CIA Spymaster_George Kisevalter

by Clarence Ashley III

  Finally, on 18 September, again in the Aragvi Restaurant, Popov appeared in a neatly tailored uniform of the Transportation Corps and bearing the rank of a full colonel. He was able to pass to Langelle what appeared to be a genuine message, in addition to one that obviously was KGB authored. The authentic message was written in pencil on eight small pieces of paper and rolled into a cylinder about the size of a cigarette. (In the future this message would be referred to as "the cylinder message.") In addition, it was wrapped in cloth, was tied with a string, and carried a pleasant fragrance, like shaving lotion. In this letter, he reported that he had been arrested the previous February and that all of the meetings since had been under KGB control while he was wearing a microphone. The letter revealed the extent to which the KGB did and did not know of Popov's actual cooperation with the CIA. It revealed some technical errors that the KGB had made in its analysis of his situation. It described the KGB plans for future meetings between him and CIA people. It indicated that there was a high likelihood that his interrogators thought he might be the source of the leak of Marshal Zhukov's speech.

  The validity of the 18 September "cylinder message" was discussed at length in the chambers of the CIA's Clandestine Services Directorate. At first, it was considered impossible that Popov had smuggled such an item from, for instance, Lubyanka Prison. Moreover, the message itself had suspicious elements. It had been written throughout with a sharp pencil. Would Popov, while incarcerated, have access to numerous sharp pencils or a pencil sharpener? How could he have written such a complete message without having been observed at some time in the process? Yet there were aspects to the letter that indicated Popov and only Popov was its author. Perhaps his incarceration was more benign than it otherwise could have been. Perhaps he was still successfully playing games with his masters. Ultimately, the conclusion was that the letter was genuine. It was much too reflective of Popov's personality to have been a ruse.

  George's description of the 18 September Aragvi Restaurant meeting follows. "Well, this long story has a sad and illuminating ending. Not only does it illustrate Popov's ability to execute a most incredible act in the art of clandestine tradecraft, but it also demonstrates the sad, simple naivete of the man, in that he had so much faith in the propensity of people to do the right thing. Eventually, after they thought they accurately understood his relationship with us, the KGB tried to set him up as part of a gimmicked, double agent, controlled operation. They planned a meeting between him and Langelle in which they endeavored to have him pass more lousy information. However, during the time that he was in jail, he had meticulously, over months, constructed his own message. First, he cut his finger until it bled profusely and had a bandage put around it. Then, he removed the bandage, placed the message against his finger, and reinstalled the bandage. In the middle of the controlled operation, in the men's room of the Aragvi Restaurant in downtown Moscow, completely covered by the KGB watching, our man Langelle and Popov shook hands. Popov then slipped the bandage from his finger and gave the note to Russell. This was undetected by the surveilling KGB."

  Although the successful pass of the cylinder message might have given hope that some productive use of Popov might still be possible, a month later on 16 October, a brush meeting between Popov and Langelle on Moscow bus 107 was abruptly and prematurely terminated. Langelle was detained and then sent home persona non grata. Popov was seized and scheduled to be put on trial before a military collegium on the 6 January 1960.1

  George continued, "When I finally received [the cylinder message] and deciphered it, word by word, it caused me to cry. This guy was a rare jewel, a genuine prince. The note gave us some meaningful intelligence as well as the admonition that the American Embassy in Moscow was completely surveilled. In part, the note sought to confirm to us the fact that he was under the control of the KGB and had been since February. Finally, in the note he pleaded, `Could you not ask your kind President Eisenhower to see if he might cause restitution to be made for my family and my life?'

  "I literally bawled. I remembered the time when his brother, Alexander, had thrown the guy through the oak door and had gotten everyone into the jug, when they had written the collective letter to Kalinin, who took notice and gave them a reprieve. Now, on these slips of paper, in this little note, written in detail, he was once again pleading for help from above. Popov was drawing from that pivotal event of his life. He was grasping at straws. It was so poignant. He hoped that mercy could once again be dispensed. He gambled. He knew that he was in very deep trouble when he passed the note in the restaurant. He had hope, however, and he tried in the best way that he knew for an escape from the inevitable. He had incredible courage and tremendous faith in the belief that things could somehow be made all right. He was a true Russian patriot. Everything that he did, he did for the Russian peasant, not for himself. Of course, nothing could be done.

  "There was nothing that any one of us could do. There was no way for the politicians, or any of us, to intervene. He was tried before a military collegium of the Soviet Supreme Court in January of 1960, and then they executed him. It was by firing squad, I believe in June of 1960. They confirmed this to us finally, in 1996. They told us all about it. They couldn't have tortured him for too long; he didn't have that much time. They now tell us something of these things but they may be too embarrassed to tell us the whole truth, even today. There is the rumor that he was cremated alive while a number of junior GRU officers witnessed the spectacle, a lesson to them as to what might be their fate were they to embark upon the path that Popov took. I do not believe that it is true.

  "We owe him a fortune in back pay. I have made an inquiry every year from 1985 to 1997, ever since Gorbachev created glasnost and the new government took over. I have tried to get some of his money to whoever is left in his family. I ran into a stone wall. The hierarchy there, the military, would not permit it. They said, `What would you say if we wanted to pay Aldrich Ames or some other CIA traitor money for his child or something?' So, then, even with our standard, American hypocrisy, we would have to let it go at that. I tried five times in five different years through five different people, all or any one of whom had influence in Moscow. What can I do? I know who the family members are, but the Russians will not say anything more. They are not going to satisfy American curiosity; they don't give a damn. So, that is it."

  "Is that it for today?" I ask.

  "Yes, that is it."

  PART III

  Penkovsky

  CHAPTER 10

  The Letter

  At the beginning of 1961 the United States had a new president, John F. Kennedy, who was inexperienced in matters of high command and state diplomacy. When he took office, the nation had a significant advantage in missilery over its Soviet competitor but a disadvantage in intelligence. Both conditions would change on his watch. The missile advantage would dwindle to the point of a stalemate, and the intelligence gap would close, at least temporarily, with the appearance of one man, a Soviet colonel in the GRU. This individual provided the United States with information so voluminous and valuable that the relationship between the two nations would dramatically change. The operation developed by the CIA and its British partner, the SIS (Secret Intelligence Service), to capitalize on the opportunity has rightly been termed the most successful in the history of espionage. Although the Kennedy administration did not take full advantage of all the intelligence provided by the colonel, it (lid use enough of it to stave off a nuclear confrontation, and Oleg Vladimirovich Penkovsky, the Soviet colonel, would be acclaimed as "the spy who saved the world." George's part in the operation was that of principal case officer and interpreter. He jump-started the operation through personal interviews with the colonel when lengthy personal contacts were possible. As with Popov, George's ability to relate to the prospective agent was the key to the mint, although Penkovsky and Popov were cut from different cloths and came with different sets of motives for aiding the United States.

  George's story bega
n soon after he, Ferdi, and their baby, Eva, horn in September of 1959 in Berlin, came home to McLean, Virginia, from Berlin in 1960. George had just rejoined his old Soviet operations section, when an intriguing event occurred. One day in August, the Agency received a cable from the U.S. Embassy in Moscow stating that a letter concerning a mysterious activity was to be forwarded. The letter had been dropped off at the embassy in the following manner. A Russian man in Moscow had contacted two American students who were part of a student group touring the USSR. He first made note of the young men at a railroad station in Kiev, where he noticed these two on the platform speaking reasonably fluent Russian to each other and to their neighbors. He realized that they were Americans, by their dress as well as their demeanor. He wished to approach them, but he didn't for fear that the Intourist guides, or others accompanying them, might be KGB. The next day he saw the same group in Sokolniki Park in the middle of Moscow, where American goods-tractors, women's clothes, etc.-were being displayed. Soviets were attending the exposition in large numbers, and the two students were curious about how the Soviets might react to the American goods.

  The man again focused on the two students, but he didn't approach them because of obvious surveillance by security people in the area. As they left the park to go to their hotel, he followed them at a respectable distance. Later that evening, as they were strolling down the street, he suddenly approached them and offered a letter. He begged them to take it to the American Embassy, knowing that as Americans they could pass by Soviet police and be admitted in the front door by the marine guards. He needed to gain their confidence, so he gave them some information that he knew would interest them and be of value to the people who, he assumed, would hear from them. He talked of the recent Gary Powers U-2 affair and said that he knew its details through contacts that he had. He volunteered that fourteen rockets were fired at the U-2 and that there were no direct hits. Moreover, one of the rockets destroyed one of their own MIG 19s in the area, killing its pilot as he was attempting to shoot down the U-2. At this time, the United States had limited information on the U-2 incident, and Powers was due to go on trial within days. The mysterious Russian also talked of an event involving an RB-47, another U.S. aircraft that had been shot down on an intelligence mission. Publicly, the Soviets had always contended that the RB-47 had been intercepted while gathering data as it flew directly over the USSR. American intelligence personnel, however, were certain that the plane had been destroyed in international waters. He agreed that it had been. He was very pleasant, yet insistent.

  Eventually, one of the two young men gained enough curiosity and courage to cooperate with the man. He accepted a large, thick envelope from the man and assured him that it would be taken to the American Embassy. Abruptly, the man stopped the conversation, saying, "I see a militiaman walking down the street, and he may be curious as to why I, obviously a Russian by dress and so forth, am speaking to two foreigners. So you better go now before someone is too curious. It is not a good thing. As for the letter, just hand it to the marines; that is all you have to do."

  The embassy was not far, so that evening, the lad stepped up to the door and knocked. The marine guard appeared and let him in to see the security officer, who was working late that day. The intrepid student handed the letter to the security officer and told him how it had been acquired. The officer cautioned the young man to stay out of harm's way: "You shouldn't be picking up things like that; that is how you get serious problems. Who are you? What is your name?" The student showed his identification. The officer wrote down his name as well as his passport number and, after making positive identification as well as giving him another admonition about staying out of trouble, told him to take care of himself. He then accepted the letter and dismissed the student. The security officer promptly reported the incident to his superiors and gave them the letter. When the letter finally was delivered to the CIA and its contents were viewed, personnel in George's Soviet activities branch made the necessary inquiries and had case officers interview each student. The case officers asked each student about the circumstances of the letter's receipt. Nothing about either student appeared insidious or disturbing, and neither of them knew more about the man who had delivered the letter. Moreover, neither knew its contents.

  When George first viewed the letter he considered it an astonishing document. In neatly typed Russian, the anonymous writer spoke derisively of the Soviet government and stated emphatically that he was very much opposed to the actions of that body. He praised the performance of Van Cliburn, the American pianist who had won the Tchaikovsky competition prize. He claimed to know American Embassy personnel in Istanbul, where apparently he had been stationed as a Soviet military attache. Then he stated, "I offer my services to you and I have some most significant facts to share." Enclosed were two very important items. The first established the writer's bona fides. He knew that the U.S. Embassy personnel often received letters and notes of all kinds in Moscow and that most of them were either pranks or provocations. He wrote, "I know that you have no sound basis for completely trusting everything that I have said to you, so I must prove myself. In order to do so, I am enclosing a list of incoming Military Diplomatic Academy students and their future assignments." The list was for the next class, the one that would graduate three years hence, in 1963. It contained the incoming students' full names, their ranks, a little about their previous education, the language they would be studying at the MDA, and the countries to which they later would be assigned. Most were military attaches but a number of individuals were identified with asterisks as potential illegals. Since illegals are spies who might enter their target country surreptitiously with false identities, and who possibly never are identified by the local security personnel, this was startling. Prominent among the countries designated were the United States, Canada, and Great Britain. The letter went on, "Many of these facts I am giving to you can be checked by you, because a number of these people have already been abroad before and were previously exposed to you. In addition, I want instructions from you as to how I might safely deliver to you some top secret nuclear information. I don't know how to do this securely. I need your guidance and help."

  There was no signature on the letter, but its author left a clue by saying, "I send greetings to my first good American friend who I knew in Turkey, Col. Charles MacLean Peeke." He also extended his best wishes to many others who had been in the U.S. Military Attache Office of the U.S. Embassy in Turkey from 1955 to 1957. He had written their names in English, using ink because he did not know how to translate their names accurately in Russian on his typewriter.

  The second important enclosure in the envelope was a group photo. Among those pictured were some of the attaches, including Colonel Peeke, who was, at the time of the photo, the chief American military attache in Istanbul. A Soviet military officer's face had been neatly excised (perhaps with a razor blade) from the rest of the picture. Only the top of the man's head remained. Near the scalp of the missing face, the writer added the caption, "I am." This was as far as he would go in identifying himself, fearing that the package might fall into the wrong hands. Within a matter of minutes, however, George's group had identified the author simply by reviewing various snapshots and portraits in the State Department's Military Attache Office until they found a duplicate copy of the whole photograph. The sender was Col. Oleg Vladimirovich Penkovsky, a senior GRU officer in Turkey at one time, who had been replaced after some internal Soviet rumpus. That is all that the CIA knew of him.

  Some at the CIA were not convinced that Penkovsky was genuine and thought that he might actually be attempting to penetrate the CIA. The Agency analysts simply did not know much about him. He did not say a lot in his three-page letter and, assuredly, the Agency wanted to avoid any big chance of a provocation. George, however, was convinced of the man's bona fides. He said, "After all, how could anyone present the identities of sixty individuals posted worldwideall high ranking, all future placements, all strategic
intelligence officers-without going too far? The man could not give away the countryside-dog and all just to prove that he was being cooperative. One does not give away what Penkovsky did as a ploy." Nevertheless, George and his group had to be certain, so they analyzed all that they could about the sixty men from every source they had. They reviewed every historical record of every individual, particularly looking for evidence that some might be intelligence officers, legals or illegals. Some at the CIA worked sixteen hours a day analyzing every scrap of information on each individual. Many of the Soviets could not be identified because they had never left the confines of the USSR, but a goodly number of intelligence officers were recognized. These were previously known to the CIA and had been stationed abroad, serving as attaches. Something else helped confirm this man's validity. Penkovsky had, with asterisks, further identified some of the people as illegals, and CIA analysts knew one such person working in East Germany, by name and by function. He had been quite effective in countering Agency operations from West Berlin into East Berlin. Moreover, independent CIA investigations had previously discovered a number of illegals working in Turkey who were on the list. The Soviets could not reasonably be expected to give away these illegals as a ploy.