Flight from the USSR

The Rendezvous

Opinions in Tbilisi and the rest of country were divided over what happened. Many people were deeply shocked, even though no one was sure of the details. The media and the authorities immediately started a campaign to push public opinion in their favour. Before a full investigation began, the government set out to present the plane hijackers as monsters and bandits. It was a necessary step, as there was a strong anti-Soviet mood at that time and some voices began to defend and justify the actions of the hijackers. To shift opinion, the government unleashed a propaganda campaign on television. It also resorted to old Bolshevik methods: staff meetings were held in all institutions and organizations, where workers and employees denounced the incident and adopted resolutions demanding severe punishment for the traitors. The intent was to make the impending harsh verdict appear as the will of the people and not the authorities. Few imagined the court would be as ruthless as they were, but others were aware that the government would not be lenient in order to make an example of the hijackers and send a message.

There was little attempt by investigators to collect evidence in the case. The Soviet court was only interested in a decision, not facts or arguments. But still, certain issues had to be discussed. For instance, the Central Committee spent a long time looking into who was to be blamed for being the head of this terrorist group. Several options were investigated, including the hijackers’ parents. But their final choice proved best suited for their goals. The monk, Father Tevdore, was charged with being the head of the gang and was arrested two weeks after the hijack attempt. The fact that he even wasn’t even there for the incident didn’t mean anything to the investigation and the government. The main thing for the government was that a monk, a representative of the Church, would be declared as the head of the plot at the court hearing. They could then use the hearing to clearly demonstrate to the public how anyone’s interest in religion ends.

From the day of the unsuccessful hijacking, Tevdore had zealously prayed for those who perished and those who survived. He never thought of hiding. When he was arrested, the KGB and the police found him at the snow-covered monastery.

“You are under arrest!” they told the monk.

He only smiled at the words. One of the eager KGB men decided that the smile was an insult. So he rigorously addressed the smiling monk for the others to hear:

“What are you laughing at?”

Father Tevdore didn’t reply, but pointed, with his right hand at one of the monastery rooms. “I’ve got books and my belongings in there. I’ll take them.”

“You aren’t going to need them,” advised another officer.

As he was taken through the monastery yard, the monk thought back to the last day he saw Dato. He now had his friend constantly in his prayers…

The monk was taken directly to the KGB jail and immediately interrogated. The room with the waiting investigator was in the lowest part of the building, so they made Father Tevdore walk for a very long time through long, underground corridors. As soon as he was brought into the room he felt fatigued.

At first, he wondered if the man inside was an investigator at all. The man’s first words weren’t like those of an investigator’s question.

“Those bastards probably hurt your feelings the most.”

“Sorry, but I don’t understand you.”

“I don’t understand leaving the organizer out of it, either.”

“I was never their leader, I was their confessor.”

“What difference does it make whether you were their confessor or personal priest, if they’ve named you as their leader?”

“Astonishing.”

“That’s exactly what surprises me. How could they deliberately leave you, the boss, out of it?”

“Sorry, but I really don’t understand you.”

“I’ve already told you, I don’t get it either. What’s the point in leaving the leader behind? You put a lot of effort into it, prepared everything and when at the end, those bastards decided to go without you.”

“I never intended to go anywhere.”

“That doesn’t matter. The bastards should’ve told you something, you were still the mastermind behind the gang.”

“I am a monk.”

“That’s what I am telling you too, that you are a monk and they cheated you. That’s why they really have to answer before you, to say the least.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve got to demand an answer from them. They’ve wronged you, in every way.”

“I already told you, I didn’t intend to go anywhere and they knew it perfectly well. Besides, why should they have told me when they were going to fly?”

“Come on, when you do something for which you may be executed, you should at least keep a plan, no?”

“Whose execution do you mean?”

“Everybody who deserves to be shot.”

“They didn’t kill anyone.”

“They slaughtered half of the plane, so many innocent passengers are dead.”

“But they haven’t killed anyone.”

“Did I kill those people, then?”

“I didn’t say that, but you know that they didn’t shoot at the passengers.”

“Are you dumb or what? You sent them on this mission. You should at least know what they’ve done.”

“I didn’t send anyone anywhere. I was, and am, categorically against any kind of violence.”

“The hijacking was planned at your monastery and we have plenty of evidence to prove it.”

“Impossible.”

“We also thought it impossible that you’d plan such a thing, especially at a monastery. Maybe you’re going to say they never came to see you there, either?”

“I don’t deny that. They often came to my monastery.”

“Then why did they come to see you at such a distance, aren’t there enough churches in Tbilisi?”

“With the Lord’s blessing, there are many in Tbilisi, but they needed a spiritual father, like many of us do.”

“What does a spiritual father mean? Someone who plans airplane hijackings?”

“A spiritual father is a person who assists another person in searching for the truth.”

“That’s some truth you helped them find. They’ll be probably mentioning you a lot, just before they face the firing squad.”

“But they haven’t killed any passengers, there has been no trial or verdict yet, and you…”

“They’ve already passed a verdict for themselves. You know when? Back when they went up the gangway to that airplane.”

“I wasn’t on that plane at all.”

“That doesn’t matter. You taught and sent them on their mission, while they left you out of it without even telling you when they were going.”

“I didn’t want to go.”

“This makes your crime even more severe. So, you didn’t want to go but sent others to their deaths?”

“I haven’t sent anyone anywhere.”

“I don’t know, but everyone’s pointing at you as the gang leader.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“We didn’t believe it either, that a monk could plan to hijack a plane. But hey, here you are, aren’t you?”

“You want to blame me for being the gang leader?”

“We want you to admit what a harmful influence the Church can have on youth. We don’t have many young people to lose.”

“But if their fate is already decided, and if they are still going to be executed, what need is there for my confession?”

“That’s the thing. You seem quite smart and can figure out that if you take the blame, they may escape execution. How old are you?”

“I am thirty-three today.”

Unexpectedly, the investigator stood up and hugged Father Tevdore, congratulating him on his birthday.

“Isn’t that better? Think, you aren’t a boy anymore.”

The monk got to his feet and was accompanied to his cell by the same guard who had brought him to the interrogation room an hour earlier.

In Moscow, there was still distrust of the Georgian authorities, so a special commission was sent to Tbilisi in order to investigate the hijackers’ case. The Kremlin suspected the Georgian government would spare the students and the investigation would not be satisfactory with their wishes. Though the local authorities were ultimately harsh in punishing the accused, the Russians still sent a special investigation group to Tbilisi. At the time, any high-raking commission from Moscow was invariably treated as a special guest. Russians always loved Georgian cuisine, wine and brandy and their local hosts always lived up to expectations. Their hosts made them drink and drink, and after excessive drink, they were taken to their beds—asleep, tired and miserable.

During his interrogation, Gega was surprised to be interrogated by two people. One was the familiar old Georgian investigator he was used to, but the other was a new Russian investigator.

With a smile, the Georgian investigator casually offered water to Gega. When he refused, the investigator moved on to business straightaway.

“I’m listening,” said Gega. He hated the interrogation process but was still glad each time they took him to be questioned, because he hoped to see Tina, or one of the others, maybe by accident, somewhere in the passage.

The investigation continued for nine months and during this time the plane hijackers were interrogated almost daily. None of them saw each other. None of them were permitted to see their family members even once. They were totally isolated so that none of them knew anything about the others until the trial.

There was, however, an exception on the day Gega met these two investigators. As was the rule, Gega was ordered to face the wall before entering the room. He didn’t need to be reminded, since he had already been to the interrogation so many times. This time, he instinctively put his hands on his back and stood facing the wall.

And suddenly, on that wall above his head, he saw a lyric of the English song that he and Tina used to listen to when they were together. There were two English words from that very song scribbled on the wall—wish you.

Gega didn’t remember whether these words were from that song’s title or chorus, but he remembered that the phrase definitely was from that song. It was written on the wall in such small letters, in such hurried handwriting, that he came to only one possible conclusion: if the author of the inscription was Tina as he guessed, then he had to write the ending of the phrase, right there, on the same wall. Then he would get an answer. He was so overjoyed that he couldn’t even follow what the investigators were saying. He could think of only one thing—how to steal a pen from the investigator’s desk, which he needed now like never before.

Gega sat in the investigator’s room, but his mind remained outside, at that corridor wall. For the first time since his arrest, he felt happiness, or something close to it.

The Georgian investigator was surprised by the strange excitement of the prisoner.

“You seem happy today.”

“Happy?”

“If not happy, at least pleased.”

“What should I be pleased about?”

“That’s what surprises me.”

“It must be a false impression.”

“We never get false impressions. You are the one who was under the false impression thinking you were starring in a movie on that plane as you held a grenade in your hand.”

“I’ve already told you I sincerely regret what happened and that the hand grenade wasn’t even real.”

“Did you kill all those people with toy weapons, then?”

“We didn’t kill anyone.”

“Did they commit suicide then?”

“Only Dato committed suicide.”

“We’ve already talked about this. I believe, you were supposed to think it over.”

“What was I supposed to think over?”

“You had to decide who was the gang leader.”

“As I’ve said earlier, we didn’t have any leader.”

“Every gang has a leader.”

“We didn’t.”

“I understand that you don’t want to turn into an informer, but it’s necessary for the court that you name someone.”

“Who am I supposed to name?”

“Your leader. Two of you are dead, you can name one of them.”

“How can I do that to a friend?”

“The dead don’t mind.”

“But I will know I’m lying. We didn’t have any leader.”

“Then who was that monk?”

“He was a monk.”

“Was he a monk or the gang leader?”

“If he had been the leader, he would have been on that plane.”

“Just between the two of us, that was a nasty thing to do. The man helped you with everything and then you got rid of him. I’ve never heard of leaving the leader out of the events.”

“He knew nothing.”

“You can say that to him,” said Georgian investigator, referring to his Russian counterpart, though not pointing to him. “But you don’t need that kind of talk with me. I’m asking you off the record and you should also understand me. How can that be? The man encouraged you and then he wasn’t even on the plane. Why should you all be responsible?”

“The monk knew nothing,” Gega repeated with indifference.

It did not matter whether this young Georgian investigator believed him or not. Gega’s thoughts were firmly glued to the wall, right by the door, where those two English words were written.

“I’m trying for your own sake, so think,” the young investigator preached to the prisoner once again as he stood up.

Gega was glad that the day’s interrogation was over so soon. Besides, he already had the only pen.

Once outside the interrogation room, when the guard ordered him to face the wall, Gega somehow managed to add two more words under Tina’s writing: were here.

As the guards took him down the long passage to his cell, Gega thought ahead to the day they would take him for interrogation again. He desperately wanted to see the inscription on the wall. New words would appear underneath if Tina had really written that phrase.

Gega was sleepless that night. He had many sleepless nights before, but this time it was because he had something to look forward to.

At dawn, he somehow managed to stop thinking about Tina and went to sleep, but was awoken once again as he thought back to his investigator. He couldn’t understand why they had replaced his first investigator, or how they could assign such a young, inexperienced investigator to the case. It may have been done purposefully, because an investigator that was roughly the same age as Gega might find it easier to find commonality with him more and make him confess. Gega had nothing to tell, or rather, had nothing to hide. Everything really happened as it did. Yet, that night Gega started to wonder if maybe investigations worked as badly as everything else in the Soviet Union…