‘The United States? Why, no.’
‘Do you have relatives there, a sister, perhaps?’
‘No, no one.’ She offered him an attractive smile. ‘I’m afraid my family is very provincial Ukrainian. My parents live in Brovari, a small village fourteen miles from Kiev. They have never been to Moscow, let alone to America. Except for my grandmother, I am the only one in our family to have travelled a little. Inside the Soviet Union. I received my training in Moscow.’
‘Interesting,’ Petrov said. ‘Do you speak English?’
Their conversation had been in Russian. Now she replied in faultless English. ‘Oh, yes, General, I speak and read English and French. In fact, I speak English with an American accent. I studied and spoke English for four years at the Shchepkin Theatrical School in Moscow. I had more than 1000 hours of it. My instructors always said I was a quick student and a natural mimic. My best instructor was raised in America. Can you understand me?’
Petrov nodded. ‘Yes, very well.’ He spoke a clumsy, laboured English. But he understood it effortlessly. Her accent was perfect. He could not define why he was pleased.
Two hours later, during his flight back to Moscow, the persons of Vera Vavilova and Billie Bradford came together as one in his mind, and as he snapped on his seat belt for landing his wild scheme was born.
By the time he had been deposited at KGB headquarters late that night, gone up to his office suite, undressed in his private bedroom adjoining his office, Petrov realized that all his speculations were fruitless unless something else happened two months from now, early in November. The United States election would be held then. If Senator Andrew Bradford failed to be elected, there was nothing further to be pursued. But if he should be elected, if he should become the President of the United States, then his wife would be the First Lady of America. And the Soviet actress, Vera Vavilova, would become a prize find. Petrov was eager to pursue his scheme. But he restrained himself. First things first.
Overnight, Petrov became an avid follower of the United States presidential election.
Because he was so busy, Petrov summoned Alex Razin, a KGB deputy in the First Chief Directorate, to help him. Razin had his offices on the floor above, the fourth floor, where he was one of those in charge of the First Department, the American Department, a section created six years ago in a reorganization of the KGB. Born and partially educated in the United States, trained in the Soviet Union, Razin was an expert on American history, social mores, politics, sports, current events. An attractive man, thirty-six years old, he had served the KGB loyally and energetically for over a dozen years. Petrov brought him down from the fourth floor and delegated to him the task of keeping his superior abreast on developments in the United States presidential campaign. Razin was delighted with the assignment. As part of his normal work load, he monitored all information on the election campaign and the behaviour of the rival candidates in order to build a KGB profile on the winner and next President. The new assignment gave an additional dimension to Razin’s interest. Although Petrov trusted his deputy, he did not confide in him (or in anyone) the reason for his special interest in the outcome of the United States election. He merely ordered his deputy to place a one-page summary on his desk daily.
Once, in an early stage, when the Democrat Bradford and his Republican opponent were running neck-and-neck in the polls, Petrov discussed the tightness of the race with Razin. Petrov said, somewhat enigmatically, that the sentiment in the Politburo wanted Bradford to win. He wondered, aloud, what the Soviet Union could do to ensure a Bradford victory. He considered having the KGB intervene in the campaign -surreptitiously, of course - to spread scandalous rumours about Bradford’s opponent, thus boosting Bradford’s chances. Razin advised strongly against it. Far too risky. If such rumours could ever be traced back to the Soviet Union, it would have the reverse effect of labelling Bradford as soft on Communism and guaranteeing his loss in a close election. Because Petrov respected Razin’s knowledge of the American mentality, he dropped the idea and never spoke of it again.
On election eve, a last poll announced that Bradford was in the lead. Petrov breathed easier. Still, throughout election day, Petrov was on tenterhooks. On the American election night, with Razin beside him, he spent four hours viewing the results by television satellite. He watched until the Republican candidate conceded defeat and congratulated his Democratic rival. Petrov could not hide his satisfaction. Andrew Bradford would move into the White House in January. His wife, Billie Bradford, would be at his side, mate and confidante and First Lady of the United States. In Russia, by a freak of nature, there existed a woman who was almost her double.
For the first time, Petrov permitted himself to transform fully what had been a wild scheme into what could be an espionage reality.
To what end, the scheme and the reality of it, he asked himself. He was not surprised to find that he had a ready
answer. If, at an appropriate moment, and for a brief time, he could substitute for the United States First Lady her trained Ukrainian double, the Soviet Union would have the perfect conduit to the American President’s secrets. If, during a global crisis and confrontation between the United States and the USSR and at least three potential ones were brewing - this substitution could be made, and made to work, the Soviet Union would gain a political victory and international dominance.
The end objective, then, was clear. The difficulty was the beginning. There were, Petrov saw, three steps. He translated the steps into three questions: Could the deception be properly prepared? Could it successfully deceive? Could it win official sanction?
Petrov decided that there was only one way to gain his objective. Start with step one. Make basic preparations for the project. This meant the total cooperation of the actress in Kiev.
Petrov sent for Vera Vavilova.
It was a command, and she came at once. He had Alex Razin, his American expert, with him when she entered his office. Once again, he was surprised - and pleased - at her resemblance to the one who would be the American First Lady. From the corner of his eye, he saw Alex Razin’s utter astonishment. Razin, perhaps the only person in Russia at this point to know anything about Billie Bradford, had been an important test. For Petrov, his reaction was reassuring.
Before the interview, Petrov had considered telling Vera and Razin the truth, what he had in mind, and then had vetoed the notion. Not yet, he had decided. Too early. So he had invented a cover story. It might not fool either of them. No matter. They would have to accept it for want of a better motive for this interview.
After she had been seated, Petrov stood up.
‘Welcome to Moscow, Comrade Vavilova,’ he said. ‘You remember our meeting in Kiev?’
‘I would not forget it,’ she said.
‘This is my assistant, Alex Razin,’ said Petrov.
They murmured greetings.
‘Very well,’ said Petrov. ‘I will come straight to the point. Have you ever heard of a woman named Billie Bradford?’
‘No. I’m afraid not.’
‘You will be hearing of her,’ said Petrov. ‘She is an American, and soon she will be a famous American. She is the wife of the new President-elect of the United States. She will be in their White House next vear as the country’s First Lady.’
Vera Vavilova was silent and uncomprehending.
‘The reason I visited you backstage in Kiev,’ resumed Petrov, ‘is that you bear a striking resemblance to her. That also is the reason that I have brought you here.’
Vera Vavilova waited for further explanation.
‘This resemblance, yours to hers, could be useful to your government,’ said Petrov. ‘We are planning to make a short film one might call it a documentary of sorts of the American First Lady, Billie Bradford, and it occurred to me that you could fill the role.’
‘How interesting. I am flattered.’
‘It is more than interesting. It is important. You would have to give up everything you are doing.
You would have to dedicate yourself to the part. You would have to move to Moscow at once -‘
‘But Kiev, my roles in the repertory the director wouldn’t let me -‘
‘Forget that nonsense. We would take care of everything. You would be paid four times what you have ever earned. All of your expenses would be taken care of, and you would have your own comfortable living quarters in Moscow.’
‘Merely to play Billie Bradford in a film? Where would the film be shown?’
‘Never mind. Eventually you will be told more. But not let. One other thing - are you married or do you have a lover?’ ‘Neither.’
‘Good. Because this is a secret project, for the moment. We do not wish the project, or your involvement in it, discussed with anyone. If you agreed to join with us, you would drop out of sight entirely. You would not be permitted to tell your family or friends or anyone where you are or what you are doing. In return, I guarantee you this, you would rise in favour and one day become the foremost actress in the Soviet Union. Are your interested?’
‘Do I have a choice?’ asked Vera Vavilova with a smile.
‘Of course.’
‘I am more than interested. I am prepared to do anything on earth for my government.’
Petrov slapped his hand on his desktop. ‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Wait in the reception room. Mr Razin will bring you further instructions.’
No sooner had she left the office, than Petrov pointed his chair toward Alex Razin.
‘Well, Razin, what do you think?’
‘Of her? As you said - she is nearly perfect. Let her hair grow longer, eliminate the small cheek scar, shorten the nose slightly, and she is Billie Bradford.’
‘No, I mean my story. Did she believe it?’
‘Possibly.’
‘Did you?’
Razin seemed amused. ‘Not really,’ he said quietly. ‘But then, I have been with the KGB many years. I am sceptical about the film.’
Petrov laughed, and then grew serious. ‘Oddly, there will be a film. But you are right. That is not our purpose. Just go along with me on faith. You will know the truth shortly.’ He opened a drawer and sought a fresh cigar. ‘We will begin at once. Under me, you will be in full charge. This - this film, it will take precedence over all your other work. You will not let her return to Kiev. Inform her theatre, her family - any innocuous story will do. Send for her personal effects. Arrange for a small villa in the VIP compound near the university. We will have her permanent quarters ready for her in a few weeks. But from today on she must be seen by no outsiders at any time. Tomorrow you and I will meet at length. Tomorrow the transformation of Vera Vavilova into Billie Bradford will begin.’
It began with the collecting of superficial data. Petrov gave Razin his assignment, and Razin, using KGB agents and connections in Washington DC and New York, began to assemble what was needed. In this early stage, what was -needed were still photographs and television films showing Billie Bradford from head to toe, in order to study her physical dimensions, her gait, her gestures and mannerisms. Audio tapes would reveal her speech habits.
As Razin painstakingly gathered his information, Petrov quickly proceeded with another vital aspect of the project which he dubbed ‘Second Lady’. Fifteen kilometres south of Moscow, on a high rise of land beyond the ring road encircling the city, Petrov commandeered five acres of virgin ground behind a forest of pine trees that lay off the main highway leading to Vnukovo airport. He had a private road built from the highway through the forest. Then, past the forest, he supervised the construction of a vast, cheaply made motion picture sound stage. Inside the stage he had reproduced the Red Room, the President’s Dining Room, the Queen’s Bedroom, the Lincoln Bedroom, the Yellow Oval Room of the American White House. The carpets and drapes, fireplaces, lamps and chandeliers, furniture, wallpaper and hung paintings were exact replicas of those seen in still pictures and television movies taken inside the American White House. Surrounding this entire stage, by order of Petrov, a high wooden security fence was built, with a gate leading out to the private road. Then, one hundred metres to the rear of the stage, Petrov had a small, square, two-storey house thrown up. It included a projection room. The moment the house was completed, Vera Vavilova was moved into it, to dwell inside as its lone occupant.
Meanwhile, Alex Razin had obtained the required data from the United States.
Billie Bradford’s physical dimensions were impressive. She was 5 feet 6 inches in height. Her bust was 34 inches, her waist 23 inches, her hips 34 inches, her weight 110 pounds.
Her shoulder-length hair was soft and blonde (snipped samples retrieved by the KGB and included for Razin); her eyes blue; nose straight, l3/4 inches long, and slightly upturned; mouth 23A inches wide.
Vera Vavilova’s physical dimensions were equally impressive. The day after she had been moved into her secluded house, Razin asked her to change into a bikini and had a KGB doctor take her measurements. She was 5 feet 5 inches in height. Her bust was 31 inches, her waist 25 inches, her hips 35 74 inches, her weight 118 pounds. Her bobbed hair was soft and light blonde; her eyes blue; nose straight, l4/5 inches long, and slightly upturned; mouth 274 inches wide.
Petrov summoned Razin. He had seen the figures. The discrepancies were minor, very slight - still, they were there. Vera Vavilova’s hair must be allowed to grow to shoulder length and be a shade darker. Her breasts must be enlarged 3 inches. Her nose must be shorter by less than 75 of an inch. The small scar on her upper cheek must be removed. She must lose 8 pounds in weight, as well as 2 inches at the waist and 174 inches at the hips. Could this be accomplished? The surgeons at Moscow’s Institute of Cosmetology promised it would be simple and easy. What did Vera Vavilova say?
‘I don’t mind losing the weight,’ she said to Petrov and Razin in the living room of her secluded house. ‘But I don’t like the idea of plastic surgery. Nose smaller, breasts larger, for a mere movie. Why? Why is it necessary to be exactly like that Bradford woman? I look enough like her as it is.’
Petrov showed restraint. ‘I repeat, it is necessary. You will understand this better at a later time.’
‘Don’t I have anything to say about myself right now?’
‘I am sorry no,’ said Petrov. ‘Not for this moment, at least.’
‘You insist?’
‘I must,’ said Petrov. ‘You will not regret it.’
Her nature was not a rebellious one. She had never protested at anything before. She felt she had gone as far as she
could. She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Very well. Whatever you say.’
A few days later, the cosmetic surgery was undertaken, and pronounced successful. It was followed by a strict regime of dieting gone the potatoes and other starches combined with daily calisthenics and gymnastics.
When the KGB physician measured Vera Vavilova again, her dimensions were precisely those of Billie Bradford.
At this time, in distant Washington DC, Andrew Bradford was sworn in as President of the United States, and Billie Bradford entered the White House as First Lady.
Two months later, for an American television network, Billie Bradford gave millions of viewers a short tour of the private quarters on the second floor of the White House, acting as a historical commentator, serious, humorous, witty. The show proved extremely popular, won high ratings, and enhanced the First Lady’s popularity. From New York, a copy of the First Lady’s television tour was air-freighted to Moscow. There, Petrov, Razin and Vera Vavilova saw it in her private projection room. After the screening, Vera Vavilova was ordered to watch the ten-minute film three times a day for six weeks. She was to study and memorize every nuance of the First Lady’s speech, every gesture, every movement, to absorb the entire performance, to imitate and rehearse it in the duplicate White House rooms on the sound stage.
Between these labours, Vera Vavilova continued her lessons in voice and carriage. With an instructor playing tapes of Billie Bradford’s speeches and interviews over and over ag
ain, Vera Vavilova worked to pick up the First Lady’s slight Western American accent and to make her own voice deeper and throatier. She learned, too, to mimic the small lilt in the First Lady’s speech and to imitate her infectious laugh. From other instructors, in front of a montage of film of Billie Bradford, the Russian actress caught the First Lady’s stride in walking, her graceful pirouettes as she turned to hear someone, her poise when not in motion, her many gestures.
At the end of six weeks, Razin said to-his charge, ‘You will report on the White House set tomorrow morning at eight. We will begin shooting the film.’
‘Then there really is a film?’ she teased him.
He was charmed by her, but remained professionally serious. ‘Very much so, and you are the star.’
Four weeks later, when the film was done, and Petrov saw the final cut, he decided the time had come for the crucial step. He could go no further without official permission -and a considerably larger budget.
Petrov telephoned Premier Dmitri Kirechenko for a special appointment the following day in the Kremlin projection room.
The Premier, usually suave and imperturbable, sounded edgy. ‘The projection room? I have no time for movies. Can’t it wait?’
‘It is a matter of high priority.’
‘Mmm. I’m booked the entire morning and afternoon.’
‘The evening then?’
‘Evening, evening - Garanin, Lobanov, Umyakov - they are joining me for dinner.’
They were high-ranking members of the Politburo. Anatoli Garanin, especially, was a friend of the KGB and its projects.
‘Bring them, too,’ said Petrov. ‘I’ll need little more than a half-hour of your time before dinner.’
The Premier sighed. He sounded worn out. ‘Have it your way then. Seven-thirty tomorrow evening. Projection room.’
He hung up.
The following evening, Petrov was inside the splendid Kremlin projection room, seated at 7.28 p.m. in the front row of the half-dozen rows of deep red seats. He had brought Alex Razin along, and Razin was up in the booth giving minute instructions to the projectionist. At 7.34, Premier Kirechenko arrived, followed by his Politburo colleagues, Garanin, Lobanov, Umyakov. The Premier, as ever, was an imposing figure, 5 feet 11, solid as a marble statue, immaculate in a striped blue suit. His horse’s face was adorned with rimless glasses, moustache neatly clipped, short Vandyke
(1980) The Second Lady Page 4
