Second Theory:
The Great Jewish Antibiotics Ring was a plot by the KGB at Andropov’s instigation to implicate Academician Israel Abramovitch Yakovlevitch and his Jewish colleagues in the illegal trade in antibiotics. The object of the plot was to provide a basis for harassing refuseniks and an easy explanation of the medicines shortage.
Evidence: Grishin organised the case against Yakovlevitch.
Problems: Why did Chernenko terminate the investigation after Andropov’s death? If the plot was so straightforward, why didn’t Chernenko adopt it? How does this version square with a GRU investigation of the pharmaceuticals factory, if the whole scheme was a fabrication?
Third Theory…
Kirov halted there. He wasn’t certain that there was a third theory. He remembered only that Grishin had given an explanation for GRU’s interest in the pharmaceuticals plant. Someone thought that Andropov had been murdered. Drugs supplied by the plant had been used. That someone had presumably been Chernenko. He had been responsible for the funeral arrangements for the dead man and so must have seen the autopsy. The problem with this version of events was that the most logical person to have organised Andropov’s murder was Chernenko himself, who had lost the leadership race on Brezhnev’s death and had every reason to fear Andropov’s moves against the old Brezhnev gang. In which case, having contrived the medical murder of Andropov, he was unlikely to have advertised the fact by ordering an investigation.
Kirov stared at his notes and the words seemed to drift. Three versions of events, each straying into the others and the only common thread the Bulpharma plant, which had been investigated and found innocent. Two of the versions spelled trouble for whoever pursued them. In the corridor machinery clattered, people queued to get coffee and rolls, Grishin was shouting for his secretary and a clerk trundled past with a trolley full of files. Kirov scooped up his notes and joined the line by the document shredder, evoking a look of surprise from the assembled secretaries. He filled in the destruction-docket against one of Tumanov’s cases and fed the sheets into the machine.
The call came at two o’clock. A Major Kolomeitsev, identifying himself as a member of Department 44388 — GRU under another name — asked Kirov to present himself immediately at the Aquarium for a meeting with Colonel Heltai concerning a subject which would be familiar to him. Kirov gave a noncommittal answer, replaced the handset and went to see Grishin.
The office was empty but a smouldering cigarette lay in the ashtray among a stack of dossiers. The top folder was untitled but marked with a departmental code for the Rehabilitation Committee. Kirov flipped the cover open to see if the contents identified the subject of the Committee’s current attentions. The top document was a memorandum addressed to Grishin and headed with a case reference and title. The subject was ‘Unjustified Harassment of Scientific, Medical and Technical Personnel Contrary to the Principles of Socialist Legality’. The name of the individual concerned had been masked. Kirov closed the file as Grishin came back into the room.
‘Pyotr Andreevitch,’ said Grishin with a careworn surprise. He invited Kirov to take a seat and asked him how the Bulgarian investigation had gone; was Kirov any closer to establishing a link between the Bulgarian pharmaceuticals plant and the source of the black-market antibiotics?
‘No.’
‘You found nothing of interest?’
‘The plant was given a clean bill of health. I checked the records of the cadre’s office. If GRU had discovered anything that implicated the plant there would have been changes in the management. The records show no unusual personnel movement. The conclusion has to be that GRU drew a blank.’
‘Nothing else?’ Grishin said this lightly, the words floating on top of something else. Perhaps only the stress of the Committee’s enquiries. Perhaps I’m seeing plots and ambiguity everywhere — the worn-out spy’s equivalent of senility. Kirov shook off the idea.
‘The Resident and the GRU station chief are working together.’
Grishin was amused. ‘It happens. I believe it’s called friendship. Unusual, I admit.’
‘There’s an American working in close collaboration with the plant.’
‘He has an official reason for being there?’
‘Yes.’
‘So? I’m sorry if I don’t follow you. There’s still some sort of case against the plant? If so, what is it?’ Grishin smiled patiently and then repented. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t intending to discourage you. Quite rightly there are aspects of the Bulgarian business that disquiet you and, naturally, you are looking for a theory that explains them. A word of warning only: a convenient theory today can become inconvenient tomorrow. But carry on. I think you’re onto something. Run with it.’
‘Thank you, Rodion Mikhailovitch.’
As Kirov left the General’s office he looked back. Grishin had returned to his documents and was staring at them blankly. The paper reflected in his moist eyes and turned them white.
He went to the Fire Brigade cubbyhole where a female clerk in a faded twinset was on duty. He told her to go and smoke in the toilet. The room was a simple box with a desk, a typewriter, a chair and a waste bin. A secure cabinet was fixed to one wall and held the duplicate file-keys kept by the night shift. It was locked. The waste bin contained newspaper chess problems and the remains of someone’s supper. Lying on the desk were the roster and the shift log. Kirov picked up the latter.
The last entry in the log was marked by a page torn from a diary and stained with coffee. Scribbled on it were notes written by the duty officer which the clerk had been transcribing into the log in a round schoolmistress hand. The rostered shift was listed by name, the previous night’s activities were summarised by quarter-hour intervals, and the security checklist was ticked off. Kirov’s own visit was logged in. There was no reference to the presence of Special Investigations in the building.
Kirov looked through the other entries. The duty officer was obliged to sign for any keys taken from the security cabinet, note incoming cables and record the numbers of files taken and the fact of their return. Nothing was entered for the previous night. He turned to the duty officer’s jottings and compared them with the fair copy in the log; though not yet completed, the copy tallied so far with the notes and the balance of the draft entries contained nothing of interest. He scanned the back of the rough copy. Five lines of chess notation in a different hand and then more of the duty officer’s writing, a series of four-figure numbers with various letter prefixes and no explanation. Kirov made a note of these, inserted the marker back into the log and replaced the latter on the desk as the clerk returned.
He went back to his own office and called his secretary. He gave her the list and asked her to compare it against the key list held by Grishin’s department. Next he called Registry for a response to his check on the American, Craig. Registry confirmed that the dossier on the American was held by the First Chief Directorate, but access was restricted: it held joint KGB/GRU material and required two authorisations. The chief of the American desk could sign for KGB. For GRU authorisation reference should be made to Colonel F.G. Heltai. Kirov was informed that MVD held no record of Craig, nor was any held by the 7th Department of the Second Chief Directorate which had responsibility for the surveillance of tourists. It followed that Craig had told the truth and he had never visited the Soviet Union.