Six months later, the monotonous life in the army barracks came to an end. Private Dmitriy Klimov, accompanied by a group of partially intoxicated former soldiers, walked out of the gates of the army base. Instead of the cumbersome uniform, he now donned a windbreaker. Instead of a suitcase filled with photo albums, he carried a half-empty sports bag containing his military ID and a document called a Military Transportation Order, granting him a free railway ticket. Dima had chosen Vladivostok, a distant city on the Pacific coast, as his destination.
FMD and SMD
The most important and prestigious section of the KGB is, of course, the First Chief Directorate FCD (intelligence). This is the dream of young romantics whose heartfelt wish is to join the Komitet. Bitter disappointment awaits many of them. Upon returning from various foreign assignments, they will discover they are being watched, their phones tapped, and their careers will come to a halt. They spend long hours with their heads in their hands, trying to recall where and when they had aroused suspicion. Which of their comrades could be the source of the denunciation? The trouble, however, is that there may not have been any denunciation at all. The colleague has returned from beyond the ideological front, and who knows, who knows?
Members of the Second Chief Directorate SCD (counterintelligence) almost never go on operational trips abroad, and because of this, their careers are more predictable. Life and service are simpler. For example, they are not required to live undercover neighbors and friends could know that so-and-so works in the KGB. For every FCD officer, however, a cover story was arranged. Usually, for friends and neighbors he was supposed to be an engineer at a secret defense facility. Most employees of the FCU of the KGB of the USSR never used an official ID a plastic card without a photo and without a name was used to enter the huge complex at Yasenevo on the outskirts of Moscow, and it never occurred to anyone to flash a brown folding ID with the embossed letters KGB to anyone without serious cause. Any way you look at it, life in the SCD was simpler.
The senior operations officer of Department T of the SCD, Major Valov, left the Detskiy Mir (Childrens World) store. In his right hand was a slim diplomatic briefcase while in his left, like a conjurer, he held two ice cream bars. Squinting at the sun and glancing at his watch, he ate both and discarded the sticks in an overflowing trash can, crossed the street, and disappeared into Building No. 2 on Dzerzhinskiy Street, the former Bolshaya Lubyanka. Here, on the fourth floor with a window overlooking the dreaded Inner Prison where the employee cafeteria is now located, was his office.
But it was not easy to find Valov there. More often, he could be found in one of the unmarked rooms in the main building of international airport Sheremetyevo-2, right behind the Deputy Hall. Or in the basement of the airport behind a steel door with the inscription Civil Defense. Or in the departure hall where he walked around with a detached look pretending to be a passenger. Often, he would sit at the bar with his habitual double-scoop of ice cream. Of course, the staff knew who he was, no secret about that. Among themselves, they called him our curator from the KGB or simply curator. In fact, the departure zone was his real workplace, a sort of battlefield where, like chess pieces on a board, his proxies and confidential informants were placed, special equipment was installed and concealed. Valov had sources among cleaners, customs officers, border guards, and even pilots.
It is not that the average Soviet citizen was naturally secretive and close-mouthed, but having been caught in a petty theft, a bribe, immorality, or any offense that entailed a trial and dismissal, he became extremely talkative and provided mountains of information, sometimes unexpected and sometimes unrelated to the work of the KGB. He would be investigated and asked to sign a document obligating him to voluntarily cooperate with the authorities, a pseudonym was selected, a schedule for secret meetings was agreed upon.
The major despised initiators those who voluntarily sought contact and offered information. There were a large number of them, but, all employees at Sheremetyevo were not averse to snitching to the KGB. However, Valov, being an experienced operative, understood that these volunteers all wanted to use him, Major Valov. Some wanted to settle a score through him, some wanted to advance in their jobs, and others, anticipating future problems, wanted to get into his favor as an excuse or to receive special treatment.
Major Valov never refused to listen but mainly trusted his own tested informants, recruited based on solid evidence, indebted to him, and deeply involved in their own informant activities. In official documents, this is referred to as an informant network, and through this network, streams of foreigners flowed day and night. They would drink too much, eat, and buy souvenirs, speculating that the cashier or a cheerful bartender might have some connection with the kay-gee-bee (KGB). However, these were the rules of the game during the height of the Cold War.
The network provided a vast amount of information, often of a criminal nature, or as it was termed in the KGB, police related info. It was meticulously documented but never directly shared with the police to protect the anonymity of the sources. However, it would be incorrect to say that this data was not utilized it was often used to recruit new KGB informants.
Foreigners, as a category, rarely interested Valov. This was the domain and concern of the prestigious First Chief Directorate of the KGB of the USSR. Instead, Valov focused on Soviet citizens actively seeking contact with foreigners. Providing a tip about such individuals could earn an informant a cash bonus, exemption from legal troubles, and, in some cases, a State award. These awards were granted by a secret order of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR. Recipients were prohibited from wearing or boasting about them to neighbors or relatives. However, Valov had never had such informants in his network. The majority of individuals in Valovs network were ordinary people who had found themselves in some sort of trouble, which had been documented in intelligence reports that landed on Valovs desk.
Major opened steel safe and pulled out two folders one thin folder labeled Personal and the other thick folder with the words Operational written on the cover, along with the bold inscription Confidential Informant LARIN in felt-tip pen. Glancing at his watch once more, Valov picked up both folders and headed to meet his boss.
The head of Department T, responsible for counterintelligence operations at transportation facilities, occupied a bright and spacious office on the third floor. This General had formerly been a high-ranking member of the Partys Central Committee, but during the campaign to strengthen intelligence, he was transferred to the KGB. Despite lacking experience as an intelligence officer and never holding a military rank, he was promoted to the rank of General overnight a common practice aimed at imposing Party control over law enforcement. In the USSR, ideology always took precedence over professionalism. The Dzerzhinsky Red Banner Univercity of the KGB even had a special faculty to train those transferred Party and Komsomol workers for leadership positions within the KGB.