She did not fit his image of Stalin's daughter, though what that image was, he could not have said. Rayle looked at the demure, attractive woman with copper hair and pale blue eyes who stared steadily back at him. She turned to Rayle as he entered, and almost the first thing she said to him was: "Well, you probably won't believe this, but I'm Stalin's daughter." When Rayle arrived at the embassy at 7:25, he was pointed to a room where a woman sat talking with Consul George Huey. Rayle had been out, but when he returned the call minutes later, Wall gave him the secret code indicating the embassy had a Soviet defector, the last thing Rayle was expecting on a quiet Monday evening in the Indian capital.īy clicking Sign up, you agree to our privacy policy. He then phoned Robert Rayle, the second secretary of the embassy, who was in charge of walk-ins - defectors. He locked the door behind her and led her to a small adjacent room. He was about to tell her the embassy was closed when she handed him her passport. She was middle-aged, neatly dressed, nondescript. He looked down at the small woman standing before him. Clutching her small suitcase in one hand, she rang the bell.ĭanny Wall, the marine guard on desk duty, opened the door. She'd made the most important decision of her life she'd escaped, but into what she had no idea. She had no doubt that the wrath of the Kremlin would soon fall on her head. Once she crossed this threshold, she knew that her old life would be irrevocably lost to her. All the important decisions of her life had been taken precipitately. Svetlana Alliluyeva climbed the wide steps and stared at the American eagle embedded in the glass doors.
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