coerce men into doing what they were doing. They had to want to do it, to believe in it. They couldn’t do it under the influence of drugs or alcohol. And this was real. The Dark Forces did not not construct this carrier or recruit and tram men just to put on a display for him. Now he was inclined to believe what he saw and was told.
“Do you have a jail on this ship?”
They showed him the brig — five or six immaculate cells with standard Navy bunks — which happened to be empty.* In answer to his questions, the captain enumerated some of the offenses for which a sailor might be confined — drinking alcohol, smoking marijuana, assault.
“Why is your jail empty?”
“Maybe we’re lucky. We don’t have much trouble aboard this ship.”
“How many people do you have on this ship?”
“About five thousand officers and men.”
Noticing the insignia of the cross on the shirt collar of an officer, Belenko asked if the crew was required to profess faith in God.
The captain replied that although Protestant, Catholic, and Jewish chaplains regularly conducted services, crew members were free to attend or not and that religious beliefs or the lack of them was entirely a private matter of individual conscience.
Belenko wanted to know if the chaplains additionally functioned as political officers, and the captain did not at first understand what he meant.
“Who tells your men how they must vote?” He realized that the laughter the question caused was real and spontaneous.
The carrier was the flagship of an admiral who presented Belenko with a fleece-lined leather jacket worn by Navy pilots. He said he hoped Belenko would wear and regard it as a symbol of the appreciation and comradeship U.S. Navy fliers felt toward him. The gift and words so affected him that he spoke with difficulty. “I will be very proud of this jacket”
He was so proud of the jacket that throughout the day he carried it with him wherever he went. All life had taught him that left unguarded, such valuable apparel certainly would be stolen.
“Viktor, leave the damn jacket here,” Gregg said as they started from the cabin to see the evening movie.
“No, someone will steal it.”
“Nobody will steal it. This is not a pirate ship.”
“No, I know somebody will steal it.”
After much argument, against all good judgment and under vehement protest, Belenko reluctantly obeyed and left the jacket on his bunk. During the movie he fidgeted and worried. “I think I’ll go back and see about my jacket”
“Sit still. Your jacket is all right.” Later Gregg slipped away to the cabin and hid the jacket in a closet
Returning from the movie, Belenko saw that the worst had happened. “You see! I told you! I told you! They stole it!” Gregg opened the closet, and Belenko grabbed the jacket, clutched, hugged it, and did not let it out of his sight again.
The excellence, abundance, and variety of food in the enlisted men’s mess did not bespeak exploitation of a lower class or reflect a national scarcity of food The provision of such food — and nowhere except aboard the 747 had he tasted better — was consistent with the Air Force officer’s remark at the Air Force base about the importance of caring for people.
The admiral in his cabin opened a refrigerator and apologized that he could offer only a soft drink or fruit juice. Surely an admiral can have a drink in his own quarters if he wants? “No, I’m afraid we all have to abide by the rules.” The reply was consistent with what Father Peter had told him about the law.
A couple of days after they flew back from the carrier, Peter recounted to Belenko all the Soviet Union had been saying about him and all it was doing to recapture him. “They realize that we will not give you up and that their only chance is to persuade you to return voluntarily. So, almost daily, they demand from us another opportunity to talk to you. They’re being rather clever, if brutal, about it. They know they can’t do anything to us directly. Therefore, they are trying to pressure us indirectly through the Japanese. They’re seizing Japanese fishing boats, threatening and harassing the Japanese in every way they can. And I’m afraid they won’t stop until we let them see you once more.”
“What do they say?”
“Oh, it’s all bullshit. They say they’re not sure the man they saw in Tokyo was you and that, in any case, they did not have long enough to determine whether you were acting voluntarily or under duress.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Only you can decide. You do not have to meet them. But the Japanese have been valiant and steadfast throughout, and it would be a big service to them if you would.”
“All right Let’s get it over. But I tell you, and you can tell them, this is the last time.”
Peter and several other CIA officers, including a couple of unfamiliar, tough-looking characters who comported with his original concept of CIA men, led Belenko to the anteroom of a conference hall at the State Department. “We will be waiting right here and will come immediately if there is trouble. We have made sure that they are in no way armed. You will be safe. Just be yourself.”
Waiting in the conference chamber were MinisterCounselor Vorontsov, the chief Soviet representative at the Belgrade conference on human rights, a Soviet physician, and a KGB officer, who posed as a diplomat at the Soviet Embassy in Washington.
As soon as Belenko entered, Vorontsov warmly clasped his hand. “It always is good to meet a man from our Mother Country.” Immediately trying to establish psychological control, he said, as if he, rather than the State Department, were in charge of the meeting, “Please sit down, and let’s talk freely and openly. Now, we know that something happened to your aircraft and that you did not land in Japan voluntarily.
“We know that in Japan you tried to protect your aircraft by firing your pistol,” Vorontsov continued. “We know that the Japanese employed force against you and clamped a bag on your head. We know that the Japanese put you in prison and drugged you with narcotics. We know that your actions and movements have not been voluntary.
“Your wife and son, all your relatives are grieving, crying, longing for you. Here, they have sent letters and photographs for you.” Vorontsov laid them on the table before Belenko, who ignored them. Vorontsov pushed them closer. Belenko looked away from them and glowered directly into Vorontsov’s eyes, provoking, he thought, a flicker of anger. But Vorontsov, a forceful man, retained his composure and went on, calmly, seductively.
“We want you to know that despite all that has happened and even if you did make some mistake, you will be forgiven completely if you return to your Mother Country, to your family, your native land, the only land where you ever can be happy. You need not be afraid. I reiterate and promise on the highest possible authority that you will be forgiven.
“Let me give you an example. A Soviet major defected to the United States and, after meeting with us, chose to return to our Mother Country. Later he went to the American Embassy in Moscow and assured the Americans that he was free and not being punished.”
At this an American, a cool young State Department official whom Belenko had not previously noticed, burst into laughter. “That is not true, Mr. Vorontsov.”
“That’s the trouble with you Americans,” Vorontsov shouted. “You never believe us.”
“Not when you lie like that”
Returning to Belenko, Vorontsov said, “My comrade, if you wish, you may leave this room with us right now, and tomorrow you will be in Moscow reunited with your family in your Mother Country. And you can continue your career as a pilot.” Here Vorontsov beamed. “In fact, I am authorized to assure you that you can become a test
