Parked midway between both complexes, Reznikov waited in his vehicle, ready to start the engine. Botkin and Orlov were in position, each man set, and waiting. Their targets were in the open, giving them an unobstructed view. Their paths for retreating — memorized.
Reznikov looked at his watch, beginning to count down the last minute. Two RPGs fired simultaneously, launching two H.E. grenades (high explosive). One hit the Border Command Center's armory, the other the Rifle Brigade armory. Both were perfect hits.
The two attacks left eleven soldiers dead at the Command Center, six at the brigade.
Heavy cloud coverage prevented ray's from the morning sun from breaking through. Winds picked up, the temperature dropped to fifty degrees.
Garrett and Draper sat on the Gulfstream's stairs, both men looking through binoculars, searching for a break in the clouds, searching for the Sea Knight.
"I hate this waiting, Rob," Garrett said. "I'd rather be out there with them."
"Yeah. Me, too," Draper answered, refocusing the glasses, looking along the roofline of the terminal. "You think they'll take a chance and come back across the Soviet Zone?"
"Guess it depends on how much of a hurry they're in."
"As in injuries," Draper stated.
Ten more minutes passed without any sign of the chopper. Garrett finally got up and started a visual inspection of the Gulfstream, trying to keep his mind occupied. There wasn't any sense in looking at his watch.
"There it is!" Draper shouted, pointing west. "Guess they took the long way 'round!"
They kept their eyes on the chopper, following it until its wheels settled on concrete. They weren't about to wait for the rotors to shutdown. Hurrying toward the tail end, they heard the whining motor lowering the ramp.
Crew Chief Brenner stood to the side as A.T. carried the boat down the ramp. Each man acknowledged Garrett and Draper.
Grant and Adler hung back, standing near Pankova. "Be right there," Grant said, looking towards the two men.
Stalley stood on the ramp. "I think the boss wants to call Scott asap to find out what we do next. We've gotta protect Miss Pankova until she's no longer our responsibility." He boarded. The rest of the Team took defensive positions near the chopper.
Grant and Adler walked down the ramp, joining Garrett and Draper. "C'mon," Grant said, slapping Garrett's shoulder. "Walk to Operations with us. We've gotta report to Scott."
"Guess you'll give us the details once we're in the air," Garrett said.
"It might be best, Matt," Grant responded opening the door, "but a lot has to do with what Scott has to say."
"Tell ya what. We'll wait in the plane."
After getting authorization from the OOD (Officer of the Day) to use a scrambler in the secure room, Grant dialed Mullins' office.
"Grant?"
"Hey, Scott!"
"I seem to detect good news in your voice. You found her, didn't you?"
"Without going into details, yeah, we did. She's quite a woman."
"Where is she?"
"The Team's guarding her on the chopper. But what I need to know is what happens now? Has a decision been made how she gets back to the States? Is Dotsenko still at the embassy?"
"He is, but first I've gotta report up the 'chain' and tell them she's safe at Tegel."
"Maybe mention that her cover was 'blown' and she went through some rough interrogation. That should get somebody's attention."
"Jesus! How'd the Russians find out?"
"Scott, can you get my questions answered first? We really have to … "
"No need to say anymore." Mullins scooted forward on his chair. "Stay on the line, 'cause this might take awhile."
Grant leaned back against the desk, tapping the receiver against his palm. "Dotsenko's still at the embassy."
Adler arched an eyebrow. "Why the hell didn't they fly him out?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, Joe." He glanced at his submariner. "Do me a favor. Check with the chopper crew and see if they've reported in to anybody. And maybe we should transfer Pankova to the Gulfstream. It might be more comfortable for everyone. The guys can take shifts watching her."
Adler stood and readjusted his holster. "Maybe some drinks and food would help, too!"
"I'm sure they would," Grant answered, not surprised by the suggestion.
After all the hours spent with the Team on the op, Grant was finally alone, having time to think, to sort out details, maybe answer his own questions. But a question answered brought another unanswered. In his mind, the whole op to rescue both Dotsenko and Pankova began to reek. Why the fuck did the U.S. give up such a valuable commodity? That still bothered him.
He started pacing. An all too familiar feeling rushed through him, when he suddenly brought himself to a standstill. "Christ!" What if the CIA wanted Dotsenko back in Russia, where he'd be more valuable instead of running a goddamn phony spy ring in D.C.? What if Dotsenko was a willing participant, just to save Pankova? Was the Team's taking him to the embassy part of the plan? But then what? What was supposed to happen next?
Rubbing both temples vigorously, he almost didn't want to believe the whole fucking idea flashing through his mind. All the years he'd been involved with CIA one way or other, the Agency had been like a burr stuck in his ass. Was he just reaching here? Was he intentionally trying to pin something on the 'Cowboys'? Was …?
"Grant! Where the hell are you?!"
Grant snatched the receiver off the desk. "Sorry, Scott!" He turned, hearing the buzz, indicating the secure door unlocked. Adler came in carrying two paper cups with hot coffee. He handed one to Grant, then put a paper bag on the desk, with roast beef sandwiches inside.
Grant resumed his conversation with Mullins. "Scott, Joe just came in. I'll put you on speaker. Okay. Now before I run something by both of you, tell us the rest of this mission. It might be the deciding factor whether or not my theory is total bullshit."
Adler sat on the edge of the desk, blowing breath into his coffee. All the years he and Grant had known each another, there wasn't much that surprised him. So, he'd just wait for the details.
"Should I be worried?" Mullins asked.
"Probably."
"Shit!" Exhaling a long breath before continuing, Mullins began. "Here are the details: The two 'assets' will not — I repeat — will not be transferred together. SecDef has ordered a 'Prowler' from the Enterprise to Tegel. It'll be her escort back to Andrews." The AE-6B Prowler was a four-seater aircraft, derived from the two seater A-6 Intruder. The Prowler's main function was the jamming of radar and communication.
"I assume we're to wait until it arrives?"
"Affirmative. It's already in the air. Expected ETA is 0900 your time." Grant put the paper cup on the desk, and glanced at his watch, hearing Mullins say, "There's not to be any delay in getting that plane back in the air, Grant. Mid-air refueling's been authorized."
"We'll see that it happens."
"One more thing. I mentioned the interrogation she went through. A corpsman will be on the Prowler, just as a precaution in case she has any issues during flight."
"Good thinking, Scott. Now, I have a feeling there's gonna be more for getting Dotsenko out. Whether I reveal my bullshit idea hinges on what you have to say."
"There is, Grant, but I … uh, haven't been entrusted with that information."
"What the fuck are you talking about?!"
"Hey! Just cool it, goddammit! You know I'm not always made privy to details."
Grant's head started pounding. "What then?! What am I supposed to do?!"
Adler was about to take a drink, when his hand stopped in mid air. "Uh-oh."