The election, which Cerny had observed personally, was held in a highly charged atmosphere, with Yanukovych and the outgoing president’s administration using their control of the government for intimidation of Yushchenko and his supporters. In September 2004 Yushchenko suffered dioxin poisoning under mysterious circumstances. While he survived and returned to the campaign trail, the poisoning undermined his health and altered his appearance dramatically.
“To this day, Yushchenko’s face remains disfigured,” Cerny added without emotion. Orange, he continued, was originally adopted by the Viktor Yushchenko’s insurgent camp as the signifying color of his election campaign. “Later the color gave name to an entire series of political terms, such as the Oranges for his supporters. When the mass protests grew, and especially when they brought about political change in the country, the term Orange Revolution came to represent the entire series of events.”
Protests began on the eve of the second round of voting, Cerny remembered, as the official count differed markedly from exit-poll results. The latter gave Viktor Yushchenko an eleven percent lead, while official results gave the election win to Yanukovych by three percent.
Yanukovych’s supporters claimed that Yushchenko’s connections to the anti-incumbent Ukrainian media explained this disparity. But the Yushchenko team publicized evidence of many incidents of electoral fraud in favor of the government-backed Yanukovych, events witnessed by many local and foreign observers.
The Yushchenko campaign publicly called for protest on the dawn of election day, November 21, 2004, when allegations of fraud began to spread. Beginning on November 22, 2004, massive protests started in cities across Ukraine. The largest, in Kiev’s Maidan Nezalezhnosti, Independence Square, attracted a half million participants, who on November 23, 2004, peacefully marched in front of the headquarters of the Verkhovna Rada, the Ukrainian parliament, many wearing orange or carrying orange flags, the color of Yushchenko’s campaign coalition.
“I remember them chanting, hundreds of thousands of Ukrainians filling Kiev’s Independence Square on the evening of November 22. ‘Razom nas bahato! Nas ne podolaty!’ ‘Together we are many. We cannot be defeated.’ ”
Emerging from a sea of orange, the mantra signaled the rise of a skilled political opposition group and a determined middle class that had come together to stop the ruling elite from falsifying an election and hijacking Ukraine’s presidency.
The Ukrainian capital, Kiev, was the focal point with thousands of protesters demonstrating daily. Nationwide, the democratic revolution was highlighted by a series of acts of civil disobedience, sit-ins, and general strikes organized by the opposition movement.
Over the next seventeen days, through harsh cold and sleet, millions of Ukrainians staged nationwide nonviolent protests. The entire world watched, riveted by this outpouring of the people’s will in a country whose international image had been warped by its corrupt rulers. The nationwide protests succeeded when the results of the original run-off were annulled, and a revote was ordered by Ukraine’s Supreme Court.
Under intense scrutiny by domestic and international observers, the second run-off was declared to be “fair and free.” The final results showed a clear victory for Yushchenko. Yushchenko was declared the official winner and with his inauguration on January 23, 2005, in Kiev, the Orange Revolution had peacefully reached its successful conclusion. Similarly, by the time Yushchenko’s victory was announced, the Orange Revolution had set a major new landmark in the post-communist history of Eastern Europe, a seismic shift westward in the geopolitics of the region.
“Now, in terms of an impending presidential visit, particularly with a new president in office, normally we have a bigger planning stage. But the president is adamant. Political statement, diplomatic statement. All the usual bull. It means we have the normal three months of preparation and only one month to do it.”
“How do I fit in?” she asked.
“Rather perfectly,” he answered. “Your c.v. is very impressive,” he said. “You should see some of the people I’ve had to prep. Dumb as doorknobs would be both an understatement, as well as an insult to the world of doorknobs.” He paused. “So. Would you be willing to accept a temporary assignment to Ukraine?”
She sighed. “Only if you talk me into it,” she said.
“Well, the Ukrainians are wonderful people, warm and much deserving of any help we can bring them. They’ve been oppressed for centuries, most recently by Soviet Russian Communism. Fascinating place, rich in history and culture.”
“Keep going,” she said.
He paused, taking a glance down at her c.v. again. His tone changed.
“Look,” he said. “The assignment will call on your previous experience in undercover work. It presupposes an ability to learn functional Ukrainian in one month and have the pre-existing knowledge of Russian. So this, right here, is your opportunity to get out of jail free.”
“How?”
“You can avoid the assignment by being unable to pass the basic language requirement in Russian. Follow what I’m saying?”
“Yes. But I’m fluent in Russian and everyone who knows me knows that.”
“We have two other agents we can interview. They’re not as qualified as you, but it’s an imperfect world. We can talk to them.”
She pondered it for a moment.
“I came here this morning with the intent of declining this assignment,” she said. “But it’s also not in my nature to back away from challenges.”
He let a moment pass. “That’s in your c.v. too,” he said.
“So tell me more about the assignment,” she said. “I’ll listen.”
He smiled in response. “Let’s talk about you. It’s one thing to read a c.v., quite another to learn personally about someone who might take an important job.”
“What are you asking for?” she asked.
“Tell me about yourself,” Cerny said. “How you came to be here. How you’re so good as an investigator, with a firearm, and in so many languages. I’m fascinated.”
She opened her mouth to answer. Before she could speak a word, he added one more request. “Explain it to me in Russian,” he said. “I’d like to hear you speak.”
Alex fumbled at first. Not withstanding that souvenir poster in her living room, she hadn’t spoken Russian in years.
But she began.
Her Russian kicked in quickly.
EIGHT
Spanish was spoken in my home,” she said. “My mother was from Mexico City and was a devout Roman Catholic. She moved to Southern California in her twenties to marry my father. He was an aircraft worker with McDonnell-Douglas. His parents had been from southern Italy and had come to America in the 1920s.”
“But if he was Italian, they didn’t speak Spanish to each other,” Cerny observed.
“No,” Alex said with a smile. “Of course not. But I used to visit my grandparents, los abuelos mexicanos, during summers. And I loved listening to the Latino pop stations out of Los Angeles and San Diego. By seven years old, I was completely bilingual. Then there was church Bible study. I was raised as a Protestant. My father’s choice to convert-because it was ‘more American.’ But my mom insisted one Sunday a month on taking me to ‘her’ church. It was a traditional Roman Catholic one in Santa Clarita. They spoke Spanish and Latin there. When I first heard Latin, I wanted to study it. My dad didn’t object. He just stayed home to watch the Raiders and Dodgers.”
Cerny laughed. “Sounds like my dad,” he said, still in Russian.