Death of a Dissident - Alex Goldfarb [34]
Trofimov smiled and said that it was not the FSB. He suggested that Sasha inquire at the FSO, Korzhakov’s agency.
“I called General Rogozin, Korzhakov’s second in command, and I couldn’t believe it as I heard myself ask, ‘Georgy Georgievich, Anatoly Vasilievich here wonders whether it was you who was carrying out surveillance of our building.’ And Rogozin only laughed and said, ‘We should keep a watchful eye on the oligarchs, Sasha.’”
He expected Trofimov to give him at least a hint about what to do next. But the general was reticent. For the first time in his life, Sasha decided not to choose sides, “because I could not make any decision.”
“It was a very difficult time for him,” Marina recalled later. “He lost weight, and could not sleep at night.”
In the meantme, a similar dilemma tormented the president. He had to choose between the same two camps: Berezovsky and the Shadow HQ, or Korzhakov and the secret services. Yeltsin lost sleep too, but unlike Sasha he could not afford the luxury of procrastination. In his memoirs, Midnight Diaries, he describes the lonely agony of indecision and soul-searching in 1996: Could he be certain that the election was all but lost? Did the end of stopping Communism justify any means, including suspending the Russian Constitution? Would it be acceptable to use force and shed blood to prevent the bloodbath that the Communists would undoubtedly unleash if they took power?
On March 17, 1996, he made his decision.
At 6 a.m. on that day, Berezovsky was awakened by a phone call from Valentin Yumashev.
“It’s all finished,” he said in panic. “Boris Nikolaevich has just given a green light to cancel the elections.”
After a late night with Korzhakov and his buddies, the president had authorized three decrees. He would dissolve the Duma, ban the Communist Party, and postpone presidential elections for two years.
Boris had two ways to get Yeltsin to change his mind: through Chubais, and through Prime Minister Chernomyrdin. By the time Yeltsin convened a secret meeting of his senior ministers to announce his decrees, Boris had pulled both of these strings for all they were worth.
Yeltsin began the meeting by saying that he had drastic steps to propose in response to the recent Duma resolution reinstating the USSR. Yet he admitted that this was just a pretext. He was fully aware that he would be violating the Constitution, but it was a necessary step to rid Russia of the scourge of Communism once and for all. He would take full responsibility.
Dead silence fell in the room. Then, after a long pause, Prime Minister Chernomyrdin spoke out against the decision, arguing that there was no need for such drastic measures when the president’s numbers were actually improving. Then, quite unexpectedly, Interior Minister Anatoly Kulikov also spoke up. He suggested, ominously, that he could not guarantee the loyalty of his forces should the Communists call people into the streets—and he tendered his resignation. It was a powerful statement.
But it did not single-handedly change Yeltsin’s mind. Everyone else—the FSB, the military, the intelligence and foreign services, and the two first deputy prime ministers, Soskovets and Kadannikov—were supportive of the decrees. We are firmly in control, they said, and after all, you are not going to abolish the Constitution, you are just going to suspend it for two years for a greater good, Mr. President.
Korzhakov was triumphant. In his hands he held a leather folder stamped with the presidential seal that contained the three decrees. Crack units of the FSB stationed around Moscow were placed on alert, ready to move into the city to secure media and communications centers. By speaking against the plan, Chernomyrdin just might have sealed his resignation and made it more likely that Korzhakov would get his wish that Oleg Soskovets would be installed as prime minister. Chubais, Goose, and Boris would not last long