Spycraft. Part 6

In November of 1981, the inst.i.tute reinstated the security restriction that required building pa.s.ses be surrendered when checking doc.u.ments out. Fortunately, OTS had a new fake pa.s.s waiting, but again Tolkachev judged the color match to be less than perfect. Recognizing the technical difficulty facing the OTS artists attempting to duplicate the precise color of a folder they had only seen in a photograph, he proposed loaning the CIA the original pa.s.s for two months during his vacation in January and February of 1982. However, the handler worried that the risk was too great if the return of the original was delayed. Tolkachev's safety was of paramount importance, even if it meant decreased production.

Then, in March of 1982 Tolkachev contacted the CIA for an unscheduled meeting and pa.s.sed his handler a piece of the external cover of an original propusk, propusk, enabling OTS to match precisely the colors. enabling OTS to match precisely the colors.

With the increased security and no longer able to copy doc.u.ments at home during his lunch hour, Tolkachev's production decreased significantly. However, even the reduced level of production was significant given the constraints on copying. Once his case officer commented that photographing the doc.u.ments at work was "dangerous." Tolkachev laughed and replied, "Everything is dangerous!"

Tolkachev preferred the face-to-face method of pa.s.sing material to his case officers and receiving new gear. Ten such clandestine encounters occurred between October of 1980 and November of 1983. Each meeting first depended on the CIA officer's confidence that he had been able to evade KGB surveillance; if there was any doubt, the meeting was aborted.

Pervasive surveillance of suspected officers required creative as well as technical solutions by OTS to defeat the Soviets. The SRR-100 receiver that monitored surveillance teams' transmission had been upgraded since its discovery by the KGB when Martha Peterson was arrested. Although it remained a valuable tool, the Soviets had also changed procedures, making reliance on just the SRR-100 alone unwise. Case officers meeting Tolkachev needed other means to free themselves from surveillance.

One possible solution arose from the increased use of private automobiles in Moscow. In studying KGB surveillance tactics, case officers concluded there were moments when a pa.s.senger could exit the car un.o.bserved by surveillance. If the pa.s.senger's profile could be replaced, the surveillance team would continue to believe they had their target in sight while the officer was free to "operate black."

Getting out of the car was a tradecraft problem left to case officers, but creating a device to replicate their profile became an OTS technical challenge. What followed evolved into one of OTS's stranger attempts to adapt consumer technology for clandestine use.

Two young OTS engineers were dispatched to a windowless store in Washington, D.C.'s seedy red light district on 14th Street. Inside they examined the stock of adult entertainment and s.e.x enhancement products until they found what they needed: three inflatable human figures intended for use as s.e.x dolls. Although the figurines were excessively detailed in anatomical respects, they also possessed all the necessary features to become an inflatable piece of tradecraft.

Technical requirements stipulated that the dolls needed to inflate quickly and sit up straight. The dummy occupant of the car had to appear in the pa.s.senger seat within a split second after the pa.s.senger exited since a car could be obscured from KGB surveillance for only brief moments, such as rounding a corner. This required, the techs reasoned, a burst of compressed air to inflate the mannequin, which would pop out of some type of container. Initial testing demonstrated that the figurines' construction could not withstand the pressure of a rapid inflation in less than a second. Seams blew out and slow air leakage was common, affecting the dolls' posture.

Discreet acquisition of additional "test dolls" became problematic, if not embarra.s.sing. When the young techs returned to a store for more dolls, the proprietor's quizzical stare seemed to raise uncomfortable questions about their private lives. After all, they could not explain, "You see, we work for the CIA, and . . ."

Even with reinforced seams, stronger materials, and less air pressure for rapid inflation, the problems persisted. The inflatable mannequins continued to sag in the wrong places, resulting in a less than lifelike appearance. The sagging was corrected by installing a valve to provide continuous slow inflation, but the valve had a tendency to hiss. Quality control by manufacturers was another problem. All mannequins did not equally tolerate rapid inflation.

Once the figure was inflated and in place, the techs had to devise an equally rapid deflation and efficient storage process for the device that would allow the case officer to reenter the car and take his place in the pa.s.senger seat as quickly as he had exited.

It was then that the research veered to the "elegant solution." Was it necessary to create the most lifelike mannequin possible? KGB surveillance teams typically followed from behind or in front. Rarely did they pull alongside a car. Perhaps a three-dimensional representation was not required. Maybe all that was needed was a two-dimensional figure of the torso with a three-dimensional head. An alternative wooden, metal, and plastic mechanical pop-up prototype was constructed, eliminating inflatable dolls, air pumps, and difficult-to-explain trips to 14th Street.

This new piece of tradecraft acquired the nickname "Jack-in-the-Box," or JIB. The final product could be concealed in a medium-sized briefcase placed on the pa.s.senger seat. No installation was required. With one hand a driver unlatched the briefcase and the JIB popped instantly into place. When the pa.s.senger was set to reenter the car, the JIB could be pushed back into its resting position with one hand and the "briefcase" shoved to the floor.

In May 1982, personal meetings with Tolkachev were temporarily suspended when increased KGB surveillance forced CIA officers to abort several planned meetings. Eventually, using the JIB, an officer was able to reestablish direct contact. Tolkachev had remained active, using his fake building pa.s.s to evade security restrictions, and his home photo sessions continued.

Unexpectedly, another set of restrictions had been imposed at the inst.i.tute involving a new style of propusk propusk, so the fake building pa.s.s that had just begun to work was now worthless. Compounding the problem were other regulations that limited all but a few senior officers from leaving the inst.i.tute without written permission except during lunch. Increasingly Tolkachev's only opportunity to photograph doc.u.ments would be inside the inst.i.tute.

CIA a.s.sessed the new security regulations as an indication that the KGB suspected the loss of information from the inst.i.tute and attempts were under way to limit those losses until the leak could be identified. Tolkachev was urged to "stand down," but the persistent agent would not stop his spying.

Tolkachev next provided a photograph of the new building pa.s.s and a color strip from the cover to a.s.sist OTS in creating a duplicate. He reported smuggling his 35mm camera into the inst.i.tute on three occasions to photograph doc.u.ments at his desk and turned over a dozen rolls of film in March 1983 and another dozen in April. As a result, upgraded miniature doc.u.ment cameras were given to Tolkachev for use inside the inst.i.tute, along with directions to stop taking doc.u.ments home.

New apprehension about Tolkachev's security arose in April, after he pa.s.sed information about a new Soviet fighter aircraft target recognition system. The inst.i.tute's security department requested a list of all personnel with access to that specific information. Tolkachev, convinced that the leak could be traced back to him, destroyed all his spy gear and other potentially incriminating possessions. His SRAC device, Pentax camera, charred remains of doc.u.ments were all tossed out of his car along a stretch of road during the drive back from his country dacha.28 Throughout the autumn of 1983, five attempted personal meetings were cancelled because of KGB surveillance or Tolkachev's scheduling problems. When a meeting did finally occur in mid-November, he had no film, but provided sixteen pages of handwritten notes. The case officer pa.s.sed him two newly designed doc.u.ment cameras, a light meter, and a proposed schedule for future meetings.

Tolkachev's family situation required a change of communications plans. Since the inception of the operation, unattributable calls from pay phones located throughout Moscow to his home had been used by case officers to initiate unplanned meetings. This worked well until Tolkachev's son, in whose room the phone was located, became a teenager. Like most teens, at the first ring of the phone, the young man ran to it. The commo plan that successfully evaded KGB surveillance for four years now became vulnerable to a teenager who thought that every incoming call could be for him.

From the earliest stages of the case, the CIA began planning for a means of exfiltrating Tolkachev and his family out of Moscow. Ideally, Tolkachev would remain in place as long as possible, but there was always the potential of an emergency requiring immediate exfiltration. Tolkachev realized the consequences if he were ever caught. Four months after his initial meeting he asked his case officer for a "poison pill," stating, "I would not like to carry on a conversation with organs of the KGB." His request was refused by Headquarters, but he persisted and eventually wrote a personal letter to the DCI pleading his case. Tolkachev reasoned that the tasking required him to request highly sensitive doc.u.ments that were outside his normal work. If he was willing to take this risk, then the Agency should be willing to provide him a poison pill. Additionally he suggested that this "means of defense" would limit any disclosures he might unwillingly make during an interrogation.

Tolkachev a.s.sumed that if he were to be arrested, the scenario would begin with a summons to the office of his boss where he would be seized. Now, as security continued to tighten at the inst.i.tute, any time he was called to the office, he would conceal the poison pill beneath his tongue so he could immediately bite it. Given these urgent circ.u.mstances, Tolkachev stopped all doc.u.ment photography but continued to make notes on topics of known intelligence value. His Moscow officer was prescient when writing to Headquarters: "this is indeed a man who is driven to produce, by whatever means he deems necessary, right up to the end, even if that end is his death."

When the inst.i.tute's new security regulations in early 1983 indicated to Tolkachev that Soviet authorities were suspicious that sensitive information was leaking, exfiltration planning was moved to the front burner. His case officer evaluated escape plans and concluded the "Leningrad Option" would be best. This involved getting his family to Leningrad, then smuggling them out of the USSR in an OTS-constructed concealment cavity built into a vehicle.29 If the family was unable to reach Leningrad, a backup plan called for them to be picked up on the outskirts of Moscow where they would remain in hiding until exfiltration from the country by another means. If the family was unable to reach Leningrad, a backup plan called for them to be picked up on the outskirts of Moscow where they would remain in hiding until exfiltration from the country by another means.

Tolkachev was offered details of the completed plan in April but refused to accept them "because of his current family situation." Both his wife and son knew people who left the USSR for Israel and later wrote back that they regretted the move. The CIA escape plans were no match for his wife's emotional bond to the Russian homeland or his son's attachment to his friends. Tolkachev later commented that he could not think about exfiltration "because I could never leave my family."

Headquarters determined the aviation information Tolkachev reported in March of 1983 had not been disseminated outside of CIA until June, leading to the a.s.sumption that no leak could have alerted the KGB in April. Nevertheless, the Agency decided to restrict future meetings with Tolkachev to twice a year and provided a new SRAC device to replace the one he destroyed. He was directed to use extreme caution, limit collection activities to writing notes, and to take photographs only if he felt completely secure using the subminiature cameras.

In April of 1984, Tolkachev pa.s.sed two full cameras and thirty-nine pages of handwritten notes, twenty-six of which contained detailed intelligence. The images in the spy cameras were of excellent quality. In turn, he received two new cameras, a communications plan, and a hundred thousand rubles, but again refused an exfiltration plan. His spirits seemed high. No problems were reported from the security scare of the previous year. He apologized for destroying his Pentax 35mm camera and requested a replacement. The case officer concluded that from Tolkachev's perspective the operation was "back to normal."

The CIA's a.s.sessment of Tolkachev's situation was decidedly less rosy. He was not given a replacement Pentax camera because his handlers did not want him to risk removing doc.u.ments from the inst.i.tute. At an October meeting where he pa.s.sed twenty-two pages of handwritten notes, he also pressed his request for a Pentax and insisted he was "ready to return to work." The Moscow office expressed concern that if Tolkachev was not given another 35mm camera, he would obtain one locally. As an alternative Tolkachev was given additional doc.u.ment copy cameras in an attempt to satisfy his compulsion to photograph doc.u.ments.

In January 1985, Tolkachev returned three expended subminiature cameras and sixteen pages of handwritten notes. His resupply included five fresh cameras, new intelligence requirements, and another hundred thousand rubles. He explained he had been able to take better photographs inside the inst.i.tute because the work was done from a toilet stall near a window. This gave him more light and he could arrange for another stop inside the building as cover for the twenty to twenty-five minutes he was away from his desk. Unfortunately, the images, taken on an overcast day, were underexposed and unreadable.

Tolkachev's behavior in the January meeting seemed normal. His written information was consistent in terms of subject matter, quant.i.ty, and quality of his previous offerings, and the case officer detected no change in surveillance activities before or after the meeting. Nothing indicated that Tolkachev was compromised or working under KGB control.

According to his notes, the unreadable images from the January meeting contained data about the design of a new frontline Soviet fighter aircraft scheduled to be operational in the 1990s. So significant was the intelligence that the Agency wanted his handlers to initiate an unscheduled meeting in March. The case officer signaled for the meeting, but the reply signal from Tolkachev-opening one of his transom windows between 12:15 PM and 2:30 PM-was not seen. (However, one of the other transom windows was open and later this was thought to have possibly been a danger signal.) Without a positive response from Tolkachev it was decided to wait until June to attempt another meeting.

In the first week of June Tolkachev signaled readiness to meet by opening the middle transom window in his apartment at the indicated time, but the case officer was forced to abort the operation when he detected heavy surveillance. On the next alternate meeting date, June 13, the readiness-to-meet signal was again seen at Tolkachev's apartment. This time, the case officer detected no surveillance en route to the meeting, but as he approached the site more than a dozen KGB personnel wearing camouflaged military uniforms and hiding in nearby bushes jumped him. Bundled into a waiting car, the case officer was taken to the Headquarters of the Second Chief Directorate at Lubyanka for questioning.

During interrogation, the case officer was accused of being a spy and confronted with the package he intended to pa.s.s to Tolkachev. Inside were five concealed doc copy cameras, books and drawing pens for Tolkachev's son, periodontal medicine, an OTS book concealment containing 250 pages of newspaper and magazine articles requested by Tolkachev, and an envelope with thousands of rubles. An accompanying note thanked Tolkachev for the "very important written information" he provided at their last meeting, and a description of a new low-light film. The arrest of the case officer was announced to the press, but with no mention of Tolkachev made until September of 1985. Even then his fate was unknown and would remain so until October 22, 1986, when the Soviet press announced that Tolkachev had been executed.

The compromise of the Tolkachev operation was not triggered by a lapse in tradecraft, but the treason of two CIA officers, first Edward Lee Howard and later Aldrich Ames. Howard, a disgruntled CIA officer, was dismissed in April of 1983, but had been briefed about Tolkachev in early 1983. Howard likely betrayed the invaluable agent to the KGB in September of 1984 in Austria. Ames confirmed Howard's information when he pa.s.sed the names of several other CIA a.s.sets including Polyakov to the KGB in May and June of 1985.

In February 1990 the Soviet newspaper Sovetskaya Rossiya Sovetskaya Rossiya described the Tolkachev case in an article that was clearly the work of KGB officials. It contained a number of comments that offered grudging praise for the CIA: described the Tolkachev case in an article that was clearly the work of KGB officials. It contained a number of comments that offered grudging praise for the CIA: .

CIA provided Tolkachev with a cleverly compiled meeting schedule. CIA instructors made provisions for even the tiniest of details . . . the miniature camera came with detailed instructions and a light meter . . . Let us give CIA experts the credit due them-they worked really hard to find poorly illuminated and deserted places in Moscow for meetings with Tolkachev. . . . Anyone unfamiliar with CIA's tricks would never imagine that, if a light were to burn behind a certain window in the U.S. Emba.s.sy, this could be a coded message for a spy. . . . Langley provided touching care for its agent-if he needed medicine, everything was provided. . . . In every instruction efficiently setting out his a.s.signment, they checked up on his health and went to great pains to stress how much they valued him and how concerned they were for his well-being.

The inventory of OTS contributions to the operation involved virtually every element of spy gear and capabilities used by the CIA, including: .

Secret writing materials Concealments One-time pads Multiple models of subminiature cameras Light meters Disguises Surveillance detection receivers Commercial cameras Clamps for holding cameras steady Duplicates of security pa.s.ses Duplicates of library sign-out cards Exfiltration containers Short-range agent-communication system Commercial shortwave radio Demodulator unit for radio broadcast L-pill The Jack-in-the-Box (JIB) Special low-light film .

During more than five years, case officers and Tolkachev met clandestinely more than twenty times. Never before had this number of personal meetings with an agent inside the Soviet Union been contemplated or securely executed. During the five years of Tolkachev's active service, the fusion of tradecraft and technology demonstrated that there were no longer permanently "denied areas" for agent operations.

As early as March of 1979 a memorandum sent to the Director of Central Intelligence outlined the significance of the material beginning to flow from Tolkachev, concluding it to be "of incalculable value."

From the first rolls of film containing technical data on Soviet aircraft, Tolkachev's reporting was singular in both quality and detail. Especially significant was the window into future Soviet weapons systems that was un.o.btainable by technical collection programs. Tolkachev provided U.S. military a.n.a.lysts a perspective on Soviet capabilities a decade into the future. That information alone saved the U.S. government billions of dollars in military research and development.30 Tolkachev's production in terms of volume and value was so significant that a special task force exploited it until 1990. Tolkachev's production in terms of volume and value was so significant that a special task force exploited it until 1990.

A senior CIA operations officer, after an exhaustive study of the case, characterized A. G. Tolkachev "a worthy successor to Penkovsky."31

CHAPTER 11.

An Operation Called CKTAW

Secret intelligence has never been for the fainthearted.

-Richard Helms, A Look over My Shoulder Running concurrently with the Tolkachev operation, a parallel technical collection operation known as CKTAW remained one of America's best-kept secrets.1 Generating new insights into Soviet particle beam and laser weapons research, CKTAW's priceless intelligence did not come from an agent photocopying secret doc.u.ments and loading dead drops in out-of-the-way locations. Neither did it arrive from the Big Technology of satellites with high-powered lenses. However, before it was over, the full spectrum of intelligence tradecraft and technology would come into play, from an orbiting satellite to hard won covert experience acquired over nearly a decade of successful operations handling agents in Moscow. Generating new insights into Soviet particle beam and laser weapons research, CKTAW's priceless intelligence did not come from an agent photocopying secret doc.u.ments and loading dead drops in out-of-the-way locations. Neither did it arrive from the Big Technology of satellites with high-powered lenses. However, before it was over, the full spectrum of intelligence tradecraft and technology would come into play, from an orbiting satellite to hard won covert experience acquired over nearly a decade of successful operations handling agents in Moscow.

CKTAW was a wiretap on underground communications lines that linked the Krasnaya Pakhra Nuclear Weapons Research Inst.i.tute in the closed city of Troitsk to the Soviet Ministry of Defense in Moscow.2 Data flowing via phone, fax, and teletype between the two facilities was recorded as it pa.s.sed through a seemingly secure section of cable running beneath the streets of a Moscow suburb. Data flowing via phone, fax, and teletype between the two facilities was recorded as it pa.s.sed through a seemingly secure section of cable running beneath the streets of a Moscow suburb.

Tunnels and tapped communications lines had been previously used against the Soviets. The Berlin tunnel operation (Operation GOLD) in 1955-563 was conceived at a time when Soviet communications were mostly unencrypted and carried by underground telephone and telegraph wires. However, unprotected hardwired communications had fallen out of favor during the 1960s when governments and military commands adopted microwave links to communicate. These directional signals, transmitted from antenna to antenna in line-of-sight of each other, offered some security advantages. Though the towers were often visible, the directional transmission cone of the signals made them difficult to intercept without positioning an antenna between two towers, an espionage act that would have been impossible in Moscow. was conceived at a time when Soviet communications were mostly unencrypted and carried by underground telephone and telegraph wires. However, unprotected hardwired communications had fallen out of favor during the 1960s when governments and military commands adopted microwave links to communicate. These directional signals, transmitted from antenna to antenna in line-of-sight of each other, offered some security advantages. Though the towers were often visible, the directional transmission cone of the signals made them difficult to intercept without positioning an antenna between two towers, an espionage act that would have been impossible in Moscow.

In the mid-1970s, officers monitoring the RF (radio frequency) spectrum in Moscow discovered mysterious microwave signals with no clearly discernible origin. Eventually identified as data from a link connecting the MOD headquarters to the Krasnaya Pakhra lab,4 the signals unexpectedly appeared during rainstorms and suddenly vanished when the rain stopped. the signals unexpectedly appeared during rainstorms and suddenly vanished when the rain stopped.5 Engineers studying the phenomenon concluded that the temporarily exposed signals were caused by an atmospheric anomaly combined with one of the city's unique architectural features. Apparently, the rain caused enough diffraction to send the secret microwaves ricocheting off Moscow's tin-roofed buildings. The combination of rain and century-old roofs essentially turned a precisely targeted transmission into something resembling a broadcast. Rain and tuning to the right frequencies were all that was needed to listen in on some of the Soviet Union's most closely guarded weapons development secrets. Engineers studying the phenomenon concluded that the temporarily exposed signals were caused by an atmospheric anomaly combined with one of the city's unique architectural features. Apparently, the rain caused enough diffraction to send the secret microwaves ricocheting off Moscow's tin-roofed buildings. The combination of rain and century-old roofs essentially turned a precisely targeted transmission into something resembling a broadcast. Rain and tuning to the right frequencies were all that was needed to listen in on some of the Soviet Union's most closely guarded weapons development secrets.

The intelligence windfall was short-lived. When the Soviets became aware their microwave transmissions were vulnerable to intercept, both from land-based and satellite collectors, the signals diminished and then, eventually, disappeared completely.

U.S. a.n.a.lysts were certain that another, more secure communications link had been established, but did not know where it was located. Eventually, a.n.a.lysis of images from the new KH-11 satellite revealed that the Soviet military was laying communications cables in a trench running between Moscow and Troitsk.6 Launched in December 1976, the KH-11, the first s.p.a.ce-based platform to use digital technology and transmit near-real-time images, provided eye-in-the-sky images from Moscow whenever it was in position and clouds did not obscure the target. Launched in December 1976, the KH-11, the first s.p.a.ce-based platform to use digital technology and transmit near-real-time images, provided eye-in-the-sky images from Moscow whenever it was in position and clouds did not obscure the target.7 Corroboration of the image a.n.a.lysis came when CIA technical and operations officers in Moscow exploited information from every possible human and technical source to confirm that the trench did in fact carry the new Krasnaya Pakhra signals. Corroboration of the image a.n.a.lysis came when CIA technical and operations officers in Moscow exploited information from every possible human and technical source to confirm that the trench did in fact carry the new Krasnaya Pakhra signals.

Closer examination of the route showed a series of manholes along the length of the buried communications link. The manholes were installed for routine repairs and security checks, but if the CIA could obtain access to the cabling from one of the manholes, perhaps the link could be compromised.

The job of identifying the best potential access point fell to CIA field officers who studied more than a dozen manholes along Varshavskoye Shosse (Warsaw Boulevard), a busy thoroughfare near Moscow's outer ring road. However, like all Moscow operations, any actions to survey the manholes required exacting planning. How many times could Americans travel to the target locations without alerting the KGB surveillance teams? Could clandestine photography of the sites be acquired? How closely could a manhole be examined without attracting attention?

In the final determination only a handful of ground reconnaissance and casing trips were authorized. Each trip-either on foot or by car-required detailed planning, disciplined tradecraft, and, perhaps most important, timing calculated to avert suspicion. For an American to drive along a particular stretch of road outside his normal pattern of travel five times in a week was certain to tip off the ubiquitous KGB watchers that something something about the area was of interest to the CIA. The few authorized casing runs required the partic.i.p.ants to create new patterns of travel and eventually took more than two years to complete. about the area was of interest to the CIA. The few authorized casing runs required the partic.i.p.ants to create new patterns of travel and eventually took more than two years to complete.

The essential casing photography was acquired with OTS concealed Tessina cameras. With high-alt.i.tude images, casing photos, and sketches, the Moscow office worked up a three-dimensional view of the CKTAW target site, including close-ups of notable features. Target sites along the heavily trafficked Varshavskoye Shosse were narrowed down as one target manhole after another was rejected. The specific manhole eventually selected for an entry point was in the worst possible location, except for the fact it was better than all the others.

The area along the narrow treeline that bordered Varshavskoye Shosse became one of the most carefully plotted and studied pieces of real estate on the planet. Details of the manhole, located just off the roadway, were painstakingly examined. Among potential problems were the worrisome 120-acre open field opposite the target, and a hostile installation belonging to the Second Chief Directorate visible on a hill two kilometers away. One positive feature was the treeline that ran parallel to the roadway. Although less than fifty feet wide, its foliage offered good ground cover for approaching the manhole from May through October.

Depiction of proper technique for successful clandestine photography from inside a moving automobile, 1960. OTS continually improved spy cameras, but the techniques for taking quality photos remained unchanged.

Over several months, CIA officers covertly examined, photographed, and briefly entered the manhole. These operations allowed them to gauge the difficulty of removing its cover, measure the dimensions of the underground chamber, the depth of the ground water at the bottom, and confirm that the communications cables were accessible from a small steel utility ladder set permanently into one wall. The Soviets had not only shielded the cables in lead, but also installed sensors and alarms to detect any tampering. To tap a cable clandestinely meant not touching the actual transmission wires or compromising the integrity of the lead sheath encasing them.

Tapping the cable was a daunting challenge. So important was the potential intelligence carried over the line that in 1977, the CIA authorized an unprecedented, technically high-risk, and costly development program to do just that.

Technical expertise required coordination among multiple engineers to design and build the equipment and an interface among the developers and operations officers who would install and service the equipment. The operation included several DDS&T offices, a DO Division, and the National Security Agency. Management of CKTAW's technical development resided with the DDS&T's Office of Development and Engineering (ODE), the office responsible for satellites and other advanced technical sensor programs. The development team included several OTS engineers, with the operation eventually encompa.s.sing the Office of SIGINT Operations, the National Photographic Interpretation Center, and the DO's Soviet/East European Division.

The system's key component was a collar that surrounded the lead-sheathed cable and extracted the selected signals for capture by high-volume recorders at the site. The recorded signals were retrieved and returned to Langley where sophisticated equipment deciphered and a.n.a.lyzed the electronic pulses.

With the key technology still in development, the buzz of covert activity surrounding the target manhole continued. Memos, cable traffic, thick sheaves of casing photos, satellite images, operational proposals, and surveillance reports bounced between Langley and Moscow with particularly sensitive doc.u.ments hand-carried by couriers. Refining the operational details required hours of discussions in the conference rooms at Headquarters and among case officers in Moscow.8 Over the course of the operation CIA officers would make periodic clandestine entries into the manhole in preparation for the installation of the collar and recording device. Officers trained for these a.s.signments in a full-sized replica of the underground chamber at the CIA's covert facility called "The Farm." Rigorous sessions familiarized the officers with the operation's physical demands, allowed them to practice the tasks to be performed in Moscow, and a.s.sessed their capability for carrying out the a.s.signment. 9 9 Ken Seacrest was one of the OTS techs selected to enter the underground chamber. He would conduct a data sampling survey of individual communications cables to determine the one of greatest value. This critical phase of the operation would require Ken to remain alone, inside the manhole for up to two heart-pounding hours.10 The timing for an entry into the manhole was planned when Ken's activity was least likely to be observed by a pa.s.serby on foot, in a pa.s.sing car, or on a streetcar. Current schedules and routes of the Metro, trolley buses, and the electrichka electrichka were collected and studied along with the sometimes wildly inaccurate official and unofficial maps of the area. The mileage to the target area from the office and potential drop-off points were precisely measured, as were the exact distances and drive times during different times of the day. were collected and studied along with the sometimes wildly inaccurate official and unofficial maps of the area. The mileage to the target area from the office and potential drop-off points were precisely measured, as were the exact distances and drive times during different times of the day.

To ensure he did not raise suspicion when approaching the manhole, Ken would disguise himself as an ordinary Muscovite. However, given the dated style of fashion available in Moscow, an American purchasing new local clothing would attract suspicion and shopping for used clothing would have been even more alerting to the watchers. So, Eastern European apparel of the right size, style, and matched to the season, was purchased at flea markets and thrift shops in Vienna, East Germany, and Warsaw. The clothing was carefully inspected, cataloged, and packaged at Langley before shipment to Moscow, where it was stored in a secure area to preclude potential KGB attempts to tag and track the items.11 Ken arrived in the USSR in the summer of 1979, after completing a six-month crash course in Russian.12 Among his fellow trainees was the senior operations officer slated to become CIA chief of Moscow. As part of his cover, Ken took an immediate interest in cultural activities of Moscow, never missed an opportunity to volunteer to show a visitor around the city, and spent as much free time as possible outdoors with his family. He filled their schedule with visits to tourist sites, cross-country skiing, and hiking. In short, he acted nothing like the intelligence officers depicted in the movies. Never an international man of mystery surrounded with beautiful women nor the toast of Moscow's small American community, Ken did not own a James Bond tuxedo. His car of choice was not an exotic Aston Martin, but a sensible Volkswagen bus. He rarely used his newly acquired Russian language, since Americans who spoke Russian came under closer scrutiny. Ken appeared to be the dedicated family man with a moderate taste for culture and a love of the outdoors, who enjoyed playing broomball during winter's short daylight hours and throwing darts in the evening. Among his fellow trainees was the senior operations officer slated to become CIA chief of Moscow. As part of his cover, Ken took an immediate interest in cultural activities of Moscow, never missed an opportunity to volunteer to show a visitor around the city, and spent as much free time as possible outdoors with his family. He filled their schedule with visits to tourist sites, cross-country skiing, and hiking. In short, he acted nothing like the intelligence officers depicted in the movies. Never an international man of mystery surrounded with beautiful women nor the toast of Moscow's small American community, Ken did not own a James Bond tuxedo. His car of choice was not an exotic Aston Martin, but a sensible Volkswagen bus. He rarely used his newly acquired Russian language, since Americans who spoke Russian came under closer scrutiny. Ken appeared to be the dedicated family man with a moderate taste for culture and a love of the outdoors, who enjoyed playing broomball during winter's short daylight hours and throwing darts in the evening.

In reality, Ken's carefully selected cultural excursions and interest in the outdoors worked toward a single purpose-to build a persona that established a predictable pattern of activity that began on the day he arrived and would continue until he departed. As artfully engineered as a piece of spy gear, Ken's job, hobbies, and interests-all of those elements that make up daily life-were meticulously designed before he stepped off the plane at Moscow's Sheremetyevo Airport.

Like all other Americans in Moscow, Ken would be a potential target for surveillance and subject to a.s.sessment by the KGB. He would be closely monitored during his first weeks in Moscow for inconsistencies in the carefully crafted profile. It would not take much to catch KGB attention. One or two anomalies outside the normal pattern of activity would label Ken an intelligence officer, bringing continuous surveillance and compromising his operational value.

Within a few weeks Ken concluded that he fell into the KGB's middle tier of surveillance priorities-an American who would be accorded periodic surveillance at random intervals. Even this would most likely lessen over time as surveillance observed him maintaining a consistent profile and pattern of activity in Moscow.

One critical piece of Ken's activity was frequent family outings doubling as well-planned surveillance detection routes (SDRs).13 Whenever possible, Ken, accompanied by his wife and two small children, visited Moscow's Whenever possible, Ken, accompanied by his wife and two small children, visited Moscow's leso parks leso parks or "forest parks" on day trips. Large expanses of green-sometimes spanning hundreds of acres-these parks were a welcoming world away from the gray, soot-covered streets of Moscow's center and a logical destination for a young American family that loved the outdoors. or "forest parks" on day trips. Large expanses of green-sometimes spanning hundreds of acres-these parks were a welcoming world away from the gray, soot-covered streets of Moscow's center and a logical destination for a young American family that loved the outdoors.

Ken and his wife, Sharon, spent hours in the parks with their children, who were four and seven at the time, picnicking, throwing Frisbees, and hiking the long trails through the forests. The rucksack Ken carried became a familiar accessory to those who might have him under surveillance. The rucksack contained food, water, toys, and blankets for a day in the park. These excursions also provided a logical reason to visit all areas of Moscow, allowing Ken to familiarize himself with the roads, geography, and traffic patterns as well as identify choke points, escape routes, and observation stops for planning future SDRs.14 On days when they happened to have surveillance, Ken, with Sharon's help, could practice identifying KGB vehicles, license numbers, surveillance tactics, and team members. On days when they happened to have surveillance, Ken, with Sharon's help, could practice identifying KGB vehicles, license numbers, surveillance tactics, and team members.

On a spring morning in 1981, five years of operational planning, targeting a.n.a.lysis, satellite imaging, signals intelligence, and technical development culminated in one of history's most elaborately planned and expensive family picnics. Leaving home in the family's green and tan VW bus, Ken began a twenty-mile trip that appeared identical to his past travel patterns. But in this instance, each road, each turn, and each stop was designed to detect and identify surveillance.

In their ears, Ken and his wife wore small radio receivers for the OTS monitors secured in harnesses near their armpits and tuned to the KGB's 103.25 MHz primary surveillance frequency. Ken also carried a second receiver, a six-channel scanner that searched for any "near field" transmissions from militiamen and the ubiquitous Seventh Directorate.15 The inductive antennas looped around their necks were encased in soft fabric, concealed under their clothing, and transmitted the signals from the receivers to the earpieces no larger than the head of a Q-Tip. The small earpieces were concealed by latex sculpted by OTS disguise specialists to match natural ear contours and colored to blend with Ken's and Sharon's individual skin tone.

Each listened for the distinctive Russian word dvahd-tsaht awdeen dvahd-tsaht awdeen (twenty-one), which translated from KGB surveillance code meant, "I have the target in sight." If neither spoken numbers nor a series of clicks (twenty-one), which translated from KGB surveillance code meant, "I have the target in sight." If neither spoken numbers nor a series of clicks16 were heard, Ken could conclude with some confidence that surveillance was ignoring him that day. were heard, Ken could conclude with some confidence that surveillance was ignoring him that day.17 As the family drove toward the park, no words were exchanged about how Ken would spend the majority of the day or the possibility of surveillance. "We wouldn't say much, particularly with kids there," Ken explained later, "because at those ages you never know what they're going to repeat or to whom. So they had to be totally unwitting about was going on."

Ken initiated a series of maneuvers designed to detect surveillance. Unlike action adventure movies, where the hero eludes surveillance through a series of spectacular high-speed stunts, the reality of espionage for Ken was both more complex and prosaic. He did not zoom through intersections or make dangerous last-second turns to lose the followers. His driving had to fit the profile of a family man taking his kids in a van to a picnic. To any surveillance team that might have been watching, Ken took a more or less direct route to the park with all the speed his four-cylinder family van could muster.

Once he abruptly pulled off the road, grabbed a kid out of the backseat, and rushed into the treeline for an emergency potty break. He also missed a turn-off and circled back to get on the right road. There was also the need to study the map when momentarily lost. If a surveillance team had been following as he performed these common maneuvers, they could not have stopped without drawing Ken's or Sharon's attention.

The surveillance teams of the KGB's Seventh Directorate were known to drive distinctive cars, usually the larger Volga, Volga, which resembled a mid-sized Volvo or the more compact which resembled a mid-sized Volvo or the more compact Zhiguli, Zhiguli, the Soviet version of a Fiat 124. Because only the KGB had automatic car wash equipment, their cars tended to be clean compared to other vehicles on the Moscow streets. Further, they boasted the luxury of windshield wipers, a valued commodity among those Muscovites lucky enough to own a car and often stolen if the car was parked unattended. the Soviet version of a Fiat 124. Because only the KGB had automatic car wash equipment, their cars tended to be clean compared to other vehicles on the Moscow streets. Further, they boasted the luxury of windshield wipers, a valued commodity among those Muscovites lucky enough to own a car and often stolen if the car was parked unattended.

The SDR continued for more than an hour with Ken using a variety of seemingly routine stops and turns to confirm any vehicular surveillance.

Finally confident they were not being followed, Ken turned into a parking lot at the perimeter of the large park and pulled into a spot selected far in advance for the day's picnic. Ken purposefully avoided the section of the park popular among Americans, where KGB teams might already be watching other targets. If he was not being watched, he wanted to avoid walking into active surveillance of another target. The family walked a couple hundred meters into the park before Sharon spread out their blankets on the edge of a grove of trees. Ken and Sharon continued looking and listening for surveillance as he began a series of apparently innocent explorations into the woods. Like the vehicular maneuvers, these were also intended to force any watchers to betray their presence.

After half an hour trying to enjoy the picnic lunch with his family and becoming reasonably certain surveillance was not nearby, Ken put on his well-used and stuffed rucksack, nodded to Sharon, and slipped into the woods. The wordless gesture told her that if he did not return by a certain time, she should load the children into the van and drive directly home. Using a prearranged signal, she would alert the chief that Ken had not returned as scheduled and was likely in some kind of trouble. The chief would immediately take action to minimize potential collateral damage to other operations and prepare the U.S. amba.s.sador for the inevitable diplomatic blowback from the Soviet press announcing, "another American spy had been caught attempting to destroy the peaceful relations between America and the Soviet Union."

As soon as Ken left the family, he began an extended surveillance detection run. There was need to rea.s.sure himself that he was clean before changing to Russian clothing.18 As he well knew, the Seventh Directorate did not always detain or arrest suspected intelligence officers during an operation, but rather continued to observe in the hopes of being led to an agent or dead drop site. Even then, the officer was often allowed to continue on his way as if nothing was amiss. As he well knew, the Seventh Directorate did not always detain or arrest suspected intelligence officers during an operation, but rather continued to observe in the hopes of being led to an agent or dead drop site. Even then, the officer was often allowed to continue on his way as if nothing was amiss.19 That had happened to Penkovsky in late 1961. The Seventh Directorate watchers first spotted a man suspected of pa.s.sing material to Janet Chisholm, wife of MI6 officer Roderick Chisholm, inside a doorway just off one of Moscow's busy shopping streets. Rather than make an arrest, they increased surveillance and eventually spotted the same man a few days later in a public park making another exchange. The unidentified subject was then placed under surveillance and later identified as GRU Colonel Oleg Penkovsky.

The spy, not the intelligence officer, was the ultimate target.20 However, once the KGB had identified an agent, arresting the foreign intelligence officer during an operation offered additional value. When the KGB arrested Martha Peterson on the Krasnokaluzhsky Bridge in 1977, although However, once the KGB had identified an agent, arresting the foreign intelligence officer during an operation offered additional value. When the KGB arrested Martha Peterson on the Krasnokaluzhsky Bridge in 1977, although TRIGON TRIGON was probably already dead, her detention brought negative international publicity to the United States and disrupted CIA operations in the USSR. was probably already dead, her detention brought negative international publicity to the United States and disrupted CIA operations in the USSR.

As Ken walked the paths of the park, the decision of whether to go to the manhole site was complicated by the number of people around him. Soviet citizens frequently used Moscow parks and on this early spring day, with the snow off the ground and the weather warming, the park was particularly crowded. Ken knew crowds could be used to his advantage, allowing him to blend into packs of visitors, but they also served a similar function for KGB watchers.

There was also danger in looking too closely at every person that crossed his way. Training and experience had taught Moscow personnel that if they looked hard enough, anyone could seem out of place. Since surveillance teams attempted to imitate everyday life, ordinary citizens can easily be mistaken for more than they really were. The old man wearing a cloth cap and walking slowly with a cane, the young couple strolling hand in hand along a path, a mother with children seeking a few hours' reprieve from a small apartment, or the stout, middle-aged lady with the ubiquitous plastic "perhaps bag" swinging at her side-any one of them could be members of the Seventh Directorate.21 Then again, they could be just what they appeared to be, Muscovites enjoying a spring day outdoors. Then again, they could be just what they appeared to be, Muscovites enjoying a spring day outdoors.

Ken was well aware of this particular operational paralysis. Intelligence officers called it "seeing ghosts." The psychology of the phenomenon was rooted in the inherent anxieties of clandestine activity coupled with the real possibility of encountering hostile security. What made it particularly vexing was the uncertainty of proving a negative. If one observed surveillance, or heard transmissions over the monitor, it became a certainty, but if one did not see or hear surveillance, several possibilities came into play. There could be no surveillance, the officer had not identified surveillance, or surveillance could know where he was headed and be waiting there.

To combat the uncertainties, Ken relied on confidence that previously effective SDR techniques would work again. In the end, it came down to trusting experience, training, and whatever technology was at hand. When well executed, the plans, maneuvers, and detailed routes that had been so carefully constructed, studied, and practiced should reveal surveillance, but ultimately Ken would act on his instincts. Even if his elaborate vehicular and foot SDRs did not reveal surveillance, Ken, like every other officer, had the option to abort the operation based on nothing more than "gut feeling."

Case officers frequently donned light disguises, such as that of a Russian worker, for meeting with agents in Moscow, circa 1982.

"You absolutely trusted the process. But at the same time, you developed an intuition about what was there and what wasn't," Ken explained. "After a while you began to get a feel for these things. Something might just not feel right."22 So, despite all the planning and preparation that came before, the final decision of "go, no go" was Ken's alone. With the park goers bustling around him, he paused, took several deep breaths of the chilly spring air, and decided, "It's a go." Entering an isolated section of forest, he quickly changed from his American clothes into the local clothing stuffed in the backpack.

The Russian clothing offered a fair degree of camouflage by blending in among the other drably dressed Soviet citizenry. Soviet clothing, in 1981, had little of the style found in Western fashions. The outfit Ken now sported featured well-worn grays and browns, a brimmed fedora-like hat, inexpensive Russian shoes, a knee-length overcoat, and rough, ill-fitting trousers. He would not have looked out of place in a World War II film among the costumed extras who populated the set of a crowded train station.

Casually draped on one shoulder was the rucksack with its unusual "picnic" supplies. Weighing nearly thirty-five pounds, it contained, along with his original clothing, a twenty-million-dollar investment in advanced U.S. eavesdropping equipment designed to extract and record signals from lead-sheathed communications cables the Soviets considered tamperproof. If discovered by the KGB, not only would the mission aimed at critical intelligence abruptly end, a technical collection capability that could be applied to similar targets in other parts of the world would be exposed.

Walking through the groves of birch that bordered the park, Ken took a lengthy, circuitous route leading him out of the park and immersing him in Moscow's general population on the public transportation system. Changing buses several times, his face set impa.s.sively, Ken became indistinguishable from the other pa.s.sengers. The trolleys and buses made their way through Moscow traffic, carrying him far from the manhole on Varshavskoye Shosse and then, eventually, returning him to within walking distance of the target.

At each change of bus and trolley, Ken tried to be the last to step off and observe if anyone else was rushing to get through the closing doors. Still wearing the receivers, he listened for surveillance transmissions corresponding to his actions. Like the vehicular SDR, some elements of Ken's foot SDR were designed to compel improvisation by his KGB watchers, forcing them into the open by making mistakes. Other elements of the routine allowed him to pick out patterns or repet.i.tions in surrounding faces. Was the young couple he noticed earlier in the park now getting on a bus far from where he first spotted them? Was it the same girl, only now dressed in a different coat and hat? Was the license plate of the car that trailed a respectable distance behind the bus the same one he had seen a half hour earlier?

Ken followed the procedures, moving steadily toward the time when he would make the second crucial decision: entering the manhole. The right choice meant the beginning of an operation that pried open the door to a potential treasure of intelligence. The wrong decision would result in his arrest, identification as a CIA officer, expulsion from the USSR, and collapse of a multimillion-dollar operation that had the attention of the highest levels of the U.S. government.

Exiting the bus at the final stop of his journey, Ken hiked three kilometers to the site. Although he had never been this close to the target before, the maps, casing photos, and satellite images that he had studied for months gave the surroundings a sense of familiarity. The site was "as advertised"- technically promising and operationally vulnerable. Partially obscured by the narrow treeline, the new spring's foliage offered marginal cover. A curious look in Ken's direction at the wrong time from the driver of the tractor working the nearby field or the unexpected presence of a Soviet citizen who had wandered off the beaten track in search of wild mushrooms-any of these or a thousand other unforeseen pieces of ordinary bad luck could wipe out years of planning and research.

The leafy trees along the roadway shielded Ken as he slipped into a pair of chest waders and pulled a specially made tool from the backpack to open the manhole. The operation required simple, as well as sophisticated technology. Once in the manhole, the waders would provide warmth and dryness. But first, the manhole's heavy metal cover had to be removed quickly, a task for which OTS had designed a special implement. Fashioned from aluminum, the 12-inch curved tool was compact and lightweight, but strong enough to lock into a utility hole and pry the heavy iron slab from its position.

Moving to the manhole, Ken inserted the pry bar and lifted, sliding the cover off the hole just enough to lower himself into the dank semidarkness. "That was easy," he thought, and made a mental note to thank the designers of the pry bar when he was back at the OTS lab.

Descending the ladder, Ken stepped into cold water. Looking up through the partly opened manhole, he could see only a small slice of gray sky and a thick cl.u.s.ter of treetops. Measuring four feet by six feet, the chamber was eight feet from bottom to top. Exiting from a matrix of conduits on one side of the manhole and reentering an identical conduit matrix on the opposite side were the lead-shielded cables that carried the target communications along with the rubber-encased civilian telephone lines.