“Yes. Yes, I am.” The strength in the hand shaking his made Wright wince.
“Sorry,” Grant apologized. “Still pissed.” Wright nodded. “I’ve gotta thank you for what you did, for taking the chance you took with all that was happening outside.”
“I felt really bad for… ” Wright brushed a hand across his bloodshot brown eyes.
“What? For staying in here? For protecting yourself?” Wright gave a brief nod. “Think about this. If you had gone out there, you might be one of the wounded, or worse. And how would we have found out about anything, if you didn’t send those transmissions?”
“I… I suppose you’re right.”
“You bet your ass I’m right.” Grant started toward the door. “I’ve gotta go. You sure you’re okay?”
Wright nodded as he stood, commenting, “I’d like to help with the wounded, if that’s okay.”
“Let’s go.” As Wright started past him, Grant took hold of his arm, pulling him back. “Look. You’re gonna have to stay here after we’re gone. I’ll contact Keith and have him bring the rest of the men that work with you.”
Wright looked as if he was about to panic. “But… but what about security? We don’t have any!”
“I’ll leave EOD here. It’s the best I can do for now. Besides, I doubt there’ll be any more problems. They took what they were after.” Grant thought for a second, before asking, “Can you put a call through to NIS in D.C. now?”
Walking back behind the desk, the tech answered, “Sure.”
Grant gave the details for the call, and within a minute, Torrinson’s yeoman was on the line.
“Zach, this is Captain Stevens. Need to talk with the admiral ASAP.”
“Grant!” Torrinson shouted. “What the hell’s happening? Where are you?”
“Sir, we’re still at AFN, getting ready to haul.”
“Where…?”
Grant knew he was pressing his luck, not explaining the plan to Torrinson, but he was running out of time. “Sir, please; I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta make this quick. We’ve got to get some kind of security for AFN as soon as possible. All I can do for now is direct that EOD stay here temporarily. Maybe you can contact the Italians and have their police brought in, too. Can you help them, sir?”
Torrinson was trying to face the fact that he was about to be left out of the loop. The concern in Grant’s voice made him uneasy, but he was going to put his trust in Grant Stevens again. “I’ll work on it. Any contact there?”
“Best to call this number, sir. You’ll be talking with Sam Wright. If you need to talk with EOD, Sam will find them.” Grant blew out a breath through tight lips. “Thanks, Admiral.” He had one other request for Torrinson. “Admiral, Colonel Moshenko and the other two Russians are safe. Think we need to contact the Russian ambassador?”
Torrinson jotted a note on the yellow pad. “Will contact State when we’re through here.”
Grant was quiet and Torrinson knew the conversation was over. “I know, Grant, you’ve gotta go.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll contact you as soon as I can.” Grant lowered the phone slowly, staring at it as he put it in the base. He started for the door, motioning for Wright to follow.
They rushed downstairs then ran across the compound. “Go,” Grant said to Wright, pointing to the barracks.
Moore and Adler came up to Grant, with Adler immediately asking, “What’s the plan, Skipper?” Grant eyed his friend, studying the rugged, tired face. Adler responded, reassuringly, “I’m fine.” He held up two fingers, and said, “Scout’s honor.”
Without taking his eyes from Adler, Grant said to Moore, “Ray, use that radio and contact Keith Wagner in Motta. Tell him to bring the rest of the American workers. They need to plan on staying here.”
“Aye, sir. I’m on it.”
“Where’s Grigori?” Grant asked, looking around.
“He went to get the comrades,” Adler responded, as he looked over his shoulder. “Here he comes.”
Grant took a quick check of his watch and signaled for Moshenko. “Grigori! Get my team!” He turned to Adler. “Joe, listen, I talked with the admiral. Gotta leave your team here until the admiral can get security sent in.”
“Understand, Skipper. I’ll go tell them. But what about…?
“Move, Joe! Then get your ass back here so we can get this op going! Everybody! Get your gear. Load it into those trucks! Put mine in the helo!” He had a quick thought. “Paul, get the rope from the roof.”
Adler came running back. “All set, Skipper. Now, do you think we’ll need any extra ammo? We’ve got some in the hangar.”
Grant was feeling better seeing Adler returning to his old self. “Think we’re good, Joe. It’d be best if your guys kept it anyway. Listen, can you give me the short version on what was left in the tunnel before the attack?”
Adler reached into his top pocket, lifting out a small black spiral notebook. He flipped through several pages before finding the last notation, then he read, “Six grapefruit-size canisters; two heavy mortars; H.E. (high explosive) anti-personnel bombs; five boxes of rifles; three boxes of machine guns. We got the cruise missiles out first.” The Henschel HS-293 was an anti-ship missile with a liquid propellent rocket motor. It weighed approximately twenty-three hundred pounds with a length of twelve feet.
Grant stared in disbelief. “How the hell did you get those out?”
“Same way they got them in,” Adler grinned. He pointed to the east side of the compound. “Right over there was the exit from the tunnel. They’d poured concrete and made a ramp. The missiles were already mounted on wheeled platforms. We set up a pulley system. And don’t worry. We already sealed off that end.”
He didn’t have to wait for Grant to ask and he called out, “Doug! Get me a quick count of what’s in the tunnel!” Adler turned back to Grant. “Ya know, Skipper, those canisters were meant to be put inside missiles as a means of delivery. Is it possible they don’t know that?” he questioned, as he slid the notebook back into his pocket.
“Still gotta worry, Joe.”
“Oh, I agree! I agree!”
Taylor wasn’t gone long, and he rushed back to Adler. “LT, the only thing left is one box of the machine guns!”
Adler shot a look at Grant, as he commented, “No wonder they had so many trucks.” He motioned to Taylor, “Okay, Doug. Thanks.” Taylor left. Adler rubbed a hand across the stubble on his face. “That’s one reason why they were here so long.”
“Why’s that?”
“Those damn mortars. They weigh over two hundred pounds. They must’ve broken them into the three sections.”
Grant was just nodding his head, but he had another major concern. “How unstable do you think those canisters are?”
“They were packed individually in protective steel containers, but… I really don’t know. There’s the possibility it’s been degraded after all that time, but again, I don’t know. I do know that if certain oils or petroleum products had been added, the ‘shelf’ life can be extended, but there’s no way to know that either. Christ! We were waiting for orders on how they wanted us to dispose of the shit.” He grabbed one hand with the other and cracked his knuckles. “What the hell are we gonna do when we find them?”
Grant jammed his hands into his pockets, took a couple of steps, then turned back to Adler. The jaw tensed as he ground his teeth. “What if we’re too late, Joe? If they’re leaking, we could walk right into that shit and it’d be all over.” He looked around at the men who were about to go with him. Going on a mission where you could see your enemy was one thing. But how would they confront something they couldn’t see? How could he expose them, literally, to an unseen enemy?