"Sir," Antolov said surprised, "go to Berlin now? Is that wise? The danger still may not be over."
Gorshevsky began pouring another shot of vodka. "I must show my respect for Ambassador Sidorov, and I want to see the destruction for myself." He thought briefly about his decision, and decided it was politically correct. "Notify the East Germans that we will take our dead comrades back to Moscow. See that the coffins are covered with our flag. Upon our return, I want newspaper and television coverage at Domodedovo."
Minister Sokoloff asked, "When do you wish to leave for Berlin?"
"As soon as those preparations are completed. Now, both of you — go."
Chapter 12
The temperature dropped to 48 degrees as winds shifted and started blowing from north northeast at seven knots. Traffic continued at a steady pace, passing in front of the Berlin Wall, totally blocking access to the Brandenburg Gate. Built in an arc shape, the Wall curved outward, away from the structure.
Wearing jeans, white T-shirt, black windbreaker, and black baseball cap, Grant walked further off the main road. Street lights barely penetrated a stand of trees, but he was able to see a cement park bench centered in between them. Sitting on the bench would leave him too exposed, so he slowly walked to the nearest tree, and backed up against it. Old habits,he quipped to himself.
A sudden gust of wind nearly took his cap. He screwed it down until his brown eyes barely showed beneath the brim, then he continued perusing the area. But his mind went back to his conversation with the President. With Dotsenko safe again, he and Team A.T. would remain in Berlin, continuing the hunt for Reznikov. Operation Gold Eagle would proceed with the mission.
As he watched traffic passing by, he couldn't help but question the upcoming meeting. What the hell was bringing him and Kalinin together again? An eerie feeling ran through him, if only for a brief second or two. He never had the DNA test Adler and Carr suggested. After a time, it no longer seemed to matter, as he put aside the question whether he and the Russian could be related. Maybe one day he'd ask Kalinin if he ever had the same thought. Not a good idea, Stevens. A noise behind him made him automatically reach for his holstered weapon.
"Been waiting long?" Kalinin stepped from behind the tree.
"Nick! It's good to see you!"
"You, too, Grant!" The two slapped hands together, their grips firm.
Grant leaned closer to the Russian, noticing a butterfly closure near the eyebrow. "The last time I saw you, you were pretty beat up. What the hell happened this time?!"
"That's one of the reasons I asked you to meet me." Hearing voices behind him, Kalinin glanced over his shoulder. "Maybe we'd better go for a walk." He motioned toward the darker, inner Tiergarten.
Voices and traffic sounds began to fade in the background, as they walked at a steady pace along one of many winding paths in Tiergarten, while keeping their keen senses on full alert.
Grant gave Kalinin's shoulder a light punch. "First tell me what the hell you're doing here? And in West Berlin?"
Kalinin lifted the bottom edge of his black leather jacket. Grant stopped short, spotting the badge attached to the Russian's belt. "Are you shittin' me?! KGB?!"
"They'll take anybody these days!"
It began coming together for Grant — the phone call, this meeting. "But how did you know I was here, in Berlin?" he asked with obvious suspicion in his voice.
"I was ordered to find a certain person after he and his party never showed at Schonefeld. My investigation revealed that seven men ambushed them. Naturally, I thought of you and your Team," he said, spreading his hands in front of him. "So, I took a chance and left the message at the embassy."
Grant just shook his head. "And you 'tagged' me for pulling that off?!"
"Didn't you?" the Russian asked with a raised eyebrow.
Grant shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "You know I can't answer that."
"Look, we both know I'm talking about Dotsenko. Are you telling me you don't know where he is?"
"Can't answer that either." Grant had to hold back. Even though Kalinin had pretty much figured it out, the mission was still classified.
Kalinin stopped, reached behind him, and removed two folders tucked in his waistband. "Before I forget. Here."
Grant held the folders close, trying to see the printing in the dark. "Holy shit, Nick! Why the hell did you take these?!"
"Call it a whim. Dossiers are a dime a dozen with KGB," he answered, with his face breaking into a grin.
"So, now you've got the 'poop' on Joe and me! Find it interesting?" Grant smirked.
"Absolutely! But some day I'd like to know more, like the personal side."
"We'll see. Do you want these back?"
"Don't worry about it. Most of the files and cabinets sustained damage. I don't think they'll be missed. Besides, the originals are still in Moscow."
"If you say so," Grant responded, shoving the folders into his back waistband, then pulling his jacket over them. He stopped. "Hold it! You weren't inside when the explosions … "
"No. My partner and I had just driven past when the bombs went off."
"Jesus, Nick!"
"Yeah. Tell me about."
Grant added, "I don't know about you, but we suspected Reznikov pulled off all those bombings … no, we're positive, even though we don't have downright proof."
"Well, you can stop wondering. It was."
"How the hell …?"
"I saw him, Grant. I recognized that fuck driving away. We were about to take chase, when it happened."
For the next fifteen minutes, Kalinin told Grant about the embassy bombing, his inability to track Reznikov, his 'hunt' for Dotsenko.
"Let's sit," Kalinin said, as they approached a park bench. He drew out three pieces of paper from his jacket, and handed them to Grant. "Those are all I had time to copy. They're part of the files on Reznikov and his two men. We've been over them countless times, trying to find a connection, how they got together. More importantly, we can't find out who's financing them, or who their handler is. I thought for sure we'd find something in there," he commented, pointing to the papers.
"Is it okay if I hang onto these?"
"Sure. Maybe you can find something we couldn't."
As Grant folded the papers and tucked them in his pocket, his concern started to increase. "Listen, Nick, do you think you're getting in too deep here, I mean, these papers, with me?"
"We need each other on this one, Grant. Whatever we find out is only going to help resolve the shit. I know you're just as concerned as me that Reznikov is going to attack again … and soon."
"Just said that to someone today."
Kalinin hesitated briefly. "Don't think you've heard yet, but Premier Gorshevsky is planning on making a trip here to inspect what's left of the embassy."
"Shit. Bad time."
"Yeah, I know. And he's bringing Director Antolov and Minister Sokoloff. I'm hoping Antolov can change the Premier's mind."
"It hasn't been officially announced, has it?"
Kalinin shook his head. "Not yet. I've also been advised that a couple more agents will arrive with the director."
"Jesus! Are you sure you wanna work with me?"
"Da!" Kalinin answered, with a thumb's up. "Listen, Grant, I owe you and Joe big time for helping me in D.C."
"You don't owe us anything. Besides, you sorta saved my ass, if you remember. And if you're gonna help, you do it because you think it's the right thing to do. Got that?"
The two men sat quietly, thinking about what each of them expected from the other, thinking about what each was about to do. But it all boiled down to holding accountable those who lied, committed murder — no matter how far up the chain of command it went, whether in Moscow or D.C.