Moscow, December 25, 1991

Gorbachev became quite emotional when the British prime minister told him that whatever decision he made, “you will unquestionably occupy a special place in the history of your country and the world.”

“Thank you for everything,” replied Gorbachev, his eyes glistening. “Raisa and I have grown very fond of you, both you and Norma.”

While Gorbachev was out of the room, the conversation between Yakovlev and Yeltsin continued in a more relaxed fashion, fueled by more glasses of vodka. The Russian president reproached Yakovlev for publicly criticizing his actions in making Russia independent, and Yakovlev retorted that he thought the decision was “illegitimate and undemocratic.” But there was little personal antagonism. Yeltsin asked him what he would do with himself now that he no longer had a job as presidential adviser. Yakovlev said he would work for Gorbachev in the foundation. “Why would you? He betrayed you more than once,” said Yeltsin. “It’s not as if you don’t have other opportunities.” This sounded to Yakovlev like an invitation to work with the Russian administration, but he didn’t take it up. He said he was simply sorry for Gorbachev. “God forbid that anyone should be in his situation.”

Yakovlev took it on himself to warn Yeltsin not to let the intelligence service get too powerful or allow it to control information reaching him. He reminded him that information fed to Gorbachev by the KGB had succeeded in frightening the president into adopting a hard line against the democrats. Yeltsin agreed and said that he was going to set up five or six channels of information—though as Yakovlev later noted, nothing ever came out of that. In this context the name of Yevgeny Primakov, director of the Foreign Intelligence Service, came up. Yeltsin said from what he knew, Primakov was inclined to drink too much. “No more nor less than others,” said Yakovlev dryly. Yeltsin looked at him suspiciously but didn’t say anything.

Gorbachev seemed in no hurry to return to Yeltsin’s company and kept Major on the phone for half an hour. The less power he had, the longer his conversations lasted. Alexander Rutskoy was overheard once, as he rushed from his office late for a meeting, “Damn, every time Gorbachev calls he blabs on for a half hour.”¹³

After he bid Major good-bye, Gorbachev remarked to Grachev and Chernyaev that he and Yeltsin had worked everything out, and “I’m going back in to wind things up.”

Glancing into Gorbachev’s office where the door had been left open, Grachev noted the red flag standing in the corner, Gorbachev’s eyeglass case on the desk, and the nuclear suitcase on the table, all visible confirmation that Gorbachev was still, if only nominally, president of the Soviet Union. “This is the surrealistic tableau that would have presented itself to anyone who could have taken a cross section through the building and looked into the rooms on the third floor,” he thought. “Atop the dome, the red flag of the Soviet Union was still flying.”

Zhenya brought plates of cold meat and smoked fish and pickles into the Walnut Room. He also managed to rustle up bread and jam and coffee for Grachev and Yegor Yakovlev in the kitchen. As they ate, they saw that Russian television was showing the “Dance of the Cygnets” from Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, the same ballet broadcast on Soviet television during the three days of the August coup. It was as if someone inside the television studios was subtly signaling that a second coup was being conducted, this time by Yeltsin.

The two Gorbachev associates pestered the waiter as he hurried in and out of the Walnut Room about the mood of the men inside. “The mood seems to be good,” the diplomatic Zhenya responded.

In the television room next to the kitchen, Ted Koppel and Rick Kaplan waited in vain, with their antenna rigged up, to communicate with New York via satellite link, in the event of dramatic news from down the corridor. Eventually they gave up and left.

The meeting in the Walnut Room went on for another two and a half hours. Around 9 p.m., after Gorbachev had downed two more small glasses of cognac, Yakovlev noticed that he was showing signs of strain. Saying that he wasn’t feeling very well, the Soviet president excused himself. He left the room and went to lie down in a resting room attached to an adjacent office.

Yeltsin and Yakovlev found themselves alone again. They threw back little shots of alcohol for another hour. In an expansive mood, Yeltsin promised he would draw up a decree directing that special provision be made for Yakovlev, taking into account his exceptional merits in the cause of the democratic movement. Gorbachev’s aide thanked him but noted afterwards, “He by the way forgot about his promise.”