Noises toward the front of the building gave them some hope, until the voices they heard were German, probably the bomb squad and firemen.
Kalinin motioned to Zykov, pointing back toward the stairs. "Hurry! We must check the basement and files," he whispered.
Climbing over chunks of collapsed ceiling and walls, they cautiously worked their way to file cabinets. Most had damage, except for ones closer to the stairwell.
The voices seemed to be coming closer. Kalinin rushed to one of the cabinets. Even after unlocking it, he had to brace a foot against it, and pull until the drawer finally gave way. He grabbed three files, then glanced overhead, following the sound of voices with his eyes. He shoved the drawer in, but was unable to lock it. "Come on, Oleg." The two clambered over debris, hurrying to get outside.
By the time they reached the car, Kalinin had already made a decision. "Oleg, take these files then drive to intel."
"Where are you going?!"
"I will talk more with the police and maybe the bomb squad and get as much information as possible. Moscow will want specifics. As soon as you get to intel, call Comrade Borskaya's residence."
Zykov dug his keys from his pocket. "You do not think he is there, do you?"
"We must check. We will need help, Oleg, because someone must guard all the sensitive materials inside the embassy. Put that question to him. Then make sure intel has finished with that transmission from Drazowe." As Zykov opened the door, Kalinin stopped him. "See if there's another vehicle. We cannot drive this in its condition."
Once the Volga was out of sight, Kalinin blew out a long breath. His head pounded. Pressing fingers against his eyes didn't help the pain. "Move it, Kalinin," he grumbled, before starting to jog to the opposite end of the road. Traffic was backed up in every direction. Curiosity seekers rushed past him. Sirens from two more ambulances grew louder. The crowd separated, watching the approaching vehicles.
He spotted a phone booth at the next corner, then he started running, as he dug coins from his pants pocket. Sorting through the change, he pulled out enough pfennings, dropped the correct change into the slot, then dialed the number he'd memorized. (100 pfennings equaled one Mark.)
Less than two minutes later, he came out of the phone booth. It was time to head to intel, but he decided to look for embassy employees who may have made it out of the destruction. But as he wove his way in and out of the crowd of onlookers, all he saw were unfamiliar faces. Shaking his head in disbelief, he picked up his gait. Ten minutes later he was at Kronenstrasse.
No sooner had he opened the office door, when Zykov came rushing up to him. "Nicolai! Comrade Borskaya is all right!"
Kalinin's eyes searched around the room. "Where is he?!"
"Premier Gorshevsky ordered him and Comrade General Komarov to Moscow! They left for Schonefeld ten minutes ago."
"What about the ambassador, Oleg?! Has he reported in or been seen?!"
"No. It does not look good for him or his staff."
"Dammit!"
"Did you find out anything from the police?"
Kalinin closed the door then walked farther away from the intel staff. "No. Rescue vehicles were still arriving, but no one had come out of the building. I searched through the crowd, hoping to see a familiar face, but never saw anyone." He leaned a shoulder against a wall. "Can I assume you informed Borskaya about my recognizing Reznikov leaving the scene?"
"I did. I have never seen him so angry."
"Who will guard the embassy?"
"He called in two of our counterparts working at Stasi headquarters. They should arrive in an hour or so."
"Did he leave any instructions for us?"
"Find Reznikov."
"No mention of Dotsenko?!"
"Not a word."
Kalinin pictured the scene that would take place in Moscow. "I would not want to be either one of those men, Oleg, having to answer to the premier."
Zykov nodded in agreement, then said, "The transcription from Drazowe is on the desk over there."
"Did you read it?" Kalinin asked as they pulled two chairs closer.
"Not completely."
Kalinin got Boris Yellen's attention and motioned him over.
"Yes, Comrade Kalinin?"
"Do you remember any transmissions that could relate to the bombing?"
"Not offhand. Anything picked up with key words relating to 'bombs' is brought to my attention immediately. But I will check." He immediately went to each man, with the same question. Then sat at his desk, reviewing the book ledger.
Earlier that morning, dressed in a cheap black suit, and carrying an old satchel-type, brown briefcase, Pavel Orlov approached the Soviet guard standing by the arched entryway near the sidewalk. He presented his Russian identification papers, then more than willingly opened his briefcase for inspection. Papers, folders, pens, pencils, scissors, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. The guard reexamined the papers, then passed him through.
Once inside, he walked up to the second floor, politely nodded to employees that passed, then he turned down another short hallway, finding a door marked "Storage." Confirming he was alone, he hurried inside.
What he did next was exactly the same as he did the last visits, and he kept the preparation time to under three minutes. He opened the briefcase, removed a thin piece of chipboard that concealed a false bottom. Hidden were small blocks of C-4, sticks of dynamite, two short wraps of det cord, two small timers, electrical tape.
He completed the IEDs in his time allotted, hid one behind bottles and large cans of cleaning fluid, then stashed the second in the briefcase. Once he was in the hallway, he went down to the first floor, following signs pointing to the men's room, located at the opposite side of the main entryway.
Voices inside made him pause, but he had to complete the task. Two men were washing their hands. He nodded to them, put down the briefcase, then turned on a faucet. A minute later he was alone. He immediately planted the second device in the bottom of a metal trash can, then threw a mound of dry toilet paper on top.
He stopped briefly near the door, exhaled a long breath, then he left. There wasn't any need to examine the three devices previously installed at opposite ends of the building. Without stopping, he walked out the front door, past the guard, then headed to the next street, where Reznikov and Botkin were waiting in the vehicle, prepared to drive to their next two targets.
Located ten miles southeast of Berlin center, at Berlin-Karlshorst, was the headquarters for the East German Border Command Center. The command was charged with manning the crossing points into West Berlin and guarding the entire border perimeter.
Five minutes from the Command Center was the 6th Independent Motorized Rifle Brigade. In April, 1945, the Red Army's commander of the 1st Belorussian Front established his headquarters at the former Wehrmact mess hall in Karlshorst. It was here, on May 7, 1945, that Germany unconditionally surrendered.
Surprisingly, neither the rifle brigade compound nor the command center had an over abundance of security. Several guards, carrying AK47s, patrolled the grounds. The East German populous feared the Stasi (East German State Security), and that normally prevented any form of attacks against military or government. The organization was tasked with spying on the population, mainly through a vast network of citizens turned informants. No one could be trusted. The Stasi was one of the most effective and repressive intelligence and secret police agencies in existence. But for most civilians, if they were going to risk their lives, it would be attempting an escape to the West.