Not only must there be a plan, but they must be ready to act on whatever opportunities may appear suddenly. He remembered the occasion, when the first step had been taken a little more than a year before….
September 6, 1967
The theatre party following the season opening of the Bolshoi Ballet was very glitzy for Moscow. Chernakov and Valeri had been officially invited to attend by KGB Colonel Yuri Karpov. By this time Chernakov was an internationally well known military figure. Well regarded even by enemies of the Soviet, his courage and skill was touted among military leaders in Europe and the United States.
Karpov was fond of his own powerful role in the Party and when it became known that the American Ambassador, Joseph Harding would be attending the ballet as well, he perceived it as good public relations to be in the company of the noted Soviet general.
Chernakov was also aware that the American Ambassador would be attending. He had prepared a message and carefully folded it into his handkerchief. It might be the chance that he and Valeri had prayed for. He had to be ready.
Almost immediately upon their arrival at the party following the performance, he and Valeri were guided by Colonel Karpov who remained very close to them introducing them, making certain they were seen as his willing companions.
Karpov liked women. His eyes made no secret of his admiration of the young attractive dancers. His overly solicitous attentiveness to her made Valeri feel uncomfortable and she tried not to be alone with him for more than a few minutes.
After what seemed like an eternity to Valeri, Karpov’s thirst got the better of him and he left their side momentarily to get a glass of champagne. As Pyotr looked around at the expensive jewelry and furs worn by the wives and ‘friends’ of the Party bosses he said quietly to Valeri, “Communism has its rewards, does it not?”
She looked at him, smiled knowingly and responded, “I would say so, yes.”
“Comrade Valeri, you do look lovely tonight.” Karpov had returned and tried to insert himself between Pyotr and Valeri, but Pyotr quickly extended his arm around Valeri, forcing Karpov to her other side. “Thank you, Colonel,” he said, “I think my wife looks lovely, also.”
Valeri nodded appreciatively to her husband for reading her thoughts. She then thanked Karpov, sensing that Pyotr might have overreacted to the Party leader’s attention to her.
“You are a lucky man, Comrade,” Yuri said to Chernakov, again visibly appraising Valeri. “Come and let me introduce you to the American Ambassador and his associate.”
Karpov guided them toward a man with iron gray hair in evening attire chatting with one of the young women from the ballet. His mannerisms were clearly American or so Chernakov thought. He smiled easily as did the other man with him, a tall man about 35 with a carrot-colored hair and freckles; Karpov identified him as William Jacobson, the Embassy Public Affairs officer.
Seeing Karpov, the young woman they had been talking with quickly moved away as Karpov approached with General and Mrs. Chernakov. It was not wise to be seen enjoying the company of the Americans too much, especially in the sight of the KGB Colonel.
“Ambassador Joseph Harding and Mr. William Jacobsen, I would introduce you to General Pyotr Chernakov and the General’s wife, Valeri Chernakov,” Karpov offered officiously.
As Chernakov was shaking Ambassador Harding’s outstretched hand, he leaned close to Valeri and whispered attentively in her ear, “Darling, follow my lead,” as he next shook Jacobsen’s hand.
Ambassador Harding said pleasantly, “Did you enjoy the performance, Mrs. Chernakov.” He was impressed by Valeri’s beauty. The lines of her blue gown were simple and tasteful and she wore very little jewelry, only a small necklace with matching earrings and a wedding ring. Her shining black hair was pulled into a smooth chignon and her wide blue eyes under dark brows and lashes, lit up when she answered him.
“Oh, yes, it was thrilling, Mr. Ambassador,” she said in almost perfect English. “My husband and I are not too often able to attend, so it is a great pleasure when we can come. And you, Ambassador Harding, do you enjoy the ballet, too?”
“Americans always enjoy your Bolshoi and I cannot attend as often as I would like either, Mrs. Chernakov.”
Valeri turned toward Pyotr just as his arm bumped William Jacobsen’s hand holding a full glass of champagne, spilling it on Jacobsen’s jacket sleeve.
Taking out his handkerchief before Jacobsen could reach for his own, he offered apologetically, “Oh forgive me, Mr. Jacobsen, how unforgivably clumsy of me,” he said as he was attempting to wipe Jacobsen’s sleeve.
Jacobsen said, “Here, let me do that, General.”
Pyotr nodded and looking directly into Jacobsen eyes carefully pressed the handkerchief into Jacobsen’s hand. Jacobsen felt more than the handkerchief, but continued to dab his sleeve. His eyes acknowledged that he understood and said casually as he placed the handkerchief in his own pocket, “Everything is fine, don’t worry about the coat, it will dry.”
After further polite conversation, Chernakov and Valeri thanked him and then moved away to enjoy some of the food, trying to appear at ease. Karpov had observed the accidental spill and he moved close to Valeri and commented, “I saw the little accident, Comrade Valeri, it’s too bad.”
Her heart froze with fear at the possibility of discovery, but she responded cautiously, “Yes, Colonel, it is so embarrassing.”
“No, no, Comrade, I mean it is too bad to waste such good champagne… on an American,” he laughed.
“Oh,” she said smiling, “how clever of you, Colonel Karpov. Perhaps you are right.” She sighed with relief as she watched him move away to talk with one of the young ballerina’s.
While Pyotr was speaking with another officer across the room, Jacobsen sought out Valeri. Handing her the handkerchief, he said, “Thank your husband for me, Mrs. Chernakov. I don’t see the General, right now, but as you can see,” offering his sleeve, “it hardly shows,” and under his breath he said, “we understand and we will be in contact.”
Pyotr appeared at her elbow. Jacobsen reiterated, “It’s quite all right, General, and I just returned your handkerchief to Mrs. Chernakov.” To Valeri, “I understand that you work at the Lenin Museum, Mrs. Chernakov.”
“Yes, I am there three days a week.”
“Perhaps I will see you there one day. We often have visitors at the embassy, and occasionally we have an opportunity to show them some of the points of interest of your city.”
Colonel Karpov had once again joined the General, Valeri and Jacobsen and overhearing part of Jacobsen’s remarks commented, “We are always pleased to show Americans true Soviet history and culture.”
Pyotr touching Valeri’s shoulder spoke quietly, “We must say goodnight, Mr. Ambassador, and Mr. Jacobsen, and I apologize again.”
“It’s quite all right, no harm done as you can see, General Chernakov. It was a pleasure meeting you both and I hope we meet again.”
At the embassy in Ambassador Harding’s office, he and Jacobsen read the message so carefully inserted in Chernakov’s handkerchief. The words were few.
We wish to defect. Please help us
Harding sat behind his desk shaking his head and stroking his chin while pondering the startling message. “Chernakov of all people! Do you believe him?” he asked Jacobsen incredulously.