Free Eight Pieces of Empire by Lawrence Scott Sheets Page A

order transferring control over the Soviet Union’s “nuclear briefcase”—the means to launch Soviet nuclear missiles—to the Russian Federation and its president, Boris Yeltsin. “As soon as I make my announcement, the order will come into effect,” he told Bush. “So you can peacefully celebrate Christmas and sleep without worry tonight,” Gorbachev added.
    Bush is said to have waxed emotional about the close personal ties they had developed over the years; it is not known if Bush offered Gorby asylum.
    Meanwhile, I had gone back to an apartment I shared with a friend, Sergei Lazaruk, who at the time was deputy dean of the prestigious Soviet State Institute of Cinematography (VGIK) and trying to eke out a living on the equivalent of a hundred dollars a month. We had met earlierthat year, when I’d led a group of American film students to the USSR as their interpreter.
    A sundry group of other Russian friends had also come over to watch the TV broadcast with us, including Mikhail Zhivilo, then a small-time currency speculator who used to change fifty bucks a time for me at the black market rate. Zhivilo, well dressed and soft spoken, had just started work at Moscow’s first commodities exchange. He talked about the unique economic opportunities amid the chaos and how the period would not be repeated in terms of its potential for making big profits. His optimism seemed absurd given the dire state of the Soviet (Russian) economy. He suggested I join him and his business partners in the precious metals business. I declined, and he openly laughed at my desire to pursue foreign correspondence. His laughter was well vindicated. Within years, Zhivilo was running one of Russia’s biggest aluminum plants. He made tens of millions before falling out with a regional kingpin governor and going into exile with his fortune. (Meanwhile, I am still working a day job, whereas I doubt Zhivilo feels much compunction to—beyond philanthropy.)
    Sergei was the only one who seemed interested in watching Gorby and the passing of the empire, to be announced live on TV. Then the clock struck seven p.m., and Gorbachev’s familiar image filled the screen. He began to speak.
    Gorby expressed deep regret that it had proven impossible to save the Soviet Union. He opposed its dissolution. Upon assuming the mantle of power in 1985, he had had no alternative but to try to radically reform the system. “It was clear not all was well with our country.… I understood that to begin reforms of such a scale in a society like ours was extremely difficult and even dangerous. But even today, I’m convinced of the historic correctness of the democratic reforms that were begun in the spring of 1985.”
    Gorbachev spoke for all of ten minutes—a historically short address. He concluded with the words “I wish you all the best.” Then he was off the air, and the Soviet Empire, which had endured for sixty-eight years, eleven months, and twenty-five days, was no more—and few seemedto immediately understand the significance of it all. Later, I learned a few more details about the aftermath: Immediately after his last address, Gorbachev turned to his final task: turning over the Soviet nuclear briefcase. Yet even this moment was tinged with absurdity. Boris Yeltsin, known for his tirades and unpredictability, had for unclear reasons taken offense at Gorbachev’s resignation speech. According to Gorbachev, Yeltsin refused to show up in the Kremlin to take over control of the “nuclear button,” as it is called in Russian. Gorbachev writes of the incident with bitterness. Yeltsin offered to meet “on neutral ground.” In the end, Gorbachev handed over the means to destroy the world many times over to Marshal Yevgeny Shaposhnikov and several senior military officers.
    Gorbachev went into a room with several aides who had stayed to the end.
    They poured themselves a round of whiskey, bitter solace for the USSR and its last leader’s having already