Biohazard

As soon as he left, most of my senior staff crowded in. One or two who had heard the argument shook my hand, but our conversations were hesitant and stilted. We discussed the morning's events as if they had happened somewhere else. There was a wariness in the room; people were silently choosing sides.

I met Joel Taylor at 1:00 P.M., but the minister never showed. After half an hour of shared pleasantries, I told our translator to advise the American to go home.

"Tell him nobody knows what's going to happen here now," I said.

As I headed back to the car, someone mentioned that crowds were gathering at the White House, the seat of the Russian government.

Kalinin called later that afternoon and asked me to come to Samokatnaya Street. I asked Slava to take an indirect route along the Krasnopresnenskaya Embankment, leading past the White House.

For the first time that day, Slava smiled.

As we approached the Russian parliament building, the crowds grew so large that our car was forced to stop. I got out and began to walk. A few curses flew toward me from people who had seen me emerge from the official limousine, but I plodded on. At the side streets leading up to the parliament entrances, the crowd had piled bags stuffed with garbage to serve as a makeshift barricade. The towering white building was engulfed by a human sea. Throngs of people filled the space between it and the Moscow River, and even more were pouring into the square behind. Some had brought blankets and bags of food.

I wandered among them for a half hour or so and then threaded my way back. Slava was hovering protectively near the car.

"They say Yeltsin has asked everybody in Moscow to come to the White House," he told me. "Some of these people plan to stay here all night."

Later estimates suggested that there were twenty-five thousand government supporters at the White House that afternoon. The number would soon swell to more than three times that size. Kalinin's office was filled with senior managers, including Yermoshin, Davydov, and a few chiefs of the directorates. They were huddled in conversation.

Davydov, who was closest to the door, grabbed my arm as I walked in. His face glistened with perspiration.

"Kanatjan!" he said giddily. "Isn't this wonderful!"

"Isn't what wonderful?"

"They've finally arrested that idiot Gorbachev! The man who was destroying our country! He should be hung!"

I was still wrapped in the glow of what I had seen at the White House. As I scanned the room, I was struck by the fact that no one seemed particularly surprised by the coup. Davydov's word—"finally" — had an ominous ring.

Kalinin never hid his sympathies for critics of Gorbachev. In his circle of senior bureaucrats and military chiefs, spiteful comments had been circulating for months. Bykov, our minister, used to say "pluralism" — one of the watchwords of the Gorbachev era — as if he were spitting. Muttered threats about "throwing that bastard out" had become so common that I no longer paid attention. Kalinin would have been warned by his friends of an impending action: we were a military organization, and Biopreparat would have been placed on alert.

I was no longer trusted, but Davydov had always been reliable. His beaming face suddenly seemed abominable to me. For the first time in my career, I lost my temper. The room went still.

"I can't wait to hear what you say when Gorbachev comes back!" I shouted at Davydov, who stepped back as if I'd struck him.

Kalinin stood up.

"Kanatjan, calm yourself," he ordered. "There's no reason to get upset. Gorbachev is very sick. You can believe me."

"Tell that to the people at the White House," I said. "Maybe you can convince them to take down their barricades."

"What barricades?" someone asked.

I described the scene on the embankment. Kalinin shook his head. Everyone else looked fixedly at me.

"If only people would understand," he said. "The country is in very good hands. There is nothing to be alarmed about."

"I think there is a lot to be alarmed about!" I was getting worked up again.

Kalinin sighed and looked at his watch.

"Maybe it's time for all of us to go home," he said. "We'll meet here tomorrow and discuss this once more."

As we walked out I asked Yermoshin what they had been talking about.

"We were trying to decide whether to draft a letter of support to the GKChP," Yermoshin said. "Kalinin said it was our duty." Then he added, in a whisper, "Are there really barricades?"

"Go see them," I snapped. Yermoshin was unfazed.

"I know how angry you are," he said. "But I'll tell you something that will make you angrier. Kalinin called Urakov first thing this morning at Obolensk and told him to organize a proclamation of support for the emergency committee. Urakov whipped his officers into line, and he had the proclamation ready by noon. I'm surprised he didn't ask you to do the same thing."

Yermoshin didn't appear at the office for the next two days. He had decided to call in sick, he told me later, to avoid getting "stupid orders."