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Captain Mikhail Khalatsyn knew he’d be traveling back to Moscow at the end of August to personally give a progress report to General Yakov. And progress was something he’d better have in his back pocket. The war in Afghanistan was not going well and many of his comrades from the Academy — including best comrades Yuri and Demitri — had already been assigned as intelligence officers to army units. As for those unfortunates who had “flunked out,” those poor bastards were back with Spetsnaz units fighting the good fight in a hopeless cause.
Mikhail knew that if he failed in the Katkov investigation he might very well be sent back to the War. The only way for him to avoid Afghanistan was to find out who the informant was and dump this entire bag of trash into that person’s lap.
Only Mikhail and his chief-of-staff, Lieutenant Zaitsev, had keys to this room. It was guarded round the clock. All the army’s secrets held in City 40 and Mayak were kept here. Since each one had to inform the other before entering this sacred space, Mikhail had told his chief-of-staff that he would be there most of the day. He was not to be disturbed.
Inside the room, he removed three files and placed them in a stack next to Mikhail Katkov’s. He began to read, starting with the one marked, “Lev Davidovich Bronstein.”
A gangly scientist with the curly hair and with the sad eyes of Albert Einstein, Lev was forty-one-years-old and had advanced degrees in applied mathematics and computer science. He was married and had two children. His wife and children lived with her parents in Moscow.
“Brilliant to the point of otherworldly,” someone had noted in his dossier.
“Too many feathers floating in head, completely without guile,” wrote another. “Must be watched closely because tends to talk too much. Oblivious of consequences.”
Mikhail pretty much agreed with those assessments. Could such a man be a calculating, deceptive informant to the KGB? The GRU had trained Mikhail to read people, their actions and motives like street signs. He saw no darkness in Lev. But then again, cold calculation and deception swam in Lev’s gene pool. He had been named for a once infamous, now rehabilitated, paternal great-grand uncle: Leon Trotsky, born 7, November, 1879. Trotsky had been assassinated in Mexico on 21, August, 1940.
Leon Trotsky’s birth name was Lev Davidovich Bronstein. As he suspected, Lev Bronstein was of Jewish descent, although Mikhail could find no evidence of religiosity in the current family’s incarnation. Only one distant cousin had ever requested, and been granted, immigration to Israel. According to notes left in Lev’s dossier his family had put their faith in atheism and communism.
Mikhail had never heard of Trotsky, one of the pioneers of Soviet communism, until he’d read about the man at the Academy. Trotsky was not only one of the founders of the Communist Party, but also a member of the first Politburo. Further, Leon Trotsky was also the founder and later the first commander of the Red Army.
Intriguing... A descendent of Comrade Trotsky now employed at a top secret military facility.
Trotsky and Joseph Stalin had a fundamental disagreement on the nature of communism: Trotskyism as opposed to Stalinism. Because of these differences, Comrade Stalin had Comrade Trotsky exiled from the Soviet Union in February 1929. But even from abroad, Trotsky kept up his criticism of Stalin and the direction he was taking the U.S.S.R. Eleven years later, a NKVD Spanish-born agent (NKVD was the predecessor of KGB) murdered Trotsky with an axe.
Stalin had Trotsky rewritten out of history. It was not until the 1980s that Trotsky was finally “rehabilitated,” his books republished in the Soviet Union. That was when Mikhail had learned of the man’s existence.
Mikhail laid out the indisputable facts in his head like notes on a post board. He thought it better not to write them down:
1) Trotsky was the founder and first commander of the Red Army.
2) Trotsky was assassinated by KGB.
3) Lev Bronstein was a descendant of Trotsky.
4) Trotsky was rehabilitated in the 1980s.
Then Mikhail tried to arrange these notes into a working theory:
5) Lev Bronstein was ashamed of his great-grand uncle?
6) Lev Bronstein had a grudge against the Army and GRU who were both founded by Uncle Leon?
7) Lev Bronstein turned KGB informant?
No matter how hard he tried, Mikhail could not arrange the known facts into a rational theory. All flowed from #5, whether or not Bronstein was ashamed of Uncle Leon. Mikhail suspected not, but then again, why did he not mentioned such a famous uncle?
The next dossier was marked, “Alexandra Stalina Popovitz.” He shoved that one beneath the stack and picked up Tono’s file instead.
Before opening it, however, he ordered the sentry at the door to bring him lunch.
“And a full thermos of black coffee, comrade,” he added.
The soldier snapped to: “Yes sir.”
Then he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and let his yoga training’s gentle fingers massage his mind. When the food came he would resume Tono’s file.
Mikhail forked pelmeni, dumplings stuffed with mushrooms and meat, one-at-a-time, into his mouth while he read through Antonio Santos’ file. Mikhail loved pelmeni, especially his mother’s, which he would devour by the buckets full. Then he nearly gagged. A particular dumpling stalled on its way down, so he pounded his chest and coughed it up and out. He wrapped the offending ball of dough in a napkin and tossed it into the trash. Then he cleared his throat and took a swallow of black coffee. Comrade Tono’s startling pedigree moved the Cuban-Russian onto the top of a Handle With Care list.
Comrade Antonio Santos was born in Havana thirty-seven years ago. His Russian mother was stationed at the Soviet Embassy. While serving at the embassy, she met Santos’ father. Both parents were members in good standing in their respective nation’s communist parties; and both were admired by their peers. The couple had power and prestige; however, the following had caused Mikhail to nearly choke to death: Santo’s mother, Svetlana, was a spotter fluent in Spanish who trolled Cuba, Mexico, and Central and South Americas for potential assets — for the GRU. His father, also named Antonio, was a senior colonel in the Cuban Directorate of Military Intelligence, its acronym was DIM. The elder Antonio ran spy networks for both the Cuban government and the GRU in Florida, New York, and Puerto Rico.
DIM was the GRU’s little brother, so both his parents had worked closely together before they eventually married.
After completing secondary school in Cuba, his spy parents retired to live in the Soviet Union. Apparently the marriage was a good one, and they were still together after almost forty years. Their prestige within the Red Army and GRU remained considerable, because after Tono received advanced degrees in chemistry and physics from Novosibirsk State University in Siberia, he was immediately accepted into the army’s super-secret program at Mayak. For this to happen to a foreign-born Soviet citizen meant his parents had powerful friends. That meant that Mikhail’s investigation into this chubby little Cuban was dangerous business. Yet Mikhail knew he would be derelict in his duty if he simply buried Santos’ dossier. Questions remained that demanded answers:
1) Tono was an only child and his parents were away most of the time on GRU and DIM business. He was raised by his paternal grandparents. Could this have made the boy susceptible to parental authorities other than his real parents? KGB for instance?
2) Growing up mostly in Havana, did Tono consider himself more Cuban than Russian?
3) As an adult he must have known about his parents’ powerful connections. How did he react? What did he think? Was he ashamed to advance so far so quickly?
4) Ironic if, to prove his own worth as an individual, Tono would turn to the hated Moscow Boys, the KGB, for validation.
If Mikhail exposed their son an informant against the Red Army, Svetlana and the elder Santos’ powerful friends would either crush him or Mikhail’s own powerful friends would pin a medal on his chest. As he well knew, it was always best to examine both sides of the coin before tossing it in the air.
Before opening Alexandra’s file, Mikhail went back to his quarters and changed into athletic fatigues and sneakers. Next stop would be the gym, and then a long run on the track. Strenuous exercise always cleared his mind. Two hours later, he was back in his quarters showering. Then he changed into a fresh, clean uniform and went back to the file room to mine the many secrets the state held about the life of Alexandra Stalina Popovitz.
The first surprise was relatively mild: she was twenty-nine-years-old, a year older than Mikhail Katkov. She just happened to look like a young girl. The second surprise: Dr. Alexandra Popovitz was a medical doctor who also held an additional advanced degree in biology. She had authored several papers on the effects of nuclear and biological weapons on living organisms. In Mikhail’s mind such a specialization read: “How to Kill as Many People as Possible Most Efficiently.” Such a sweet innocent looking little mouse had teeth like razor blades. Could such a person turn KGB informant?
On a sad note, the girl had contracted polio as a child growing up in a small village in rural Russia. In the early 1960s, polio still ravaged children in the Soviet Union.
The final surprise was her paternal great-grandfather. The man was a Russian Orthodox priest. Unlike Roman Catholic priests from the Western rites, Orthodox priests were allowed to marry. And many of them, like great-grandpa Popovitz, not only married but had large families. That final surprise involving Alexandra’s bloodline had Mikhail thinking that no one knows a person as well as the state does.
He wondered what secrets the government held on him, Valeria, and his parents.
Regardless, it was the curious contradiction between Alexandra’s family name, Popovitz, and her October name, Stalina, that set Mikhail’s mind wandering off to search for answers. Popovitz is derived from Popov which translates to pope, priest, or religiosity. He already knew that she had a great-grand father who was a Russian orthodox priest. As Mikhail also knew not just DNA was passed down to younger generations, but also tradition, culture, and occupation as well. How many priests passed through Alexandra’s bloodline?
Most Soviet children in Alexandra’s day were given middle names of heroes and heroines of the October Revolution, a sort of secular baptism into atheism and communism. This was referred to as Octobering. Alexandra had chosen Stalina after Stalin.
Apparently Alexandra’s parents had disapproved. Someone had made note of that in her file: “Parents not members of Communist Party. No record ever applied. Alexandra Popovitz brought up in family that shuns communism.”
Another note: “Alexandra Popovitz followed Soviet rite of Octobering at fourteen when she was about to enter university. Her parents had strongly opposed their daughter's name choice, 'Stalina.' Arguments led to bad feelings in family.”
A new assessment formed in Mikhail’s mind: Alexandra Stalina was either a committed communist or a pragmatic, ambitious woman who went along to get along. KGB always promised to be good friends to those who helped them. Was Alexandra Stalina the informant?
That evening at around eight o’clock, Mikhail went to the cafeteria for a late dinner. Upon entering, he spotted Katkov, Alexandra, Lev and Tono seated at a large circular table enjoying coffee, pastries and each other’s company. Inside he smiled, happy to see how Katkov had bonded with the other three eggheads. He was also glad to see Smart Mishe and Alexandra sat side-by-side, clearly an emerging couple. He studied Tono carefully, looking for any signs of jealousy or resentment. He saw none.
And then they spotted him, Tono being the first. The chubby Cuban jumped up, a big warm smile on his face, and walked up to Mikhail and invited him to join them. Mikhail was starving by now, but he decided to forego dinner because it would be impolite for him to chomp down while they nibbled. For now, he would join his new “friends” and later order an orderly to bring supper to his office.
Mikhail did not say much at first, he preferred to listen scooping up particles of information like crumbs off a table. Conversation took an interesting turn when Tono mentioned to Mikhail that his father was a retired senior colonel in the Cuban Peoples’ Army. Katkov looked surprised but not Alexandra and Lev. To them this must be old news.
“I wanted to join the army, too,” Tono added, “but Papa would not allow it. He said I would be far more useful to the state as a scientist than carrying a rifle.”
These were not crumbs. It was a morsel that Mikhail popped into his bag: Tono submits to authority easily.
“I probably would not have passed the physical anyway,” he added, a trace of disappointment on his face and sadness in his voice. Then a side glance at Mikhail, “I mean, look at me. Can you imagine a chap like me commanding soldiers in Afghanistan?”
Morsel #2: Low self-esteem.
Alexandra covered his hand with hers and gave a gentle squeeze. “You’re a brilliant scientist, Tono. Your father is absolutely right. The work you do here with us is far more important to the Soviet Union.”
Alexandra: Kindness... Patriotism... Pragmatism.
Lev said directly to Mikhail: “Tono is the most brilliant scientist at Mayak and in all of Ozersk (not City 40) and Chelyabinsk.” Turning to his comrades: “That includes all of us.”
Lev: Kindness... Modesty... Loose tongue.
Said Captain Mikhail Khalatsyn who knew better than any of them, “The work you do here, Tono, is far more important in the defense of the Soviet Union than a useless war in Afghanistan.”
Katkov flashed anger at his friend: “Mishe, I must disagree. Building roads, schools and supporting the Afghan peoples’ revolution, that’s what the Soviet Union is all about.”
As for Katkov: Naïve... Ignorant... Faithful beyond reason.
Katkov spoke not only for himself, but the other eggheads as well. They all looked at Khalatsyn as if he’d just passed gas.
“My apologies,” said Mikhail. “Please allow me to buy us a bottle of vodka, the best they serve.”
Lev chuckled. “Army Mishe, no alcohol is served here. We are forbidden to drink.”
Stifling a giggle, Alexandra added, “Our supervisors believe that alcohol disrupts the chemical processes within the brain.”
Tono grinned. “If you ask me Army Mishe, it’s our supervisors who have disruptive brain functions.”
What came up next was like a knife to Mikhail’s heart. Katkov mentioned that he, Tono, Lev, and Alexandra were considered misfits by everyone else at Mayak: Lev Davidovich Bronstein because he was Jewish; Antonio Santos because his father was Cuban; Alexandra Popovitch because she had a handicap and himself because he was Afro-Russian. The other three brilliant people sitting at this table looked hurt and embarrassed, but none of them bother to deny or make what Katkov just said more palatable.
Mikhail had long ago accepted that his duty as a soldier in the Red Army was to protect the weak.
If these people proved to be innocents, then no harm shall ever come to any of them. Not on my watch.
But the fact that they were self-described oddballs also made them susceptible to KGB recruitment.
Going over this later that night while eating dinner back in his office, Mikhail’s mind looked back to an acronym he had studied in his first few days at the Academy: MICE. He separated out E for Ego. As a GRU officer candidate, Mikhail had been taught how to wield Ego as a chisel with which to sculpt another human into a GRU agent. But Ego had also been used against him by Peter and General Yakov when they set him up for this assignment. If Ego had been used so successfully against him, a trained manipulator, how much easier would it be for KGB to use it against three inexperienced misfits? For people shunned and looked down upon by their peers, Mikhail knew exactly how KGB would exploit their vulnerability:
“You matter to us. You will be doing important work, far more important than the science you perform in the labs. You will help us keep Mayak safe from those who wish to harm our beloved Soviet Union.”
Unfortunately, what applied to the three also applied to the one, Comrade Mikhail Katkov. As much as he’d like to, Mikhail Khalatsyn could not cross any of them off his list.