The Spy and the Traitor: The Greatest Espionage Story of the Cold War

by Ben Macintyre

A remarkable piece of espionage theatre now ensued. ‘We know very well you’ve been deceiving us for years,’ declared Grushko, like a judge passing sentence. ‘Yet we’ve decided that you may stay in the KGB. Your job in London is terminated. You’ll have to move to a non-operational department. You should take any holiday you are owed. The anti-Soviet literature in your home must be delivered to the library of the First Chief Directorate. Remember, in the next few days, and for ever, no telephone calls to London.’ Grushko paused, and then added in a tone that was almost conspiratorial: ‘If only you knew what an unusual source we heard about you from.’ Gordievsky was stunned, and momentarily speechless. The very oddity of the scene seemed to call for some dramatic performance on his part. Adopting an air of bafflement that was only half feigned, he said: ‘I’m terribly sorry about what happened on Monday. I think there was something wrong with the drink, or with the food … I was in a bad way. I felt awful.’ Golubev the interrogator seemed to wake up at this point, and asserted, surreally: ‘Nonsense. There was nothing wrong with the food. It was delicious. The sandwiches with the salmon roe were excellent, and so were the ones with ham.’ Gordievsky wondered if he might be hallucinating again. Here he was being accused of treason, and the chief investigator was defending the quality of KGB sandwiches.