The Russian Century: A Hundred Years of Russian Lives

Stepanovich, congratulated me over the phone, saying, “Well, now you’re fully armed. Go for it!” Kunavin, an old automobile enthusiast, some other KGB administrator, and I went to buy a Volga at the only automobile dealership in Moscow, on Bakuninskii Street. Kunavin said that this was a big present for me, and I agreed, even though I was paying 40,000 rubles of my own money for this present.

Finally we approached the final stage of the Lora Kronberg-Sobolevskaia epic. In the end, Gribanov wasn’t fully certain of Lora (or perhaps that was simply his style—having doubles and back-ups), and that’s why one more girl was brought into the operation. This was Alla Golubova (code name: Petrova), a beautiful young woman who now works for Intourist. I was to introduce her to Maurice as a straw widow—that is, as the wife of a sailor always out at sea who rarely returned to Moscow. According to the cover story, Alla had a separate apartment on the Arbat in building #41, apartment #14. In actuality, it was an apartment owned by the KGB where I would often meet with lower-ranking agents. Alla really lived with her aunt’s family, and didn’t even have her own room.

Kunavin brought us together in advance at that same ill-starred Moscow Hotel, where we discussed our plan of action, went over the history of our acquaintance, details of Alla’s biography, etc. Then I called up Maurice at the embassy and said that I’d like to invite him out for a picnic, especially since before she left for France Marie-Claire had asked me not to abandon her husband, to entertain him from time to time. Maurice agreed. I said that Larisa and another friend of mine were coming.

The night before, Kunavin and I went to the village of Kriukovo, within a forty-kilometer radius of Moscow, where the writer Georgii Briantsev and his wife Tonia had their dacha. [Foreigners were restricted to this 40km. radius.] In the past he had been a big man in the KGB and the Ministry of State Security; his wife had also worked for the KGB.

Someone at the Lubianka called Briantsev beforehand. He met us cordially and readily agreed to help. We revealed some of our cards to him and acquainted Tonia with what was going on. Kunavin’s assistants brought fresh food, drinks, and fruit right away. I made sure I remembered the directions, in order not to get lost the next day.

The day after, Lora, Alla, and I drove my new Volga up to the French Embassy. Guarding the Embassy were three militiamen, employees of the KGB First Sector who sullenly looked us over, even though they had been apprised of our coming, as usual. The Chevrolet sat near the entrance, with Boris behind the wheel. De Jean came out exactly at the pre-arranged time. I offered him a ride in my new Volga, but he preferred his Chevrolet. Then we decided that Lora would go with him, and she got into his car. We set off. Later Boris

300

Chapter Thirty-One

said that De Jean got a little nervous when he noticed we were approaching the 40-kilometer mark, since diplomats were forbidden to cross it, but it was then that we turned off onto a side road and soon reached our destination.

We left our cars in the clearing and walked to Briantsev’s dacha, which was about 300 meters away. We went in pairs. Maurice was with Lora, and I was with Alla. I was already pretending that Alla was my girl, since I saw whom Maurice clearly preferred.

At Briantsev’s well-appointed, comfortable dacha, we had dinner, and drank quite a bit. Briantsev, a short, stocky man with sharply defined features, a little crude in conversation, delivered several completely obscene jokes. But Maurice wasn’t embarrassed in the least.

After a short walk and a game of catch, we left for Moscow while it was still light. (Maurice, of course, invited the Briantsevs to visit him, but they never took him up on his offer.) We said good-bye at the center of town. I took Alla home, and Maurice took Lora home.

Home?

Yes, since by that time an apartment had been set up for her in building #2/4 on Ananiev Lane. Her apartment was on the first floor, and next to it on the same level, and with an entrance on the same landing, was a different KGB apartment—the same arrangement as on the Arbat. This system of paired apartments was intended for special operations.

The furnishings in the apartment prepared for Lora were okay—not luxurious, but not cheap, of course. The fact of the matter is that, according to the cover story, Lora’s husband was a geologist, who spent most of the year on faraway expeditions. Could Maurice check up on this? No. And why would he want to check up on something that was so convenient, from his standpoint? Lora had no children (both in real life and according to the cover story), nor did she have any relatives. She lived all alone, poor soul.