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 Whistleblowers Need Protection




In mid-December 1984, I finally set my feet on Canadian soil, or rather on the airport tarmac near Toronto. I was met at the exit by an immigration official and after a few formalities with my immigration visa, was taken to the gate from which I was to board a plane to Edmonton. I laughed at the notion that I was being exiled to the North Pole when the immigration agent handed me a new winter parka.

While waiting for my flight, I walked around Pearson Airport. Everything seemed so strange and different. I couldn't speak a word of English, yet the people seemed friendly and those at the immigration office spoke to me politely, not in an arrogant way. It felt good to be out of Europe, free from SB agents and Interpol. I wasn't afraid of revenge from Polish agents here; I didn't think they would find me so far away, and, after all, wasn't I involved with CSIS now? They would protect me in case I got into trouble. I felt free like never before, and, though I couldn't shake off my past completely, felt I now had a future to look forward to in a country of opportunity and promise.

Upon arrival in Edmonton, a female immigration employee waited for me at the airport and accompanied me in a taxi to the PanAmerican Motel. She told me that the same taxi driver would pick me up the following morning at 10:00 a.m. and take me to her office to complete some formalities. She wished me a good night and left. It was almost 1:00 a.m. by this time, and though tired after the long airplane trip and overwhelmed by the new surroundings, I decided to go for a walk along the empty and snowy streets of Edmonton to get a feel for the place, not believing I would need a heavy winter coat, .

Dressed for the weather in Rome, I could feel my moustache and eyelashes freezing solid and my pant legs becoming stiff within minutes. Breathing was difficult and tears began to run down my cheeks. It must have been -40 degrees Centigrade. I ran back to the motel. It was a chilly Canadian welcome.

The next morning at 10:00 a.m. the taxi driver picked me up and drove me to the immigration office in downtown Edmonton. Bob Kawanami, the immigration officer, explained that I would get help looking for an apartment, be provided money to pay for my rent and food until I found a job, and be enrolled in an English course. I signed some papers and another employee took me to a nearby bank to open an account and cash the first cheque. When I returned to the motel, I felt really encouraged about my decision. The assistance for new immigrants was well organized. I felt well taken care of. Moreover, everyone was friendly and smiling at me.

A few days later, an apartment was rented for me and I received some basic furniture and was given money to buy necessary utensils. When I entered the unit and sat down, my throat tightened with emotion. At last I had a place I could call home. Not only did I have an apartment, but even one with a telephone. In Poland, one could wait twenty years for a telephone and even then only the lucky ones or people with the right connections managed to get one.

In January, 1985, I started my classes and greatly enjoyed the time I spent learning English. In a group of about fifteen students, there were people from at least five different countries. We all struggled to communicate with each other in broken English. The teachers were helpful and patient, and there was no discipline of the kind I was used to in Polish schools I had attended. The atmosphere in class was light and friendly - it was actually fun to study.

I had my eye on a beautiful Vietnamese girl in the class, and kept teasing her to go to bed with me and then I'd marry her. She repeatedly responded in the same cool manner that first I'd have to marry her and then she'd go to bed with me.

Almost every student had a tragic story to tell of their lives before they reached Canada. There were boat people who survived escape from Vietnam on a leaky boat only to be attacked by Thai pirates, raped, and robbed of all their valuables. Many would spend years in crowded, crime-infested, refugee camps in Thailand waiting for some country to take them. Italy's Latina refugee camp was a day care centre relative to what went on in Thailand.

There were also refugees from Central America, those fighting on both the left and right sides of the political spectrum; those escaping death squads in El Salvador and former guerillas from Nicaragua. Among the Polish immigrants were a few Solidarity members and others who had fled Poland for economic reasons, unable to make a living in a country of food stamps and acute shortages of housing and consumer goods. The combination of political oppression and stagnation of post-martial law Poland caused many young professionals to chose the unknown hardships of a new life in the West over the known hardships of the old one at home.

I had a great time attending classes and socializing with newly-met friends. As my English improved, I could understand more of what was going on around me; watch television; go shopping; meet and communicate with Canadians. The easy-going lifestyle in Canada was marvellous and I wished I could erase my past intelligence work. Reflecting that I would have to return to that work for Canada did not inspire me at all. Instead, I wanted to blend in with the colourful crowd of people I was becoming part of and go on living my own way. This was an unrealistic hope. I knew only too well that no intelligence service will invest in a prospective agent without the expectation of a return on its investment. The time to pay back the Canadians for letting me into Canada would come sooner or later.

* * * * *

Paszkowski picked up his glass of beer and peered through the liquid at the two faces in front of him. He didn't like what he was hearing. He had worked hard on his six-month language course and could now communicate quite well in English. The other immigrants with whom he attended the class were settling into their new lives in Edmonton. He badly wanted a "normal" life too, but it wasn't meant to be.

He had received a telephone call telling him to report on a given day and time at the Chateau Lacombe Hotel in the Alberta capital and to ask the receptionist for Nick Maduck. In front of him now were two men. Maduck was a short, plump fellow of about 35 years-of-age. The other had introduced himself simply as `Earl' but his full name was Earl Beech. They produced their CSIS identification and Maduck, hardly able to conceal his excitement, told Paszkowski that from now on they would be partners and that Paszkowski was to follow his orders. Maduck gushed on with boy-scout enthusiasm about his own life story. His new partner heard about his family roots on a farm in Manitoba, his graduation from the RCMP school in Regina, his Irish wife and children in St. Albert near Edmonton where he was building a house for them.

"What a fool", Paszkowski thought to himself, "Not only do I not give a damn about his life, but he's breaking a basic rule of intelligence work. Never give away any personal information that is true. I hope CSIS knows what they're doing in setting me up with this guy. He can't be as foolish as he sounds."

Beech, who was mostly silent but appeared to be Maduck's boss, asked if Paszkowski would like to work for the CIA. "It would have to be your decision", he stressed. "They know about you and are interested." He stopped short, looking uncomfortable.

"I'm not a prostitute to be passed from hand to hand and bed to bed," Paszkowski burst out. "If I wanted to work for the CIA, I would not have contacted the Canadian Embassy in Rome but the American one."

That seemed to settle the matter for the moment. Maduck continued to babble on about the activities of Communist spy rings in Canada and about the threat they posed for Canada. He directed Paszkowski to become active in Edmonton's Polish community. He was to become noticeable by criticizing Communism in general at any opportunity and General Jaruzelski's regime in Poland in particular. The aim was to catch the eyes and ears of local Polish Intelligence agents. Paszkowski wasn't thrilled about this plan at all. He did not escape the SB only to try now to contact them in his new country.

Maduck said the concept was devised by `academics' in Ottawa in an effort to persuade SB agents operating within Canada to contact Ryszard and blackmail him into working for them. The CSIS deep thinkers in the capital plainly wanted Paszkowski to become a double agent. "What the hell are they going to blackmail me about?" Paszkowski could not contain his irritation at the amateur nature of the scheme.

Maduck continued undismayed. CSIS was working hard to peddle to Polish intelligence the partly true story that Paszkowski had arrived in Canada using a false name. He had cheated his way into Canada by hiding his hijacking and escape from a West German prison. He was on the wanted list of Interpol. The blackmail the SB agents could therefore use against Paszkowski if he refused to cooperate with them was to disclose his real past to the Canadian authorities. It was plausible enough, but Paszkowski wasn't sold on it. If the management at CSIS Ottawa headquarters thought it viable, however, he would give it his best effort. As if to make him feel better about the whole thing, Maduck took out a pile of bills, handing him $2,000. "This is for a good beginning", he said. Paszkowski signed the receipt using his operations name "Eddie".

Not long afterwards, an SB agent did approach him. Paszkowski and a language school friend repaired cars after hours to earn money to supplement their modest immigrant allowance. Word spread through the Polish community about their skills and there were soon plenty of customers eager to find cheap labour. One was Stanislaw Karski, a visiting professor from Poland who was on a scientific exchange with the chemistry department at the University of Alberta. His car, an eight-cylinder Pontiac, wouldn't start so Paszkowski and his partner agreed on a price and began work.

Karski liked to watch them working. One day, when Paszkowski was alone, Karski said, "You have greetings from the Polish Embassy," while closely watching the other's reaction. Ryszard realized this was what the CSIS brass was hoping for. The Poles were reaching out for him from their embassy in Ottawa. The fish had taken the bait. Paszkowski wanted to strike the professor with the wrench he was holding, but controlled himself. In his new life as a Canadian, he now had to follow orders from CSIS.

When he made no response, the professor repeated the line, adding that Paszkowski should come to his office at the university at a specified time the next day. As soon as Karski left, Paszkowski telephoned Maduck. They met at the Chateau Lacombe again to discuss the details. Maduck was as pleased as a child with a sucker. His superiors' plan had worked. He directed Paszkowski to attend the rendezvous and commit to memory everything said.

Paszkowski did meet Karski. He waited at the door to the chemistry department on campus. Karski took him upstairs to the computer room where he worked. The professor attempted to be friendly but firm, but came across as patronizing. Paszkowski resented his attitude.

Karski first excoriated Paszkowski on behalf of the Polish government. "You broke confidences. You wasted scarce government money. Even worse, you deserted again even though the SB helped you to escape from the German prison." Paszkowski said nothing in reply. The older man went on about his lack of respect for the government that educated him and helped him in so many ways. "This is your last chance to cooperate. If you try to escape again, they'll find you with a bullet in your head. Alternatively, the Canadian government will be informed about your real identity, your being on the Interpol list, the airplane hijacking and the rest of your past."

Listening to this, Paszkowski could barely restrain himself from garroting the man and leaving his body under the table. The blackmail was moronic, but he knew that if he followed his instincts he would spoil the CSIS plan. He pretended to listen to Karski with remorse and fear on his face.

"My wife will arrive from Poland soon and will bring further instructions for you," Karski concluded. They agreed to meet at Karski's apartment. Paszkowski immediately reported the meeting to Maduck, who was so delighted that he invited Paszkowski to a party at the Chateau Lacombe on the CSIS account to celebrate their success.

In the weeks following, while waiting for Karski's wife to arrive, Paszkowski met occasionally with Maduck. He talked incessantly about his dream of leaving Alberta and being promoted to Ottawa to become a real intelligence agent like James Bond, including high-tech and amorous adventures. He rambled on about his work with the RCMP while he was assigned to interview immigrants from Eastern Europe. On a number of occasions, at least according to Maduck, women would answer his knocks on their door and he would end up in their beds. Paszkowski was sceptical. Overweight and short, Maduck was no Casanova. Paszkowski was rather amused by his handler's foolish and naive approach to his work as an intelligence agent. Maduck was useful to Paszkowski in disclosing those in the Polish community in Edmonton who worked for the SB according to CSIS, and who was suspected of it.

The meeting with Professor Karski and his wife, Danuta, finally arrived. She was followed from the Edmonton airport to their apartment, where listening devices were later installed by CSIS. Karski was much too smart for such nonsense and he wouldn't talk to Paszkowski in his apartment. Paszkowski came to the meeting equipped with a microphone and transmitter installed on his body by a CSIS technician so his masters could hear everything. The Karskis set a blanket on a lawn outside their apartment building. The first exchanges were small talk about the weather, Canadian scenery, and so on. Danuta Karski was a sharp-eyed, intelligent, no-nonsense woman.

In the middle of some chit-chat, she cut in, "You'll have to go to the Polish Embassy in Ottawa and speak to the First Secretary. The date hasn't been set yet but you'll be informed by a special messenger using a password. Wait for further instructions." She then began to marvel again at the beauty of the Rocky Mountains. Nothing else of substance was said.

Shortly afterwards, Paszkowski excused himself from the Karskis and met Maduck to discuss the meeting. He would wait weeks for the special messenger to knock on his door and passed the time by dating Canadian women. His English improved quickly. Unstable as he then was, he changed his companions quite often, causing extra work for CSIS staff as the family backgrounds of each new girlfriend had to be checked out.

During this period, he continued to receive money regularly from CSIS. He grew frustrated, however, because he was unable to spend it freely without causing suspicion among the Polish community. Finally, he resolved to get a job, partly in order to justify having cash to spend. Maduck didn't like this idea, saying he wanted him to be available for CSIS work at any time of the day or night. He agreed, however, to contact Ottawa headquarters to seek their permission. It came after a few days, provided he would keep them informed about the nature of his employment.

Through want-ads in the newspaper, Paszkowski found work as a car mechanic at North-West Spring and Machine in Edmonton. He also bought his first car, a second-hand Plymouth. Maduck was unhappy to hear about Paszkowski's purchase of a car, but his junior partner was long past the point of caring very much about the other's views. He was working hard and often long hours. One evening, he answered a knock on the door. A tall, well-built man said, "Dobry wieczor," (good evening in Polish) and asked to be let in.

"I've been sent by the Polish Embassy in Ottawa and I have information for you."

The SB agent told Paszkowski what to say at the window of the entrance to the Polish Embassy when he arrived in Ottawa. The password was, "Good day, I've been sent by Stach from Halifax and I want to speak with the First Secretary." Paszkowski was ordered not to contact the embassy under any circumstances unless asked to do so and to use the password only on the day specified. Each time he was to report at the embassy a new password would be provided. He was to follow orders to the letter. Any recurrence of breaking rules or disobeying orders would only raise suspicions of a double cross.

Following this visit, Paszkowski met again with Maduck and a CSIS technician at the Chateau Lacombe to provide a description of his nocturnal visitor and to do a composite portrait. He was shown a number of photos to see if he recognized any of them as his messenger. He did not. He was asked to undergo a lie-detector test while being questioned by CSIS employees. Paszkowski, of course, passed the test without difficulty. He was now preparing for his trip to Ottawa. Maduck promised he would provide a credible excuse to his employer to explain his absence from work for several days.

Finally, Paszkowski was given an airline ticket in the name of "Edward Busch" from Edmonton to Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario. He was handed a bus ticket from there to Ottawa. Once at Sault Ste. Marie, he was to spend the night and board a Greyhound bus to Ottawa the following day. When in Ottawa he was to check into a motel of his choice and telephone Maduck at a local number. Paszkowski did everything as instructed. When the bus driver asked him how he got to Sault Ste. Marie from Edmonton since his ticket wasn't punched, Paszkowski, not in the best of moods, replied, "I walked." He checked into an Ottawa motel and called Maduck.

Maduck and two technicians appeared the next morning at his room. They installed a recording device under his clothing. He was told which city bus to take and when to turn on the recorder. CSIS, he was told, had watched the embassy for some time and they knew who was there. Paszkowski was frightened for once, knowing that if the embassy staff discovered the device on him they would doubtless keep him in the embassy since it was Polish, not Canadian, soil under international law. They might then by force return him to Poland, or possibly even kill him and dispose of his body in the garbage or river. CSIS would be unable to do anything to help. As well, he was quite certain that if his true role was uncovered, CSIS would simply deny any involvement, saying they never knew him. This was the common practice among intelligence agencies the world over. He had little choice despite his fears. He felt obliged to do as instructed even if he was risking his life for an agency of the Canadian government.

He reached the Polish embassy on a short side street in Sandy Hill near the Soviet embassy. At the reception window, he gave the password: "Good day, I've been sent by Stach from Halifax and want to speak with the First Secretary." It was evident he was expected, and the automatic door opened for him. He was politely invited to enter.

While he waited, one of the Embassy staff answering the door went up the stairs and a moment later, Stanislaw Pisarski, the First Secretary came down. Paszkowski already knew from CSIS that the First Secretary was an SB colonel. Earlier, he'd been accredited in New York City as an employee of a Polish mission there, but was well known to the CIA as a senior spy.

The pair shook hands and sat at a large table in a remote room. Pisarski, handsome, well-dressed, and fiftyish, watched the other intensely through piercing eyes. "Well, we meet at last. The naughty child of our fatherland," he began. "If it weren't for the fact that we need you in Europe, we would not be talking here today. Warsaw would most likely order us to liquidate you, which is very easy as you know. You also know that with your training you can be very useful both for our country and its friends. It was decided in Warsaw to give you one more chance. This is your last chance. You have been running away from us and others, which means you are not working for any foreign government and that is why we'll give you one last opportunity. You cannot keep on running all the time, you know. You know how easy it is for us to let the Canadians know your true identity, and what happens then? They will deport you to West Germany to complete your prison sentence. Do you need that? No. You weren't too long with the French Foreign Legion either were you? You see, we know everything about you. By the way, you have been watched in Edmonton too."

Paszkowski listened, realizing they knew a lot, but not everything. As his fears subsided, his heart beat more calmly. He asked if he couldn't be better used in Canada because he was wanted by Interpol in Europe. Pisarski replied calmly, "Here in Canada, we have thousands of people working for us on small matters, people who are not as well-trained as you. It would be a waste to keep a highly-skilled agent for less important cases. In Edmonton alone, a hundred people work for us, but they are all small fish. We need you in Europe where you can stir up real trouble." He added that a special liaison would contact Paszkowski with further instructions and orders in due time. "Your command of German will come in handy," he added. "You're going to work for our friends from the East German Embassy in Rome." Paszkowski knew that if East Germans were involved, it would be terrorism.

The East German and Bulgarian regimes were known to support acts of terrorism across the Western World. As they talked, Pisarski checked his watch. Paszkowski knew the unwritten rule of espionage: an agent's visit to the embassy of a foreign country must be limited to 30 minutes in case the premises were being watched by the host country's government. The theory was that an agent visiting for a longer period could not pass as a client taking care of personal business and would therefore be tagged as an agent.

It was time to leave. The First Secretary added that under no circumstances should Paszkowski attempt to contact the embassy or him personally unless first asked to do so. He was to wait for instructions. On the way out, Pisarski handed him a passport application so that if asked about the purpose of his visit he could say he came to pick up the forms.

Paszkowski turned off the recorder and returned to his motel by bus. There, he was joined by Maduck and the other two CSIS agents who congratulated him heartily. Thanks to Paszkowski, CSIS now had recorded proof of Pisarski's involvement with Polish intelligence work in Canada. They asked him to pick out Pisarski's photo from a number of other photographs of Polish Embassy employees, point to the room in which they had met on a building plan, and describe the furniture and its placement in the room.

Ryszard then had some time for sightseeing in Ottawa, the city to which his handler Maduck so longed to be assigned, but was little impressed by either its architecture or general appearance. He felt Maduck wanted to move to Ottawa not for its beauty but for the prestige and promotion that the move would bring him. The following day, he left by Greyhound bus for Sudbury where he caught a flight to Edmonton.

In Edmonton, an unpleasant surprise awaited. He had been fired from his job because the owner was understandably angered by his unexplained absence. CSIS had failed to provide its promised excuse for his absence and Paszkowski was upset at the deception. When he confronted Maduck, the other claimed weakly that CSIS had decided not to contact his employer because they discovered he had a murky past life. Typically, Maduck cheered him up by giving him $3,000 of the Canadian taxpayers' money. Soon afterwards, thanks to CSIS information, he found a new job as a mechanic through the federal Manpower Office in the Alberta capital.

Paszkowski finally enjoyed the privileges resulting from his work for CSIS. On one occasion, he spotted an attractive woman driving past. He memorized her license plate number and asked CSIS to find her name, address and phone number. The next day, a computer print-out with all this information plus a biography arrived. She became one of his many love affairs. On numerous occasions, he was asked by CSIS to work for the CIA as they needed his talents for various missions. Paszkowski refused each such request. He was also courted by Mossad, the Israeli intelligence agency. It appeared to Paszkowski that CSIS lacked enough work for him and was thus trying to do a favour to other intelligence services by lending their hot agent out.

The months passed quickly and the special Polish liaison failed to appear. Maduck became more and more impatient. He asked Paszkowski to telephone Pisarski in Ottawa to see how things were going. This really infuriated Paszkowski. Maduck had it on tape that Pisarski had ordered him not to contact him. He was to wait to be contacted. The impatience of CSIS, he thought, was a consequence of its amateurism and inexperience in spy work.

A related foolish tactic involving the Polish Embassy had confirmed Paszkowski's suspicions as to the naivete of CSIS. He had been given a travel bag with a tape recorder hidden in it in such a way that it could record the conversation. He was supposed to place the bag under the table and turn the recorder on while talking to his visitor. This, he knew, would have been impossible to carry out without being apparent to an SB agent.

Finally, in mid-March 1986, a contact from Pisarski paid Paszkowski a visit. He took him quite by surprise and there was no way Ryszard could turn on the tape recorder. It was the same person who had visited him the first time. Paszkowski, he said, would be expected at the East German Embassy in Rome where he would introduce himself in English using the following passwords, "My name is Robert Fisher. I came from Canada and want to speak to the Security Officer." Shortly before his departure for Rome, Paszkowski was to report to the Polish Embassy in Ottawa to collect travel documents and money. He was to use the same password as previously, but was cautioned not to be surprised if met by somebody other than Pisarski.

Paszkowski quickly informed Maduck of the details of the conversation. CSIS, however, decided not to wait for further contacts from the Polish Embassy and in April ordered Paszkowski to go to Ottawa to try to see Pisarski again to obtain more details regarding his trip to Rome. The deep thinkers at CSIS headquarters in Ottawa had decided. Paszkowski laughed to himself at their stupidity.

The "academics" in Ottawa devised a plan in which Paszkowski would appear unannounced at the Polish Embassy in Ottawa and ask at the entrance to speak to the First Secretary. To provide an excuse for his arrival in Ottawa, CSIS cooked up a story for him which made no sense to Paszkowski. According to his cover story he came to Ottawa because a Salvadorean friend decided to buy a GM-make car for $1000 less directly in Oshawa. The friend asked Paszkowski to go there and drive the car to Edmonton all expenses paid. This story seemed ludicrous at best. Where was the deal if his friend paid him almost as much as he was supposed to be saving? Maduck, however, trusted his superiors in Ottawa blindly and said they would have to go along. Paszkowski in vain reminded him of Pisarski's warning not to contact him unless asked specifically to do so. By sending him to Ottawa under such flimsy circumstances, CSIS was taking the severe risk of compromising his security. The SB, knowing his excellent training, would know that an agent of his calibre would not act against direct orders and would thus suspect some double play. Paszkowski was also frightened that if listening devices were discovered on him while in the embassy he would never leave the premises alive.

Maduck tried to assure him that CSIS would keep filming and taking pictures of him entering the Embassy, so they would have proof for External Affairs diplomats to make a case on his behalf if necessary. Paszkowski, however, wasn't convinced and simply refused to risk his life again in Ottawa. Later that night, Maduck called and asked him to report to the Chateau Lacombe within half an hour. Maduck and Beech were already there when he arrived and both began trying to convince him that there were no risks involved. His personal safety would be assured, but they could give no details. Paszkowski wouldn't budge and refused to change his mind right up until the moment Beech began to make him feel ungrateful for all Canada had done for him. He said Canada had done much for Paszkowski and now it was his turn to reciprocate. He continued that the mission was of enormous importance for Canada and Paszkowski just couldn't let them down. Maduck and Beech kept up the pressure until almost dawn, when Paszkowski finally agreed to return to Ottawa.

He flew directly to Ottawa and went to the Park Lane Hotel where a room had been reserved for him by CSIS. He stopped at the main desk and introduced himself as Edward Busch. The receptionist, when she heard his name, exclaimed, "Ah, Mr. Busch, you're with the RCMP, too!" Paszkowski was red with anger. After all, the whole thing was supposed to be secret and this young woman not only knew of his association with CSIS, but was also trumpeting it so loudly everyone in the lobby could hear. CSIS had probably made yet another `tactical' error when they reserved the room for him. The two rooms connecting to his were for Maduck and another CSIS agent, so they could visit each other without going into the hallway. Maduck, to keep their spirits high, announced a party complete with call girls for the evening. He also introduced an older-looking man, Ken, who would direct the entire operation.

Ken gave Paszkowski his phone number and they briefly discussed the details of the next day's operation. Food and booze soon appeared on the table and Paszkowski, Maduck and another, younger, agent from CSIS in Ottawa started the meal. After a couple of hours, the younger agent left and came back shortly with three prostitutes. Each of them chose one of the women and the party began. Maduck first undressed openly and not paying attention to the others began making love to his partner. Paszkowski and the other agent soon followed his example. They passed their partners from man to man until each had had sex with all three women. Maduck joked that now they were all related because they slept with the same women. He was having a good time running around stark naked and filling up glasses with alcohol. The orgy lasted till about midnight, when the prostitutes left on a signal from the younger CSIS agent and the men retired to their respective rooms for the night. It was rather fun, Paszkowski thought, to party and enjoy prostitutes at the expense of CSIS.

The following morning, Ken woke them up to refine details of Paszkowski's mission at the Polish Embassy. He was instructed to talk with Pisarski about the details of his planned trip to Rome and the co-operation with the East German Embassy there. Ken told Paszkowski the Embassy had been under surveillance since the night before and that Pisarski had telephoned his secretary that morning to say he would be into work at 10:00 a.m. CSIS technicians again strapped the microphone and transmitter to Paszkowski's body. When the watchers at the Embassy let them know that the First Secretary had arrived, Paszkowski left for the Embassy.

As soon as he left the hotel, the switch for the transmitter which was taped to his thigh in such a way that he could turn it on and off through his right pants pocket, fell off and was dangling along his leg and showing through the cuff of his pants. Paszkowski pushed the switch into his sock and returned to the hotel where he mounted the switch properly with Maduck's help.

Finally reaching the Embassy, Paszkowski addressed the receptionist at the front window using the same password as during his first visit. The receptionist ran upstairs and disappeared into the building for at least fifteen minutes. When she finally returned, she said that the First Secretary was not present at the moment and would be away for the next several days. It was apparent to Paszkowski that Pisarski wasn't as stupid as CSIS thought him to be. Pisarski knew Ryszard was acting against explicit instructions which raised his suspicions. He could smell something fishy in the fact that an experienced agent would act this way and decided not to talk to Paszkowski.

Paszkowski returned to the hotel where a group of very disappointed CSIS employees were waiting. Their plan had fallen through and it appeared they might have damaged everything they had built up so far by forcing Paszkowski to go to the Embassy against orders. To Paszkowski, they looked like a little league baseball team beaten out of the championship by a much better team. Pisarski had outsmarted them all, including the academics in Ottawa. They were sitting there thinking hard and Paszkowski left them at the hotel in order to take a walk. When he returned, the agents had another bright idea which Paszkowski thought was even more idiotic than the first. They decided Paszkowski should call the embassy the next morning and talk to Pisarski on the phone. It made no sense to Paszkowski, but there was no changing their minds. The next morning, as soon as they were informed that Pisarski had entered the Embassy, Paszkowski telephoned. The tape recorders were on. The woman who answered told Paszkowski the First Secretary wasn't in, even though they all knew he was. The CSIS watchers observed Pisarski leaving the building and return again after half an hour.

Paszkowski was again directed to call, only to be told that the First Secretary wasn't in. Paszkowski wasn't asked to call when Pisarski was in fact away to make his phone calls appear more natural - a tactical error on the part of CSIS. The same routine was repeated a few more times. As soon as Pisarski was spotted returning to the Embassy, Paszkowski was told to call, only to be told Pisarski wasn't in. It was obvious the first Secretary was checking for surveillance. Paszkowski now realized that his role as a double agent had been compromised and began to really fear for his life. In the eyes of the SB, he must be a moron, thanks to the professional stupidity of CSIS. He also concluded he could not trust CSIS to guarantee his personal security.

His work for CSIS in Edmonton, nonetheless, continued. He spied on those in Canada and the USA who arrived from Poland either on official or private business and were suspected of espionage by CSIS. At around this period, early 1986, Maduck would sporadically talk about Canada's problems with members of the Sikh community. He mentioned Paszkowski's trip to Rome might be necessary the same year. Paszkowski felt another `brilliant' scheme was in the making and feared the worst. He had already had to cope with the aftermath of his botched attempt to see the Polish First Secretary. His apartment was broken into, and his things carefully searched. His address book disappeared. His car was also searched. The CSIS technicians, after examining both cases, decided it was the work of professionals. Paszkowski started to receive threatening phone calls. Even CSIS realized he was finished as a Polish double agent in Canada and decided to use him somewhere else. He was to help the friendly government of India with their problems with Sikhs.

His trip to Rome was being planned in more detail despite his protests. Paszkowski was afraid to travel to Europe for fear of being arrested by Interpol for escaping from the German prison. Maduck claimed he had nothing to worry about as the matter had been arranged with the Italian government and he wouldn't be arrested. The details of the operation were to be revealed to him once he arrived in Rome. The whole mission was to be kept top secret and he was told the Canadian Secretary of State for External Affairs, then Joe Clark, had approved the mission himself as it was of significant national importance. Paszkowski could not travel abroad without a travel document. CSIS arranged for him to obtain one: Maduck himself filled out the application by hand. It was issued in the name of Robert Fisher with Paszkowski's photograph. Ryszard quit his job with Maron Equipment and on August 16, 1986, with a false travel document officially issued by the External Affairs department in hand, contacts in Rome and money from CSIS, he left for Italy.

He had nothing to fear, he hoped. After all, Joe Clark himself as Secretary of State for External Affairs had approved his mission. The Italian authorities were also involved. Reassured there were no immediate personal risks, Paszkowski moved again into the unknown.


Chapter 9

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