He also thought of those friends who were not with him on that plane, but he suspected they had been interrogated as well, and he was right.
Others were also taken to interrogations, but the investigation was most of all interested in Irakli Charkviani, a close friend of Gega who was supposed to know more about the hijacking than the others. The Russian investigator, who had specially arrived from Moscow, initially thought that Gega had not asked Irakli to fly with them because Irakli’s grandfather, Kandid Charkviani, was the former First Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Georgia. However, having interrogated Irakli for the first time, he understood that the reason was completely different.
The strange young man surprised the Russian investigator from the beginning, as he insisted on answering his questions only in Georgian. Irakli was very calm as a baffled Georgian KGB employee translated his answers for the Russian investigator. The Georgian officer was genuinely surprised that Kandid Charkviani’s grandson did not speak Russian, but the Russian investigator understood right away that Irakli knew Russian perfectly well (unlike the translator), as well as other languages.
The Russian investigator also understood that while talking to this strange young Georgian, he was talking to the new generation of Georgians; a generation that would never be obedient, conformist and submissive unlike their parents. Therefore, the Russian investigator was not surprised at Irakli’s clearly anti-Soviet references in answers. Quite the contrary, it made the Russian investigator all the more eager to determine why he didn’t go on the plane.
“Why didn’t they want you to fly with them?”
“Who?”
“Gega at least, he was your closest friend, wasn’t he?”
“Why was? Gega still is my closest friend.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that. I hope you won’t think much about that.”
“What did you mean?”
“I wanted to say that it isn’t at all clear to me why Gega didn’t tell you anything, especially since he knew you well. Sorry, knows you well.”
“That’s exactly why he didn’t tell me anything, because he knows me all too well. He knew I’d refuse.”
“But why? Are you trying to tell me you like the Soviet Union so much that you wouldn’t betray it?”
“I believe I haven’t expressed any sympathy towards Soviet authorities even once during our conversation, but I’m not a dissident either, and don’t want to be.”
“That’s exactly what I’m interested in. What were the grounds for selecting the hijackers and were you, as Gega’s closest friend, not among them?”
“I already told you, Gega knew I’d refuse.”
“Why? You didn’t want to fly?”
“I’ve always wanted to fly. I want to now as well and I’ll fly. But not on a plane…”
The Russian investigator sat silent as he contemplated Irakli’s answer, but he failed to grasp the young Georgian’s meaning. So the investigator asked him the last question, only to break the awkward silence.
“What if you can’t fly?”
“Then I’ll swim across the sea.”
“What?”
“The sea.”
“How?”
“Singing.”
“Are you joking?”
“I’m not joking.”
“Shall we include that in the interrogation transcript just like that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How exactly?”
“Verbatim.”
“How exactly?”
“I’ll cross the sea swimming…”
After the interrogation, Irakli grew suspicious that Gega and the other hijackers would probably be sentenced to death and he shared his concerns with his friends as they were Gega’s friends as well.
Most people in Tbilisi , and across Georgia, and across Georgia thought the hijackers would be spared death row. Their motivation was logical—the plane hijackers were not murderers, so shooting them would be excessive cruelty on the part of the authorities. Consequently, Irakli’s friends met his theory with doubt. He himself wanted to know more, so he took advantage of his family connections. He found out the identity of the judge who was to decide on the main verdict at the upcoming trial and sought out his son. He met the judge’s son at the university, after lectures, and told him directly what he wanted to know. The judge’s son promised him to find out everything if, of course, he managed to extract it from his father. He was skeptical he would be successful.
That very evening the judge’s son asked his father whether he was going to preside over the plane hijackers’ trial.
“Who told you?” his father aggressively demanded.
“I was told.”
“Who was it?”
“What difference does it make?”
“It makes a great deal of difference.”
“Why?”
“It is practically a state secret. No one must know the identity of the judge until the trial itself.”
“Well, your secrets are like our state itself. It’s general knowledge you’re to be appointed the judge of the case.”
“Who told you?”
“What does it matter, they told me at the university, everyone knows it already.”
“The university has always been an anti-Soviet nest.”
“Well, they know it at the nest, already.”
“I don’t think this is something to joke about.”
“I’m not joking with you either, and I seriously want to know what’s going to happen.”
“What do you mean, what is going to happen?”
“What will happen at the trial?”
“I’m not obliged to, and don’t want to answer, especially because no one knows in advance what is going to happen at the trial.”
“I’m not interested in details. I just want to know the verdict.”
“No one knows what the verdict will be beforehand either and no one will be able to answer your question.”
“Can you give me a simple answer to a simple question?”
“How?”
“Tell me: yes or no.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Will they be sentenced to death?”
“I don’t know, but plane hijackers, bandits and terrorists will be sentenced exactly as they deserve.”
“Is that death by firing squad?”
“That’s justice.”
“That means they’ll be executed?”
“I told you, I don’t know…”
The son understood his father wouldn’t tell him anything. He also understood that the verdict for the hijackers would be passed before the trial, if it wasn’t passed already.
In the meantime, the judge, picked up the phone as soon as his son left the room.
“Hello sir, yes, it’s me. When can you put me through? Yes, it is urgent. Yes, I’ll wait.”
The judge hung up the receiver and waited, without moving, for the phone to ring. He kept his eyes on the phone. With his index finger, he wiped a drop of sweat which dripped down his brow.
As soon as the telephone rang, the judge immediately picked up the receiver and sprang to his feet.
“Hello.” He cleared his throat and continued. “I wanted to report to you that the information about my appointment has already leaked… How do I know? They have sent my son to find out about the verdict, asking whether they are going to be executed or not… What did I answer? What you and the Party have always been teaching us—that Soviet laws are humane, but that criminals must answer for their crimes and that the state will punish adequately those who have betrayed their homeland… Hello? Hello?”
The judge stood still for a long time, with the black telephone receiver pressed to his ear, though no one was listening to him anymore. The judge, of course, was replaced…
Eka