Sergei Kourdakov, a former KGB agent and Soviet naval intelligence officer, defected from the USSR at the age of twenty. A year later we met at my Federal Government office in Washington DC. We were watched and followed. “Even you could be spy,” Sergei whispered. My book, A Rose for Sergei, is the true story of our time together.

Monday, February 24, 2014

"We Regret to Inform You . . . ."


I bought Sergei Kourdakov’s book, The Persecutor, right after it was published in 1973.  However, just recently, I decided to also purchase Sergei and Forgive Me, Natasha.  I knew that these three books were the exact same story—different titles were used for sales in other countries.

I was especially looking forward to receiving the book titled Sergei.  Simply because I knew that was the name Sergei had chosen for his book.  When this book arrived a few days ago I was stunned at what I found.  Tucked inside the pages was a neatly folded newsletter.  The caption at the top read:  “We Regret to Inform You of the Death of Sergei Kourdakov.”  The three-page newsletter, dated January 20, 1973 was signed by L. J. Bass, President, Underground Evangelism International.  I remembered hearing about this newsletter but I never knew the contents.  I actually was more than stunned—I felt like a little kid who found a buried treasure that had been hidden away for forty-one years.

I quickly called my sister Karen, knowing that she received her copy of Sergei before me.  After I told her about the newsletter she informed me that her book did not come with any hidden papers.  “I guess it was only supposed to come to you,” she casually replied.  “It wasn’t meant for me.”

After we hung up I called my younger sister Kelly to update her on my surprise find.  She listened as I read the entire paper.  I was sure she would once again tell me . . . “It’s a sign, it’s a sign!” like she so often does.  But she didn’t say that.  Her response caught me off guard this time, “It’s as if Sergei himself made sure you received the book with the newsletter in it.”

I hadn’t really thought of it that way, but she does make an interesting connection.  It’s odd that this newsletter was left inside the book for someone to read so many years later.  And even stranger that it turned out to be me who found it while writing a book about Sergei Kourdakov . . . forty-one years after his death.


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