4. FROM OUR VIEWPOINT INSERTION OF KHATAR AS TITULAR HEAD ALF MAKES GREAT OPERATIONAL SENSE: WE KNOW KHATAR DOES NOT SYMPATHIZE WITH ALF OR ANY REBEL GROUP AND WE HAVE EXCELLENT ACCESS TO HIM THROUGH HIS FATHER AND THROUGH CHRISTOPHER.
5. KHATARS FATHER WOULD PROBABLY AGREE SO LONG AS HIS SON’S SAFETY COULD BE GUARANTEED. WE ARE IN POSITION TO MAKE THIS GUARANTEE BECAUSE OF OUR CONTROL OF FIRECRACKER WHO INCREASINGLY EMERGES AS STRONGEST FIGURE IN ALF LEADERSHIP AND COULD THEREFORE EFFECTIVELY PROTECT YOUNG KHATAR FROM BODILY HARM.
6. SUDANESE SECURITY SERVICE WOULD HAVE TO BE INFORMED IN ADVANCE OF KHATARS ROLE AS AGENT PROVOCATEUR TO PROTECT HIM FROM SUSPICIONS AND REPRISALS FROM HIS FAMILY’S ENEMIES IN SUDANESE ESTABLISHMENT. AFTER DESTRUCTION OF ALF YOUNG KHATAR COULD BE REVEALED IN PRESS AS HERO SHARING CREDIT WITH SUDANESE POLICE. THIS FORMULA SHOULD RECOMMEND ITSELF EQUALLY TO KHATAR FAMILY WHICH NEEDS CREDIT WITH GOVERNMENT AND TO GOVERNMENT WHICH NEEDS CREDIT WITH NUMEROUS AND INFLUENTIAL BAKHENT SECT.
7. ALF ALREADY AWARE IMPENDING VISIT YOUNG KHATAR THROUGH REPORTING OF ALF FOLLOWER IN GENEVA CONSULATE. FIRECRACKER STATES HIS COLLEAGUES REGARD YOUNG KHATAR AS LIKELY FIGUREHEAD AS THEY BELIEVE HE HAS QUARRELED WITH HIS FATHER AND NEEDS MONEY.
8. SCENARIO WE ENVISAGE WOULD INVOLVE RECRUITMENT OF KHATAR AS ALF FIGUREHEAD BY FIRECRACKER. NEITHER OF COURSE WOULD BE MADE AWARE OF THE OTHER’S CONNECTION TO US. IF GENEVA AGREES WE WOULD USE CHRISTOPHER WHO HAS ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP WITH YOUNG KHATAR AS CUTOUT BETWEEN LATTER AND THIS STATION FOR DURATION OF OPERATION.
9. WE FEEL SOME URGENCY ON BASIS FIRECRACKER’S REPORT THAT ALF IS UNDER INSTRUCTIONS TO INSTALL FIGUREHEAD LEADER BY MID-JULY. TERROR CAMPAIGN WOULD BEGIN IMMEDIATELY THEREAFTER. STEPS TO PREVENT THIS CAMPAIGN MUST BE TAKEN SOONEST IF THEY ARE TO BE TAKEN AT ALL.
10. WE ATTACH IMPORTANCE TO INSTALLATION OF FIGUREHEAD WE CAN CONTROL. VALUE OF SUCH INSURANCE SHOULD FIRECRACKER BECOME NONOPERATIONAL THROUGH ACCIDENT OR EXPOSURE IS OBVIOUS.
29. REPORT BY CHRISTOPHER’S CASE OFFICER IN GENEVA.
1. Christopher, in a verbal report delivered to the undersigned on 9 June, states that Miernik has abandoned his pretense of reluctance with respect to the trip to Khartoum. He is now ready to accompany Khatar and Christopher. The date of departure is 12 June.
2. Per instructions, I sounded Christopher out on possibility of recruiting Khatar as short-term asset for a specific operation. No details of this operation were communicated to Christopher. Christopher says as follows: “You are out of your minds.” He does not believe that Khatar would place himself in the position of working under the discipline of a foreign intelligence service. He does not believe that Khatar has any political motivation whatsoever, apart from a desire to maintain the position of his family in Sudan. Money would be no temptation to Khatar, who has an apparently inexhaustible supply of cash from the Bakhent faithful wherever he goes. (Christopher has heard him call up a follower, demand five thousand Swiss francs, and have the money delivered in an hour’s time.) Christopher objects, finally, to revealing himself as a U.S. agent to Khatar. If instructed to do so, he would naturally comply, but with serious misgivings.
3. Based on Christopher’s reaction, though not on any articulated suspicion, I assume he realizes that our interest in Khatar is connected to the Miernik operation. He has not been told full details of our suspicions vis-à-vis Miernik, nor has he been fully briefed concerning the Anointed Liberation Front. If the operation proceeds as Khartoum envisages, Christopher should be put into the picture to the extent Khartoum deems necessary after his arrival in Sudan.
COMMENT: This officer agrees with Christopher’s reservations concerning the recruitment of Khatar by the method proposed by Khartoum. All our knowledge of Khatar confirms Christopher’s judgment of him. Absent imperative operational considerations, this officer sees no net gain in causing Christopher to reveal himself to Khatar as this would certainly diminish his value to the Geneva station as a long-term and extremely effective asset.
30. NOTE FOR THE FIELD ON PRINCE KALASH’S CADILLAC.
In addition to standard equipment, the Cadillac automobile delivered on 10 June to Prince Kalash el Khatar for subsequent delivery to his father has the following devices:
1. Two voice-activated microphones, placed 3 inches on either side of dome light beneath ceiling fabric. Microphones feed into two minimum-speed tape recorders concealed beneath the floor of the trunk. Each recorder is capable of storing 70 hours of conversation, and they operate in sequence, i.e., one recorder activates as soon as the other has expended all its tape. Microphones can be activated and deactivated by electronic signaling device so that only vital portions of conversation can be recorded when an agent using this device is present. This device is disguised as a Zippo cigarette lighter.
2. A concealed compartment between the rear seat and the trunk. This compartment was provided at the prince s request. It is of sufficient size to accommodate an adult of normal size. Access is through the passenger compartment, with back of rear seat removed. This portion of seat will unlatch when electric window cranks on right rear and left front windows are held firmly in “closed” position with ignition off. It re-latches when same window cranks are held in “open” position with ignition off.
3. Water tanks with a total capacity of 75 gallons have been built into the trunk and engine compartment. A false tank, with visible spout and cap, has been installed in the rear wall of the concealed compartment described in (2) above. This was done to provide an explanation for the obvious false wall of the trunk.
31. LETTER FROM KIRNOV TO MIERNIK (TRANSLATION FROM POLISH).
Vienna, 10 June
My dear Tadeusz,
I can now tell you that the reunion we planned will take place on the sixteenth. As you know, I had doubts that my business would go quickly enough for me to keep to the schedule we discussed, but I now believe that the timing will be convenient.
There was some difficulty in locating the young lady we spoke about, but once I got hold of her she was delighted at the prospect of a holiday. She is well, and she reminds me greatly of her dear mother. She sends you her affection.
We will not meet again before our reunion. I will be traveling a great deal between now and then, so a letter will not find me. If for some reason you cannot keep our appointment, you can reach me by telephone here at 2315 hours on any day through 13 June.
I look forward to this meeting, for reasons you know so very well.
Ever your affectionate friend,
Sasha.
32. REPORT BY COLLINS.
On the eve of departure for the Sudan, Prince Kalash el Khatar continues to press me on the matter of the Sten guns. I think I have persuaded him that it would not be a good idea to transport such weapons across European frontiers where his royal birth is unlikely to influence customs inspectors. He is more or less reconciled to doing without machine guns until we reach Cairo. May I once again emphasize the importance of your making the necessary arrangements for delivery of the weapons in Egypt. Prince Kalash will no doubt wish to accompany me on the purchasing mission in order to inspect the guns, so it will be necessary to arrange what will appear to him as a bona fide purchase, preferably from a non-European. (Prince Kalash wishes to have also 100 rounds of 9 mm. ammunition for his automatic pistol; he proposes to carry this pistol with him from the start of the journey.)
2. The itinerary has been changed somewhat at Miernik’s request. Miernik is insistent that we travel to Naples, where we take ship on 23rd June, by way of Vienna. He explains that he has never seen this city and wishes to do so before he leaves Europe. Since Prince Kalash has arranged for Miernik to be given some sort of Sudanese travel document, Miernik has taken to making heavy jokes about his future as a slave in the Khatar household. The fact that a side trip to Vienna is several hundred kilometres out of the way troubles neither Prince Kalash nor Miernik. I shall make telephone contact with our Vienna representative on arrival in that city, probably on 14th June.
3. It is
my belief, in which Christopher seems to share, that Miernik has some reason other than tourism for the detour. I shall try to discover what this may be, though of course constant surveillance of Miernik by myself once we are in Vienna is impractical.
33. REPORT BY CHRISTOPHER.
12 June. Until exactly 11:32 this evening, this wasn’t a bad trip. The Cadillac is comfortable. We rolled across Switzerland with the radio playing Mozart, attracting looks of desperate hope from girls on bikes (and glowers from their peasant lovers). In order to make time—Miernik seems to be in a hurry to get to Vienna—we ate sandwiches in the car, and kept on until we crossed the Austrian frontier. Collins knew a hotel in St. Anton in the Arlberg, and we arrived at about five in the afternoon. We made remarkable time—Kalash at the wheel all the way, his hand on the horn, slowing down to eighty miles per hour when threading his way among oxcarts on village streets but otherwise keeping to a steady 100 mph. “Tomorrow you drive,” Kalash said to me as we pulled into the hotel, “this car is a bit sluggish going up the mountainsides.”
We washed, had a beer on the terrace overlooking the Tirol, and ate an enormous meal. Kalash, who changed from European clothes to his splendid robes for dinner, stood the waiters and the other guests on their ears; he is, as you know, six feet eight inches tall and he has the head and the manner of an emperor. The headwaiter, who is old enough to have voted enthusiastically for the Anschluss, had never dreamed that there could be a black who would treat him as Kalash did: “There must be no pig fat and no alcohol in anything I eat unless you want your dishes on the floor.” To H.R.H., a lackey is a lackey.
After dinner, Kalash evicted an elderly Austrian from the best chair in the lobby by a simple device. He stood three feet away, absolutely erect in his desert clothes and his turban, and fixed the man, who was bald and rather fat, with a steady stare. Kalash possesses what I think could be called obsidian eyes—almost black and as opaque as volcanic stone. When his victim scurried away, the prince sat down and went immediately to sleep.
Collins went upstairs (I suppose to write his report; I am writing this at two in the morning while my roommate Kalash slumbers on, his thin legs protruding over the end of the bed). Miernik and I played a game of chess. Normally he beats me with little trouble. I defeated him in thee straight games, and when I had taken his queen for the fourth time, I suggested that we call it a night. Miernik nodded and crossed the room to the sleeping Kalash. He spoke his name, and Kalash opened his eyes, crossing over from deep sleep to complete wakefulness in the space of a second. “Why don’t you go to bed, Kalash?” Miernik asked. Kalash nodded and went upstairs.
Miernik looked around the room carefully. We were alone except for the hotel clerk, who was typing behind his counter at the other end of the lobby, and a couple of old women playing cards in a distant corner. Miernik sat down again and in his methodical way began to put the chess pieces back into their box. Then he folded his hands on the table between us and gazed at me in a way I have come to realize means nothing but trouble. The Black Forest clock over the reception desk had just cuckooed 11:30. Miernik cleared his throat. He blew his nose and wiped his eyes.
“There is something I want to discuss with you, Paul.”
11:31. “As you know,” he said, “I have a sister still in Poland. She is a student of art history, not a very profitable subject in a people’s democracy where everyone’s taste conforms to Comrade Khrushchev’s, but that is what she is studying. She’s six years younger than I am, so she is now twenty-three. I’ll show you her picture.”
He took a photograph from his wallet. It showed an astonishingly pretty blond girl, smiling into the lens with perfect white teeth. He grinned at my reaction. “That is Zofia Miernik,” he said. “She looks like our mother. I favor our father, which shows that God is merciful.”
“She certainly is very good-looking.”
“Yes. And very sweet and kind. I want you to prepare yourself, Paul, to grant me a great favor. I want you to help Zofia as you have helped me.”
11:32. I stared at him and he continued to give me his grimace of friendship, which manages to combine a tremulous fear of rejection with an almost canine look of trust.
“I have made certain arrangements. When we get to Vienna, I want you to continue onward by train or bus for a few miles to the east—across the Czech frontier, in fact.”
“Across the Czech frontier,” I said in a flat tone of voice. “I see.”
“You will see, Paul. Hear me out. In Bratislava, only a few minutes inside the border, you will find Zofia having a cup of tea at a certain coffeehouse. You will sit down where she can see you and order a beer, speaking German. The Czechs have the best beer in the world. On the table you will place a copy of this book.”
From the pocket of his jacket he produced a paperback copy of Schiller’s poetry. “If all is well, Zofia will take a book out of her purse and begin to read it. If you believe that all is well, that you have not been followed, you will read your book. When you have finished your beer, leave the coffeehouse, turn right, and walk to the fourth corner. Turn left into a small street—I’ll give you the name—and there you will see a man in a black Citroën. Get in and show him this book of Schiller. He will drive for a few minutes, and then Zofia will join you.”
I was overcome by a desire to laugh, and also by irritation. “Everything is eminently clear so far, Tadeusz,” I said. “What do I do after we’re all together in the black Citroën?”
“The man will drive you into the country. He knows a place where it is relatively easy to cross the frontier. Of course you will have to wait for dark, and exercise some care. But I am assured you can just walk across through a woods. On the other side, back in Austria, you will find me waiting. We will rejoin Nigel and Kalash at the hotel, have our celebration, and in the morning continue on our way.” Miernik leaned back in his chair and gave me a look of anticipation.
“I’m interested in one of the things you’ve said,” I told him. “What sort of a celebration do you plan, exactly?”
“Something splendid, I think. Dinner, champagne.”
“And a bottle of mineral water for Kalash?”
Miernik got out his handkerchief again. I watched him go though his wiping ceremony, and when he had his glasses back on his nose I said, “Good night.” He gripped my forearm.
“You don’t want to do this,” he said. It was not a question.
“Miernik, you’re crazy. You want me to cross the frontier without a visa on an American passport into the most efficient police state in Central Europe. Then you want me to stroll into a coffeehouse where every waiter is no doubt in the pay of the secret police, flash a book of German poetry at a girl I’ve never seen in my life, and then escort her across a frontier that’s patrolled by soldiers and dogs, strung with trip wires, seeded with mines, and guarded by watchtowers that have searchlights and machine guns on them— all for a glass of champagne and a wiener schnitzel? I think you’re trying to get me locked up in a Czech jail for the rest of my life. I give you the short answer to your small request for assistance. No.”
“No—listen,” Miernik said. “If I thought for one moment that there was any real danger I would never ask you. But I have made arrangements. First, you will have a visa. That has been arranged. Second, no one in the coffeehouse is going to suspect a thing. You look like a German or an Austrian, which means you look like a Czech. You wear European clothes. You speak German with absolutely no accent; in five minutes of listening you will have the accent of the place perfectly.”
“The German accent of the place? There are no fucking Germans in Czechoslovakia—the regime threw them all out after the war.”
“Many people there still speak German. Anyway, you’re not supposed to be a Czech. Everyone will think you’re an Austrian or a German, a tourist or a businessman.”
“For Christ’s sake, Miernik. There are no tourists or businessmen in Bratislava. Czechoslovakia is Khrushchev’s country estate.”
“No, it will be all right. You will only be in public for an hour, at the very most.”
“I agree with that. I’m not likely to be in public again for the rest of my life.”
“Believe me, Paul, that will not happen. You will not have any trouble. Not with the visa, not with the coffeehouse, not with the frontier. The soldiers will not bother you, they will not turn on their searchlights, there are no mines the way you are going. I tell you arrangements have been made. What I am asking for, really, is an act of friendship that will take no more than a few hours.”
“I say it again. No.”
Miernik, in the course of this conversation, underwent a change. He stopped cringing. Now he looked at me with a perfectly steady gaze. “If I could do it myself, I would do it,” he said. “But I would spend the rest of my life in prison, and so would Zofia. I ask you because there is no one else I can ask. I trust you, my friend. You must trust me.
He handed me the book of Schiller. When I refused to take it he closed his hand over mine on the table and gave me a confident smile. “I warn you,” he said, “I will not give up. Tomorrow we’ll talk again. I know you will do this thing in the end. And we both know why.”
Miernik opened the book to a page with the corner turned down and put his finger on a line underscored in green ink. “Alle Menschen werden Brüder,”* it read. He patted my arm, cleared his throat as if to say something more, but decided not to speak. With one final squeeze of my biceps, he went upstairs. I heard him pause on the second landing to blow his nose.
13 June. Rosy-fingered dawn had hardly tapped on my window this morning when Kalash awakened me. He was dressed in walking shorts and a heavy ski sweater. When you travel it’s important to go to bed early,” Kalash said. “Otherwise you are tired in the morning and your reflexes are sluggish. I am trying to get some breakfast but I can’t get that cretin downstairs to understand me. You must come down and speak German to him.”
The Miernik Dossier Page 7
