Capture and Defection

"President Yanaev, the situation in Tbilisi is now under control. The riots are gradually dying down," Defense Minister Yazov reported promptly upon returning to the Kremlin.

Yanaev's response was measured, almost subdued. He did not express relief or joy. Instead, his eyes fixed on the detailed report Victor had brought him. Victor, not just an arms dealer but an intelligence asset, had intercepted critical information — the riot planners Kostava and Changturia had crossed into Turkey. Yet, Yanaev frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the KGB's inability to prevent this.

"Comrade Yazov," Yanaev began thoughtfully, "how can we minimize resistance from the Georgian nationalists to ensure Patiashvili can be reinstated as First Secretary of the Georgian Central Committee?"

Yazov didn't hesitate: "We crack down hard. Arrest the nationalists, shut down their newspapers, radio stations, and TV channels. Cut off the hotbeds of nationalism at the root."

Yanaev shook his head slowly. "No, that won't be enough. We must discredit the so-called democratic forces completely — paint them as enemies of the Georgian people. Use the Tbilisi incident to show that the people stand with the Soviets, exposing the Georgian rebels' cruelty. Quietly, without fanfare, we will crush the extremists for good."

Under Yanaev's direction and Surkov's reorganization, the Soviet Propaganda Department transformed from a burden into a lethal weapon. The empty slogans and stale imagery were discarded. Instead, the new propaganda focused on the grassroots, exposing the true face of the 'democrats' and shifting public sentiment decisively in favor of Moscow.

"By the way, Comrade Yazov," Yanaev suddenly added, placing Victor's intelligence report before him, "these riot masterminds, Kostava and Changturia, are fleeing toward Turkey. Mobilize the nearest forces. Intercept them."

For Yazov, this was the green light he'd been waiting for — permission to unleash the Soviet military's full force against Georgian nationalism. Years of tolerance for Shevardnadze's indulgence of Georgian democracy had ended here. Unlike Gorbachev, who sought to weaken the USSR, Yanaev was determined to tighten Moscow's grip.

Yazov bowed deeply, voice low but fierce: "You will not be disappointed, President Yanaev. The separatists will be crushed."

What Zvyad Kostava and Chanturia hadn't planned was their own escape. These two, who trafficked American aid and arms, were fleeing into Western Europe's arms. They spun a tragic tale abroad — patriots defeated by a ruthless Soviet regime. Yet they omitted their cowardly flight, abandoning their followers with pockets full of US dollars, stolen funds, and profits from selling helicopters and Hummers.

One wonders how their extremist followers would feel, knowing the vehicles and weapons they once fought with had been sold and pocketed by their leaders.

"Chanturia, the border is near," Kostava shook his partner awake. Their contact team awaited on the Turkish side to shepherd them to safety. The car slowed to a stop on a deserted hill — wide grasslands with scattered trees, a once-secret smuggling route.

"I never imagined it would end like this," Kostava said quietly, looking back toward his homeland. His face was marked by regret but softened by the fortune he had stashed away to live comfortably in exile.

"None of this was supposed to happen. If Zvyad hadn't made us scapegoats, we'd have more US aid, and the movement could go on," Chanturia muttered, eyes scanning the horizon nervously. "But where are the Turks? They should have been here by now."

Costava climbed a small rise and gasped. "No — Soviet troops."

Two Mi-24 helicopters roared in, their rotor wash flattening the grass. A BMP-2 armored vehicle charged from the bushes, blocking their retreat, gun turret trained on them like a beast ready to strike.

The ambush was not just for show — it was a blunt warning to others contemplating similar moves. In the face of Soviet armored might, resistance was meaningless.

MVD soldiers burst from cover, Kalashnikovs leveled at Kostava and Chanturia.

"Don't shoot! We surrender!" the two dropped their bags, sank to their knees, hands on their heads, stripped of arrogance.

Soldiers pinned them to the ground, bound their hands, and hauled them onto the armored vehicle. The next steps were clear: a trial under Soviet law awaited.

With Kostava and Chanturia captured, the Tbilisi riots came to a definitive, brutal end.