“What about CIA?”
“We share his material with them and they value it highly—but they’ve no idea of the source. When they’ve pressed to know we’ve always implied that it was a Polish national.”
Morton sighed and said, “So I still recommend we do nothing until we know more. A lot more.”
“I agree.”
Morton looked across at Shapiro. “I understand your concern, Joe, but we could easily make things worse for him.”
Shapiro shook his head slowly. “It haunts me, Hughie. Right this minute he could be lying in a cell in the Lubyanka after the first beating-up. Hoping against hope that we can do something.”
“You warned him I assume?”
“Of course. All the usual crap. But no matter what we say they never really believe that we’ll leave them to rot. Others, yes. Them, no. They’re special.” He sighed. “They never really grasp that once they’re in the bag they’re not special. Just an embarrassment. Not even a problem. You just forget ’em. At least that’s how it’s supposed to be.” Shapiro looked at Morton. “He was so brave, Hughie. All the guts in the world. I’d give everything I’ve got in the world to get him out. Ten years of his life. Taking risks every day. For us. And it ends like this. No medals, no bloody anything.”
“Take consolation where you can. He may not be in the bag at all. Just some aviation cockup.”
“I wish I could think that, Hughie. But I can’t.” Shapiro stood up, sighing. “We’d better get on our way. I need some sleep to clear my mind.” But Morton noticed the tears in Shapiro’s pale blue eyes. He made a mental note to keep close to Shapiro until things had been sorted out. Deep concern was one thing. Tears were something else. And with a temperament like his there was no knowing what he could get up to.
20
Having been charged with being an illegal alien Emil Goldfus was flown down to the McAllen Alien Detention Facility in Texas. All concerned had recognised that it was only luck that had allowed them to wriggle off the horns of a legal dilemma. If Goldfus had been arrested for espionage he would have been entitled to an almost immediate hearing on that charge and with Reino Hayhanen refusing to testify in court the government had no case. But having arrested him as an illegal alien it meant that the evidence of espionage found in his room was inadmissible. The search was out of bounds for a mere illegal entry charge. Fortunately by the time the judge issued the warrant to search Goldfus’s studio Hayhanen had changed his mind.
As the investigators and the prosecution lawyers again went over Hayhanen’s statements and questioned every statement as rigorously as he would be questioned by defence counsel in court, the exact location of every “drop” was established and photographed. Their main difficulty was Hayhanen’s desperately poor English.
At first they saw him as just being of low intelligence but they realised as the days passed that in fact he had an excellent memory and was quite astute. What concerned them subconsciously was that despite his vices of drink and women and his total lack of interest in the mission he had been sent on, the United States security services had known nothing about him nor his organiser, Emil Goldfus.
By midsummer the man who now officially admitted to being Rudolph Ivanovich Abel, colonel, KGB, was brought before the grand jury. The main evidence was given by Reino Hayhanen, with other testimony from people who had just happened to be neighbours or acquaintances of Abel.
Finally came the indictment. It charged Rudolph Ivanovich Abel, also known as Mark and Martin Collins and Emil R. Goldfus, of conspiracy on three counts. The first count was conspiring to transmit information relating to the national defence of the USA, particularly arms, equipment and disposition of the armed forces, and the atomic energy programme. The second count was conspiring to gather that information, and the third count was that he had remained in the country without registering as a foreign agent. The third count sounded both strange and faintly ridiculous to the public, but it had its purpose. The penalty for failing to register is five years in prison. To be classed as a foreign agent did not necessarily imply that a person was an intelligence agent. They may merely represent some foreign company or interest and only have as their objective the lobbying of some influential group in government or politics generally. But in the case of Colonel Abel the media made clear that they, at least, had no doubt as to what sort of “foreign agent” Abel was. The second count could mean ten years’ imprisonment and the first count carried the death penalty.
The afternoon newspapers and TV were grateful for such a story in the dog days of summer and the headlines left their readers in no doubt that this was the spy capture of all time. The probability that the colonel would be executed if convicted was also emphasised. The vigilance of the security services was highly commended.
When Abel told the court that he had no lawyer Judge Abruzzo said a lawyer should be appointed and the trial was set for September 16, to be held in the Brooklyn Federal Court before Judge Mortimer W. Byers.
The Bar Association chose wisely. James B. Donovan, an alumnus of Harvard Law School, had been an intelligence officer in the US Navy during World War II, and a member of OSS. He had also been on the staff of the US prosecutor at the Nuremberg Trials. Arnold Fraiman and Tom Dibevoise were appointed as his assistants.
They set out to examine everything that had happened between June 21, the day of Abel’s arrest and August 7, when he was indicted by the grand jury. They
