Swimming to Antarctica_ Tales of a Long-Distance Swimmer - Lynne Cox [101]
For a moment, I hesitated. I didn’t want him to think that I wouldn’t cooperate with the FBI. I was an American citizen, after all, but I didn’t intend to be a part of any spy game. What I was doing was based on trust. That was at the core of my project: trying to encourage trust between the Americans and Soviets. How could people trust you if you were collecting information on them? What was the real reason for Beiter’s visit? Was he there to warn me, or did the FBI have other intentions?
He took a card from his wallet, handed it to me, and said, “When you call the main number, it will take a few minutes. I’m in and out of the office so much, the operator has to page me, but I’ll get back to you quickly.”
I nodded, but I decided that there was no way I was going to report to anyone about anyone. That’s what they did behind the Iron Curtain, or maybe behind the “Ice Curtain” between Alaska and Siberia.
“You know, you don’t have to feel like you’re alone in this. If you have any questions, call me. We can just talk.” He patted me on my shoulder and left.
After the interview, my phone began clicking and echoing every time I had a conversation with anyone. Friends joked that it was probably the FBI or KGB. A new friend at the State Department said it was probably both.
17
The A-Team
At the beginning of 1987, I realized that I could spend my entire life working on the Bering Strait swim, trying to get Soviet permission and sponsorship, and training for it physically and preparing mentally, so I decided to set a deadline. Based upon weather conditions, I decided to attempt the swim in August 1987. By April, there was nothing to indicate that the Soviet support would come through.
But on the home front, I was getting replies to my phone calls and letters. Ed Salazar, who worked at the State Department on what was known as the Soviet desk, was the first U.S. diplomat to take me seriously. He called me from Washington and said he was thrilled about my project and wanted to support it in any way he could.
Salazar asked for a summary of the people I had contacted and asked if I was following up with the contacts. My most recent contact had been with Ted Turner, who’d had the idea of creating the Goodwill Games in Moscow, a new forum for athletic competition between the United States and the Soviet Union. I had asked Turner if he had any contacts who could help me obtain Soviet permission. His assistant had called me and suggested that I get in touch with Bob Walsh in Seattle. Walsh was organizing the Goodwill Games.
I called Walsh’s office and spoke with Peter Kassander, who had a Ph.D. in Soviet affairs and had worked at the State Department. He was now a consultant helping Walsh deal with the Soviet officials who were working with Walsh and his team to organize the Goodwill Games. Peter promised to relay the message. That same afternoon I received a call from Walsh saying that he would be having meetings with the Soviet Sports Committee in Moscow and would approach them with my proposal. He sounded excited about the idea, knowing somehow that sports could be a bridge between people. Walsh promised to get back to me.
It turned out that Ed Salazar and Peter Kassander were best friends; at one point, Kassander had worked with Salazar at the State Department. When Salazar told me about this friendship, I felt that finally things were starting to move into place. Salazar agreed, which made me even more excited. Then I told him I’d also written to President Reagan and his wife, Nancy, as well as Secretary of State George Shultz. Salazar asked if I’d gotten responses. President Reagan’s office hadn’t responded; Nancy had said she couldn’t get involved in the politics of what I was