his code name within the KGB: “Borde.” This forty-two-year-old engineer from Thomson-CSF was married and had children. He met Vetrov at a trade show of electronic components in 1970. 2 A sympathizer with the Soviet Union, he was recruited on “ideological grounds.” He was also paid by the KGB, like all other informants at the time.
On assignment first to CNES (French National Space Research Center), then to SNIAS (French National Industrial Space Agency), Bourdiol was in charge of the electronic equipment for the French-German Symphonie satellites and, from 1974 to 1979, for the Ariane rockets. 3 French technologies in the field of aerospace engineering were assumed to be a dozen years behind Soviet achievements. According to one of Bourdiol’s handlers, the KGB often needed documents he could provide precisely to confirm that it was still the case. Nevertheless, during thirteen years, Bourdiol would be considered, according to KGB terminology, “an agent of especially valuable interest.”
Vetrov’s reputation as a “quality element” was definitely established after he recruited another Frenchman, of an even higher caliber than Bourdiol. 4 When Vetrov left his Paris post, his successor inherited a good “stable of agents” and several advanced “targets.”
According to Marcel Chalet, it did not take long for the DST to spot Vetrov as a KGB member. 5 Tailing is not enough to control an intelligence officer. This is when Jacques Prévost arrived on the scene, a character who would play a major role in the Vetrov plot.
Jacques Prévost, the man who introduced Vetrov to the DST (this photograph is the one used on his visas, kept in the KGB archives).
Born in 1927, Jacques Prévost was an executive working for the French company Thomson-CSF, a major player in France’s advanced electronics industry. He oversaw all contracts with the Soviet Union. He had no difficulty getting acquainted with Vetrov. Vetrov, being a specialist in electronics, was the key contact for the French company to sell its products in the USSR.
Prévost had a double interest in establishing good professional and human relations with the congenial Russian. On one hand, the success of Thomson-CSF on the Soviet market depended on its direct contact at the trade mission. On the other hand, since he had been identified as an active intelligence officer, Vetrov had to be closely monitored to determine his frame of mind and to identify any evidence of spying on Thomson.
At his level, Jacques Prévost did not need to do the DST favors for his own benefit. Besides, the “honorable correspondents” of the French counterintelligence were rarely compensated. The company, however, did have a “military” branch, Thomson-Brandt, at the leading edge of technology. It had developed the traveling-wave tube (TWT) that the Soviets wanted so badly, and it needed to protect itself against theft. This device was included in the COCOM list (Coordinating Committee for Multilateral Export Controls), and it could not be exported to socialist countries. Eastern Bloc governments were left only with the possibility of stealing it or buying it through illegal channels. In addition, Thomson had expertise in encryption. Every French embassy abroad was equipped with its Myosotis teleprinters for encrypted messages. It is understandable that the company was closely watched, even infiltrated by the DST.
French counterintelligence services could count on lower-level informants in the various divisions of Thomson-CSF, but with Jacques Prévost they had a contact at the headquarters level. In fact, the relations between Thomson and the DST could be better described as a natural exchange of favors. Thomson brought to the attention of the DST individuals of interest they met in the course of doing business with the Soviets. They provided detailed information regarding their character, their private life, and their habits, good and bad (what the KGB called the