by Arno Baker
“No. There is very little time. I will be in Paris for four more days before I travel to Moscow on a routine visit. Le Figaro has requested that I conduct an exclusive interview with Stalin and this time I am confident that it will not be refused. That newspaper would never ask someone like me to do this but they have no one else who can get close to the leader...”
There was a bit more small talk and Barnave insisted on explaining his itinerary from Paris to Moscow to make sure Savigny understood that everything had to look perfectly normal. He fully expected to conduct the Stalin interview. Of course this time there was also a hidden agenda that could ignite a revolution.
The diplomat rushed back to the Quai and requested to meet with the minister who was in a confidential conversation with the Turkish ambassador. Finally one hour later he was ushered into the minister’s chaotic private office as he was dictating several cables at once. He dismissed the secretaries and called in his two closest aides to listen to Savigny’s story. Once he finished Bidault said,
“We know Barnave fairly well. He joined the resistance in 1944 but I never liked the fact that in 1940 along with a few other French Communists he offered his services to the Germans soon after they entered Paris. That’s how strong his allegiance to Stalin was at that time. To me he was an Axis agent at that point and a very active one! But getting back to the current matter: none of this can be kept from the Americans for more than a few hours: it would be disastrous if they suspected that we are withholding intelligence especially with a new administration taking over. We are to meet the Eisenhower team officially in March. In Indochina France can only count on America for help and support. So, Savigny, you must drop everything and work on this problem immediately. Fiat lux...”
Savigny smiled since he knew all about Bidault‘s propensity to coin Latin phrases or use obscure proverbs to make a point. The former history professor took pleasure in showing off his phenomenal encyclopedic knowledge to his listeners and colleagues as if he were still teaching an honors class at the lycée Louis le Grand.
The first move was to dig into the files for anything they could yield about Barnave. Bidault said that the most important information would come from the DST–the French equivalent of the FBI-- that SDECE would have very little on the journalist. The counter intelligence section delivered a thick file on a man whose real name was Lucien Laffont.
“Barnave” was a ‘nom de guerre’ he used the Spanish civil war. There was a notation that he was originally born in Odessa in 1895: his father was a French engineer and his mother a Russian woman who may have been Jewish, that detail was followed by a question mark. He spoke a flawless cultured Russian, and he volunteered in the French army in 1914, was sent to the front in Romania where he liaised with Imperial Russian regiments and received a Tsarist decoration... Later he worked as a translator and journalist but never joined a political party. In Spain in 1937 there were rumors that Barnave had been recruited into the NKVD by Alexander Orlov and had played an active role in several arrests and executions of anarchists and other separatists opposed to the pro-Soviet Spanish republican government. But none of this could be backed up with hard evidence.
In 1946 there was a more tangible piece of intelligence when Barnave took the first of many regular trips to the USSR. An informer reporting to the DST stated that the newsman may have been transporting military and even nuclear secrets whenever he traveled behind the Iron Curtain. So Barnave was stopped on a train in Germany, searched and interrogated for several hours by CIC officers but they found nothing and he was allowed to resume his travels. The DST also suspected that Barnave may have been secretly “turned” by the Americans but had no evidence to back that claim. A few hints showed that he was possibly connected to the NKVD successor agency the NKGB but there were no incriminating documents to be found and the file contained only a series of assumptions.
“The question monsieur le ministre, is why he would contact you and the French government rather than go directly to the Americans? After all he knows how things work and how suspicious the CIA remains of the SDECE and its typical operatives.”
Savigny was attempting to clarify the motives of whoever was steering the journalist but Bidault disagreed,
“No, Savigny, I don’t see it that way. He came to us because we are the simplest and fastest path around the American bureaucracy. We know exactly who he is and that simple fact cuts the waiting time by several weeks.”
“So you feel that a momentous event is very close at hand?”
“Yes, absolutely! If it happens it may be only weeks or days away. Otherwise he wouldn’t risk approaching us this way and with such urgency.”
“We must contact the Americans without delay…”
“That is exactly what you will be doing as you walk out of here…” Bidault scribbled a name and a phone number on a piece of scrap paper “...call this number tell him you report to
“Rochambeau.” He will see you immediately.”
One hour later Savigny entered the café de Flore on the boulevard St Germain. His contact was already waiting for him at an inside table and looked more like a South American than the usual Yankee, with a swarthy complexion, jet black hair and thin mustache, an updated version of Rudolph Valentino. He said his name was John Castelli and they got right down to business with Savigny giving a breakdown of what was going on. After a long silence and without taking a single note Casetlli said,
“So the operative phrase is “Should there be a sudden change in the leadership…” correct?”
“Yes, exactly those words.”
The man nodded then drank up his Stella Artois,
“Where can I reach you after hours?”
Savigny wrote down his name and private home line.
“At this number, all night.”
“Ok, you’ll be hearing from me very soon. Make sure you’re at home.”
They shook hands and walked out in opposite directions.
The call came at 4 a.m. Castelli was requesting a meeting in two hours at the U.S. embassy. At 6 in the morning Savigny was told that the American response was to go along and find out as much as possible. Savigny should meet with Barnave once more and give him very encouraging, and conciliatory news: the Americans were examining the proposal and would have an answer within 48 hours. He was to add that they sounded very interested in pursuing the discussion. Castelli also confirmed that the British were being kept in the dark.
The following evening the French journalist boarded his customary train to West Berlin at the Gare de l‘Est and arrived in the divided city the following afternoon. He switched to the East Berlin Hauptbahnhof station and immediately boarded the Berlin to Moscow express used almost exclusively by East German and Soviet functionaries and a few Eastern bloc journalists. The conductors and the guards knew him well since he traveled the line every two months on average since 1946.
Late that night however the conductor handed Barnave a teletype message directing him to get off at Minsk. An NKGB officer was waiting on the deserted platform and escorted him to an official car waiting outside the station. Within minutes he was in an old apartment with prewar furnishings a few blocks from the station where he was thoroughly searched and told to wait in the living room. Suddenly the door opened and Lavrenti Beria appeared, bloated in an ill fitting grey suit and judging from the smell, having already consumed more than a few shots of vodka. His mind was however perfectly clear.
“Monsieur Barnave…ah, ah...we meet again.” he said in a mock French accent. “I suspect you have something to tell me?”
“I do and it is positive. The Americans welcome the possibility and would like to hear more about the plans. Obviously they have no idea who is behind all this.”
Beria rubbed his hands vigorously,
“I knew it! I knew it! Did they ask for anything in particular? Any signals or things like that?”
“Well they asked about a specific time frame if that is possible. And they easily confir
m that the British will not be included at this stage…”
“Not at this stage, nor at any further stage, that is my requirement.”
Barnave knew that he shouldn’t attempt to elicit any details from someone like Beria.
“I don‘t think they have a problem with that.”
“Second request: I need a face to face meeting with an American of credible standing.”
Barnave felt this could be a major difficulty but said nothing.
“How high up?”
“Someone with serious credentials and status, a general officer or a top diplomat…a man that Eisenhower trusts.”
“Like Harriman for example…?”
“Yes, that would work for us. They must be involved, you understand? It is not possible for me to leave Russian soil at this time. The location can be anywhere in the USSR but clearly the best spot is near Riga.”
“So they could come by sea?”
“Yes, but it must happen within three weeks, I am due to travel in the area for an official visit to a local internal ministry headquarters that should last three days. It‘s perfect.”
“And the agenda, if any?”
“I shall explain more of our plans and ask for a serious dialog in the spirit of the March 1952 declaration on Germany.”
Barnave was startled by the reference to a Soviet proposal that had been ignored as a trap by the Truman administration to liberalize the status of Germany, withdraw occupation troops and hold free elections in both East and West. But he made no comment,
“Any limit to those attending...?”
“No, but not more than 7 or 8 …”
“I warn you that the visitor might be a spy…”
“Fine, Ah, Ah! And what do you suppose I am, anyway?” They both laughed heartily and clicked glasses. Beria was now in very high spirits,
“When this is over Barnave, I shall do my best to persuade you to move permanently to Moscow and work directly with me. I need good people like you with high credibility overseas.”
“Who knows, I have done stranger things before?”
“Right you are! No one can really tell what may happen next, it‘s all a big gamble.”
Beria drank and laughed hysterically.
When Beria’s secret request reached the White House Dwight David Eisenhower had been president for exactly 22 days. He was still in the process of assembling his cabinet and the leaders of Congress were barely getting acquainted with the Spartan military habits of a president who started his day at 6 a.m. His first move was to ask his closest advisers, the Dulles brothers, John Foster and Allen, to join him for a 7 a.m. breakfast. After the president explained the secret message transmitted by French Foreign Minister Georges Bidault both brothers were stunned by the possibility of such gigantic cracks appearing so suddenly in the USSR. Could it be the consequence of having a general occupying the presidency of the United States? The new secretary of state began musing about the underlying reasons and the psycho-historical background…but Ike quickly stopped him.
“Foster, we must look at this quite simply as a wild card and maybe as an opportunity. If it’s a trap we have to be sure and stay away. Let’s not get lost in conjecture. Stick to the raw facts.”
Allen saw his older brother get nudged by an impatient president and not liking it.
“Agreed, Mr. President. If we are to accept the challenge and the risk, who do we send over? A senior diplomat, an intelligence officer, a top business leader, a military man…? He must be credible and have status but then if it’s a trap and he gets caught somewhere in the wilds of the USSR ...well, you see what I mean, Mr. President?” said the elder Dulles seeking to sound wise and thorough.
John Foster was assuming a ‘cover my ass’ mode after going to the brink a practice that made him such a formidable and cautious lawyer, something Ike actually admired. The new president was a bureaucratic animal known for his innate prudence and as the most genuinely gifted survivor the U.S. Army had ever produced. His long and difficult prewar service under Douglas MacArthur, then the proconsul in the Philippines prompted this remark by his old boss: “The most talented clerk I ever had.” Ike also managed to successfully steer clear of his former chief during World War II and happily ended up as commander in chief in Europe. He understood Foster Dulles‘ point.
Ike turned to Allen,
“Who would you think should go on such a mission?”
“A few names come to mind but none of them is high level enough to reassure the fellow we are dealing with. I’d offer to go myself if you promise to name a state park after me once I am caught and tortured to death.”
“I don’t think you are a good candidate, Allen.” Said Ike “My preference would be to send a tough military negotiator, someone they know would have unfettered access to me. I‘m thinking of Ridgeway, Lemnitzer, Bedell Smith or Mark Clark…”
Allen Dulles looked at Ike and pointed at the ceiling with his pipe,
“I‘d vote for Mark Clark, he’s the bravest son of bitch I know!”
The president laughed but John Foster remained circumspect and silent, he was easily intimidated by Eisenhower in private and it would show in his body language and demeanor. Ike then said,
“I am impressed that Bidault got this thing going so fast and so expertly. What do you think of those French spies Allen?”
“Well, all I can say is they are getting this one right. About the rest, I remain unconvinced.”
“Ok, then I will get Mark to volunteer for this mission. I know he‘ll be just raring to go! We’ll get the logistics straight to make sure he goes directly on location from Tokyo.”
Foster Dulles then mentioned the possibility of delegating two more well respected personalities such as Averell Harriman and General Marshall…
But Ike was firm,
“No, first of all it looks too much like the previous administration…second, Mark Clark is perfect. He’s running the Korean armistice talks and has been tough as nails over there, the North Koreans and the Chinese are scared to death of a nuclear strike on Manchuria all over again! His credibility is perfect as far as I can tell.”
There followed a long discussion about what could be expected from a military coup or a palace revolt against Stalin. Allen cited some intelligence regarding the Slansky trial in Prague showing a marked anti-Jewish slant under the guise of anti-Zionism. He then made a startling parallel to the Rosenberg case and how the Soviets were mobilizing progressives and fellow travelers in street demonstrations throughout the world.
“I’m willing to bet that those demonstrators are all a Beria creation. But many well meaning people have also joined forces to put pressure on the new president of the United States.”
Ike nodded that he was well aware of the mounting international campaign that coincided with the expiration of all available appeals for the two spies on death row. It was his cross to bear since Harry Truman had managed to delay a decision long enough to be mercifully out of office. Now it was Ike‘s turn and he knew it would be a terrible moment not just for the convicted spies whose lives were at stake but for his image and his presidency in America and worldwide.
Finally he said with the assurance of a commander in chief who would accept no hesitation,
“Allen, you will be in charge of this Beria operation. This is clearly your territory and the man is an old time communist enforcer. Why is he suddenly attempting to become a statesman? We can‘t have any slip ups in these contacts or it could all blow up in our face. Let us also not be lured into a murky trap by Stalin himself. That old buzzard ain’t dead yet. Make sure the preparations are flawless and that as few people as possible are involved. From this point on both Foster and myself are off the distribution list.”
Allen Dulles nodded,
“Understood, we never had this meeting.”
Three days later shortly after 1 a.m. the Diesel engines on the USS Trout stopped and the boat floated uneasily on the choppy surface of the Baltic Sea less than
70 miles north of the entrance to the Gulf of Riga. Twenty minutes later under heavy freezing rain and cresting waves a triple blue flash followed by two more triple red flashes prompted the sub to send a similar reply from the conning tower. A high speed coastal patrol boat with Soviet markings approached the port side of the sub and Russian sailors waved as they threw two heavy ropes to the men on the submarine deck to stabilize the vessel. A gangplank was secured across the deck as both boats bobbed up and down in the long waves. Seven men in black rubber boots and green slicks made their way one by one aboard the patrol boat. Then three men from the Soviet vessel crossed in the opposite direction and descended into the American submarine.
The exchange took fifteen minutes, the gangplank was withdrawn and the lines were immediately unfastened. The speedboat veered south toward the Latvian coastline some ninety minutes away and navigated aggressively alternately skimming and then hitting the angry waves until they were in sight of the sandy beaches just off Vindpils (Windau) on the western approaches to the Gulf of Riga. It was a heavily patrolled military area for the Soviet navy and the entire gulf was protected as a top secret naval base. Regular patrol boats knew not to interfere with a power boat bearing MGB security markings. Finally after a slow approach to avoid the innumerable sand bars the boat reached an isolated pier where the visitors disembarked and climbed into three waiting Chaikas.
After a fifteen minute ride they reached the first houses of the quaint little fishing town of ten thousand; the cars stopped inside the driveway of a house surrounded by a high wall near a few medieval buildings reminiscent of the glorious days of the Hanseatic League. Now however they were all behind barbed wire, patrolled by armed guards and attack dogs. The visitors were shown to the toilet facilities and told they had 15 minutes to freshen up before the meeting was scheduled to start.
For General Mark Clark the high jinks reminded him of his time in Algeria just before operation Torch in November 1942 when he had played a major role as impromptu negotiator with Vichy‘s Admiral Darlan. By contrast this time the area was completely denied and decidedly hostile not just to an American group but to any unauthorized visitor. The Soviets had an elaborate and effective system in place to detect any intrusion into their territory by outsiders. Thousands of spotters and guards studded the borders and the coastline. Soviet security put anything the West had installed to shame.
