The Ryazan Exercises Scandal

The topic of the Ryazan exercises and the unconvincing justification of the FSB leadership, which claimed that the sacks placed under the house on Novoselov Street contained sugar, was initiated by 'Novaya Gazeta'.

• In early 2000, our correspondent, having traveled to Ryazan, spoke with an explosives expert who was among the first to arrive at the site of the exercises and determined that the sacks contained hexogen ('Novaya Gazeta' No. 6, 8 for 2000).
• Soon after, our staff managed to find a paratrooper soldier who, on the territory of a military unit near Ryazan, guarded a warehouse with hexogen packed in sacks like sugar (No. 10 for 2000).
• The soldier's testimony was recorded on a voice recorder.

After the publication, a massive scandal erupted.

• The entire guard and the explosives expert were sent to Chechnya.
• A whole campaign was launched on official TV channels. Generals spoke.
• At first, the military denied the existence of the soldier and the warehouse.
• Then they admitted that the soldier and the warehouse were real, but resolutely dismissed the hexogen in the sacks.

This story received an even more interesting continuation after NTV and Nikolai Nikolaev conducted their own independent investigation.

ECHO OF TRUTH

What happened behind the scenes of the programs and how the FSB tried to disrupt the independent investigation

INTERFERENCE ON AIR

Nikolai NIKOLAEV, special for 'Novaya':
'By the middle of the broadcast, the faces of the counterintelligence officers expressed overt love for all humanity'

Late September 1999. Moscow, sleep-deprived, as if pressed into the ground and grown shorter. Nights were awaited with a sense of an impending trial by fear. One question: where? In the attic, in the basement, behind the radiator in the entrance, on the seat of a car parked in the yard?

By morning, this question would already be pounding in the temples with the regularity of a metronome, forcing one to count every second not yet stolen by an invisible, switched-on timer... Another nervous half-slumber is over. Entrance doors slam, houses empty. That's it, they're unlikely to blow it up now.

...The expanded board of the Ministry of Internal Affairs in the ministerial building on Zhitnaya began with a demonstration of increased security measures. Editorial cars were forbidden to be left nearby.

In the Ministry of Internal Affairs, police officers specially assigned for this purpose watch the work of television journalists. For some reason, a statue of Themis is installed in the lobby of the building. The policemen, apparently, do not really understand what relation this sculpture has to them, and they categorically forbid cameramen to film it. They are guarding justice.

The event, which had been planned the day before for the news, turned out to be a formal, 'parquet' affair. After so many tragedies of the beginning autumn, none of the TV people expected any sensations on this day, September 24. But a chain of coincidences had already wound into a tight spring...

...this corridor, guarded from journalists, to the steps of the canteen is about thirty meters. One could only hope that by stopping near the policeman standing guard here, it would be possible to break through with a request for an interview. The hope was weak. As a rule, generals wishing to flash on the screen are easily extinguished by the gastric juice they secrete.

My frantic cry with a plea to say a few words for NTV still stopped Patrushev and forced him to approach the ambush set for him.

As always, I started with an unnecessary, routine question. But the spring, without my contrivances, leaving sharp edges, snapped and broke. It was necessary to understand why Rushailo was unaware of what Patrushev had just reported.

Against the background of the disastrous consequences, then why pay money to their workers?

A classic case. In '94, they played a prank on Ernest Matskyavichyus, who was then working as a correspondent. He, naive, asked colleagues: does anyone know how to pronounce 'parliament' in Kazakh? He wanted to insert this word into his report. Immediately, obliging correspondents with stone-cold serious faces, without looking up from their computers, gave him the answer: tyrmandyr. This Martian translation, amidst general laughter, was broadcast on TV an hour later. Matskyavichyus later had to explain himself. The bosses tried to look stern but were choking with laughter. And the next morning, in the editorial office of a serious newspaper, there was a meeting, and the newspaper managers held up Matskyavichyus as a correspondent who had deeply studied the topic (he even knows the Kazakh word!) as an example to everyone gathered...

People, many of whom were already preparing for bed, young and old, children with wet heads after bathing, even bedridden invalids, were forced to leave their apartments by genuinely nervous policemen. Already in the morning, a real general, the head of the Ryazan FSB Directorate, announced to the evacuees gathered in a nearby cinema that something had been found in the basement of their miraculously survived house that allowed them all to be called saved and congratulated on their second birthday. Therefore, when a few days later successful exercises in Ryazan were announced, those on whom civic vigilance was allegedly being tested and Chekist efficiency was being practiced did not believe it.

The then-minister Rushailo also treated this with doubt. However, this distrust...

Information Regarding Ryazan Exercises

There was information from a Kremlin source that the main TV viewer very much disliked the program about the Ryazan "exercises."

That very house in Ryazan on Novosyolov Street.

...the invisible pendulum hanging in the anxious air, not so much a new time. From the podium, the then Minister of Internal Affairs Vladimir Rushailo was reporting—not so much to journalists as to the public. After the apartment bombings, he had also been appointed head of the anti-terrorist commission. In the presidium, in an order known only to them, sat the cream of the security forces and representatives of other agencies. FSB head Patrushev looked thoughtfully and sternly into the hall from a seat of honor on the stage.

The monotony of the minister's speech was suddenly drowned out by the shushing of numerous correspondents. They fidgeted in the row reserved for the press and, turning their heads to their detached cameramen, hissed: "Film it, film it!".

Rushailo began talking about joint successes with counterintelligence. In Ryazan, a large-scale terrorist attack was successfully prevented. Three bags of explosive material based on hexogen with a timer turned on and a detonator attached were removed from the basement of a multi-story residential building...

...the publicized Ryazan sensation and the prospect of an inevitable scandal between the FSB and the MVD looked very grim.

And verbatim about the terrorist attack in Ryazan, Patrushev then said the following:

• "I think they didn't work quite clearly—these were exercises, there was sugar there, not hexogen."

The time was 13:10, the nearest news broadcast was at 14:00. The pause that arose on the other end of the telephone line left no hope. If the editor-in-chief said "no" now, everything heard would simply have to be forgotten.

But the editor-in-chief told me: "If you recorded everything you're talking about, then we'll put this soundbite on the air at 14:00."

At 14:15, immediately after the news release, news agencies raced to replicate Patrushev's interview, uniformly introducing it with the words: "As the FSB director told our correspondent...". I knew many of these correspondents personally. But relationships did not extend to work. If television reports news not yet known to news agen...

...the boomerang returned to his department on Zhitnaya, and then in a few years the Chekists captured key posts left by police generals without a fight...

People immediately agreed to participate in "Independent Investigation." It was felt that after that night their attitude toward life had changed. Having escaped death, whether in training or for real, they now desperately wanted to know the truth.

The involuntary participants in the exercises wanted to talk in the studio with FSB representatives.

But already a few days later, the residents of the house, which had become a visual aid by someone's unknown choice, were ready for revelations—with any composition of program participants. And here's why. In front of the doors of the Ryazan residents' apartments, under the guise of social workers, energetic types began to appear more and more often, making it clear that in the future, utility and housing improvements would be possible only if those gathered to go to the Ostankino studio refused the trip.

The types informed their FSB bosses that we would bring about sixty people from Ryazan on two buses, who would take part in "Independent Investigation." At Lubyanka, they made a decision: to talk to the people. You can send journalists away... Here, the situation began to develop according to a scenario dangerous for the Chekist department. Roles were assigned to employees and instructions were given: to defend the version of the exercises in the studio to the last, while referring to the necessity and, most importantly, the legality of such an experiment.

And yet they were sure that the program would not happen—they would be afraid of the consequences. The television company was already preparing for defense. Some journalists had already thrown out white flags and, choosing the second button on the remote, after yesterday's "no" began to say a win-win "yes." The editor-in-chief left suddenly.

I learned from my bosses only after the program aired that there was a call from the very pointed top with a request not to conduct "Independent Investigation" on the Ryazan events on the eve of the election of the successor president.

The country's main channel, in its main news program the day before our broadcast, reported on an allegedly planned large-scale provocation conceived by a hostile television company against the emerging government. It was said that for participation in the commissioned show in "Ostankino," certain Ryazan extras were being brought, and before entering the studio, they would be given a fee—$100 each.

Residents of the surviving house and Chekists preferred to sit on different stands. Then...

Detonator found in the bags with "sugar"

And yet neither the Ryazan residents nor the invited experts understood the Chekist logic. You say that Rushailo personally signed the order to conduct the exercises? In that case, how could he have so sincerely forgotten about it that he gave the impression of being an absolutely uninformed person? Why, when police bomb disposal experts arrived thanks to a vigilant resident suspicious bags, did they immediately establish that the burlap was filled not with sugar, but with a lethal mixture based on hexogen?

Archive of "Novaya"

...your responsibility for terrorism. The FSB did indeed open a case after that very night. Why? No, not against themselves—don't distort things, comrades. This was done to convince the public that a terrorist attack was not being prepared. Let us explain. These are the same officers who placed the bags in the basement of the house. Such people are always on duty, so we cannot say more about them, alas, despite all our desire. They conducted an express analysis, we confirm. They tasted it; well, it was a bit bitter, so they took all three bags to Moscow for examination. That's just the kind of sugar you have in Ryazan. Human rights have nothing to do with it—the exercises were conducted legally. Our principles of tactical methods for operational-search activities state that we not only can conduct exercises, but must. Here is a packet with us, can everyone see? In its material-paper womb are the main proofs that this was not a prepared terrorist attack at all, which, as you say, we want to cover up. No, no, the packet is sealed; these are investigative materials, we cannot open and show them. No, we are not nervous, and you should stop with the insinuations. As for what that traitor Oleg Kalugin just said during the video link with America, we won't even comment on that. He is an enemy to us. Your experts—they don't understand Chekist work. You need to talk to specialists, and you don't have any here. We know you had to worry; of course, forgive us, but we were trying for the sake of the people. How do you not understand, what kind of people are you!

By the middle of the broadcast, the faces of the counterintelligence officers expressed overt love for all truth-seeking humanity. And here, according to the plan of the Lubyanka scriptwriters, audience support was supposed to change the course of the program.

...one then still little-known lawyer turned to the Ryazan residents with an appeal: right here, in the studio, sign lawsuits and further begin a legal battle with the FSB.

That was too much. How useful my long-held dream would have been that evening—not to turn off the cameras after the broadcast. Sometimes the most interesting thing is how, outside the framework of formal communication, the studio guests perceive what has just happened with their direct participation.

Probably, with the mood the FSB men had by the end of "Independent Investigation," they fight off from superior enemy forces. As soon as the parting words were spoken, those who had ingloriously tried for the good of the people rushed to the exit, avoiding in every way the now non-obligatory explanations with those they had cared for. But, passing through the center of the studio, holding folders and a bulky packet with unshown evidence, the Lubyanka representatives accidentally ran into the lawyer who was still collecting signatures and the host who had not yet managed to leave his place. Instead of a farewell, they threw a phrase at both: "You wait for interrogation!", "And we'll put you in jail!".

It became clear that they were definitely finished with the exercises.

About three weeks later, activists from the house opposite approached me, fed up with the round-the-clock parking of suspicious cars. It was said that at a meeting of residents they had analyzed the situation and reached a simple conclusion: they could only be tailing me. At the same time, they promised: if anything happened to me, the caring neighbors would certainly report their observations to the proper authorities. Probably, looking at everything happening from the side, one really wanted some kind of resolution.

By that time, there was already information from a Kremlin source that the main TV viewer Putin very much disliked the program about the Ryazan "exercises." As is already known, this had been made unequivocally clear to my bosses even earlier. And yet this did not prevent them from nominating "Ryazan Sugar" for the TEFI award almost without hesitation. At that time, too much was already happening around NTV. It was too late to be afraid. But our TV academics are practical people, and in the "Journalistic Investigation" category, they awarded the victory to a popular science program about Ebola fever.

Overt surveillance stopped only a month before the demise of the old NTV. Probably, they realized that I was a lost cause for them. I didn't crawl back with an all-forgiving question: what should I do to atone? (Later, while working at Channel One, I was offered to do this.) I didn't go crazy from paranoia. The only thing left was to take away my commentary work and my author's program. Saltykov-Shchedrin called this the sealing of the mind.

14-15

No. 67 (1092) 12.09—14.09.2005

HEXOGEN

Ryazan Sugar

Holding folders with unshown evidence, Lubyanka representatives accidentally ran into the lawyer and the host who hadn't managed to leave his seat. Instead of a goodbye, they threw a phrase at both: "You wait for interrogation!", "And we'll put you in jail!"

In the top row, where the Ryazan residents sat, a man of about forty raised his hand. He simply stated that he himself was a resident of that very house, but was ready to tell the main thing — about what happened on the way to Moscow. Allegedly, the show's staff, who accompanied those traveling in the buses, instructed him and everyone else on what they should say to discredit the FSB.

A pause hung in the air, which I deliberately did not fill with questions. After all, I hadn't traveled with them on the bus.

A tiny radio earpiece turned on. The director whispered in the host's ear a way out of the situation: "Maybe it's time to go to a segment?". A barely noticeable shake of the head to the camera: no, not time yet, let them find out who was campaigning for whom.

This is how early birds usually start. First one timidly, as if testing its strength, and then the bird cacophony merges with the noise marking the beginning of the day. "I don't seem to remember you." — "Don't talk nonsense, that didn't happen." — "And I've never seen him." — "Man, what apartment are you from?" — "We don't have anyone like that!" — "Why, he's a planted FSB guy!" — "Take your man back!" — "Let him move!"

Later, the man who complained about the briefing, trying to prove that he was indeed from Ryazan, tried to get into one of the buses taking the show participants home. With kicks and short blows, the deceiver was thrown out onto the dirty Moscow snow.

Towards the end of the program, protected by a sycophantic ring of guards. Local explosives experts, who were the first to conduct the analysis, it turns out, took equipment that had been in Chechnya, so, they say, the device, soiled with various explosive mixtures, erroneously indicated the presence of explosives. And the fact that a vigilant eyewitness to the unloading noticed yellowish granules in the bags — well, that's due to the quality of the sugar bought for training purposes at the Ryazan market. Yes, you are not mistaken, the criminal case under the article...

...his television company, which at that time did not suffer from cowardice. They began by starting to film the windows of my apartment one Sunday. I don't know what incriminating scenes of me and my family the cameraman wanted to spy on. I found out about the filming by chance. A neighbor who lived in the house opposite called. He was surprised that the cameraman, using professional equipment, was hiding behind garages during the filming.

Now we were looking point-blank at each other. I at the cameraman — from the window, he into the viewfinder — at my face enlarged by optics. At my request, the neighbor who called went down to the man with the camera and passed on my regards.

What happened next was funny. The cameraman, emerging from his ambush, began to scurry and hide behind a trolleybus. He left on it — along with the camera and tripod. At the next stop, the home video enthusiast got out and transferred to a car where some people were. Later, there were deliberately many such cars. With their parking lights on, they stood under the windows and opposite the garage even at night. Sometimes my wife and I quietly watched the people sitting in the car interiors with the look of slumbering idols. They tried to pretend they didn't notice us. We accepted the rules of the game and, with the slowness of illiterate jurors, checked the numbers of license plates sparkling with fresh paint in our notebooks.

Sometimes, usually after midnight, pulling back the curtains, we exposed the windows of the large room...