The Russian Century: A Hundred Years of Russian Lives

General de Gaulle. This was a special cause for celebration for the ambassador. It was, incidentally, no less a cause for celebration for Gribanov. I found out from Kunavin and Vera Ivanovna that after General de Gaulle’s rise to power, De Jean’s position became stronger and he could hope to become the French Minister of Foreign Affairs, since he had already served as the Commissioner of Foreign Affairs in de Gaulle’s wartime government-in-exile in London. The KGB considered the close personal relationship between De Jean and de Gaulle to be important. I don’t know how closely that corresponded with the truth. In any case, the ante had been raised. Gribanov’s plan grew fantastically in size, although the risk of the entire operation grew as well. However, in this case behind the KGB stood none other than Nikita Khrushchev.

I will note that according to my observations, neither De Jean nor Marie-Claire took advantage of their special relationship with the new French president. Their tact never failed them. Only once when they showed us the elegantly decorated guest rooms, located at the back of the embassy, did they say that were General de Gaulle to visit Moscow, he would stay there.

But back to the operation.

Suddenly, coincidence came into play. An exhibition of the Georgian artist Lado Gudiiashvili opened at the Kuznetskii Most. I knew the artist well, since he was a friend of my father, and used to visit us in Tbilisi. I liked his work, which was distinguished by its unique qualities: a rare blend of Western modernism with something distinctly Georgian. Lado was no follower of socialist realism; he had studied in Paris in his youth, and upon his return to the already-Soviet Georgia fell into disfavor, and was the subject of constant criticism by party officials, even though he was very popular among the larger circles of the intelligentsia. Even Mdivani liked him, despite the fact that an abyss separated their artistic principles.

The Lado Gudiiashvili exhibit was very quickly closed since, according to our ideologues, it caused an “unhealthy” interest on the part of Muscovites, its occurrence during the last stage of the “Thaw” notwithstanding.

It was Zhorzh, in fact, who gave me the idea to invite De Jean and Gerard to this exhibit. Kunavin immediately seized upon this suggestion. Gribanov liked it as well. At that time Vera Ivanovna took Marie-Claire to Leningrad, I think. The ambassador was alone. We decided that, in addition to myself and Mdivani, Lidiia Khovanskaia would accompany him as his interpreter to the exhibition of Gudiiashvili’s works.

I called Maurice. He agreed immediately and arrived at the exhibit hall at the designated hour, accompanied by Marcel Gerard. The ambassador arrived in his Chevrolet with the French flag, and Gerard drove his own Citroen.

This was truly a cause for celebration for the old and distinguished master. After all, his exhibit was visited by none other than the ambassador of France,

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Gudiiashvili’s beloved France, the country where he spent, perhaps, the best years of his youth. Lado thanked Zhorzh and me profusely for arranging this. Oh, if he only knew that it was the KGB that had arranged this, and for what purpose it had been arranged!

Maurice and Gerard spent about an hour and a half at the exhibition. Lado himself provided commentary in French. Sometimes Lidiia Khovanskaia would put in a word or two. Lado came close to tears when the French ambassador and the cultural advisor left comments of exalted praise in the guestbook.

Seeing the Frenchmen off, I stepped onto the narrow, noisy Kuznetskii Most [actually a street in Moscow’s historic district]. Lidiia came out of the exhibit hall with me, and right near Maurice’s car, she smiled very sweetly and asked De Jean to give her a ride home. And this was the entire raison d’être for the operation of visiting Gudiiashvili’s exhibit. This alone. It goes without saying that Maurice gallantly opened the door of the Chevrolet for Lida, and behind the steering wheel was “our” Boris. We said good-bye. De Jean left to take Khovanskaia home.

And what came next?

If Maurice had been the ambassador in England or Brazil, then, dear reader, what follows would hardly interest you, and this book would never have seen the light of day. If he had lived in England or Brazil, the question of his safety would never have arisen. But, alas, De Jean was the ambassador to the USSR—and this changed everything.