The Falstaff Enigma (32 page)

Finally Borskov stood up. "I am truly sorry, Slava, but my time limit has been reached. I hate to see you put yourself through this because I do admire you. If you decide that you want to talk to me, then just say something and I will return." He walked out of the room, leaving the officer behind with the two men who had arrested him.
Borskov closed the heavy wooden door, its weight slamming against the concrete frame and sealing the immediate fate of Shetshikov.

"You didn't make any progress, did you?" David
asked as the colonel reached the top of the stairs.

"My face says it all,"
Borskov replied. He went into the ancient kitchen, which looked little changed since the revolution. A plastic jug filled with tea was already prepared and waiting on the countertop.

"I spent the time reading through his file," said the Mossad agent as he leaned against an empty wall opposite the countertop where Borskov was laboring.
Margolis was full of energy and had trouble standing still, let alone sitting down. "He is a strong man, both physically and mentally. It is possible that he may not crack."

"He will crack. Everyone cracks eventually." Borskov sat down and consumed the glass of tea.

"Or dies." The last word from Margolis had just been finished when a muffled scream came through the floorboards. "You are torturing him?" It was part question and part statement.

"Don't start acting righteous, David. You knew we would have to do this." The colonel was right, but David stayed silent. "We are on the verge of a coup that can lead to civil war in my country and this man is acti
vely trying to bring that about. Millions could die. I do not feel sorry for him."

Margolis had never been a party to torture before. Yes, he had slapped people around and often threatened, but never had he needed
to actually use torture. However, he knew that this was perhaps the only scenario in which torture could be justified: to stop a coup that threatened the world. Still, he could not stop thinking about his days in college when he actively demonstrated against capital punishment in America. Violating his college ethics had become an all too common occurrence for him.

The screams continued. “What are you doing to him?”

“Electric shocks to the testicles." Borskov's words were detached – professional. He had been honest when he said he did not like violence. But he believed he was absolutely right in this instance. The stakes were too high for him to be emotional. Never again would the Soviet Union suffer as they had in the Great Patriotic War.

“I have to go outside,”
David said, his legs involuntarily carrying him toward the door.

The
colonel continued to sip his tea, wondering what new facts he would eventually learn from the Army captain. He really had no idea where they could go from here. They already knew that Marshal Anton Timolenko was the probable leader of this conspiracy. The real question was what to do about it.

"He's ready to talk, sir.”
The small, strong agent stood in the short hallway between the kitchen and the stairs down to the basement. The man had a glow in his face. He had enjoyed torturing the Army officer. He was a sadist and he hated arrogant officers. Borskov felt ill as he looked into the man's eyes. He hated the man instantly. But as he descended into the torture chamber, he realized he had no moral basis on which to judge the man.

The sight made Borskov's body freeze as he walked through the door. It was the first time he had ever seen someone right after torture. His knees buckled slightly and his skin grew a little paler. Shetshikov sat in the chair with his head leaning back as if he had been hit in the forehead with a bat. His trousers were pulled down around his ankles. His skin was ashen and his hair stuck out as if it had not been washed in months. Blood was drying on his shirt and lap and vomit covered his thighs and the floor in front of the chair. A mixture of blood, saliva and vomit ran down the officer's chin and neck. He was trying to spit, but it came out as drool and added to the mess that was his face.

Suddenly the smell struck Borskov, forcing him to turn his head. The room reeked of vomit, urine and fecal waste. The captain had lost all bodily control. Borskov looked back into the room, this time holding a handkerchief over his mouth and nose. He stepped forward and looked more closely at the victim's face. It was the greatest shock of all. Shetshikov looked as if he had aged ten years in the last thirty minutes.

"Clean him up.
" commanded Borskov, needlessly pointing to the man. "And get him some water. Now."

"Yes, sir," replied the short man as he ran out of the room to fill a glass with water. His partner used the officer’s jacket to wipe him off as well as he could. He did not do a good job.

"I'm sorry," Borskov said, his heavy body unstable as he stood only a few feet from his victim. The emotion in his voice was quite real. Shetshikov seemed to pick up on that emotion, finding the energy to lift his head and look into the lights. "I begged you not to force this, Captain." The small KGB agent came back in and handed a glass of water to his partner, who held it for Shetshikov. The officer drank a few gulps but they were enough to put some color back into his face.

"
Can you physically talk?" the colonel asked.

Shetshikov nodded and forced out one word. "Yes." His face betrayed the pain he felt but he kept from screaming to withhold any joy from his torturers.

Borskov stepped back and motioned for the agent who just gave water to the officer to turn on a video recorder that stood on a tripod behind the lights. The agent walked behind it, turned on the record feature and looked into the viewer to make sure the captain was in frame and in focus.

“Please tell me your name and rank.”

“Captain Slava Yurievich Shetshikov,” came the strained reply.

"Your unit."

The officer built up some saliva to combat his dry mouth. "Byelorussian District Command Support Regiment." His speech was slow and labored.

"Who commands that district?"

"Timolenko. Marshal Anton Timolenko."

"Why are you in Moscow?"

"Meet with Leonid Sorovin."

"Why?"

Shetshikov hesitated. "I … I was to tell him to end an intelligence gathering operation."

"I thi
nk you are lying to me, Slava."

"It is true."

"Why did you carry a silenced gun in your hand?"

"He is a dangerous and unpredictable man. I could not take a chance."

"Oh, Slava, these lies have taken this matter out of my hands. I must go now and leave you to these two gentlemen. Goodbye."

The video camera operator turned it off.

"No!" screamed Shetshikov. He started to cry, his body's defenses broken down completely. Borskov continued toward the door. "No, I won't lie any more. I swear it." Borskov left the room and slammed the door shut as before. "No, no, no," continued the officer, his voice trailing off.

The small agent spoke first. "Kill him."

The taller agent pulled out a pistol. He was on the same side of the lights as Shetshikov, so the Army officer could see everything that the KGB agent did. The captain's body began to shake, his face turning whiter than before. The agent lifted the gun, resting the muzzle against the officer's temple. He cocked the gun. The sound was thunderous to Shetshikov. He closed his eyes and every muscle tensed. The executioner squeezed the trigger. Shetshikov did not hear the hammer slam against the firing pin, but he heard laughter coming from the short agent. He opened his eyes. He was alive. The execution was fake. The officer screamed in an attempt to wake up from this nightmare.

Anatoly Borskov opened the door and walked quickly over to the officer as the taller agent stepped back behind the video camera and turned it
back onto the record mode.

Borskov stood close to the
captain as the officer wept. "Now tell me why you had the gun."

"To kill Leonid Sorovin.
I was ordered to kill him." His voice was quiet.

“Speak up, Captain.”

“I was ordered to kill Leonid Sorovin,” he repeated loudly.

"Why?"

“I don’t know for sure. I was told he failed and could no longer be trusted.” His words were empty, defeated.

"Who gave you these orders?"

"General Ivan Maslov. He is second in command under the marshal."

"Did you ever know Sorovin before?"

"Yes, yes. I gave him intelligence before."

"On what?"

"On the whereabouts of certain men."

"So Sorovin could kill them?"

"Yes."

"Were you under
Maslov's orders then too?"

“Yes.”

"What was the point of the killings?"

"To remove men who were against the
marshal."

"Against him in what way?"

"He has enemies."

Borskov forced a laugh.
"Slava, that is not a good lie," he said in a friendly voice. The next sentence assumed a more ominous tone. "Tell me what you mean."

Shetshikov started to cry openly. He shook his head slowly from side to side. His chin
rubbed against the collar of his shirt. Dry, dark flakes of blood fell off his neck. "No, I can't say," he said slowly between sobs.

"Tell me now, Slava, or you will go through another thirty minutes of hell and then tell me anyway."

The officer tried to stop crying. He knew that his interrogator was right. He would quickly break under more torture. He could not take any more. The balance now tipped fully to the side of survival over honor. "It was an overthrow." There was a pause as the officer waited for the next question. Borskov preferred to let the man elaborate at his own pace. "We were overthrowing the government of Premier Andropov."

"Were or are?"

"Are ... we are overthrowing it. A military coup."

"Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? Our country paid the greatest price during the Great Patriotic War. The West sat back. The United States would rather have seen us crushed. They have only one goal: the destruction of our great land." The captain was regaining strength as he spoke. "Now Andropov and the bastards who serve him want to strike deals with the United States – the same deals we entered into with Hitler and the same result. They will wait until we are weakest and then strike when they have built a missile defense system. If we wait, we will be destroyed. We must act now. Can't you see that?"

"Who are 'we'?"

"Besides myself, I can name only the marshal, General Maslov and Leonid Sorovin. The number of people involved was kept very small and I was used only for specific jobs."

"How is
the overthrow going to occur?"

"I swear that I was not informed."

"When?"

"I do not know when. I told you, I was used only as a liaison between my commander and Leonid Sorovin."

"How many times did you meet with Sorovin?"

"Twic
e. Two times that I can remember."

"Why?"

"I told you, to give him intelligence he needed to kill people."

"When did you meet?"

"The first time was...uh...I don't know. About five or six weeks ago. Maybe longer. And then again about two weeks ago."

"Who were the targets?"

"I don't know. I only delivered sealed envelopes."

"How do you know it was information on people?"

"Because General Maslov told me. And he told me who I was meeting. He said that Sorovin was a killer and therefore I should always be armed and careful. They did not trust Sorovin. They respected his abilities but they knew he was ruthless and actually enjoyed killing. They were frightened of him."

"You mean Marshal
Timolenko and General Maslov?"

"Yes."

"Where did you meet with Sorovin?"

"When I was given a package I would fly to Moscow in the morning and ride the Metro north from the
Varshavskaya station on the train leaving at 1302 hours. Somewhere along the trip, Sorovin would sit next to me and exchange the right words." Each word was still strained, Shetshikov pausing periodically to try to wet his mouth.

"Which were what?"

"He would say 'Is this the train to Medvedkovo station?' and I would reply 'No, you must get off at Novokuznetskaya station.' After a minute, he would get up and take the package with him."

"Do the words 'blue-five' mean anything to you?"

"I've never heard that before."

"Was anybody else with you today when you were going to kill Sorovin?"

"Yes. One man was watching from a building. If I failed, he was to shoot Leonid Sorovin with a rifle."

"So he saw your arrest?"

"Yes."

"Did he come from Minsk?"

"Yes. I assume  he has gone back."

"One final question. Would there really be support in the
Army for this overthrow?"