Death of a Dissident - Alex Goldfarb [32]
“Some Western figures, as we hear from Davos,” said Chernomyrdin, looking pointedly at Soros, “see in him a moderate leftist. This is Western naïveté, Mr. Soros, the kind Comrade Lenin understood best of all, when he said that the capitalists would sell him the rope with which he would hang them. But I know these people well, Mr. Soros, I was yoked with them for thirty years, I can see right through them. Did you hear what they got up to today? They want to restore the Soviet Union! And they will restore it, if they have their way. So don’t deceive yourself, Mr. Soros, nothing good will come of them, and we will not let them back into power, whatever the cost.”
After listening to a ten-minute lecture about the horrors of Communism, Soros finally got a chance to assure the prime minister that he was far from supporting Zyuganov, especially after the resolution in the Duma. He shared the universal concern of the West about the outcome of the presidential elections.
“Yes,” sighed Chernomyrdin. “That’s our main concern, I can assure you, Mr. Soros.”
By the end of the conversation the prime minister’s feelings toward the West appeared to improve. In any case, the university Internet centers obtained free government connectivity.
George was happy with his new acquaintance.
“Do you know that this man controls Gazprom?” he asked as we drove away from the White House. “Maybe he is even richer than me!” Briefly, I saw the face not of a philanthropist, but of an investor. Possibly a very hungry investor.
“Guess how many people read the transcript of your conversation?” Sasha Litvinenko asked when, years later, I described to him our meeting with Chernomyrdin.
He explained that in early 1996, one of his agents reported that someone was selling transcripts of conversations from Chernomyrdin’s office, which was bugged, along with conversations from the office of his chief of staff. The buyers included some Chechens in Moscow, who sent them to the separatists in the mountains. It was doubly a scandal: first, that someone was bugging the prime minister, and second, that the transcripts were reaching the enemy.
“We began to work on this lead and established that Korzhakov’s people were running the bug. That meant that Korzhakov’s office had been penetrated. As soon as I submitted the report, Korzhakov himself came, seized all the materials, and said he would investigate it himself.”
By then, Sasha found it harder and harder to sort through the arcane political connections of the top brass. Sasha’s mentor, Gen. Anatoly Trofimov, the head of the Moscow FSB, was close to Korzhakov. But if Korzhakov was bugging Chernomyrdin, Sasha was unsure of what should and shouldn’t be reported, and to whom.
At the same time, some people in the Agency were beginning to wonder about Sasha. It was not a secret that Sasha was connected to Berezovsky. But was he Berezovsky’s man? Or the opposite, an Agency mole in Berezovsky’s circle?
Shortly after the wiretapping investigation, one of the director’s aides called Sasha into his office. He came straight to the point. “Listen, Gusinsky is once again friendly with Berezovsky and has gone over to Chernomyrdin’s side. He’s left the mayor. The director is very interested in this connection: Goose, Berezovsky, and Chernomyrdin. So start developing this line and report personally to the director, through me.”
Sasha naïvely asked, “What’s wrong with Berezovsky and Gusinsky making peace? I think this is only for the good. Besides, perhaps some order will be restored in Moscow if the mayor quiets down a bit.”
The aide, who himself was not