A knock at his door made him turn. "Come!"
The four men he was expecting entered, one behind the the other, with Minister of Internal Security Vasily Sokoloff in the lead. Standing in front of plain wooden chairs lined up opposite the desk, each man gave a quick nod to the Premier.
Gorshevsky unbuttoned his dark brown suit jacket, then sat in his leather chair, rolling it closer to the desk. He motioned toward the men. "Sit." They complied.
He swiveled his chair, setting his dark, brooding eyes on Komarov. "I want to hear what you have to say, Comrade General. Can you explain how you let Comrade Dotsenko slip through your fingers?!"
Determined not to be held totally responsible, Komarov answered, "Sir, seven heavily armed individuals ambushed us along a dark stretch of Konigstrasse. They wore … "
"I did not ask you what they were wearing! I want to know how they managed to take Dotsenko?!"
Komarov shifted in his chair. "As I said, sir, they ambushed us, took our weapons, and they shot Sergeant Baskov."
"Who?"
"Our driver. Sergeant Baskov."
"Why just Baskov?"
"Comrade Baskov was trying to get away, when he was shot. He was dumped in the Mercedes." Before Gorshevsky could ask, Komarov added, "He is still in hospital in East Berlin, sir."
"With that much firepower, General, why do you suppose they did not kill all of you?"
Komarov hesitated. "I have no answer, sir."
Gorshevsky's eyes narrowed as he continued glaring at Komarov. "Do you have any idea who the assailants were?"
"I can only tell you they spoke Russian, carried Makarovs and AK-47s, sir."
Gorshevsky rocked back and forth in his chair before turning his attention to General Borskaya. "And what of our agents in Berlin, General? They have not been successful in finding either Dotsenko or Reznikov, have they?"
Borskaya opened a folder on his lap, and removed a paper. He glanced at it before handing it across the desk. "The agents identified Reznikov driving past the embassy just before the explosions."
Gorshevsky quickly perused the paper. "This does not answer my question! They have not found him, have they?!"
"No, Comrade. There was no trace of him or his men, no trail to follow. I made a decision and gave the agents orders to first look for Comrade Dotsenko. But after the embassy was destroyed, I had them looking for Reznikov."
"Did you give any thought to contacting Director Antolov?"
"I did, sir. But I wanted to have more definitive information."
Gorshevsky's grey eyebrows knitted together, as his hand crumbled the white paper. "If memory serves me correctly, Comrade, the embassy was destroyed well after Reznikov escaped. So, while you had your agents searching for Dotsenko, Reznikov was planning his attacks!" Borskaya's shoulders went slack. "You and General Komarov wait in the outer office!" Borskaya and Komarov stood, saluted, then immediately left.
"See to it, Vasily, that those two are transferred someplace not too comfortable."
"I will take care of it, sir."
The Premier turned his attention to KGB Director Antolov. "Has there been a final count of those killed at the embassy?"
The silver-haired Antolov handed Gorshevsky a piece of paper, listing names and titles in two separate columns. "Fifteen have been positively identified. Four were taken to hospital. As you can see, most of those killed were regular staff, including Ambassador Sidorov. All the bodies have yet to be identified."
"Did you lose any men, Mikhail?"
Antolov took a breath. "Two identified so far."
"And the agents who saw Reznikov, have they reported anything further?"
"Not yet. My staff is trying to locate them. I will advise you as soon as I have word."
Gorshevsky set his eyes on Minister Vasily Sokoloff. "And you! What can you tell me about Drazowe? How the hell did that happen?!"
Sokoloff cleared his throat, and adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. "There is only one reasonable explanation, sir. The woman who was taken had to be spying for the Americans. They used their satellites to pinpoint the base, then they sent in a team of men to rescue her."
"And our radar did not detect a helicopter entering or leaving our airspace?"
"Apparently it flew across the French Sector."
"The Americans," Gorshevsky remarked, disgustedly. He diverted his eyes to Antolov. "Anything to add, Mikhail? Is anything being done in Drazowe?"
"I have sent a couple of agents to investigate. But I do not know how much more they will learn. The incident happened so quickly. And with Comrade Oleniv dead, we may never know about the woman, how long she was spying, or how much she may have revealed." Antolov sat up straighter. "You were aware that she and Oleniv were involved. She had been with him since his station in Tbilisi." He immediately added, "We re-examined her dossier. It will also take time, but it appears she was a deep cover operative for the CIA."
Gorshevsky grumbled, "Perhaps those who attacked that base did us a favor in killing him."
Antolov and Sokoloff exchanged quick glances, then Antolov continued. "The investigation will continue, sir." He decided to present his theory. "Sir, I think we must consider the possibility that the men who took the woman also were responsible for kidnapping Comrade Dotsenko."
The Premier swung his chair around, poured himself another shot of vodka, and guzzled it down. Knowing Gorshevsky's love of the liquid, Antolov and Sokoloff were troubled. Lately he'd been sipping a lot more — and more often. The Afghan situation was weighing heavily, and now Berlin.
Gorshevsky slowly stood, shoved his gnarled hands into his pants pockets, then finally turned around. "And even if that is the case, do you honestly believe we will find those two?! They are probably out of the country by now!"
"I realize that. But we must continue searching for them. Do you have any intention of phoning the American President?"
"For what purpose, Mikhail? Do you think I will get honest answers? Remember the last time? He made fools of us!"
"I remember. But if you have a conversation with him, perhaps … "
Gorshevsky cut him off. "And what about you, Vasily? Should I call the President?"
"Sir, while we have our suspicions, we do not have final proof. You still want Comrade Dotsenko, and I am sure the President wants Reznikov. Perhaps if you speak with him, the two of you can work together in finding the attackers, or at least work out some kind of deal."
A rapping at the door made the three men turn. "What is it?!" Gorshevsky shouted in annoyance.
"Comrade Gorshevsky! There is a call for Comrade Antolov!" a voice on the other side of the door responded.
Antolov stood. "Is it all right if I answer that? It may be Berlin." Gorshevsky flicked his hand, motioning Antolov to leave.
Several minutes later, the barrel-chested Antolov came into the office. Gorshevsky immediately asked, "Who was it?"
Antolov sat down, then looked at his handwritten note. "Agent Kalinin was phoning from our intel center. He and Agent Zykov managed to rescue some records from the embassy. They were reviewing files on Reznikov and his two men."
Gorshevsky pounded his fist on the desk. "What have they found on Comrade Dotsenko?! Does anyone have any idea on how important that man is?!"
Antolov had no choice but to make a suggestion. "Sir, the two men in Berlin cannot work two missions. I can send more agents to assist."
"Yes. Go ahead." But as Antolov stood to leave, Gorshevsky ordered, "Listen to me, Mikhail. When Reznikov is found, he and his men will be returned to Moscow. I want them dealt with immediately upon their return! Is that clear?!" Antolov nodded. "And when it is done, I never want to hear that name again!" He took a couple of deep breaths, before turning toward the credenza. "You two plan on going with me to Berlin."