Biohazard

The general was undaunted. He told the foreigners that they were free to see whatever they wanted in his compound.

"However, I must warn you that biodefense work involves very hazardous organisms as I'm sure you know," he said. "If you elect to go into some of our labs, we may have to ask you to stay in quarantine for a couple of weeks. Those are our regulations."

This was partly true. We did have regulations requiring visitors to stay under observation, but they were totally unnecessary in this case: I had given orders that weekend for Obolensk and Vector to be totally disinfected. The delegation could have walked through any one of the labs in shirtsleeves.

Our visitors, naturally, were unaware of this. They hesitated.

"So," said Urakov brightly. "What would you like to see?"

They asked for a complete tour of the complex. We got our first rude surprise when Davis pulled out a map and pointed to a large building.

"Take us there," he said, pointing to the structure that contained Obolensk's newest, and biggest, explosive chamber.

Ah, I said to myself, here it comes. I assumed the map was based on satellite reconnaissance photos. Pasechnik couldn't have known about this.

I went back to the main building on the compound while the delegation divided into groups and set off on their tour. It didn't take long for feathers to fly.

The group led by Davis was taken into the first building he had asked to see. His guide was a senior scientist named Petukhov, who told me the story later.

The visitors were allowed to wander in the corridors until they came to a closed door.

"What's in here?" Davis asked.

No one answered.

"Could you please open it?"

"We lost the key," Petukhov mumbled. "I'll see if I can find a copy."

While the visitors waited impatiently, Petukhov took his time finding a "new" key. He eventually opened the door, but the room was dark.

"Can you turn the light on?" Davis asked in irritation.

"Not possible," Petukhov said. "The bulb is out."

Undeterred, Davis walked right past him and pulled out a flashlight. At that moment, the facade of international cooperation ended.

Petukhov lunged for the flashlight. Davis shouted. The two men tussled back and forth until someone suggested that they take the dispute back to the conference room, where I was awaiting their return.

"What's wrong?" I asked through my interpreter as they stormed in.

"Nothing," raged Davis, "except that when I tried to use a flashlight to look at a room, this KGB guy tried to grab it from me."

"Really!" I said, quite offended. "That man is a very respected scientist. He is not a member of the KGB."

But I conceded that flashlights were not forbidden.

When Davis finally went back and turned the flashlight on, he saw that the walls near the door were dented and pitted — the telltale marks left by fragments of explosives.

"You have been using explosives here," he declared.

"No, no," Petukhov insisted. "Those marks come from the hammers we had to use to make the door fit when we were constructing the building. It was poorly made by our factory, you see."

It was quick thinking, but the wrong answer. We had prepared everyone with a better explanation. They were to say that it was true, explosives were used, but only to test aerosols for defense work. How could we protect our soldiers unless we knew how biological aerosols behaved?

It probably didn't matter that Petukhov forgot his script. They would have drawn the right conclusion regardless, but it was a matter of pride for us to find answers that sounded at least reasonably intelligent.

That evening, we dined at the Obolensk executive dining room. Bottles of cognac were placed at each table, but the plan to get our visitors drunk fell flat.

"I have to tell you we don't believe a word any of you are saying," Davis remarked candidly to me over dinner, speaking through an interpreter. "We know everything."

"I don't know what you mean," I said with as much surprise as I could manufacture. "But you are free to believe what you want."

After the two days at Obolensk, Urakov telephoned Kalinin.

"Kanatjan and I were a great team," he bragged. "We didn't give anything away."

The visit to Obolensk was supposed to conclude my duties as host. But I wasn't surprised when Kalinin told me that Davydov still had "important work" to do. "I know you don't believe me," Davydov insisted when we met in Kalinin's office. "But I have to go to Irkutsk to check on the new facility for single-cell protein."

"I know that project," I said. "And I know that there's nothing urgent about it."

Kalinin intervened.

"There's no point in arguing," he said evenly. "You've done such a good job, our guests will wonder why you're not staying with them."

I could read what was on Kalinin's mind as clearly as if he'd said it aloud. If the visit continued with no real problems, Biopreparat would look good. But if something went wrong, they could always blame me. Kalinin and Davydov knew how much I now opposed continuing the program. I was clearly dispensable.