-Caveat Lector- So he was not too bright it is alleged? Here is an item by little Priscilla - as I recall she was part of the Kellogg Heirs and they used UFO's one August to sell a new cereal? KGB for years and years used KKK as a front - blaming "neo nazis" for their murder and assassinations which is more polite term......for even in the authorized book Death of a President Mrs. Kennedy had reference to the KKK removed - for she knew it was a "silly little communist" who had murdered her husband and the criminal syndicate of Marcellos and Meyer Lansky was involved. It still did not savae her son in the end did it. So little Priscilla who wrote this story, is the same Priscilla who interviewed Oswald when he was in Russia - Oswald left with a mastoic scar behind his ear but when he returned, no evidence of such a scar in his autopsy? Marilyn Monroe and Albert Einstein? Now what possibly could these two have in common - not that they needed anyting......she was once a good propaganda tool for USA when married to Joe DiMagio - but, when married to Arthur Miller she became cats paw for Communists.....think JFK did not know she was used to get next to him? As Marilyn once said prior to her death and during her friendship with "Albert" when asked what she thought about communism replied "well they are for the people, aren't they". If the KGB did not get her - somebody's Mafia did, but it was not J Edgar Hoover.....try Arthur Miller's side of fence. John Fitzgerald Kennedy's dream was to land a man on the moon in the 60 period; he did....meanwhile the KGB had set up KKK's around the country which later boasted the Navy Walker spies, an would not be surprised if Jonathan Pollard was card carrying Klansman - what a front - it took the help of 5 golden KKK Dragons to week out the KGB in Klan. Saba NOTE: Priscilla interviewed Oswald when in Russia.....was she used as messenger and if so for whom? Presume this is Yankee Doodle Girl on nobody's payroll for with their money, they do not need a charge card.... Year Index | Month Index The Sudoplatov File Flimsy Memories By Priscilla Johnson McMillan Years ago, Lord Alfred Duff Cooper, a member of Britain's wartime cabinet, wrote a much-reviewed memoir called Old Men Forget. The book was a helpful addition to what we knew about British politics and diplomacy in the 1930s and 1940s. Special Tasks: The Memoirs of an Unwanted Witness-a Soviet Spymaster by Pavel and Anatoli Sudoplatov with Jerrold and Leona Schecter, is an opposite sort of memoir-an example of what can happen when old men try to remember, prodded by editorial collaborators who publish a story without corroborating evidence. As a result, an 87-year-old retired Soviet secret police officer with a line to peddle has been abetted in accusing four Manhattan Project scientists of espionage, charges that reopened wounds that had never completely healed after the Oppenheimer Security Hearings of 1954. Make no mistake, Pavel Sudoplatov has a line to sell. He joined the Red Army in 1919 at the age of 12, entered army intelligence a year later, and spent his career in the Soviet secret police under chiefs whose names still evoke shudders in Moscow-Genrikh Yagoda, Nikolai Yezhov, and Lavrenti Beria. His version of history is Stalinist, with the Great Purges excused on the grounds that Stalin built the Soviet Union into a great power, and that his reformist epigones brought about its downfall. Sudoplatov believes that after Stalin's death, Beria, his boss for 15 years, could have reformed the country while deploying sufficient terror to hold the Soviet system together. In sum, Sudoplatov is a unique and sinister figure and, although there has been a flood of reminiscences in Moscow in recent years, he is the first official of his rank in the Soviet secret police to speak out since Alexander Orlov published The Secret History of Stalin's Crimes in 1953. Special Tasks was introduced in April in this country via an excerpt in Time magazine and a segment on the MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour. It has even produced a fissure between two Hoover Institution fellows-Sovietologist Robert Conquest, who wrote an admiring forward, and Edward Teller, who disagrees with the charges against the scientists, especially those leveled against Enrico Fermi and Niels Bohr. Is the book, as Conquest claims, "the most sensational, the most devastating, and in many ways the most informative autobiography ever to emerge from the Stalinist milieu"? Or has potentially useful oral testimony been so doctored and so misleadingly presented as to have forfeited credibility? Even a skeptical reader is likely to feel that Sudoplatov's story rings true when he describes operations in which he had a hands-on role, such as the murders of Ukrainian nationalist leader Yevhen Konovalets in Rotterdam in 1938 and Leon Trotsky in Mexico City in 1940, as well as his own imprisonment from 1953 to 1968 and his efforts to achieve rehabilitation thereafter. His account of the inner workings of the secret police also rings true, as when he describes the confusion over the death of Trotsky's son, Leon Sedov. Sudoplatov believes that Sedov's death in Paris in 1938 was the result of natural causes. But when it was reported to Nikolai Yezhov, head of the NKVD, Yezhov refused to believe Sedov had not been assassinated. "A good operation. We did a good job on him, didn't we?" he remarked, as he claimed credit in his report to Stalin. This example of the way successes were tallied in the higher reaches of the NKVD may provide a clue as to what went wrong with the chapter called "Atomic Spies": reports of exaggerated access to atomic scientists may have been inflated at each stage upward in the reporting process until they were presented to Priscilla Johnson McMillan is a fellow at the Russian Research Center, Harvard University, in Cambridge. top officials as major intelligence coups. Whatever the explanation, Sudoplatov and his co-authors make the unsupported claim that Bohr, Fermi, Robert Oppenheimer, and Leo Szilard knowingly allowed the transfer of secret Manhattan Project documents to Moscow during World War II. Sudoplatov says that his allegations are based on reports he saw as the intelligence director of the Special Committee on Atomic Problems for three years, from 1944 to 1946. But according to a statement by the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service on May 5, "Pavel Sudoplatov had access to atomic problems during a relatively brief period, a mere 12 months, from September 1945 to October 1946. . . . Department 'S' had no direct contact with the agents' network." (According to Sudoplatov, Department S was formed in February 1944 to supervise attomic intelligence activities of both the GRU [army intelligence] and the NKGB.) According to Sudoplatov, Oppenheimer, Fermi, Szilard, and Szilard's secretary "were often quoted in the NKVD files from 1942 to 1945 as sources for information on the development of the first American atomic bomb. . . . On several occasions, they agreed to share information with Soviet scientists. At first they were motivated by fear of Hitler. . . . Then . . . Niels Bohr helped strengthen their inclinations. . . . By sharing their knowledge with the Soviet Union, the chance of beating the Germans to the bomb would be increased." Sudoplatov also says the Soviet rezident (agent) in San Francisco, Grigory Kheifetz, twice met Oppenheimer and his wife Kitty at cocktail parties in Berkeley in December 1941, and had lunch with Oppenheimer alone later that month. During this lunch, Oppenheimer is alleged to have revealed the existence of a letter written by Albert Einstein to President Franklin Roosevelt during the summer of 1939 urging research into the feasibility of the atomic bomb. Early in 1943, Sudoplatov says, a high-ranking Soviet agent masquerading as a diplomat met with Bruno Pontecorvo (who worked with Fermi in the early 1930s and who defected to Moscow in 1950). Pontecorvo told the Soviet agent that "Fermi was prepared to provide information." The authors assert that, acting in concert, Fermi, Oppenheimer, and Szilard helped place moles as lab assistants in Chicago, Oak Ridge, and Los Alamos. On the April 18 MacNeil/Lehrer NewsHour, co-author Leona Schecter claimed that Fermi and Oppenheimer intentionally left papers on their desks at night for the moles to copy. By July 1943, Sudoplatov adds, "our agents in the United States had already provided us with 286 classified publications." The authors further contend that Elizabeth Zarubina, wife of a high-ranking Soviet agent and herself an NKVD captain, was "essential in developing Oppenheimer as a source" and that she also recruited one of Szilard's secretaries, "who provided technical data." Sudoplatov alleges that under the influence of Zarubina and Kheifetz, Oppenheimer suggested in 1943 that Klaus Fuchs be included in the British team that came to Los Alamos and that he later gave Fuchs "access to material he had no right to look at." Pointing out that "the line between valuable connections and acquaintances is very shaky" and that Oppenheimer was not a "controlled agent," Sudoplatov nevertheless says that "we received reports on the progress of the Manhattan Project from Oppenheimer and his friends in oral form, through comments and asides, and from documents transferred through clandestine methods with their full knowledge that the information . . . would be passed on." There is more, but this is the gist. Questions have been raised about the authenticity of the book as a whole, and especially of this chapter. Sudoplatov was 85 years old when interviewing began, and a partial oral transcript of the "Atomic Spies" chapter, released by the Schecters after the book was published, shows Anatoli Sudoplatov feeding his father leading questions and the old man taking his answers back-as when the father says of Oppenheimer's relationship to Fuchs: "We're not talking about his [Oppenheimer's] knowing there was a connection to Soviet espionage. Soviet espionage was never mentioned." Contradictions such as this one have led some observers to wonder how much of the chapter is Sudoplatov speaking, and how much is attributable to his three co-authors, a confusion that can only be settled by a reading of the entire transcript. As for the allegations, virtually every charge that is at all specific can be refuted. Consider these examples: n Oppenheimer probably did not know about Einstein's letter to Roosevelt at the time of the alleged lunch in Berkeley, and there is no independent evidence that the lunch actually took place. n If Fermi, Oppenheimer, and Szilard helped place moles as lab assistants, why are no moles identified? n Leaving papers out on desks at Los Alamos would at once have been spotted and taken very seriously by army security officials who swept the offices every night. n Szilard did not have a secretary; he used the secretarial pool at Chicago's Metallurgical Laboratory. As a member of the Manhattan Project, Szilard worked on early reactor designs. At no time did he work on the bomb, nor did he visit Los Alamos until 1956. n Elizabeth Zarubina could hardly have developed Oppenheimer "as a source"; she was stationed in Washington and there is no evidence that she traveled anywhere else in the United States before leaving the country in 1944. n Oppenheimer had no voice in the makeup of the British team at Los Alamos of which Klaus Fuchs was a member. Once at Los Alamos, Fuchs was a fully cleared member of the team, entitled to see the same documents as everyone else. Just as Sudoplatov's charges lack credibility, so too does the motive he assigns to the American scientists. The Soviet Union was fighting for its life, with German forces deep inside its borders. The best chance of "beating the Germans to the bomb" lay in the United States, not in sharing secrets with the beleaguered Russians. The scientists knew that once the war was over, it would be only a matter of time before the Soviet Union and other nations acquired the bomb. What Bohr and Oppenheimer wanted-an objective that by December 1944 was shared by Secretary of War Henry Stimson and the civilian directors of the Manhattan Project, Vannevar Bush and James Conant-was not the spread of bomb technology but a system of international control of nuclear materials and non-military uses. What was the extent of Soviet spying on the U.S. wartime effort? Documents located at the back of Special Tasks intended to bear out its thesis include a July 1943 memorandum by Igor Kurchatov, head of the Soviet bomb project, analyzing 286 titles, extracts, and documents received from the United States, evidently in a single batch. These documents are believed to have been periodic reports of the Metallurgical Laboratory in Chicago and the laboratory at Montreal University. The remainder of the documents cited in the back of the book show that the Russians received little information before 1945 and confirm what we already knew: that the important information about bomb design that reached Moscow during the war came from Fuchs. For example, in a letter dated April 7, 1945, Kurchatov refers to the "implosion method of activating the bomb, which we found out about only recently." The source was almost certainly Fuchs, who handed over a bundle of documents while visiting his sister in Cambridge, Massachusetts, over the Christmas holidays in 1944. The Russians, of course, sought information from multiple sources, and historians have accepted for some time now that there were other spies besides those whose identities are already known: Fuchs, Pontecorvo, Alan Nunn May, Lona Cohen, David Greenglass, Harry Gold, the Rosenbergs, Donald Maclean and John Cairncross (the "Fourth Man" in the Burgess-Maclean-Philby and, later, -Blunt circle). Cairncross is misidentified as Maclean in documents at the back of the book. But when the stir over Special Tasks has subsided, we will find ourselves no wiser about who these other spies may have been. Had they been the scientists at the top of the project-Fermi or Oppenheimer-Kurchatov's memoranda would have reflected greater and more timely knowledge before the end of 1944 and the Russians would probably have tested their first atomic bomb before 1949. Defending the book against the criticism that it was irresponsible to publish charges of treason without evidence, the Schecters have said that successful intelligence operations, such as the one they believe they have set forth, generate few documents. That is not necessarily the case in Russia. It is true that some materials from Stalin's time were lost or destroyed during the war. Others were lost following the Twentieth Communist Party Congress in 1956. On the whole, however, a lack of documents is not the problem: Russian archives are overflowing because of the national penchant for making multiple copies. The difficulty lies with access. The Soviet Union, like Tsarist Russia before it, lacked any tradition of releasing archival materials to the public. What we call "public domain" is an alien concept, and access often depends on the political winds of the moment-or on who offers the most money. Defending the value of reminiscences-such as he believes this authentically to be-Conquest points out in the foreword that not only are documents selectively released for political reasons, they often contain falsifications. The outcry this book has caused, when old men forget or are led to remember, may be only the beginning. They weren't "friends" In an appendix to Special Tasks, the authors reproduce, in Russian, a page from Sudoplatov's 1982 appeal for rehabilitation to the Communist Party Central Committee. Sudoplatov says that "Department S," which he says he headed from 1944 to 1946, "gave considerable help to our scientists by making known to them the latest materials on atomic bomb research, the sources being the well-known nuclear physicists R. Oppenheimer, E. Fermi, K. Fuchs, and others." Use of the word "sources" rather than "friends" is significant, since "friends" would have suggested an agent or someone whose cooperation was witting. The ambiguous word "sources" could refer to witting or unwitting help or information passed on by a third party. On May 2, at the Wilson Center in Washington, D.C., Jerrold Schecter called it "inconceivable" that Sudoplatov would have lied in this document, but historians of Soviet affairs find it quite conceivable that he might either have lied or exaggerated. -P. J. M. An Unreliable Witness By Sergei Leskov I am in an alley, at the door of one of the many houses in Moscow that belong to the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service. The goal of my visit is to find out what I can from this successor agency to the KGB, the guardian of its archives, about the scandalous allegations made by retired KGB Lt. Gen. Pavel Sudoplatov in his book Special Tasks: The Memoirs of an Unwanted Witness, published in the United States. There are few cars or pedestrians here, and the house looks somber and unremarkable. There is no sign and the blinds on the windows are shut tight. Then a man opens the door without saying a word and lets me into the half-dark building. From the corner of my eye I notice that guards are scrutinizing a monitor that displays the street. They are looking at my car. I am taken up the stairs; a soft carpet muffles the sound. At this moment-in mid-May-Sudoplatov is undergoing a cardiovascular examination at a KGB clinic. Doctors don't consider his condition dangerous, but it is impossible for me to talk to him. His colleagues, however, willingly share their impressions of him with me. Their descriptions are brief: Sudoplatov was firm of purpose, hardworking, responsible. Even in his youth he never touched alcohol. He had a taste for European clothes and the image of the type of dandy peculiar to Soviet spies. With his colleagues he was even-tempered and extremely attentive. He never allowed himself to shout, even in critical situations. In the late 1930s he taught at the spy academy. His pupils considered him a living legend even then, and his clear and inspiring lectures are remembered to this day. In December 1993 the Foreign Intelligence Service held a ceremonial reception. When someone announced that the 87-year-old Sudoplatov was in the room, everyone rose to their feet to applaud the man they considered a walking history of the KGB. The tales of pirates pale in comparison to his deeds, as detailed in his rich biography. Sudoplatov's most sensational story is his claim that the American physicists Robert Oppenheimer, Leo Szilard, and Enrico Fermi actively and consciously participated in passing atomic secrets to the Soviets. The possibility that scientists of such stature could have been foreign agents seems absurd. On the other hand, it seems no less absurd to suppose that one of the most prominent KGB bosses would attempt to pass off fantastic stories in his memoirs. Still . . . most of Sudoplatov's colleagues believe that he was guilty of the charge that sent him to prison, that he was indeed in charge of a super-secret laboratory where deadly poisons were developed and tested on condemned prisoners-although it doesn't affect their respectful attitude toward him. Sudoplatov denies the charge, although during his trial in 1953 the case seemed to be irrefutably proven. He received a 15-year sentence. He was released in 1968 and not "rehabilitated" until 1992. Sudoplatov now receives his KGB officer's pension. Therefore, he cannot consider himself free from the unwritten ethical codes of the special services. These codes include the strictest taboo on revealing the names of agents who do not want themselves declassified, even decades later. Publishing in the West, as was the case with Special Tasks, is a different matter. As a matter of fact, many honest accounts are devoted to the work of the special services. Uri Kobaladze, the director of the Foreign Intelligence Service's press center, tells me that his department did not know that Sudoplatov was working on his memoirs-he did not inform the special services about the book. Accordingly, the Foreign Intelligence Service takes no formal responsibility for the contents of the book. Kobaladze's caution is important to the service; after all, a relative of someone mentioned by Sudoplatov might decide to ask for proof of his scandalous statements. At the same time that the book was being written, the agency was working on a documentary film about the history of Soviet intelligence. It is curious that, although Sudoplatov appears frequently in the film, he says nothing that even remotely resembles the revelations in his book. Of course, this could be interpreted as an unwillingness to reveal secrets before the book came out. Very few people have access to the KGB archives; even many intelligence officials are excluded, and no outsider is allowed to handle actual documents. The librarian, however, will answer written questions after looking through the appropriate materials. In giving his answers, the librarian describes the sources: agents' files, reports, assignment sheets, logs, coded communications, and so on. The following is based on what I was told. Sudoplatov says in his book that he served on the atomic committee in 1942, and that a special intelligence arm, "Department S," was created in February 1944. But according to KGB documents, Department S was not established until September 1945. The list of people who had access to atomic information during the war was extremely short. During the war, only Leonid Kvasnikov, Gaik Obakimian, and Lev Vasilevsky had access to atomic information. Kvasnikov communicated directly with Russian physicist Igor Kurchatov. Although Sudoplatov, as a high-up official, might have heard something about atomic espionage, leakage of information was less likely than in any other area of intelligence work. His name does not appear as a person who handled operational reports, nor does his name appear in the logs (the record of people who brought in or took out documents). Department S was only briefly responsible for processing information from the department of scientific technical intelligence and passing it on to the government and the scientists. Department S had no direct contact with the agent network. In October 1946 the department was eliminated and its responsibilities transferred back to scientific technical intelligence. Sudoplatov was thrown back into sabotage. This time frame is of great importance to Sudoplatov's claims-the heaviest flow of atomic information came from the United States in 1944�45. By the time Sudoplatov became involved, a decision had been made to "freeze" the KGB agent network in North America when Elizabeth Bentley, a Soviet agent, defected to Canada in September 1945. There are certain important details missing from Sudoplatov's memoirs. It is surprising that the name of the man most responsible for obtaining the secret of the atomic bomb from the Americans, Leonid Kvasnikov, the director of scientific technical intelligence, is barely mentioned, unless perhaps Sudoplatov is consciously or unconsciously attempting to supplant the man most at the center. Kvasnikov concentrated on atomic matters as early as 1940 without a go-ahead from higher up, which put him at personal risk. In 1943, at a crucial time for atomic intelligence, Kvasnikov was an agent in New York. When Sudoplatov does mention Kvasnikov, he gets it wrong. Sudoplatov says that Kvasnikov's coded transmission in search of atomic secrets was sent to the United States, as well as to Britain, France, and Germany. But the United States was not on Kvasnikov's list because several important agents had just been arrested there. One of them, Gaik Ovakimian, who returned to the Soviet Union after his imprisonment in the United States, was put in charge of scientific technical intelligence in 1943. Sudoplatov claims that Robert Oppenheimer, who was in charge of the Manhattan Project, was recruited in 1941 by the Soviet vice-consul in San Francisco, Gregory Kheifetz, who went by the code name "Kharon." Yet the documents in the archives at the Foreign Intelligence Service indicate that the only agent active in the atomic arena at the time was in London, and that practically no atomic information came from the United States until 1943. Sudoplatov credits Elizabeth Zarubina of the Washington embassy as helping Kharon to recruit Oppenheimer. (Kharon's reports make no mention of Zarubina.) According to the Foreign Intelligence Service, Washington rezidents did not work on "Enormos," the atomic project. Kharon's reports mention the name of Oppenheimer only once, when he lists American scientists believed to have key information. In contrast to Sudoplatov's account, Kharon reported an attempt to contact two brothers, one a physicist, the other a radio technician, only once. Although Oppenheimer had a younger brother, it is not clear that this is a reference to the Oppenheimers. Kharon tried to establish contact with the younger, not the older brother; the effort was aborted when the target failed to show up for the meeting. Officials told me that Kharon was indeed responsible for recruiting two spies, but neither one was connected to the atomic project. Officials at the Foreign Intelligence Service found a multitude of small discrepancies that also undermine Sudoplatov's authority. Other items that the author introduces as sensational have already been published in the open press. For example, a description of the technical items that Soviet agents passed to Moscow from the West was published in the Bulletin in 1993. Col. Vladimir Barkovski is one of the last Soviet war-time agents still alive. He worked in the United States and Britain for almost two decades (see May 1993 Bulletin). When I asked Barkovski about Sudoplatov's account of his work, Barkovski was angry-in the book, he says, even his code name is wrong. Sudoplatov is also wrong in describing Barkovski as a cover for Vasilevsky during his meetings with Bruno Pontecorvo, and wrong again in saying that Barkovski managed Klaus Fuchs or had anything to do with the reports filed by British agent Donald Maclean. Barkovski also finds it hard to understand why, when Sudoplatov and he met in the spring, Sudoplatov did not even mention his book or try to check any of these statements. The archives at the Foreign Intelligence Service contain no information on the supposed secrets passed by American physicists Oppenheimer, Enrico Fermi, or Leo Szilard. Although these men were famous for their pacifist views, their convictions did not lead them to cooperate with Soviet intelligence. As one of the officials at the service told me, "These scientists were out of our reach." There is also nothing in the archives that would indicate that Soviet intelligence used Oppenheimer, even indirectly, to plant anyone at Los Alamos. Klaus Fuchs, for example, did not get to the Manhattan Project in the way Sudoplatov describes. He was recommended by British scientists who were considered beyond suspicion. Officials told me: "We had other sources of information. The sources Sudoplatov mentions were not our sources. Soviet agents, whose names are still classified, worked in the closest circle of the Manhattan Project." I was also told that as well as Klaus Fuchs, who was imprisoned for espionage in Britain for 14 years, and "Perseus," an unidentified agent who has been mentioned frequently in recent years, there were 10 agents of similar caliber working in the West. Six worked in the United States, four in Britain. They were significant figures who remain unknown to the FBI to this day. "The names of our agents in the United States will become known in the twenty-first century, not earlier," predicted one foreign service official. The only part of Sudoplatov's account that his colleagues confirmed was that Soviet agents did consult Niels Bohr on the workings of a uranium reactor in November 1945, after the war was over. Even Yakov Terletsky, who passed himself off as a young physicist, was an agent of the NKVD. Bohr realized he was dealing with Soviet agents for the first time and was very nervous. However, the advice given by the Nobel Laureate played a role in helping to get the first Soviet reactor going. Officials confirmed one other fact: that Soviet physicists did tell Soviet intelligence agents which U.S. physicists they thought should be "developed" to procure more information. One official, who specializes in historical issues, said of Sudoplatov's story that he "got sick at heart when [he] heard such fantastic stories made up for some incomprehensible reason." He said that the American co-author, Jerrold Schecter, might have given the memoirs their sensational character in order to boost sales of the book in the West. Officials told me that Harry Gold and David Greenglass were indeed Soviet agents, but not very important ones. My questions about Bruno Pontecorvo, who secretly immigrated to the Soviet Union in 1950, elicited only an ambiguous answer. One official denied that Pontecorvo had been engaged in espionage, but another said, "About Pontecorvo-no comment." Sudoplatov has not been the only one to implicate Pontecorvo. Oleg Gordievski, a famous deserter, made similar allegations. The officials I talked to also reacted predictably when asked about the Rosenbergs. Their spying was denied in the usual, pro forma manner. But the Foreign Intelligence Service officials' denials about Pontecorvo and the Rosenbergs were qualitatively different from those concerning the U.S. physicists. The allegations about the latter were called outright "falsifications." In the cases of Pontecorvo and the Rosenbergs, officials expressed no indignation. Is it possible that the Foreign Intelligence Service is simply remaining faithful to their unwritten laws and protecting names that are still classified? The director of the press center, Uri Kobaladze, told me: "In years past we would have been happy if a book like this came out in the West. It would have meant that we've succeeded in misinforming our opponent! But today the special services are geared to the truthful treatment of history. Even though we cannot speak openly about everything yet, we do stick to the strict rule of not lying." Only if the Soviet Union had another deeply hidden network in the United States could Sudoplatov's claims be true. That network would have had to have been so deeply and well hidden that no trace or hint of it could be found in any archive. Sudoplatov claims that some documents in the atomic area were taken to Lavrenti Beria's personal archives. According to Foreign Intelligence Service officials, Beria's archives are now the property of the Central Committee of the Communist Party, and they are impossible to access. But Beria's archives, officials say, contain no operational documents that would shed light on this case. This theory, they say, is no less fantastic than the claim that Oppenheimer volunteered to be a Soviet spy. Year Index | Month Index What's NewDoomsday ClockResearchAbout the BuletinFellowshipSubscribeHome <A HREF="http://www.ctrl.org/";>www.ctrl.org</A> DECLARATION & DISCLAIMER ========== CTRL is a discussion & informational exchange list. Proselytizing propagandic screeds are unwelcomed. Substance�not soap-boxing�please! 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