The men glanced quickly at each other. But now they had to wonder if the information they were about to hear would lead them on the right path to complete the second part of the mission — a successful extraction.
Dotsenko drank some water, as Grant asked, "Can you tell me if she had an emergency escape plan in case she had to find safe haven somewhere?"
"That was one of the first details she always took care of. When she was in Tbilisi, she set up a plan to escape to Turkey, or at least get as close to the border as possible."
"I think we're all curious, but how did she manage to communicate with you? She had to have been watched."
"Just like any spy, she used dead drops while in Russia. She had her contacts. They took care of seeing to it that D.C. got her coded messages."
"Understand," Grant commented. "Let's move on to the base in Poland. With it being so secretive, I'd say she didn't have any contacts who could help her. Correct?"
"Yes."
"Then how did she …?"
"Contact me?"
"Yes, sir."
"As soon as she knew she was going to Drazowe, she left a message for her contact in Tbilisi."
For the time being, Grant didn't need explicit details on messages or contacts. He needed a location for the extraction. "Where is she?"
"Oleniv always set her up in her own place. They never lived together. His reasoning? I can only assume he felt it would protect her somehow, or he was just trying to protect himself. Yet, everyone knew she was his … " He couldn't bring himself to say the word "mistress."
"That's all right, sir. Go on."
Dotsenko reached for the glass, finished the water, then proceeded. "With the serious situation developing in the country, soldiers had been posted at all roads leading away from town. They were at bus stations, train stations, and the ferry terminal. They were checking everyone's papers. She couldn't take the chance."
"Are we to assume she's still in that residence?"
"Yes."
Grant's eyes scanned his men, seeing heads shaking. "You have an address, right?"
"Do you have pencil and paper?" Dotsenko asked, looking around.
Stalley got a pad and pen next to the phone, then brought them to Dotsenko who immediately began writing. When he finished, he slid the paper across the table toward Grant. "She used a signal in the past, to show me she was … home." His expression changed, showing part sadness, part embarrassment. "She would close the drapes of her bedroom window, but the right side would remain slightly open. That meant she was home … and alone. I would think that would still be her signal, unless something prevents her from … "
"Very well, sir." Grant scanned the note, then passed it to Adler. "You may not be able to answer this, but is this the only location where she could be?"
"There could be brief periods when she might leave, but I doubt it, and she certainly wouldn't go far. She realizes someone should be coming for her. Time is running out for her," he said, with his voice cracking. "If no one gets to her soon, she will not … she cannot wait any longer."
"I understand. Believe me."
"Do you know when you will leave?"
"We've got to make some special arrangements before we do, but I would guesstimate we'll be on our way no later than tomorrow. Remember, you'll have protection while you're here, so don't worry about safety.
"One more question. Is there anything you can tell us that'll convince Miss Pankova we know you, that she can trust us?"
Dotsenko mulled over the request. "We have code names. She is 'Silent Willow,' and I'm 'Gray Fox.'"
"That will definitely be the proof we need, sir. Thanks."
Grant rolled his chair back, then went to the phone and called Nichols' office. "Sir, we're finished here, if you want to have someone assist Mr. Dotsenko. Oh, and would it be possible to use the scrambler in the crypto room?"
"Sure. I'll be right there," Nichols responded.
Grant went to the door. "Listen, guys, Joe and I are gonna call Scott. Why don't you take a break after a guard shows up. See if you can get anything to eat. There might be some vending machines. Pick something up for Joe."
The elevator doors hadn't fully parted when Grant and Adler stepped in. Using a special key, Grant activated the mechanism, sending the elevator down two levels. The crypto room was soundproof, and had stark white, ten inch thick walls. Sophisticated equipment consisted of scrambler communication gear, internal walkie-talkies, a short-wave radio system, radio directional finders and receivers. A small safe contained code books for secure communication.
One of the crypto men on duty received prior authorization to give Grant and Adler access to the scrambler room. He pressed a button that unlocked the door, allowing the two to enter a room they used in the past. The scrambler room. The size of a walk-in closet. A secure room inside the crypto room.
Grant pushed back his sweater sleeve, checking the time, then he dialed the number. "C'mon, Scott. Pick up!"
"Keep your shorts on," Adler laughed, sliding a metal chair closer. He straddled it backwards.
"Mullins."
"Scott, it's Grant."
"I've got my pad and pen ready!"
"Don't think you'll need them, buddy. Only need two pieces of equipment: chopper and inflatable boat."
"Jesus, Grant!" Mullins blurted out, as he dropped the pen on the desk, then flopped back against his chair.
"We just found out the location of Pankova and that's the only way we can pull this off. We're gonna be pushin' the outside of the envelope on this one, Scott."
"I have a feeling you want the two items asap?"
"If not sooner. I don't need to tell you, this op was classified as top secret. So, the chopper crew … "
"I'll handle it. Now, tell me how long you're gonna be … Wait! Where are you?"
"The U.S. Embassy. Listen, we've been at Schonefeld long enough. We need to exit soon, so if you can get the items, direct them to Tegel. There should be fewer questions with a chopper landing at the military terminal. Guess it'll be easier if you get us prior authorization for the Gulfstream to land." The brief silence told Grant that Mullins was worried, for more than one reason.
"Tegel, huh? You'll barely get off the ground when it'll be time to land again."
"I know, but we've got too damn much gear to haul in cars, and it wouldn't be the best decision to leave the plane here."
"Should I call you at the embassy?"
"No. I'll call you from Schonefeld terminal, let's say at 1000 my time. You can do it, Scott. I've got faith in you."
"Talk at ya later, buddy." End of call.
One quarter mile east of the Brandenburg Gate, at Unter den Linden 63–65 (Under the Lime-Trees), stood the Embassy of the Soviet Union. The façade was ashlar stone, a finely cut/worked masonry, used as an alternative to brick or other materials.
First Chief Directorate Vladimir Borskaya waited by his office window, anticipating a phone call, confirming the exchange was a success. His specific orders were to call Moscow before the plane even departed Schonefeld.
He diverted his dark eyes to a wall clock above the credenza. Three hours difference between Berlin and Moscow,he thought. Pounding a fist into his palm, he angrily turned from the window, and went to his desk. As he reached for the phone, he paused, and read the words on a small wooden plaque standing near the phone: Loyalty to the Party — Loyalty to the Motherland. "Always," he quietly said.