Soviet KGB defector Sergei Kourdakov leaped from a Russian trawler in 1971, leaving behind a horrific life he could no longer face. I met Sergei a year later at my U.S. Federal Government office in Washington DC. My boss, Mr. Kirk Logie, was the one who introduced us. Sergei and I were both twenty-one at the time and we began dating…me throwing caution to the wind knowing we were being watched and followed. “If anything happens to me,” Sergei confided, “they will make it look like an accident.” Nothing could have ever prepared me for what was to come.
* * *
Excerpt
from Publisher’s Note in Sergei Kourdakov’s Book:
“On January 1, 1973, he died instantly from a shot from the gun. Though news of his death was first carried internationally as a suicide, this possibility was soon ruled out. An inquest was held and on March 1, 1973, ruled his death to be an accident.”
* * *
Fifty years ago, on January 10, 1973, I stood at the grave site of Sergei Kourdakov in Rock Creek Cemetery in Washington DC. Below is an excerpt from my memoir, A Rose for Sergei.
Chapter 21
– Winter 1973
“It didn’t
make sense; it wasn’t fair that his life was cut short at twenty-one years of
age. He had turned his life around and there was so much he wanted to
accomplish. He had told me that the final draft of his book was done, and he
hoped it would be published soon. His life was really just beginning…and now it
was over.
I thought
I was prepared for the funeral…. However, I was not prepared for the emotional
toll of a final goodbye. The funeral was on a weekday, so we left work early.
Once again Mr. and Mrs. Logie were with me.
I was
surprised at how many people there were at the church for the funeral service.
It was crowded, and we had to stand the entire time. We were near the back of
the church, but I could see that the casket was open. I could see Sergei, and
my heart filled with pain. Even though the church was packed with people, he
looked so alone. My heart was breaking for him. I would not cry though; I had
cried enough the day he died.
At one
point in the service everyone was given a lighted candle to hold. It was
suffocating, the heat from the crowd and the heat from the candles. I couldn’t
take my coat off, and I thought I would fall over; I was emotionally drained. I
barely heard what was said during the service…. When the service was over we
went to the grave site, Sergei’s final destination.
Everyone
was gathered around Sergei’s casket at the cemetery and when we arrived we were
near the back of the crowd again. We were so far away I couldn’t see at all,
but I didn’t say anything. On impulse, Mr. Logie grabbed hold of Mrs. Logie’s
arm and my arm and determinedly worked his way to the front of the crowd,
pulling us steadily forward. I secretly gave thanks for Mr. Logie’s take-charge
actions as he boldly pushed past DC dignitaries. He stopped when we were
directly along one side of Sergei. We could not get any closer than we were. I
could almost reach out and touch Sergei, the casket was still open. I could see
him one last time.”
Sergei’s book was published under three
titles:
The Persecutor
Forgive Me, Natasha
Sergei
