Вил Мирзаянов - State Secrets - An Insider's Chronicle of the Russian Chemical Weapons Program

The apartment was instantly so full that nobody could even move. Some sturdy guys settled comfortably into the kitchen, and one of them handed me an arrest warrant that said my apartment would be searched. I stood calmly, suddenly amazed at the simplicity of the proceedings. My only worry was Nuria, who was very upset and angrily venting at me, telling me they were tearing up the place and that I would have to clean up the mess. Trying to save the apartment from being torn to bits, I complied with a sharp command to produce everything that had to do with the Moscow News article, showing them where my manuscripts, scientific articles, and different papers were kept. [91] Neither these items nor my doctoral dissertation contained any classified information, chemical formulas, or codes.

The senior KGB officer ordered me to get dressed, and a few minutes later we left with two agents walking in front of me, two behind, and another two holding me by the arms. I felt like a big-time gangster in a movie. I made a wise crack that the officers shouldn’t hold me so tightly, because I could easily poison them all, and to my amusement they loosened their grip. They put me into a yellow Zhiguli that took off along the Highway of Enthusiasts, and then the motor died as the car was crossing the tramway tracks right in front of a tram. Two of the burly escorts jumped out to push the car as I started joking that they weren’t even properly prepared to capture a state criminal. Glaring back at me, the lead officer said they had lost their form a bit lately, but he assured me that it would all come back. Looking out the window as the Zhiguli passed GOSNIIOKhT, I knew as it turned to the right near the Aviamotornaya Metro Station that they were taking me to the notorious KGB prison, Lefortovo.

In Lefortovo I was immediately taken to the second floor of a thoroughly guarded three-story building that housed the Main Investigation Department. A young, tall, and slightly overweight blonde man with bright blue eyes “took me in” upon receipt into one of the offices off the long corridor. He declared that his name was Victor Shkarin and that he would be in charge of my case.

Investigator Shkarin briefly explained the reason for my arrest and solicitously asked me if I had any complaints. He did his best to demonstrate proper and polite behavior. After a brief formal procedure for establishing my identity, I resolutely refused to say anything or give any testimony without the presence of a lawyer. Probably this was a trifle theatrical, but it seemed to me that it was the best way to proceed, since many of our dissidents described their arrests with details like this in their memoirs.

Right away the captain started calling for a legal consultation. It was obvious that the system worked smoothly and everything was anticipated. He told me politely, “We will have time for everything.” He made it seem as if we were working for the same company and pursuing some common cause.

I was sitting in Investigator Shkarin’s small office for a long time, while we waited for the lawyer. The room was furnished with three chairs, a huge safe, a wardrobe, and a writing table with a squeaky computer.

I didn’t know yet what hardships were in store for me. Investigations, another arrest, imprisonment, closed legal proceedings, and long days full of bitter disappointment – all of this would blend into a long terrible ride in the Maelstrom.

I was getting over my original overwhelming apathy and started taking action. First, I asked for a pen and paper to write a declaration and protested against my detention. I wrote that I would go on an indefinite, dry hunger strike until the moment of my liberation.

The investigator read the text, but he didn’t react. Once more I declared that I would not answer any questions or participate in the interrogation without the presence of a lawyer. At that time it wasn’t easy for me to hire a lawyer, because I had no money. I felt anxious about causing a huge loss to the family finances, when life was so tough and every kopeck counted. I was particularly sorry for my sons, whom I had doomed to perpetual poverty. In despair, I even thought about why it hadn’t happened to me before they were born, when I wasn’t so vulnerable. Now, I could only count on the free services of the public defender.

The investigator quickly typed up the “detainment transcript”, where my rights were mentioned along with the reasons why I was under suspicion. It was written in the transcript that I was detained at 12.15 P.M., on October 22 of 1992.

Later Investigator Shkarin set about finishing up the “transcript of interrogation of the suspect”, because an elderly man with a beat-up old suitcase joined us. He introduced himself as a lawyer from Legal Advice Office N 150, Leonid Grigorievich Belomestnykh.

I seized the moment when Shkarin stepped out, to ask the lawyer to call my wife and give her the message that I had gone on a hunger strike. I was certain (how naive I was!) that if the Belomestnykh told my wife about this, I could ask him to defend my interests in the future. Skipping ahead, I can say that Belomestnykh didn’t fulfill my request, but I can’t rebuke him. At the end of the day, I am sure that he was at least a temporary KGB employee.

Finally, we started with the interrogation proper. I wasn’t so detached and unfeeling about it then, as I am these days when I am describing what happened. Probably I was a bit wound up and too obstinate. Shkarin said I was accused of revealing state secrets in the article “A Poisoned Policy,” which was in violation of Article 75, Part I, of the Russian Criminal Code. We got down to business after I agreed to answer in Russian (Tatar is my first language) and accepted Shkarin as the interrogator and Belomestnykh as my lawyer, even though I knew that any attorney that the KGB provided would not work in my interests.

From the start, I insisted on my complete innocence. I stated that the article was based on the facts as I knew them from my work at GOSNIIOKhT, given my direct involvement in the binary program. I had wanted to expose the hypocrisy of the leaders of the chemical weapons complex, because they were simultaneously developing new weapons while pretending to work towards chemical weapons disarmament. While I knew that information about the binary weapons program was secret, it was clear to me that the binary program served only the interests of the leaders of the chemical weapons complex. The article dealt conceptually with the binary program, but I gave no specific data about it. In fact, I had not used a single line from any classified document and therefore I believed that I had not disclosed any state secrets in “A Poisoned Policy.” [92] “Transcript of the Interrogation of the Suspect Vil Sultanovich Mirzayanov,” Investigation Department, Case 92, (Moscow: Ministry of Security of RF, 22 October 1992. Top Secret). Later, I had the opportunity to copy this document verbatim, as well as many others assembled in the case against me. See Annex 7. Furthermore, I never gave any concrete information about the composition or properties of any of the new chemical agents or the binaries.

Captain Shkarin did his best to create an impression in the transcript, that I had thoroughly confessed and that I had disclosed state secrets entrusted to me at my work. I must admit that sometimes I enjoyed his game, because I eliminated the obstacles he presented, while trying not to show that I had guessed about them. By this time I had already realized that my investigator had no idea about the essence of my research, and I enjoyed leading him on a bit.

Today I can honestly say that I have nothing to reproach myself for. Looking back, it seems to me that I managed to distance myself from the investigator’s position, starting with the very first interrogation, in spite of the truly extreme pressure. My position was that my actions were based exclusively on moral considerations and the aspiration to save the world community from danger caused by the hypocritical policy of the leaders of the military-chemical complex. I remember that several times I had to insist on this very wording, although the investigator tried time and again to grossly distort it. I understood immediately what he was getting at. He wanted my very first testimony to lead to the certain conclusion that everything I published in the mass media was known to me through my responsibilities at work.