Document Transcription

...American Paul Tatum. The film was handed to Svetlana, and she headed to the airport with instructions to deliver the film to the CBS editorial office in New York. After seeing Svetlana off, Sasha, Marina, Tolik, and I headed to the embassy.

Passing a long line of Turks standing along the fence under the supervision of two police cars, we approached a glass booth. I pulled out my American passport. They were indeed expecting us. A polite young man in a shirt and tie said something to a Marine, and the latter, after taking our mobile phones and my passport, issued us guest passes on iron chains.

"I am the consul," the young man stated his name. "Welcome to the Embassy of the United States. You have an interview scheduled. May I take your documents, Mr. Litvinenko?"

We were led through an empty courtyard; the escort dialed a combination on a digital lock, the iron door opened, and another Marine led us into a strange windowless room with soundproofing panels. In the middle stood a table with chairs, and a fan spun under the ceiling. A video camera lens looked down at us from above.

Sasha and I exchanged glances. Obviously, this was that very soundproof booth, inaccessible to eavesdropping, that I had read about in spy novels.

As soon as we were seated around the table, the door opened, and another American in glasses, looking about forty, entered.

"This is Mark, my colleague, second secretary from the political department," the consul said.

Everything was just as my Washington friend had said, I thought: people from the consulate and "other people."

"I'm listening, Mr. Litvinenko," the consul said. "How can we help you?"

From then on, everything proceeded exactly according to the lawyer's script. Sasha repeated his story and asked for asylum in the US for himself and his family, and the consul said roughly what Joe had told us: we understand your situation and sympathize with you very much, but asylum is not granted in embassies. As for a refugee visa, the review takes time; please fill out the application, we will, of course, try to speed up the process, but decisions are made in Washington; leave a phone number where you can be reached.

I said that I would try to get a "parole" for them in Washington, where I have connections.

"That is reasonable," the consul agreed.

Despite the fan, it was hot in the booth; I felt thirsty. Tolik grew quiet, sensing that something very important was happening. Large tears rolled down Marina's cheeks.

"Given Mr. Litvinenko's specific situation," I said, "there are grounds to fear for their safety. Could they be housed in some safe place for the duration of the case review, for example, where embassy staff live?"

"Unfortunately, we do not have such a possibility."

"Which hotel are you staying at?" Mark, who had been silent until now, suddenly joined the conversation.

"At the Sheraton."

"In whose name is the room booked?"