Circle of Treason (10 page)

Polyakov left New Delhi in August 1976 confident that our mutual commitment and cooperation would continue uninterrupted until his retirement from the GRU regardless of whether that occurred before or after another overseas tour. He had Unique and was headed for a senior position as Chief of the Second Faculty at the GRU's Military-Diplomatic Academy (MDA). The MDA was the GRU's training facility for new officers as well as providing course instruction to military intelligence officers from allied socialist countries such as East Germany and Bulgaria.

Our first scheduled contact with Polyakov following his return to Moscow was planned for early December via Unique. We were confident that there would be a successful exchange, but as professionals we recognized there were many variables that could lead to failure. Anything could go wrong—from a technical malfunction to a snowstorm forcing tram route closures. At this point all we could do was wait. A cable finally arrived from Moscow Station with the news that the first Unique exchange had taken place on schedule and without mishap. The Stolz-inspired and Stolz-led mini-revolution had achieved success. At headquarters we opened the bottle of Three Stars cognac. With a collective sigh of relief and thanks, the privileged few aware of the achievement toasted Polyakov, whose sacrifices required that we perform beyond what we imagined possible.
¹

The next three years in the operation were more productive than anyone could have envisioned. It was long recognized that Polyakov's access in Moscow would be far greater than when he was abroad, but the breadth and depth of that access as a general at the MDA was unexpected. The quality and number of documents he photographed and passed via dead drop was staggering even to the most knowledgeable headquarters officer. On the counterintelligence side highlights included hundreds of pages of
the complete GRU training manual, which was immediately dubbed the “GRU Bible.” It was a comprehensive statement of GRU operational philosophy, modus operandi, and rules and regulations governing espionage activities outside the Soviet Union. Polyakov also provided the identities, biographic information, and training results of three-plus years of GRU graduating classes slated for assignment abroad, in effect eradicating their cover and that of their replacements for years. And, in his usual subtle and personal way, Polyakov surprised us by requisitioning GRU-fabricated concealment devices to pass his photographed material. This was the first time he had not handcrafted the device he used to pass us materials, and it was viewed by many at headquarters as a statement from the old soldier. “I've given you the gold mine and, just for the fun of it, here's another gift for the technical boys at the center.” Our technical personnel were amazed at the simplicity, craftsmanship, and obvious long-term durability of the GRU spy gear.

On the positive intelligence side he passed copies of a highly restricted top secret version of
Military Thought
, top secret Communist Party publications never before acquired, and more of the Military-Industrial Commission collection requirements mentioned earlier. The translation load at headquarters was enormous, but no one complained.

Our exchanges via Unique continued uninterrupted, with the exception of an extended period beginning in September 1977, when then-Director of the CIA Stansfield Turner ordered Moscow Station to cease all operational activity until further notice. (The genesis and consequences of this stand-down are covered in
Chapter 7
on the Kulak case.) The following year Polyakov advised us that he would be returning to New Delhi on what would surely be his last tour in the West. Once again it was time to gear up for handling abroad.

Headquarters received news of Polyakov's impending assignment with mixed reactions. On the positive side, we would be able to sit down with our trusted and respected comrade and work toward our common goals. However, that he was being posted to New Delhi again was selfishly greeted with less enthusiasm. We already had a wealth of information on GRU operations and Soviet plans and intentions in India that he had supplied during his previous tour. What could have changed in the three years since that could not be covered in several meetings? Despite our preference for an assignment to Tokyo or Beijing, where Polyakov would
have been in a position to satisfy critical collection requirements about technology transfer and Chinese military capabilities and weapons development, the same energy and thought that went into the planning of the first New Delhi tour went into the “Delhi Two” operational phase.

Scotty S, another Russian-speaking SE Division employee, was tapped to serve as Polyakov's primary handler. A likable, well-regarded officer in his late thirties, Scotty had established a reputation as a hardworking, dependable professional who would ensure that there would be no mistakes in the operation. The only potential problem he and headquarters had to address was Polyakov's reaction to the almost eighteen years difference in their ages. As a Soviet military man, Polyakov tended to equate age with rank and, by extension, his importance in our eyes. To assuage his possible misgivings, Mr. K continued his participation in the operation. It was he who traveled to New Delhi to re-establish contact with Polyakov, conduct initial debriefings, and lay the groundwork for the introduction of Scotty. Our concerns were unfounded. Polyakov had no reservations about Scotty's relative youth, and together they established a productive and personal relationship.

In May 1980 Polyakov informed us that GRU headquarters had requested that he return to Moscow to attend a meeting on military attaché matters. Unexpected news or events always occurred in operations, but they were never welcomed, particularly with an asset of Polyakov's stature and importance. Was this a security problem or a legitimate request from GRU headquarters? There was no consensus. While we had no history or current knowledge of such a conference, there were no looming security issues in the Polyakov operation. Accordingly, the guidance to Scotty for the last meeting before Polyakov's departure was basic and clear-cut. Review the internal communications plans and the timing of his anticipated return to New Delhi.

Polyakov was strangely calm during our final contact. He reassured Scotty and by extension CIA headquarters that our contact would not be severed. In the unforeseen circumstance that he should not return, he had Unique and would be in touch. “I will survive. Do not worry about me.” Toward the end of the meeting, Scotty nervously commented that he looked forward to the day when he and Polyakov could enjoy drinks and a meal together in the United States. Polyakov's response was the same as on several previous occasions, but more relaxed and matter-of-fact. He
was born, had lived, and would die a Russian. When asked what would happen if our cooperation were discovered, he quietly replied, “a common, unmarked grave.” There were no good-byes, but simply a handshake and a “see you upon your return.”

Polyakov failed to reappear in New Delhi, and there was no communication from Moscow. Months passed and then several years. Endless discussions took place at headquarters about his status with no satisfactory answers. Unfortunately, due to an inexcusable error we were unaware that shortly after Polyakov's return he began writing articles for the monthly Soviet hunting and sporting magazine
Okhota
, a publication to which he had been a contributing author between overseas assignments. Personnel in the division's component responsible for acquiring the issues each month did not initiate the collection requirement until asked for a status report of their review of the material. Back issues were immediately obtained and scanned for mention of D. F. Polyakov. While our inattention to operational detail was indefensible, it was ameliorated by the news that Polyakov had been a frequent contributor to
Okhota
since his arrival in Moscow.

A collective sigh of relief and a thank God could be heard among those working on the case. Polyakov was alive, and apparently well, given the appearance of his articles. He had not been compromised, but what had happened? The possibilities were as numerous as the meetings on the matter. They ranged from medical problems that forced his retirement to his continued GRU employment but having an inoperable Unique. Nevertheless, the previously agreed-upon plan would remain in effect. We would rely on Polyakov to decide if and when to break his silence. Our role would be to wait, reassured that knowledge of his secret past remained his and ours alone.

It had been four years since Polyakov's return to Moscow, when an unexpected event occurred in the now dormant case. A copy of
Okhota
arrived at headquarters. It contained another Polyakov-authored article, but this one raised eyebrows. It was not about hunting for big game or similar topics about which he had previously written. It was a recipe for coot, and contained detailed instructions and ingredients for preparation. Some viewed the article as an anomaly and, therefore, possibly a signal from Polyakov that he not only was alive but also was somehow trying to re-establish our communications link. Others were more pessimistic, but
agreed that the theory should be pursued. His
Okhota
articles and the thousands of pages of cables and transcripts were scoured for answers. A hint was found in the operational files. During a brief conversation in the mid-1970s, Paul D and Polyakov discussed possibly using
Okhota
to establish communications should other options fail.

After much review and testing of the coot recipe ingredients, it was determined that they could be used for secret writing. Extrapolating from these discoveries, we could send a letter to the editor of
Okhota
, with questions for Polyakov on his article. The benign correspondence would contain secret writing that Polyakov could develop using the ingredients he had provided in the recipe. But should we proceed, given that our hypothesis was based on few facts and a great deal of conjecture? Burton Gerber, then chief of SE Division, made the final decision. The risks to this noble man were too great. We would take no action that might put his life in further jeopardy. He had reached mandatory retirement age and we would let him live in peace. The final chapter had been written in the Polyakov case, or so we thought.

One year later Ames volunteered to the KGB and identified General Polyakov, among many others, as an American spy. The roll-up of our assets began in June 1985. By 1986 we were forced to concede that there was a possibility that Polyakov was among the missing. In mid-1986 one of his sons, a Soviet Ministry of Foreign Affairs officer stationed in New Delhi, left for Moscow on what we assumed but could not confirm was home leave. He did not return to India. About the same time Polyakov's articles suddenly stopped appearing in
Okhota
. Lastly, there was an unsourced report about the arrest of a GRU general who had served in Greece. While Polyakov had never served in Greece, it was discussed as a possible assignment for him in the 1960s, and that he was a general could not be ignored.

In late 1988 we unofficially learned that Polyakov had been arrested. Several years later the Soviets officially announced that on 15 March 1988 (coincidentally, the Ides of March) General Dmitriy Fedorovich Polyakov was executed for espionage.

To many who never met Polyakov but supported the operation, and to his case officers who remained, the loss of this man was inexpressible. Polyakov, his contributions, and the sheer number of his years of service had become legend. He was immune from the inherent dangers of the
dark side of espionage. It was difficult to accept that he was gone; it was more difficult to accept that he had died such a grisly death. An even greater burden was the possibility that our actions or inactions had resulted in his unmasking. We could not repay him for his sacrifice or his family for their loss, but we did owe each an answer.

EARLY MAJOR CASES

A
LEKSEY
I
SIDOROVICH
K
ULAK
, a KGB scientific and technical officer, may have been the only KGB or GRU source who outwitted the KGB, Robert Hanssen, Rick Ames, and author Jay Epstein. He did so by reportedly dying of natural causes before the KGB reacted to knowledge of his fifteen years of spying for the United States. That he was a Hero of the Soviet Union recipient, the Russian equivalent of a Medal of Honor, and was a legendary figure within the corridors of the First Chief Directorate were believed to have also played a role in delaying the arrest.

In March 1962 Kulak, later encrypted FEDORA by the FBI for internal use, and JADE for correspondence to and from the CIA, walked into the FBI field office in New York City and volunteered his services to American intelligence in exchange for cash. An odd duck in the world of espionage, he was more scientist than KGB case officer, and later asked the FBI for assistance in the form of double agents. (On occasion the FBI and CIA provided double or “controlled” agents to their recruited KGB and GRU sources to enhance the source's operational record with his parent service. The double agent ostensibly agreed to cooperate with and provide information to the source and his organization, but in actuality was under the direction and control of the CIA or FBI. Such operations were always handled with the source's input, and the double agent was never aware of the source's clandestine relationship with American intelligence.)