1. Our Spies Are Dying
CIA Station, U.S. Embassy, Moscow, March 1978
Gus Hathaway sat in his cramped, windowless office on the seventh floor of the chancery building at 21 Tchaikovsky, gazing at some documents on his desktop as he toyed with a radical idea that probably wouldnât make him any friends in CIAâs clandestine service, the Directorate of Operations (DO). In Moscow, March was like deep winter everywhere else, so the roomâs heat was turned up, contributing to the stuffiness and claustrophobic feel of the place. Hathaway knew that uninformed civilians thought of him and his brethren in the DO as spies, but that was a term he and the other intelligence officers who ran espionage operations in foreign countries never ever used to describe themselves. Hathaway and his DO colleagues were case officers who didnât spy at all, but rather spotted, assessed, recruited, vetted, and operated foreign âhuman assetsâ (actual spies) who stole vital secrets from âtargets,â such as the USSR, on behalf of CIA.
Case officers were the agency eliteâwhereas other CIA officers, such as technologists in the Directorate of Science and Technology (DS&T) or the academic types that comprised the Directorate of Intelligence (DI)âwere lesser beings who could only dream of becoming case officers one day.
Which was precisely the problem that Hathaway had with the idea he was kicking around; he had an urge to go outside of CIA for help with a vexing problem in Moscow that had just become urgent.
The culture of the elite DO was to keep their mouths firmly shut to all outsiders and to tough out gnarly problems among themselves. Sure, every now and then a case officer needed a surveillance gadget or disguise from the nerds at DS&T, or even some advice on a target from one of the ivory-tower eggheads at the DI, but to wander outside of CIA for help?
Not good form. Not good form at all, especially when the outside agency that Hathaway was considering asking for help was the National Security Agency (NSA). NSA had become CIAâs bureaucratic archenemy over the past few years because of turf fights over which agency had authority to collect signals intelligence (electronic intercepts also known as SIGINT). CIA wanted to continue its long-standing practice of collecting foreign communications, while NSA argued that gathering such SIGINT should be placed under NSA authority.
Also, NSA, which had quickly grown in power and prestige under Admiral Bobby Inman, had gotten into the habit of withholding raw SIGINT from CIAâinstead, feeding CIA NSAâs sanitized and summarized interpretation of the raw intelligenceâon grounds that revealing raw SIGINT would compromise NSAâs covert sources and methods.1 NSA had also been resisting CIA director Admiral Stansfield Turnerâs play with President Carter to take direct control of NSA on the grounds that the director of central intelligence was the titular head of the entire intelligence community.2
In U.S. national security circles, the bitter feud between NSAâs Inman and CIAâs Turner was dubbed âthe war of admirals.â3
But Hathaway was not nearly as allergic to NSA as others at CIA and was truly desperate, and it was unlikely that anyone from the DOâor CIA writ largeâcould solve his life-or-death problem.
Which truly was a life-or-death crisis. The previous year, the KGBâRussiaâs formidable intelligence serviceâhad arrested two CIA assets in Moscow. One asset, a Soviet Ministry of Foreign Affairs staffer named Aleksandr Ogorodnik, had committed suicide during his interrogation at Lubyanka prison with the cyanide âL pillâ his CIA case officer, Martha Peterson, had supplied him,4 while the other asset, Colonel Anatoly Filatov of Soviet Military Intelligence (GRU), had just been sentenced to death after being caught handing over state secrets to CIA case officer Vincent Crockett.5
Both Peterson and Crockett had been arrested and then âPNGâdâ (declared persona non grata) and booted out of Russia shortly after their respective assets had been ârolled up.â
According to a source familiar with Hathawayâs thinking in early 1978, Hathaway was also concerned about compromises that had led directly to execution of U.S. assets.
For certain, there was a leakâor leaksâin the ultratight security that protected the identities of case officers and their assets.
But where?
Perhaps a mole at Langley (CIA headquarters) was tipping off the KGB about identities of case officers and their Soviet assets. Such horrors did occurâif rarelyâsuch as when senior British intelligence official and KGB asset Kim Philby betrayed numerous assets of Her Majestyâs Secret Service to the Soviets.
Or maybe the KGB was intercepting and deciphering encrypted communications somewhere between Langley and Moscow Station.
Flawed espionage tradecraft by DO case officers was another troubling possibility. Had Peterson or Crockett, for instance, failed to run countersurveillance routes (elaborate street maneuvers designed to confuse and shake off KGB tails) properly before executing brush passes or servicing dead drops (covert means of exchanging information with assets)?
Peterson and Crockett both vehemently denied making any such mistakes, but even elite DO case officers were, at the end of the day, human and therefore prone to committing errors every now and then.
Martha Peterson, for instance, was not only a novice but the very first female case officer assigned to Moscow.6 Hathaway was an old-school gentleman from southern Virginia who did not like involving women in the dangerous, manly, meticulous work of the DO. Heâd made his views known, but to no avail, as his masters at Langley, concerned about the safety of Ogorodnik, had hoped that a female case officer would escape KGB suspicion.
That ploy had obviously failed. But despite Hathawayâs misgivings about female case officers there was no evidence, that Petersonâor Crockett, for that matterâhad screwed up. Which raised yet another possibility: the KGB might have compromised security at the Moscow embassy itself.
Of all the possible sources of leakage, the embassy seemed like the best bet.
First and foremost, the facility was in the heart of Moscow, where the KGB could bring every tool in its vast espionage arsenal to bear. A large number of embassy staffersâincluding guards, switchboard operators, travel coordinators, cooks, maids, and driversâwere Soviet citizens who were guaranteed to be either KGB informants or outright KGB officers. Although CIA officers knew how to behave around such obvious threats, the same could not be said of State Department diplomats. State employeesâwhose job, after all, was to mingle with Russians in order to collect and exchange information to improve relations between America and Russiaâwere not all that security conscious and had a well-deserved reputation for being âinformation sieves.â
Yes, diplomats, with the occasional exception of the ambassador himself, were not privy to the identities of CIAâs human assets. But senior diplomats, such as the ambassador and deputy chief of mission (DCM), did know which of their employees actually worked for CIA. A careless word from a diplomat in the wrong place at the wrong time could tip off the KGB about a case officerâs true function at the embassy and ultimately lead to the unmasking of that case officerâs assets.
Ambassador Malcolm Toon, for instance, who knew Martha Petersonâs real job and had made a comment while riding in the embassyâs unsecured elevator the year before, clearly acknowledged that Peterson was CIA. The elevator, like most of the embassy outside of highly secured areas on the top three floors, which were constantly swept for surveillance devices, was probably bugged. State Department staffers often had dangerously cavalier attitudes about such bugging. The current number-two diplomat in Moscow, for instance, DCM Jack Matlock, frequently said of the presumed embassy bugs, âIf they [the Soviets] want my opinion, theyâre welcome to it.â7
In other words, KGB bugging of the embassy was an accepted fact of life. A decade earlier, more than one hundred microphones had been discovered behind radiators in the chancery.8 And even before the United States moved into its current embassy in 1953, numerous electronic surveillance devices had been discovered in Spaso House, the de facto embassy and U.S. ambassadorâs residence as early as the 1930s.9 U.S. ambassador Joseph Daviesâs wife said in 1936, for example, âWe found them [microphones] in the fireplaces, we found them in the little vents, in the inner walls.â10 Then, in 1951, a truly ingenious listening device called âthe Thingâ had been discovered in a wooden Great Seal of the United States in Ambassador Kirkâs office, a gift to the ambassador from a troop of Russian girls.
The Thing, a carefully machined acoustic cavity attached to a special antenna, consumed no electrical power whatsoever but reflected radio waves that the Soviets beamed at the embassy in such a way that voices, even at a whisper, could be clearly picked up at a nearby Russian intelligence listening post.11
That such sophisticated tradecraft was way beyond CIAâs own surveillance technology was deeply troubling in 1951 and even more troubling in 1978, because the KGB continued to beam radio wavesâin the form of microwavesâat the upper, highly sensitive floors of the embassy that housed both the ambassadorâs office and offices of CIA and other U.S. intelligence services.
Although the original function of radio frequency (RF) reflections off the Thing had been discovered, the current purpose of the microwave bombardment, alternately called TUMS (the unidentified Moscow signal) or MUTS (Moscow unidentified technical signal), was, as the âunidentifiedâ term in TUMS and MUTS implied, a mystery, at least to CIA and State Department surveillance countermeasures technologists.12
To Hathaway, it was unacceptable that CIA and State Department technologists did not understand what the microwaves were about. Why would the KGB devote considerable resources to continuing the microwave att...