They were each sentenced to thirty years for attempted theft of explosives and weapons from military armories, with intent to sell. But after only seven years, and without being told why, their sentences were reduced.
The day they were released, they were flown to Moscow under guard, even though they were supposedly free. That day was when they met their handler, known only as "Yermak." (Cossack leader) While they sat in his car at the airport, he gave them two choices: either accept what was to be offered without question, or be put back on a plane, and sent to Siberia's Black Dolphin prison, remaining there for the rest of their lives. Their decision was a no-brainer.
Reznikov could no longer trust anyone, except possibly, Botkin and Orlov. For the past two years they worked together, risked their lives, carrying out attacks their handler designated. Then without warning, he was captured, imprisoned, interrogated, then turned over to the Americans.
But Reznikov had yet determined why he was the only one captured, then offered up, when they were all involved in past terrorist activities. There was a possibility he'd been identified by surveillance tapes, but still, the three of them were known to operate together.
While at the East German prison, he had no idea Botkin and Orlov received information from Yermak, indicating the exact place, date, and time of the exchange. They planned the 'rescue' perfectly. Now, and for the moment, he felt some semblance of relief. He was free.
A slide bolt secured the door, with a key lock added. He unlocked it, put the lock in his pocket, before sliding it open. On the opposite side of the door were two bolts, adding to their security while inside.
The thick wooden entry door scraped across dirt-covered plank flooring. Except for scuffing from shoes and boots, the thickness of dirt was a testament to the length of time the building hadn't functioned as a home, but as a hideout. Each of six windows had been blacked out. Turning on the flashlight, he swiveled the light back and forth, then pointed it overhead. Thick wooden beams crossed the entire 800 square foot space.
Directing the beam toward a beat-up, rectangular wooden table in the center of the space, the light settled on a kerosene lamp. Striking a match, he lit the lamp, then lowered the flame until it barely glowed. Expecting to find an envelope with money and instructions for another attack, he slid his hand back and forth under the table top. Finding nothing, he turned on the flashlight, then shined the beam underneath. Again, nothing.
His brief moment of relief quickly vanished, as suspicion took hold. He shut off the flashlight. His pulse started racing, with the realization of why he'd been rescued. It wasn't because he was valuable. It was because someone feared he would eventually talk and identify his handler and the trail of money. And Yermak would eventually lead everyone to the person who headed it all, who used Reznikov and his men to fulfill his own agenda. But who that was, even Reznikov didn't know.
He spun around, hearing Botkin and Orlov stomping into the house. "Start looking for wires, explosives! Do it! Now!"
Without questioning, the two men grabbed their flashlights, and ran to opposite sides of the room, looking in corners, following beams of light along walls, both top and bottom.
Reznikov directed the beam of light along the base of the back wall, before he started backtracking. Shining the flashlight overhead, his eyes searched along a wooden beam, when something got his attention. He stopped directly underneath, tilting his head back. His eyes finally focused on a drooping thin wire. "Get the ladder!"
Orlov made a beeline for the door. In seconds he returned carrying a very old, handmade wooden ladder. As he balanced it against the beam, Reznikov pointed, "Check that wire, but watch what you touch! I cannot see where it leads."
Orlov started climbing, as Botkin braced his heavy body against the ladder. As he stood on the last rung, Orlov leaned over the wood beam, shining his flashlight along the back side. "Shit! Dynamite! Dynamite is strung across the beam with det cord!" He looked down at Reznikov. "Everything we have used for our attacks!"
Reznikov kept the flashlight beam on Orlov. "Do you see any type of timer?!"
Orlov looked along the left side, then right. "No! Neither end of the wire is attached to anything!"
"Somebody ran out of time," Reznikov commented, continuing to look up.
"What the hell is going on, Ivan?!" Botkin asked, with total confusion.
"Only two other people knew about this place," Reznikov mumbled, beginning to see the whole picture.
Orlov jumped from the bottom rung. "You cannot be thinking Yermak?"
"It must be. We have not received our money, no new orders, and now the explosives!" Reznikov shut off the flashlight then went near the table. "Leave everything as is. If we have to vacate, this damn place can be destroyed quickly."
"You want to leave the explosives in place?!" Botkin waved an arm overhead.
"If we are ever followed here, Sergei, that," he pointed toward the explosives, "may be all that will give us time to escape."
"I get it," Botkin answered, smoothing down his short, black beard.
Reznikov looked at both men. "We have to face facts. From now on, we are on our own."
Two Audis pulled in front of the security gate. Team A.T. waited for the guard to inspect them and their IDs. He walked around the open gate. "Evening, sirs." He took Adler's State Department ID, then said, "We've been expecting all of you. Just drive up to the main door, sir." He rolled back the gate, then snapped a smart salute as the cars drove past.
The Team quickly exited the cars, taking a defensive position around their "package," Alexei Dotsenko, then led him into the embassy.
"Gentlemen, I'm Sam Nichols, Station Chief. Welcome to the U.S. Embassy." The gray-haired Nichols extended a hand.
Grant returned the handshake. "Thank you, sir. I'm Grant Stevens, and … "
"Yes, I know, Captain Stevens. We've been expecting you and Team Alpha Tango." He nodded toward the men.
"And this is Alexei Dotsenko," Grant said.
Nichols offered his hand. "Mr. Dotsenko, welcome."
"I appreciate your help, Mr. Nichols."
Grant glanced down the hallway. "Would it be possible for us to use a room temporarily? We have some questions for Mr. Dotsenko."
"Sure. Go down this hallway, third door on the left. There should be enough chairs for you. I've taken the liberty and had some drinks brought in. If you need anything else, dial 221. That's my office."
"Appreciate it, sir."
Nichols watched the men as they walked away, all dressed in black, wearing shoulder holsters that held Russian Makarovs.
Once behind the closed door, A.T. grabbed some water and sodas. Adler offered a Coke and glass of water to Dotsenko, who selected the water.
Grant pulled out a chair, sitting opposite Dotsenko, noticing his pale face. "Are you all right, sir?"
"Yes. Yes."
"I'm sorry we roughed you up back there, but we couldn't let the 'comrades' suspect anything."
"Oh, I understand. It has all been quite overwhelming for me, though."
"You took one helluva risk coming back here. That took courage, sir." Dotsenko sipped at the water, looking over the rim of the glass at Grant, who said, "You don't have to worry. You'll be safe at the embassy while we complete the mission."
Dotsenko slapped his hand on the table, nearly knocking over his glass. He abruptly got up. "No! I cannot stay here! I must go with you! She … " He turned and walked away.
A.T. rolled their chairs back, obviously surprised at the reaction. Grant went to him. "Mr. Dotsenko." He laid a hand on the distressed man's shoulder, waiting for him to turn around. "Sir, I'm sorry you weren't informed sooner, and I apologize. But I'd like you to think about how dangerous that would be. We've been on missions like this many times, and I can tell you from experience that nothing is always straightforward. Believe me, sir, it'd be best for everyone, especially Miss Pankova." An expression of dismay remained on Dotsenko's face. "Please, sir," Grant said, motioning toward a chair. "We'd like some information that will help us."