He drew his hand away from the phone, hearing a sudden, heavy rapping on the office door. "Yes?!"
Sergeant Yozhin rushed in. "Comrade Borskaya! Our intel people have intercepted a message being broadcast by the East German police!"
"Well?! Out with it!"
"They were reporting a shooting, and the destruction of a motor vehicle, sir!"
At first Borskaya wasn't concerned. Incidents like this happened often, when East Germans tried to escape to the West. "What else?"
"No specifics were given, except two men were killed, two injured."
"What was this vehicle?"
Yozhin reread the message. "A van, sir."
Borskaya felt some relief. His men were driving a Mercedes. But another sudden thought crossed his mind. He rested his fists on his desk, leaning toward the young sergeant. "Who were those men?!"
"No names or nationalities were mentioned, sir. Only the Friedrichshain Municipal Hospital in East Berlin was identified."
"Have you not heard anything from General Komarov?"
"No, sir."
Borskaya slowly straightened up, as he began to think about the exchange, and the Americans who exchanged Dotsenko for Reznikov. Could it have been their van? "Where did this happen?"
"We looked at a map of that area, sir. It appeared they were heading east. It was near Kleinmachow."
The name sounded familiar to Borskaya. He turned and went to a wall map, showing all sectors of Berlin. Leaning closer to where the exchange took place, he slid his finger along a road heading east. "Checkpoint Bravo," he said, stabbing a finger against the spot. Only four men, driving a van, transported to hospital. They were possibly the Americans — which meant Reznikov got away. But did that incident have anything to do with Komarov not reporting in?
Pointing directly at Yozhin, he ordered, "Contact East German police headquarters — immediately! Get as much information from them. By my orders you are to send our agents to that hospital, to Schonefeld Airport, to Glienicke, anywhere along the route Comrade Komarov might have driven! Do you understand?!"
"Yes, sir!" Yozhin didn't wait to be excused. He saluted, then quickly left.
Borskaya blew out a long breath, as he silently reviewed the little information he had. Placing his hand on the phone, he hesitated, then decided to wait before he called KGB Director Antolov in Moscow. Glancing again at the clock, he turned and went back to the window. Daylight was nearly four hours away. He'd have to give the intel staff and his agents time to investigate. They should have something for me soon, he thought.
Chapter 5
Unlike the usual hustle and bustle of the White House on any given day, tonight's silence seemed almost palpable. President Andrew Carr stood behind his desk, wearing dark gray sweats, staring down at the scrambler phone, waiting for it to ring, expecting to talk with Premier Nikolai Gorshevsky.
Sitting on couches across from one another were Vice President Evan Forbes and National Security Advisor Stan Hillman. Everyone awaited the arrival of CIA Director Bancroft, NSA General Prescott, and SecDef Daniels.
The CIA still hadn't come up with any reasonable explanation as to how Reznikov escaped, leaving more questions than answers.
Because the van and its passengers never reached Tempelhof on schedule, and because the agents never reported in, CIA in Berlin started searching. What they found was worse than they imagined. The charred, shattered remains of a van, bullet casings, blood splatters, pools of blood.
Questioning the East German police was all but useless, except learning only four men were found at the scene and the name of the hospital where those men were transported. Special Agents Carl Traimore and Blake Torres were in intensive care, both with burns and gunshot wounds. The bodies of Special Agents Steve Leamon and Marty Fitzgerald were in the morgue. The whereabouts of Ivan Reznikov remained unknown.
Forbes leaned back, watching the President, and finally asked, "Do you think Gorshevsky will be cooperative?"
Carr pushed up the sleeves of his sweatshirt. "Hard to say, Evan, but I have my doubts he'll want to offer assistance. He could probably care less whether or not we have Reznikov. All he wanted was Dotsenko."
Hillman stood, stretching his back. "Think I'll go down to the Watch Room, see if anything's come in yet about Dotsenko." He glanced at his watch. "They should've reached the embassy by now." He left.
Forbes leaned back, linking his fingers behind his head. "What about Stevens and his men? Are you thinking about pulling them out, and ending the mission?"
"It's imperative they bring out Dotsenko and Pankova, especially now. But I'd like everyone's feedback before deciding." Carr tapped a fist on top of the phone, willing it to ring.
Forbes reached for a black, insulated carafe and refilled his coffee cup. "Any decision on Reznikov? I mean, if you keep the Team over there, will you have them search for him, too?"
Carr slowly shook his head. "Don't know. They've got a helluva lot on their 'plate' already. Think I'd better wait until Grant calls, or until CIA and NSA give us updates."
Hillman came rushing back into the office. "They were just bringing this message to you, Mr. President. Dotsenko is safe at the embassy!"
Carr read the message, saying softly, "Thank God." He focused again on Hillman. "Stan, any word if Captain Stevens was still there or whether he left for Schonefeld?"
"Nothing was reported."
"Do me a favor. Contact the embassy. Have the station chief call me on the scrambler." Hillman nodded then immediately left.
"What are you thinking?" Forbes asked.
"Maybe he knows something about that 'hit' since it was about the same timeframe the Team was to have snatched Dotsenko. If Grant is still there, maybe he can add … "
A knock at the Oval Office door, and Carr responded, "Yes?!"
"Mr. President," Director Bancroft said entering, with General Prescott, and SecDef Daniels right on his heels.
Carr walked toward Bancroft, offering a hand. "Hank, sorry about the loss of your agents."
"Thank you, sir."
"Have you heard anything further on the men in the hospital?"
"Still critical."
Carr put a hand on Bancroft's back. "Come on; have a seat."
Handshakes went around, then Carr sat on the edge of his desk and got the meeting started. "Anything on Reznikov?"
"Still nothing," Bancroft answered. "Whoever helped him escape has been quiet. But we've been monitoring East Berlin. They're more frantic about Dotsenko, and not knowing what happened to him. Our last intercept indicated the Russians who were in charge of the exchange have all but vanished. The embassy has sent agents on the 'hunt.'"
Carr stood, as a slight smile crossed his face. "Two to one the Alpha Tango 'boys' had a hand in that."
NS Advisor Hillman returned, acknowledging the three men with a nod. As he walked toward the President, he pointed at the scrambler. "A call should be coming in any … "
Carr pressed the yellow blinking button, then picked up the receiver. "This is Andrew Carr."
"Mr. President, Sam Nichols, Station Chief in Berlin."
"Sam, let me first send my condolences for the loss of your men."
"Thank you, Mr. President. They were good people."
"I'm sure they were. And your men in the hospital?"
"Still critical. As soon as there's any sign of improvement, and they can be moved, we'll have them flown to Landstuhl." The U.S. Army’s Landstuhl Regional Medical Hospital was located southwest of Berlin, approximately one hour flight time.
"Director Bancroft will keep me informed of their condition, Sam."