True Spy History: The Arrest and Suicide of Alexander Ogorodnik While Under KGB Interrogation -- CKTRIGON

Excerpt From "Year of the Spy" by Michael D. Sellers

Author’s note: Here on Substack I’m providing excerpts from the upcoming Year of the Spy - my non-fiction book detailing the espionage upheaval in Moscow in 1985, in which I was a participant on the CIA side. A big part of the setup for 1985 is the following story from 1977, as it was during that year that the KGB arrested Alexander Ogorodnik, whose CIA cryptonym was CKTRIGON. Ogorodnik was a 37 year old Ministry of Foreign Affairs officer who provided the US with top secret Soviet negotiating positions for the SALT II strategic weapons negotiations, as well as a wealth of other classified information. This excerpt tells the story of Ogorodnik’s arrest and suicide while under interrogation, using a CIA-supplied poison concealed in a pen. It is based entirely on Russian/KGB sources and is told from the point of view of the KGB investigators. The relevance to 1985 is that this suicide was 100% on the mind of the KGB as they began making arrests in 1985 — and they made sure it did not happen again. There is a lot more to the Ogorodnik story than this excerpt — but this covers one of the most powerful moments in KGB/CIA espionage history in deeply researched detail not previously reported. .

The Back Story

​In the early 1970s, Aleksandr Ogorodnik, a Soviet diplomat stationed in Bogotá, Colombia, was recruited by the CIA and given the codename "CKTRIGON." After his transfer to Moscow in 1974, he secured a position at the Soviet Ministry of Foreign Affairs, granting him access to sensitive documents. Ogorodnik photographed these materials using a miniature camera concealed within a fountain pen, regularly passing the film to his CIA handler via dead drops. Unbeknownst to him, his espionage activities were compromised by Karl Koecher, a Czechoslovakian double agent within the CIA. Acting on Koecher’s lead, the KGB initiated surveillance and eventually discovered a flashlight with a hidden compartment among his possessions, confirming their suspicions. He was arrested in his apartment on June 22, 1977.

Excerpt from Year of the Spy

The Arrest of Alexander Ogorodnik

June 21, 1977, Moscow

As darkness approached, KGB Colonel Igor Peretrukhin waited in the huge courtyard of 2/1 Krasnopresnenskaya Embankment--an area that extended a full 300 meters from the river embankment to Ulitsa Rochdelskaya. This was, he realized, the moment of truth. Everything was in readiness; everyone was in place.

For the past year the 49-year-old Peretrukhin had been the officer in charge of the investigation, one component of which was that he had been in direct contact with Ogorodnik under the pretext that he was recruiting the diplomat to be a freelance informant for the KGB. The approach had gone smoothly and had allowed Peretrukhin to get close to him and gain his confidence. Tonight, Peretrukhin’s role was to entice Ogorodnik into his apartment, where the arrest would be made and a search, with witnesses present as required by the criminal code, would be carried out.

Nine PM arrived. It was still daylight on this, the longest day of the year.

A brisk wind whistled off the Moscow River and slashed through the archway, turning the spot where Peretrukhin waited into something like a wind tunnel. Behind him, in the massive, park-like courtyard, with cars parked haphazardly throughout. The tree lined courtyard contained grassy areas, a child’s playground, and a Kindergarten Schoolhouse. Two archways provided access from the courtyard through the block-long apartment building to the street. Peretrukhin was covering the archway closest to Ulitsa Nikolaeva. Across the way, near the second archway near Glubocky Pereulok, he caught an occasional glimpse of one of his colleagues, Vyacheslav Kevorkov. From what he saw, Kevorkov was as chilled as Peretrukhin was, as night approached and he wind continued to whip in off the river.

Colonl Igor Konstantinovich Peretrukhin

Another hour passed. At 10:18 the sun finally set, and twilight descended.

Finally, at ten-thirty PM as full darkness was settling in, Ogorodnik’s Volga passed through the archway where Kevorkov was stationed, and drove a hundred yards before finding a parking space near the fence of the Kindergarten. Ogorodnik got out of the car and opened the trunk.

Peretrukhin approached him, explaining that at the request of Mikhail Ivanovich Kurishev, Peretrukhin’s notional boss in the fiction that was being presented to Ogorodnik, he was here to go over final details of the plan whereby Ogorodnik would be assisting the investigation of his department at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

“All right, just help me carry these files upstairs. ”

Standing by the trunk while Ogorodnik rummaged, Peretrukhin suddenly wished he were armed. It was entirely possible that Ogorodnik smelled the ambush. What would he do if he became convinced he was about to be arrested on charges that would only mean execution? It would be a simple matter for him to pull a weapon out of the trunk.

But when Ogorodnik turned, it was to hand him a half dozen thick file folders--all bearing marking indicating they pertained to the Pacific Youth Conference, which Ogorodnik was set to attend.

They walked to the stairwell. Two others -- Kostyra and Tsurin-- joined them. For a split second Ogorodnik looked alarmed, but Peretrukhin introduced them as co-workers, sent by Mikhail Ivanovich, who would be following shortly.

Ogorodnik seemed satisfied.

The four went up in the elevator together, and then on the landing, Ogorodnik took out his key. Peretrukhin held his breath . . . there had been a problem with the lock during the clandestine entry and it had possibly been damaged.

The key didn’t work at first.

“Someone’s been here!” Ogorodnik exclaimed.

“Are you sure?” Ogorodnik didn’t respond.

With Peretrukhin’s help, he finally got the key to work and walked silently into the apartment, followed by Peretrukhin and the others.

In the room there was a desk, a sofa, a bookcase with an extensive library of books, a refrigerator, and a few chairs scattered about. There was a writing table, with a small television set and a Japanese radio and cassette player on it.

Ogorodnik examined the items in the room, and appeared satisfied that everything was in order.

Ogorodnik then turned on the radio, and went to prepare coffee and cognac. Peretrukhin was worried about the radio. The apartment was located only half a kilometer down a hill from Tchaikovsky Street and the American Embassy.

Could the radio contain an alarm mechanism? He turned it off.

Ogorodnik looked at him, then shrugged.

After a few minutes Ogorodnik brought out coffee and cognac, and the four began to discuss the plan for Ogorodnik’s participation as an informant for the KGB.

Suddenly the door flew open and in came Colonel Alexei Alexandrovich Kuzmin, accompanied by three others. Kuzmin stood in front of Ogorodnik and presented a document.

“Alexander Dmitrievich Ogorodnik, in accordance with the Criminal Code of the Soviet Union you are under arrest and a search will be conducted of these premises in the presence of witnesses.”

The color drained from Ogorodnik’s face as the three men with Kuzmin positioned themselves on all sides of him. He turned to Peretrukhin.

“This must be a misunderstanding. Where is Mikhail Ivanovich?

He will confirm that this is a ridiculous mistake.”

“Be strong, Alexander Dmitrievich,” Peretrukhin said. “Mikhail Ivanovich will come if need be, but now you have business with Investigator Kuzmin. Everything is correct here.”

Ogorodnik sagged visibly as he realized that Peretrukhin and Kurishev were in on the arrest.

Clearly it was no mistake.

“Please sit,” said Kuzmin, gesturing to the couch. Ogorodnik sat, and immediately Kostura and Tsurin, the muscle of the arrest team, sat tightly on either side, effectively immobilizing him.

Kostura thoroughly examined Ogorodnik’s jacket, shirt, and pants, making certain that Ogorodnik did not carry a vial of poison. Ever since the American U-2 Pilot, Francis Gary Powers, had been found to have such a suicide pill in 1962 when he was shot down, those suspected of being American collaborators were assumed to potentially have at hand the means for a quick suicide.

He found nothing.

“Alexander Dmitrievich Ogorodnik,” Kuzmin began formally. “In the presence of witnesses I ask you to confirm that all the items and objects in this apartment belong to you personally?”

“Yes.”

Kuzmin nodded and Leitan, who had been quietly in the background until now, walked over to the bookshelf, then picked up the Chinese made flashlight and brought it to Ogorodnik. Seeing it, Ogorodnik went pale.

“And this? Is it yours?” Kuzmin demanded. “Yes.”

Kuzmin turned to the others in the room and gestured for them to come closer.

“Witnesses, please come closer and observe,” Kuzmin said. Leitan then extracted the flashlight batteries, removed the paper cover of one of the batteries, and opened the battery, revealing the concealment cavity within and the film with the letter that had begun “Dear Friend, thank you for your package in May . . .”

Ogorodnik remained calm outwardly, but his legs began to tremble, so much that he had to hold them with both hands and still they would not stop shaking.

“And this is yours too, then?” Kuzmin asked, indicating the film. “Yes.”

It was clear that Ogorodnik was trying desperately to control himself. He clenched and unclenched his hands, and unconsciously ripped a scab off his left hand. The wound began to bleed and he turned to Peretrukhin, then asked for a plaster from the bathroom.

Realizing that a plaster could be used to store and apply poison, Peretrukhin shook his head and told him he could not help him.

A thorough search was then begun, with a half dozen investigators systematically working through everything in the apartment.

Ogorodnik sat quietly, gradually regaining his composure.

At almost midnight the door opened and Mikhail Ivanovich Kurishev entered.

Ogorodnik ignored him.

Kurishev pulled up a chair opposite Ogorodnik and stared at him until eventually Ogorodnik looked up.

“Alexander Dmitrievich, I hope that you understand the seriousness of the situation you are in. Much will depend on your frankness, and your honesty. Being forthright will ease your fate.”

“Will they shoot me?”

There was something boyish, almost childlike in the way Ogorodnik asked the question.

“Everything will be decided by the court. But much will depend on you personally -- how you will face reality in the course of the investigation. First of all now, tonight, you need to cooperate and demonstrate which side of the barricade you are on. If you are on our side, you will still be able to do things that will lighten the outcome. You understand what this implies?”

“You lied to me and I can’t believe you,” Ogorodnik replied.

“Don't be hasty,” Kurishev said. “You still have time to take the make the right decision. We will continue the conversation, for this is the time -- tonight. You must decide. Think about it. I will be back.”

Kurishev left, and the search continued.

Weapons were found--Soviet made, a considerable variety. Peretrukhin wondered if the CIA had provided them. Or had Ogorodnik bought them on his own?

Between the pages of a book in the library one of the investigators found a notepad for receiving enciphered radio messages, plus carbon paper for the application of cryptography and films with instructions about each of them.

The papers contained high words of praise from the Americans for their agent. Everything was written on paper that would easily dissolve in water, and on each such paper the CIA had repeatedly stressed that Ogorodnik must immediately destroy the papers after reading them.

But Ogorodnik had not destroyed them.

As the search continued, Ogorodnik appeared in deep thought, and he rarely answered the questions put to him by Kuzmin.

His trembling diminished. It seemed that he was becoming resigned to his sudden tragedy.

Kuzmin emerged from the other room and announced: “Only essential personnel in here. The others must leave.”

Peretrukhin was present on direct order of General Boyarov, and so he didn’t budge. Only Boyarov could direct Peretrukhin to leave; Kuzmin did not have the authority to do so.

Kuzmin looked at him -- but when he didn’t leave, Kuzmin said nothing.

Peretrukhin and Nikolai Leitan remained in front of Ogorodnik, watching him, while others continued the search.

Then at 1:00 AM Peretrukhin and Leitan were called to the command center in a vacant nearby apartment. Before leaving they

arranged for two men from the search team to take their place, then they walked to the command center.

At the command center Peretrukhin and Leitan reported to General Boyarov, who took their report then told them they were relieved.

“Go home,” he said. “The search will continue, but tomorrow early morning there will be much to do.”

Peretrukhin did not argue.

****

One of those who remained in the room with Ogorodnik was Vladimir Molodtsov. Around two a.m. Ogorodnik asked Molodtsov for paper and a pen so that he could write a confession. He was given materials and allowed to sit at his writing table. Before beginning to write with the pen given him by investigators, Ogorodnik asked for his own fountain pen, which was lying nearby just out of his reach. It had been examined previously by one of the investigators. Now a second investigator gave it a second examination and found nothing.

He handed it to Ogorodnik. Ogorodnik began to write:

“To the Committee For State Security, USSR. I, Ogorodnik Alexander Dmitrievich, acknowledge . . .”

Ogorodnik stopped writing.

He was under close observation by two investigators.

“The flashlight battery,” he said. “May I see it? I wish to examine the evidence.”

It was the accused’s right to examine the evidence. One investigator went for the battery and the other one was momentarily distracted.

It was then that Ogorodnik summoned the decisiveness to do what he had always said he would do if cornered by the KGB.

He began to manipulate the pen, squeezing it in his hands and shifting it from one hand to the other. This caught the attention of the second investigator, who started toward him with a puzzled look on his face.

Suddenly Ogorodnik thrust part of the pen into his mouth. He shuddered, then shoved himself back in his chair and began to wheeze and shake violently.

Molodtsov and the other investigator leaped on top of him and immediately began to try and unclench his teeth using a metal ruler.

Bloody foam appeared from Ogorodnik’s mouth as he continued to convulse.

A sharp, unpleasant smell filled the room.

Now a half dozen investigators were in the room. Three were on top of Ogorodnik, trying to locate an ampule of poison, to no avail.

Molodtsov, who would later write a detailed report of the immediate aftermath of Ogorodnik’s poisoning, immediately radioed for an ambulance and within minutes there were two ambulances in the courtyard. A doctor and a nurse rushed to Ogorodnik’s apartment.

According to Molodtsov, after seeing Ogorodnik, the doctor wondered aloud why it had happened, “and said that by all appearances he is suffering from pulmonary edema, and is in agony.”

Molodtsov’s report continues:

At the physician’s direction we put Ogorodnik on a stretcher and quickly descended the stairs, carrying him into the courtyard. Bloody foam from his mouth had become smeared on my hands. I wiped them but I did not fully succeed. When we put him in the ambulance I lit a cigarette with some of the stained dried foam still on my hand, and I immediately felt something was wrong. I had an uneasy feeling in my throat and felt dizzy. I tossed the cigarette and sat in the car, and only after a while felt better.5

At the Sklifosovsky Institute, medical staff immediately began to work over Ogorodnik, who was still conscious, breathing heavily,

with bloody foam coming profusely from his mouth. A tube was inserted into the lungs to clear the foam. The physicians asked questions, desperately trying to ascertain the type of poison with a view to possibly apply an antidote. They rejected the idea that it could be potassium cyanide, and voiced the opinion that it was a poison that was destructive of the bloodstream.

Molodtsov:

Lying naked on the table, Ogorodnik’s body was gradually turning blue. As explained by doctors this was due to destruction of capillaries under the influence of the unidentified poison. At four in the morning, in spite of heroic efforts to save him, Ogorodnik's heart gave up. He died without regaining consciousness. In the process of assisting Ogorodnik and later during the autopsy two doctors became ill for a while and were forced to suspend operations. At the request of the doctor an investigation of the corpse was performed in an effort to identify any pathology relating to the heart. But the heart was in good condition and worked for two full hours after exposure to the lethal dose of poison. 6

A Righteous Plan

For Vitaly Boyarov, the suicide of Ogorodnik was a sickening failure. Never in his entire thirty-year career had he ever failed the Motherland. And now this--a debacle. He braced himself for what must follow: the explanation, a reprimand, humiliation--even, perhaps, a formal rebuke of incompetence. And rightly so, because he was in charge of the arrest and responsible for everything.

He called his boss, Second Chief Directorate head Grigory Grigorenko, and explained what had happened. The two arranged to meet at the office of KGB Chairman Yuri Andropov along with all the key members of the arrest team. The meeting would take place at 9am, a scant five hours after Ogorodnik’s death. .

Damn the Americans!

Not only was it a brutal failure, it was an affront.

Ogorodnik’s death had denied the KGB a debriefing that would have yielded valuable intelligence, and had denied the state the satisfaction of a trial, conviction, and execution.

But it was more than that.

Though on a professional level Boyarov viewed Ogorodnik with the contempt reserved for traitors, on a more personal level he saw him as a tragically flawed, wayward son of the rodina. Ogorodnik could never have escaped execution for his horrible mistake, but he could have regained some measure of honor by renouncing his shameful actions and cooperating. Acts of contrition and acceptance of responsibility would have lessened the burden on his family, eased some of the pain of his colleagues.

But the CIA had taken that from him. The CIA had broken the rules of the game by facilitating the ignominious death of their agent.

As he waited for the moment when he would face Andropov, he realized that the spy-vs.-spy contest over Ogorodnik was not necessarily finished. There could be another, final act that could provide a measure of redemption.

A plan began to take shape in his mind.

Meanwhile, he explained to Grigorenko all of the events of the previous night, leaving nothing out, and shouldering the blame himself wherever he could, as was expected of him.

Grigorenko listened quietly, and afterwards only offered one comment.

“Well, we’ll try to please our boss with your sad story.”

There were nine of them altogether, waiting in the outer office of Yuri Andropov. Only Grigorenko had slept; the others had been up all night. They were rumpled and stale, although all had done their best to wash up in anticipation of the meeting with the Chairman.

But Boyarov wasn’t ready to concede defeat.

He decided to voice his plan to Grigorenko before the meeting started.

“We have in our hands the ciphers, the communication plan, that the Americans gave to Ogorodnik. We can use this to draw out an American officer and arrest him.”

Grigorenko perked up almost imperceptibly. During the War he had been responsible for drawing out German Abwehr agents to their capture or death -- this appealed to him.

He turned to Boyarov.

“Tell me more of your plan.”

But before they could talk, the summons came and they all marched in to Andropov’s office for the expected bloodbath.

In the richly wood-paneled office of the Chairman, they gathered around the long conference table with its white linen tablecloth and tea for each participant.

Boyarov, as head of the operation, summarized in detail everything that had happened. He took pains to explain the totality of the operation -- including the acquisition of the key intelligence implicating Ogorodnik; the contents of the CIA secret instructions taken from the Chinese flashlight; the initial search of Ogorodnik, looking for poison; the initial inspection of the pen, and the subsequent re-inspection, and the extraordinary efforts made to revive him. Then, not waiting for the reprimand to rain down on him, he quickly transitioned to the proposal to use the materials that had been seized to draw out an American officer and arrest him.

Yury Andropov

He then waited for Andropov’s reaction.

To Boyarov’s surprise, Andropov was philosophical. “Congratulations, General. The American agent has been neutralized -- and that is the most important aspect of this. It is regrettable that he died in the process -- but the operation was a success.”

Boyarov listened, almost disbelieving what he was hearing. Could it be that there would be no reprimand?

“With regard to the arrest of an American,” Andropov continued. “I will rely on your professionalism. I have only one requirement: everything about the operation has to be at the highest legal level. ”

“Understood,” Boyarov replied.

An hour later Boyarov gathered his men. He looked at their exhausted, determined faces. Last night had been deeply disturbing, but these men had no quit in them. He made a small speech, thanking them for their efforts, and reminding them that the Chairman had granted them a chance for redemption that could not be squandered.

The capture red-handed of a CIA officer would be a righteous act, conducted with professionalism and carried out within the proper norms of the relationship between the KGB and CIA. It would send a correct message to the CIA leaders in Langley, and would demonstrate the KGB’s determination and strength of will. It would also carry with it a sharp rebuke to the Americans for enabling the suicide of Ogorodnik — an action that to all of the KGB men seemed a fracture of the unwritten rules that governed their relations with the CIA. And finally, it would allow the world to be apprised of how the Americans were sabotaging the strategic arms negotiations, acting in bad faith, with no real desire to lessen tensions through reductions in arms.

To be continued….