One evening, when I was quite tired and had decided to finish up the last experiment for the day, a leak materialized at the joint of the valve to the tank. I decided to eliminate it by tightening the connecting nut on the valve. I don’t know why, probably because I was tired, I turned this nut from left to right. But it had to be in the opposite direction on the hydrogen tanks. The result was terrifying. Fire ruptured from the tank with a hiss, fortunately not in my direction, but in the direction of the wall covered with ceramic tiles. I made a great effort not to throw the damned tank down. With the same spanner that had helped me “create the flame”, I turned the valve to the left and the fire went out. I remember I drank up the alcohol that I had kept for the electrician in one gulp, not even diluting it with water, and I quickly left the laboratory.
Later, my guardian angel saved me once more from real trouble. During my work at night, I used cooling fluid from a Dewar vessel. The concentrating adsorption column had valves that closed at both ends, so that concentrated admixtures in ethylene could be quickly cooled and evacuated, after the regeneration that took place when it was purged with helium at a high temperature.
I had carried out hundreds of these experiments by that time, and all my movements were almost automatic. But that night, I made an awkward movement and a hot steel column touched the glass wall of the Dewar vessel. A deafening explosion resounded and I was covered with glass splinters. Fortunately, my eyes were not damaged, and I just got a few scratches on my face. I was very lucky because I wasn’t wearing my safety goggles or a special mask at the time, as the safety measures required.
I finished the experiments for my dissertation on time, and only the writing remained. Zhukhovitsky helped me a lot with that. Following his recommendation, I started working as a senior scientist at the All-Union Scientific Research Institute of Complex Automation of the Oil Industry (VNIIKA NeftGas). Turkeltaub was supposed to move there soon with his laboratory. There were grand plans to create something like a center for chromatographic research, with its design and its experimental and industrial functions based on modern chromatography.
Unfortunately, these plans were never realized. VNIIKA NeftGas still had a Chromatography Department, but only for design purposes. Under these conditions, I had few prospects for work as a specialist in the area of researching and developing modern methods of chromatographic analysis. By the end of 1964, I finished all the technical aspects of my dissertation and submitted it, looking forward to my turn to defend it.
However, fate decided to test my strength again. Alas, this time I failed the ordeal. When I tell my friends about it, they all collectively assured me that I behaved reasonably, because I had no other choice. But I feel otherwise.
The defense of my dissertation was scheduled for the end of May, 1965. Before the meeting of the Science Council, I finished all the technical work and was going to leave the Institute of Petrochemical Synthesis earlier than usual. One day, I suddenly bumped into Professor Sokolov in the corridor. We greeted each other, and the professor said in his squeaky voice that he knew about my defense and had even read the abstract. Then Sokolov added that my work had made a good impression on him and he was ready to support me at a meeting of the Science Council.
I was amazed at his generosity and openhanded attitude. I had caused so much trouble for my former supervisor. But then Sokolov quickly brought me back down to earth, by asking me to sign just one paper. He took a few sheets of paper out of his briefcase. The text read that some time ago, due to lack of experience and poor knowledge of the scientific literature, Vil Sultanovich Mirzayanov had written incorrectly about the use of sources by Professor V.A. Sokolov, the author of numerous large monographs. Now he deeply regretted it and asked that these allegations be dismissed for having no basis in reality.
The application was addressed to the Minister of Geology. I looked at the blackmailer, considering how I could hit him without crippling him. But I managed to control myself and even asked idiotically if that was all. “Yes, yes, of course, you know, Nikolai Sergeevich doesn’t like scandals, and I can arrange this tomorrow if you behave prudently,” he concluded.
Instantly, my whole life passed in front of my eyes. I remembered the enormous difficulties that I had to overcome to approach one of the crucial moments of my scientific career. By that time, I had divorced my wife and lost my family. Everyone who knew anything about the Soviet system, was very well aware that the path to research was closed to any scientist, however talented, without an official scientific degree. Usually, the science councils, where a dissertation is defended, evaluate the quality of work, only by official reviews of specifically appointed opponents and speakers on the topic. Among the members of the Science Council, there can be no more than three or four specialists on the dissertation topic under discussion. The rest rely strictly on their intuition or other external factors. Any negative review or comments can produce an unfavorable result in the secret vote. If a candidate for a degree fails to get two thirds of the votes of the council members present at the meeting, the dissertation “is knocked down”, and the candidate loses the chance to defend his or her work again. The label testifying “low” qualification of the candidate sticks with him forever and only real luck can help him get rid of it.
I displayed some “prudence”, and signed two copies of the appeal. Then I felt smeared with indelible dirt from head to foot. I couldn’t overcome this feeling, either during the defense of my thesis or after it. The speech of Professor Sokolov, who supported my dissertation, caused a sensation.
After the results of the voting were announced, I told my supervisors about my degradation. They comforted me in every possible way, but at heart I cursed myself and swore never to bargain with my conscience again.
CHAPTER 6
Into Supersecrecy
After my divorce, there was nowhere for me to live, because of the housing shortage in Moscow. Rita and I still shared a room and the situation was becoming increasingly more stressful. My only option was to try to buy a new cooperative apartment, and I couldn’t afford to continue working at VNIIKA NeftGas on my salary. So I began to look for new work. Unexpectedly, Professor Victor Berezkin, my masters’ thesis advisor, offered to help me. He did not explain where he had recommended me for work, but he proposed that I meet with an acquaintance of his, a man he had once worked with who was a representative of one of the Post Office Boxes.
I agreed to this, though I remembered the story of my friend Volodya Shakhrai about how Berezkin had been poisoned during his time working at the Central Scientific Military Technical Institute (TsNIIVTI), researching chemical agents. After a long cure, and it seems a not an entirely successful one, he developed a strong allergy to literally every chemical solvent.
Several days later I met with Aleksei Beresnev, who introduced himself as chairman of the Analytical Department of “Post Office Box 702”. We didn’t have a professional conversation, but he proposed that I go to his institute and fill out the paperwork necessary to get access to work with secret documents.
I went to the address Beresnev gave me, and there I was stunned by the sight of a gloomy and decrepit old building on the Highway of Enthusiasts. I wondered if I was in the right place. You could get a glimpse of this monstrosity from a bridge that passed over the railway on the way to Post Office Box 4019, where I had worked as a shift engineer for the last 2 years. During that time, I had gone several times to a “night resort”, which was located in the Tarasovka Settlement, half an hour’s trip from the Yaroslav Train Station on the Northern Moscow Rail Line.