Biohazard

On January 13, 1992, seventeen years after I had received my junior lieutenant's commission, I left the army. My letter of resignation had been in Kalinin's safe at Samokatnaya Street since the failed coup. He was surprised when I asked him to put the resignation papers through. No sane person, he believed, would voluntarily give up the perks of military rank.

I wasn't ready to break with Russia completely. But 1 thought severing my military connections would liberate me from a program I had begun to despise. This turned out to be a futile hope.

New leaders assumed control in the army and the KGB, but the power structure in both organizations remained unchanged. The Military-Industrial Commission was attached to the newly formed Russian Ministry of Industry, with its function preserved. One by one, former Soviet institutions merged with the new government, bringing with them the cadres of apparatchiks who had ruled the old empire. The hopes of the new Russian democracy were being compromised behind the scenes even as we were promised a new way of life.

The biological warfare program followed the same path. Biopreparat's production capacity was destroyed under Gorbachev's orders. It should properly have been disbanded, or at least merged with the new state pharmaceutical enterprise, but Kalinin was determined to preserve his autonomy — and he enjoyed quiet support from the military bureaucracy.

Our report on the U.S. visit was crucial to his strategy. If he could demonstrate that America was conducting offensive research, he could convince the Yeltsin government that Biopreparat was essential. Yet massaging the facts couldn't make a biological warfare program out of what we had seen.

I should have realized this wouldn't deter him.

Attached to our ten-page report was a "summary" prepared by Kalinin and Grigory Shcherbakov. It claimed our observations proved the continued existence of an American weapons program.

The report was duly sent to the Kremlin along with a further recommendation from the Fifteenth Directorate that Russia's offensive research continue. This was the last straw. I wrote out a second letter of resignation from Biopreparat and took it to headquarters.

Kalinin opened my letter in exaggerated slow motion, fingering it as if it were toxic. When he finished it, he looked up with a puzzled expression.

"What do you think you will do with yourself?" he said.

"I don't know yet. Maybe I'll start a private business. Maybe I'll go to Kazakhstan. It's my motherland, after all."

"Your motherland?" He shook his head. "You swore to serve the Soviet Union, just like me."

"I lived in a country called the Soviet Union," I replied. "I served it loyally. But it doesn't exist anymore. So now I'm free."

Kalinin's face darkened.

"I always suspected you were the type who thought he was too good for Russia," he said.

"You can think what you like," I said, my temper beginning to rise. I had promised myself not to let him provoke me, but I could feel that determination ebbing.

"All right," he said, holding his hand up as a peace signal. "We don't have to fight, but be reasonable. Who around here can take your place?"

"Lots of people want the job. You can make one of them happy."

He stroked his chin and smiled. He had decided to charm me.

"You don't know how valuable you are to me, and to this organization," he said. "Maybe you should give this some more thought."

It was a strange moment. The man with whom I had argued and fought throughout the previous two years, who knew that I hated everything he stood for, now appeared anxious to keep me by his side.

"No," I said. "My decision is final."

"Well, my decision is that I'm not giving you permission to leave."

"You can do what you like, but I'm not under your command anymore," I shot back. "Whether you agree or not, I will be gone by next week."

He stiffened. "Are you giving me an ultimatum? You're the director of an institute. You're not allowed to leave."

"I don't want to work in this program any longer," I said. "Or with you."

He grabbed my letter from his desk and threw it at me.

"You are a traitor!" he shouted. "I always knew you would betray me!"

I threw the letter back.

"I haven't betrayed anyone," I said. "Think about last August before you accuse anyone of betrayal."

I turned and walked out of his office, past a startled Tatyana, who must have heard the entire argument. I went down the corridor to our personnel office and handed in my secret passes and credentials. The building was quiet. Several people poked their heads out of offices as I walked by, but no one said a word.

I walked down the marble staircase and pushed open the door. The KGB guard outside saluted as I walked through the courtyard to get my car. I had driven over in my Zhiguli. I never wanted to see an official Volga for the rest of my life.

The KGB man saluted again as I drove past him out the gate. It started to snow.

I spent the next several days clearing out my office. Kalinin didn't call. I never saw him again.