16. Встреча с конгрессменами

· Fiery Trails - 1

A month later, I received a message from Boris Chernobylsky via a congratulatory telegram. And, as agreed, a week after the telegram, I was to meet with some important people from Western political circles. I realized: to break through to Moscow, I needed to come up with something new. The entire next day, Zina and I spent in fasting and prayer. We asked God to provide an opportunity for this meeting to happen. We worried, and we considered every possible option.
I decided to use the KGB for this purpose. The plan was desperate and dangerous. I relied only on God.
“Zina, do you still have the phone number of the KGB chief? You remember, the one who tried to recruit you?”
“I still have it. What about it?”
“You’ll have to ‘get recruited’ for a while. Call Ufimtsev and set up a meeting.”
Zina resisted for a long time, even though she understood there was no other way out, and after much thought, she agreed. That same day, she called Ufimtsev and said simply, “I have something to discuss.” Zina faced a dangerous and difficult task. She had to play the part so that everything seemed natural, so the KGB men wouldn’t suspect anything. What worried me most was that if they became suspicious, they could also play their own part. We stood as if on a scale: who would outplay whom? This was a war, a war of nerves that we had been waging for four years now. Only our forces and capabilities were unequal. If they lost, they sometimes lost their position or the number of stars on their shoulder boards decreased; if we lost, we could lose our freedom and even our lives, like Shelkov and Snegirev. Behind them stood all the might of the state, all the dark forces of hell; behind us stood God and the desire to serve the people. An hour later, Zina was sitting in the KGB chief’s office.
“I came because of your proposal.”
“And what brings you right now, and not back when the proposal was made?”
“I needed time to think, and for that I had to ripen. Boris miraculously escaped from arrest in Krasnoyarsk. During my last trip, I also felt what it meant to be under arrest. I no longer believe in my husband’s success. Four years of this senseless war. I’m tired of everything. I’m so exhausted from endless worries, searches, arrests. I want to live like everyone else, to live peacefully, with my children, with my husband. Help me—you promised me that.”
Zina was weeping. Ufimtsev bustled around, shoving a glass of water into her hands, telling her to calm down. He was triumphant.
“But still, still, what made you come here exactly today?” Zina felt she was walking on thin ice, that it wasn’t so easy to deceive them. She pulled herself together and continued:
“He’s planning another trip to some congress.”
“So, so, so…” he said nervously, drumming his fingers on the desk, “So, so, so… We’ve received some information to that effect. You’ve confirmed that information—it’s accurate.”
“Do something so Boris doesn’t go, because he’ll be arrested there.” Zina looked at Ufimtsev pleadingly. He stopped drumming his fingers and stared at Zina with unblinking eyes.
“You want to help your husband? Where will this congress be?”
“I don’t know, and Boris doesn’t know. When he arrives in Moscow, they’ll tell him where to go next.”
“And when is he planning to go?”
“It seems like this week.”
“What route?”
“I don’t know. He says they’ve worked out some new route, that the KGB will never guess.”
“Zina,” Ufimtsev paused, then said decisively, “let him go, let them gather and discuss whatever they want there, as long as we know what they’re plotting. For that, Zina, you go with him. Don’t worry about anything; everything will be handled correctly. Just one condition: don’t leave his side for a step with anyone. You must see and hear everything that happens there, and then share it with us. If you keep us informed of all his intentions, we will stop him when he faces danger. Only with your help can we prevent him from doing things that could land him in prison.”
“Yes, but I can’t just force myself onto this trip. And I don’t know how he’s traveling—maybe he’ll be in freight cars, or maybe they’ll take him on a motorcycle for five hundred kilometers through the taiga. I can’t travel with him like that, and he would never take me on such a route.” Ufimtsev began drumming his fingers on the desk again.
“When did you last visit your parents? They live in Ukraine, I believe.”
“Yes, I haven’t seen them for five years.”
“That’s not good, not seeing your parents for so many years. So make a scene with him, say you want to see your parents and that you’ll accompany him. Travel as usual by train to Khabarovsk—we already know your routes—and from there by plane to Moscow.”
“That’s the usual route, and Boris might not agree to go that way. And plane tickets—you know you can’t buy them right away in the summer; you have to order at least two weeks in advance, maybe even a month.”
“So, so, so. Then go by train to Komsomolsk-on-Amur. You’ll lose half a day, but he hasn’t flown from there before, we know that for sure, and he won’t suspect anything. And don’t worry about the tickets. There will be tickets there. We’ll arrange everything; just don’t, under any circumstances, let him go without you.”
A week later, I was already meeting with a group of American congressmen. I told them about the true situation of believers in the Soviet Union and asked them to help those in danger leave the USSR. There were about thirty such people. Right then, at that meeting, I received an invitation to meet with a group of American senators, which was to take place in three weeks. Zina and I visited her parents, spent a few days there, and then our friends invited us to vacation on the Black Sea coast. For the first time in years, Zina and I rested. We swam on Black Sea beaches, sunbathed, visited the caves of New Athos, and went to Lake Ritsa. “This is compensation for your failed hunting vacation,” Zina laughed.
These happy days flew by unnoticed. It was time to return to Moscow.
For the last time, we walked along the sandy beach. The wind blew from the sea, bringing the smell of water, of freshness, a sharp, palpable scent of the sea. The wind kept strengthening. The waves swelled and crashed noisily onto the shore, spraying us with fountains of salty mist. The sky had darkened without our noticing it. Somewhere in the distance, we heard the rumble of thunder.
At the meeting with the group of senators, I said the same thing as I had to the congressmen, asking them to support us. Together with me, Soviet Pentecostals were represented by Vasily Shilyuk and Timofey Prokopchik. We asked the senators, when meeting with Soviet representatives, to make it clear that they knew about us, and to pass on lists of people in danger. We asked them to help these people get out. I did not include myself on those lists. Later, some congressmen and senators from these groups organized a committee in our defense, but they didn’t have time to help the people on the lists. The Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan and no longer paid any attention to world opinion. A time of open terror against everyone who disagreed with the communist regime began. None of those on the lists managed to leave at that time.
In mid-September we returned home. The Voice of America had already broadcast news of our meeting with the American congressmen and senators. That was the first meeting of official Western representatives with a representative of the underground Pentecostal church and a discussion, at such a level, of the problems of believers in the USSR and the problem of emigration on religious grounds. In my opinion, everything was going well—at least I was sure that too many people at a high enough level already knew about us, and that mass terror was no longer possible. But the thought that Zina could not avoid a meeting with Ufimtsev kept me restless. A week after we returned, without waiting for her call, Ufimtsev unexpectedly appeared in front of Zina on the street.
“How was the trip? We heard that Boris met with senators and congressmen. You must have lots of news. Oh, by the way, how did the congress go? We’ve been waiting for you.”
“What congressmen? What senators? What congress are you talking about?” Zina asked with feigned surprise, stepping around Ufimtsev.
Ufimtsev froze. The smile fell from his face. He understood everything.
“Well, you bitch, you won’t get away with it like this.”
Zina walked away, with Ufimtsev’s threats flying after her. The congress took place a month later. Only I was unable to attend it. Prokopchik, Onishchenko, and Istomin went to the congress. At that congress, I was elected in absentia as Secretary of the Council of Churches. After that, I only managed to get to Moscow in April of 1980. I was accompanied by Vitaly Istomin. That was my last trip before my arrest. I didn’t know then that only six years later I would be in Moscow again.

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