekeeper allegedly found, on a desk, the photocopy of a document passed by Farewell. There was no doubt: the paper had a KGB logo and was stamped “top secret.”

  When questioned about the incident, Ferrant thought the explanation was simple. The incriminating document could not have come from the Farewell dossier because Ferrant never left those documents out, and he always had them with him when he went to the embassy.

  What he remembers well, though, is having left in full view a book about the KGB written by John Barron in 1975 and entitled KGB: The Secret Work of Soviet Secret Agents.10 Highly visible on the cover page was the KGB emblem.

  This voluntary “slip” was in line with Ferrant’s general attitude during his posting in Moscow. If he was careful not to lose the agents who occasionally tailed him, it was to not get them in trouble. A reprimanded agent is more zealous than a lazy functionary who quietly goes about his business. Conversely, a foreign resident trying to shake off a shadow is necessarily suspicious. Following the same logic, a housekeeper supposed to report compromising facts about the foreigners she works for, but who never provides anything, runs the risk of being poorly rated. To give her something to work on, “Paul” had told her she could look at everything around, except that book. “I often asked this good woman if she had enough to tell her superiors about; I would even suggest reporting such and such event. It gave her a good laugh,” the officer remembers.11

  Nevertheless, the housekeeper did not touch the book, but she rushed to tell her UPDK superior all about it. Like most of his colleagues, he was a retired Lubyanka employee. He had the good reflex to call counterintelligence, Ninth Department. At the time, Vladimir Nevzorov, the housekeeper’s supervisor in the French section, could not leave his office. The department head sent an operative from the Portuguese section, instead, to the UPDK.

  The man went by the book for this type of situation. He questioned the housekeeper, and then, back at Lubyanka, he informed someone in charge in the French section. Together, they informed the Ninth Department chief. Being a USA specialist, Vadim Toptygin12 did not know the difference between the Quai d’Orsay (Foreign Affairs) and the Quai des Orfèvres (Police headquarters). In his eyes, only the CIA could challenge the KGB. He guffawed.

  “Come on! Ha-ha-ha…the French? Able to get their hands on a KGB document? She suffers from hallucinations, your maid! She needs to be examined by a shrink. And you too!”

  Had they decided to put Ferrant under surveillance, however, he would have been spotted at the next rendezvous with Vetrov, since, evidently, the Frenchman did not follow a security route before going to Year 1812 Street.

  Are blunders of that kind the reason why those in the KGB who know refuse, to this day, to reveal the slightest information about the Farewell case? The temptation is great to close, once and for all, this embarrassing dossier with some of the actors still occupying high-responsibility posts.

  In France, the sheer volume and quality of the documents passed by Farewell were such that some experts wondered if it might be a huge disinformation operation. Their doubts grew on fertile soil. A question raised at the very beginning of the operation was whether Vetrov was a genuine mole or a KGB “lure.”

  The Farewell affair happened at the same time as the Socialists came to power in France. In their Common Program of the Left, they had declared that they were resolutely opposed to the existence of secret services.13 The new government was thinking about outright eliminating the DST, considered an outgrowth of the police apparatus. The detractors of French counterintelligence, and their rival DGSE colleagues in particular, were quick to insinuate that the Farewell dossier was a complete survival fabrication by the DST. They had several reasons. The first being the humiliation caused by Vetrov’s preference of the counterintelligence DST over their foreign intelligence service, followed by the fact that the DST did not hand the operation over to the SDECE, although it was the only service officially in charge of operations abroad. Finally, this special dispensation received President Mitterrand’s support. To cap it all off, the credit was given for what was viewed as the most successful operation by French special services to spy hunters who were not even from the military, the DST being similar to the FBI.

  From this perspective, Pierre Marion’s analysis of the Farewell dossier was typical.14 In his book, the former DGSE boss answered quite a few disturbing questions. In particular, the choice of the DST over the CIA, although the Americans were the main beneficiaries of the Farewell dossier. It was also the unsophisticated character of the methods suggested by the DST, although they proved themselves in the end. Finally, it was the apathy of Soviet counterintelligence who were usually more vigilant.

  Only two questions seem relevant: Why did the DST neglect to implement basic safety measures to protect its source, thus prolonging the exploitation of the information passed? Why were certain documents, assumed to have been transmitted by Farewell, brought to the Soviet embassy’s knowledge by a high-ranking functionary from the French ministry of Foreign Affairs? Notwithstanding those questions, the operation remains a fact.

  It is easy to understand why Marion was piqued at the situation. Throughout the development of the affair, even though he was in charge of intelligence and counterintelligence outside the French territory, he had not even been told about the Farewell operation.

  Marcel Chalet, who may have had more at stake in defending the truthfulness of the story, did it with consummate skill. Oddly enough, despite some erroneous assumptions on Farewell’s family origins and personality, or on the operational aspects of the affair, his overall analysis appeared astute even to the few Soviet individuals who knew about the dossier; this is because, ordinarily, you don’t put together a disinformation operation with an impulsive and often unpredictable man who is also professionally and morally compromised. The “lure” must be disciplined and morally irreproachable. He must remain flexible in a game where it is difficult to know for sure that your agent is indeed giving priority to your interests rather than to your adversary’s. Vetrov met none of the required criteria.

  Organizing a campaign four months before presidential elections was risky, to put it mildly. The initial data for an operation targeting a Gaullist technocrat running for a second term in office, or targeting a socialist beginner allied with communists, is drastically different. The KGB would have certainly waited until May 10, 1981, before implementing a deception operation.

  Furthermore, the Soviet Union’s main enemy being the United States, Farewell should have either approached them directly or made sure the deception target was a country that would share the information with Washington. Among the major Western European countries, none was less fit than France to play that role, with its concern about independence and the Gaullists’ declared anti-Americanism, and even more so considering that France might elect a socialist president.

  Finally, how could the KGB have attempted such a dangerous move? The Farewell affair had the immediate, and perfectly predictable, result of an all-out hardening of the West’s attitude toward the Soviet Bloc. Defense was reinforced, and COCOM lists were revised. In other words, this was exactly the opposite of what the KGB, and more specifically the scientific and technical intelligence, was trying to accomplish.

  Similarly, Xavier Ameil, Vetrov’s first handler, does not believe for a minute the deception hypothesis. Ameil, at the beginning of the operation, was not able to copy the thick VPK file entirely. Having realized the exceptional value of those documents, the DST told Ameil to ask Vetrov for the file again, but Vetrov could not meet that demand.

  Ameil drew two conclusions. Volodia’s ranking was not as high in the hierarchy as the DST would have liked people to believe. He was passing him documen
ts he only had access to for one or two weeks. He had no way, however, to request specific documents without needlessly running additional risks. Above all, this episode proves that Vetrov could not be a “lure.” If this had been a KGB machination, they would have granted the DST request.

  A few more arguments can be added.

  For example, as a bureaucratic and corporatist organization, the KGB would have torpedoed any planned operation that might have made its life difficult. It was obvious from the start that hundreds of officers would be put out of the running, and entire networks abroad would be dismantled. In general, Western companies, traditionally open, would be made more aware of the risks of espionage and would, consequently, better protect sensitive infrastructures and projects, plugging quite a few leaks in the process. If only for that reason, the KGB would have sabotaged any setup, no matter how critical it would have been for the State.

  And there is another reason. A deception with a “lure” is only conceivable if the expected effect is significantly more advantageous than the documents leaked to accredit the agent. Vetrov revealed to “the enemy” all of the Soviet secret services’ activities in scientific, technical, and technology intelligence. What could have been hoped for in return that would have justified such an incredibly disproportionate sacrifice? That the Western special services be disbanded for their inability to efficiently fight against the KGB? That the West as a whole disarm in front of Soviet power? Absurd.

  We have to conclude then that the DST did achieve what is considered the greatest success ever for French secret services. “Say what you like, although amateurs, they were never caught red-handed during the operation,” concedes Igor Prelin. “Winners are not to be judged.”

  In 1992, Raymond Nart traveled to Moscow, invited by Russian authorities. He even visited Lubyanka, and he recognized areas Vetrov had photographed, probably when testing the camera. Nart also met with his former adversaries, Viacheslav Trubnikov, first deputy head of foreign intelligence, and Vadim Bakatin, then KGB chairman. They all had gentlemanly exchanges about the Farewell dossier. Fair play, the Russians admitted, “Well done!”

  CHAPTER 35

  Hero or Traitor?

  Did Vetrov really change the course of history? Such a question is usually asked about statesmen or great generals, not about an ordinary man with ordinary concerns. Does he deserve all of this attention? The answers to those questions are to be found in his “great work” or, to be more precise, in his work of destruction.

  According to Yurchenko, Vetrov confided, not without a vengeful irony, that the last six months of his professional life had been the “most stimulating and constructive ever.” After sorting the documents into categories (organization of scientific and technological intelligence in the USSR, PGU internal letters and memos, lists of KGB officers, information about foreign agents), to estimate the damage caused by Vetrov to the Soviet system, one is tempted to exclaim each time, “It’s especially here that he provoked a true disaster!” Then, moving to the next category, one tends to have the same reaction. Judge for yourself.1

  Starting with figures, a quantitative analysis is helpful in evaluating the extent of the damage. Farewell transmitted more than three thousand pages of secret and top-secret documents to the DST, most of it coming from the KGB.2 Quantity alone, no matter how impressive, says little about the value of the leaked material. Oleg Penkovsky gave British and American services close to five thousand documents, but the Farewell dossier is considered much more explosive.

  We obtained more accurate figures regarding the number of uncovered agents from the Soviet side. Vetrov admitted to giving the names of 422 former colleagues. He communicated basic information to Ferrant—identity, rank, personal address, and private phone number—for 250 Soviet technology intelligence officers operating abroad, 222 of them under diplomatic cover. Vetrov had access to Directorate T files, as well as those for the Third Department, dealing with technology intelligence inside the Soviet Union. Another 170 officers were identified from other KGB divisions; Vetrov knew a lot of them personally.

  “This seems a reasonable figure,” concedes Igor Prelin. “Based on one of our in-house analyses, a KGB officer could know as many as five hundred of his colleagues. It’s not a ceiling. Polyakov3 ‘squealed’ on fifteen hundred GRU and KGB officers.”

  Yet, this revelation had a more devastating effect than a bomb dropped on the PGU headquarters. Even if 75 percent of Directorate T staff were posted abroad, Vetrov could disclose only the names of the officers he knew personally. With the scheduled rotation, his betrayal forced out, in one sweep, a number of operatives still on duty, those who were the best trained and the most productive. The only chance left to those officers was to use their talents at home or in countries of minor importance.

  The damage was just as disastrous for foreigners selling secrets they had access to at work to the KGB. They were generally the most useful contingent because they were the ones providing elements (a batch of documentation, a sample, a spare part or just a pinch of metal turnings, enough to identify the alloy) that might save years of effort by large teams of scientists and engineers, which would help cut down on huge investments. Being the “backroom boys,” they were also the hardest to unmask. Normal productivity for a counterintelligence service is several individuals, if not dozens of agents, devoting themselves from three to five years, locating a single spy. In some cases, the lead time was much longer. Chasing down the famous MI5 mole in Great Britain took over thirty years…and failed.

  Vetrov alone helped expose fifty-seven foreign agents! And this is what he admitted to in front of his investigating magistrates. He knew full well the individual cost of each mole, not only in terms of time and money spent, but also the price he would pay for each one. Actually, it is impossible to give definite figures.4 In addition to direct indications, there are more fuzzy clues that may, in time, help in the spy hunt. It is possible that some Western counterintelligence services are still making good use of leads given by Vetrov.

  To that more or less quantifiable harm must be added countless pieces of information related to actual operations performed in one country or another, to the organization and running of Directorate T, and to the PGU and the KGB as a whole. Thanks to Farewell, the workings of this huge machine, its strong points and weaknesses, the role played by each division, the profiles of a number of executives, all this became more transparent for the Atlantic Alliance’s secret services. The blow dealt by Vetrov to the Communist regime was already extremely damaging. It was nothing, however, compared to what followed. That was merely operational information. The significance of Farewell, along with other great moles such as Oleg Penkovsky, lies in the supplying of strategic information.

  The spearhead of covert activities, the KGB was only one of many elements of a vast system of technological information gathering. Vetrov revealed to the West the existence, in the Soviet Union and its satellites, of an entire network of State organizations in charge of accomplishing this mission. Besides the KGB and the GRU (military intelligence), there were seemingly innocuous organizations in this network, such as the GKNT (State Committee for Science & Technology), the MVT (Ministry of Foreign Trade), and the GKES (State Committee for Foreign Economic Relations). Even the Academy of Sciences was involved in the systematic theft operation initiated by special services and coordinated by the VPK (Military Industrial Commission). The VPK distributed specific tasks between those various organizations expected to obtain documents or products essential to the countless military research centers and industrial facilities.

  Requests for information targeted all advanced technologies, but primarily electronics, computing, traditional and modern weapon systems, communications, aerospace, nuclear technology, and so forth. Like everything else in the Soviet economy, intelligence gathering had its place in the five-year plans. The tenth plan, covering the period 1975–1980, yielded 150,000 pieces of information, 85 percent of which were found useful.

>   Areas of interest to the Soviet military-industrial complex included:

  The development of multiple array anti-missile defense systems and other American projects in the field of anti-missile defense.

  Particle-beam weapons.

  Simulation software for weapon systems.

  Stealth aircraft.

  Millimeter-wave radio-frequency electronic hardware.

  Propfan engines for future use in cruise missiles.

  Weapon control system for fighter aircraft.

  Ultrapure materials for microelectronics.

  Since 60 to 70 percent of the requested information was from the United States, Ferrant had asked Vetrov to concentrate on this type of intelligence. The VPK, however, was also interested in a multitude of high-tech projects and research topics pursued in France, including:

  Steel metallurgy: high temperature resistant alloys and steel vacuum treatment.

  Weapon systems: strategic and theater missiles, including the M-4, their nuclear heads, cryogenic thermal insulation of Ariane’s fuel stage.

  Applied electronics: electron guns and inertial navigation systems.

  Miscellaneous: solar thermal devices and absorbing selective surfaces, mineral glass technologies.

  Soviet secret services, with the help of auxiliary organizations, obtained the needed information from most of those fields of interest. Acquiring samples and technical documentation, Soviet engineers and researchers could either launch local production, perfect their own products, or abandon ongoing studies. The technology theft practiced in the West gave the USSR the ability to improve its ongoing programs (66 percent), accelerate their development (27 percent), launch new projects (5 percent), or cancel research programs leading nowhere (2 percent). The savings in time and money achieved by stealing scientific and technical secrets could largely finance the huge network of intelligence gathering. Caspar Weinberger, U.S. secretary of defense, had summarized the situation in unambiguous terms: “The United States and other Western nations are thus subsidizing the Soviet military buildup.”5