Death of a Dissident - Alex Goldfarb [58]
Although he was no longer with the National Security Council, he was serving Valentin Yumashev, the Kremlin chief of staff, as a special adviser. It gave him tremendous influence over presidential personnel choices. Yeltsin was getting ready to dismiss the entire cabinet, ousting both Chubais and Interior Minister Anatoly Kulikov in one fell swoop.
Sasha got to see Boris in the middle of all this turmoil on March 20. He went straight to the point: “Boris Abramovich, my superiors told me that I should kill you.”
Initially Boris did not believe him. He had heard similar warnings before. But when Sasha talked about Khokholkov, Boris became interested. To his multifaceted mind this appeared both as a threat and an opportunity to strike a decisive blow at his enemies in the secret services.
He said he would like to talk to the others in Sasha’s division.
After talking to Shebalin and Ponkin, Boris grew even more worried. He went to see Kovalev, the FSB director.
After that, all hell broke loose.
The next day, Kovalev called the whole of Sasha’s department into his office. They repeated their allegations. Perhaps all this talk about Berezovsky was nothing but a joke, Kovalev suggested. No joke, they insisted, considering everything else going on in the URPO. The director said he would begin an internal inquiry, swore them all to secrecy, and dismissed them.
A few hours later, Gusak rushed into Sasha’s office.
“I had a talk with Khokholkov,” he said. “He wants to settle the matter with Berezovsky amicably. He wants to speak with you.”
“Why in the world did you go to him?” Sasha fumed. “The director told us to keep our mouths shut, didn’t he?”
“Don’t be an idiot! The director told him himself.”
After he left, Sasha called Kovalev on a secure line: “Nikolai Dmitrievich, you said there would be a secret inquiry, but I have info that Khokholkov knows everything.”
The director paused for a moment. Then he said, “It was Gusak who told Khokholkov. Don’t go to him.”
Sasha went back to Gusak and repeated the director’s words. Gusak turned pale.
“You see what they are doing? The director sends me to talk to Khokholkov, and tells you I did it on my own. If we do not settle this, they will make me a scapegoat. You know what Khokholkov said to me? ‘If bad comes to worse, you should cover for the director.’ They are digging through all my cases. Go to Boris and tell him it was all a joke.” Gusak was in a panic.
“No, it’s too late,” said Sasha. “They are out to get us.”
He went home and called Boris on an open line. It was April 14.
“Boris Abramovich, they are covering up. The director told Khokholkov.”
“This is what I expected,” said Boris. “Tomorrow at ten, you have an appointment in the Kremlin with Evgeny Savostyanov, deputy chief of staff in charge of security services. Bring everyone.”
Savostyanov heard them out, saw that they were serious, and told them that the administration would arrange for them to give depositions to a federal prosecutor.
CHAPTER 7 THE WHISTLE-BLOWERS
On the morning of April 19, 1998, Marina and Sasha drove to the house of some friends to celebrate Easter Sunday, a singular traditional holiday that had survived seventy years of Communism. The whole previous day Marina had painted eggs and baked kulich, the intense, round-shaped pastry that is usually eaten with sweet raisin-loaded cheese, paskha, a particularly gratifying way to break Lent, which, in truth, they did not observe.
It was a beautiful day. The snow was finally gone, and the sun was so unusually warm that they shed coats for the first time in months. Sasha’s unhappy mood that Marina had observed since the New Year seemed to have dissipated. He was cheery