Viktor Suvorov - Inside the Aquarium

Suvorov, Viktor

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ihe/viQkingbfQTop Soviet Spy

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Soviet defector Viktor Suvorov's reveal-ing account of how he became a Sovietspy could not be more timely. Recentevents like the uncovering of the Walkerspy ring, the on-again-off-again defectionof Vitaly Yurchenko, and the publicationof Arkady Shevchenko's Breaking withMoscow have caused an internationalfuror.

Now, in this fascinating and frighteningbook, Viktor Suvorov takes us inside theAquarium, Moscow headquarters of theGRU, the super-secret Russian militaryintelligence organization and rival of theKGB. It is here that agents are brought tobe trained, disciplined, and, when neces-sary, broken.

In shocking fashion, Suvorov recountsthe first day of training when he is forcedto watch a film that shows a disaffectedGRU agent being burned alive. This ishow the GRU reveals to its trainees thatthere is only one way out of the orga-nizationdeath.

Other GRU methods are as physicallytorturous as the viewing of that film isterrifying: electric shocks used to punisha failure of memory; being pushed off aspeeding train; hand-to-hand combat withdeath-row prisoners recruited for theirviciousness. All are employed in the train-ing of a top agent.

It is the agent's jobonce he is in thefieldto gather information in any wayhe can. No source of information is too

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SUVOROV

Viktor

Inside the aguarium

ALLEN COUNTY PUBLIC LIBRARYFORT WAYNE, INDIANA 46802

You may return this book to any agency, branch,or bookmobile of the Allen County Public Library.

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Digitized by tine Internet Arcliivein 2012

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Inside the Aquarium

By the same author

The Liberators

Inside the Soviet Army

Inside Soviet Mihtary IntelUgence

For Tanya

5013957

Prologue

*We have a very simple rule: it's a rouble to get in, but two to get out. Thatmeans that it's difficult to join the organisation, but a lot more difficult to getout of it. Theoretically there's only one way out for any member of theorganisation - through the chimney of the crematorium. For some it is anhonourable exit, but for others it is a shameful and terrible way to go, butthere's only the one chimney for all of us. That's the only way we can leave thisorganisation. That's the chimney over there ...' the man with grey hair pointstowards a huge picture window taking up the whole wall. *Have a good look atit.'

At the level of the ninth floor I have a panoramic view of the vast, unboundedand deserted airfield stretching to the horizon. And if I look straight down I cansee below me a labyrinth of sand-covered pathways running between thickrows of shrubs. The green of the plants in the garden and the burnt-up grass ofthe airfield are separated by an indestructible concrete wall protected by a thicknetwork of barbed wire.

That's it over there ' Grey-hair points to a fat square chimney, no more

than ten metres high, built on top of a flat asphalt roof. The black roof floatsamong the greenery of the lilac bushes like a raft in the ocean or an old-fashioned battleship, sitting low in the water with its funnel quite out ofproportion. A thin transparent smoke is rising from the chimney.

*Is that someone leaving the organisation?'

*No.' Grey-hair laughs. The chimney is not only our way out; it is also asource of energy for us and the guardian of our secrets. At the moment they aresimply burning secret papers. It's better, you know, to burn them than to keepthem. When somebody leaves the organisation the smoke is not like that; it isdense and oily. If you join the organisation you too will one day rise into the skythrough that chimney. But that's not what we're here for now. The organi-sation is giving you a last chance to change your mind, a final opportunity toconsider your choice. And to give you something to think about, I'll show you afilm. Sit down.'

He presses a knob on the control panel and sits down in an armchairalongside me. With a faint scraping noise, heavy brown shutters cover the hugewindows and immediately a picture appears on the screen without any title orother explanation. It is a black and white film, obviously old and ratherscratched. It has no sound track, and the regular cUcking noise of the projectorcan be clearly heard.

On the screen there appears a high, gloomy room without windows,something between a factory workshop and a boiler house. In the foregroundthere is a furnace with fire-doors looking like the gates of a small castle, withgrooves running into the furnace like rails into a tunnel. People in greyprotective gowns are standing near the furnace. Boilermen. Then they showeda coffin. So this is a crematorium too. Probably the same one I have just beenlooking at out of the window. The men in gowns lift the coffin and place it onthe guide rails. The fire doors open smoothly to each side, the coffin is given agentle push and it bears its unknown occupant into the roaring flames. Thenthe camera gives a close-up of a living person. A face swimming in perspir-ation. It is probably very hot near the furnace. The face is displayed from allsides of what seems an eternity. At last the camera pulls back to show theperson full length. He is not in a gown. He is dressed in an expensive black suit,terribly crumpled. His tie is tightly screwed round his neck. The man himselfis bound fast with steel wire to a stretcher, and the stretcher has been proppedup against the wall so that the man can see the furnace.

Next all the attendants suddenly turn their attention to the bound man.Their attention obviously gives him no pleasure. He lets out a scream. Aterrible scream. There is no sound, but I can tell it is a scream that would makethe windows rattle. Four of the attendants carefully lower the stretcher to thefloor and then raise it again. The bound man makes an incredible effort toprevent this. The titanic strain is apparent in the expression on his face. A veinon his forehead stands out as though it is about to burst. But his effort to bitethe hand of an attendant is in vain. His teeth only bite into his own lip, and ablack trickle of blood begins to run down his chin. He certainly has sharpteeth. His body is firmly tied down, but it is wriggling about like that of acaptured lizard. Submitting to an animal instinct, he begins to beat his headagainst the wooden handle of the stretcher and so assist his body. He is notfighting for his life, but for an easy death. His calculation is clear: to rock thestretcher over so as to fall with it off the guide rails and onto the concrete floor.This will mean either an easy death or loss of consciousness. You don't feareven the flames if you are imconscious. But the attendants know their job. Theysimply hold on to the handles of the stretcher to stop it rocking. And theprisoner cannot get at their hands with his teeth even if he breaks his neck.