He came to a standstill and checked his watch, figuring Zykov should have finished taking the information. He jogged through the parking lot, seeing his partner standing by the Volga.
Both men leaned back against the car. Zykov stared at the recorder in the palm of his hand, hearing evidence in his mind he never would have imagined or expected. "What now, Nicolai?! What the hell do we do?!"
Kalinin took the recorder and slipped it into his jacket pocket. For now, the two recordings would be known only to him, with his being the more important one, recording all his questions, and intimidation tactics.
"Oleg, you must guard Baskov, while I return to intel. I must confirm the Premier's flight, then contact the East German police and have them send men here. You will be in charge of them and Baskov." He unlocked the trunk. "Here. Maybe you had better take these." He flipped a set of handcuffs to Zykov. "Secure him to the bed."
Kalinin needed to buy extra time. "While I am at intel, I had better check on any recent transmissions they may have picked up that could have to do with this. Baskov could always say we coerced him into that confession. It might take me awhile." The look on his partner's face gave away his immense concern for what the two of them were up against. He laid a hand on Zykov's shoulder. "Oleg, listen to me. It will be all right. We were doing our job, following all procedures as we were instructed. We will present our evidence, then it is up to Comrade Antolov to take the lead. Do you understand?"
"Yes, you are right."
"Time to get back to work."
In less than five minutes Kalinin was at the intel building. The Russian plane was not due until early afternoon the following day. He had to make a decision: either contact Antolov from intel or wait until he arrived in East Berlin. He would wait. His own phone call could be recorded by intel.
As he left intel and walked to the car, his next concern was planning the capture of Reznikov. He wanted to work with Grant and his Team, but if Antolov ever found out, how would he explain his involvement? "Shit!"
Grant pushed away his empty plate, wiped clean of the grilled trout, potatoes, and red cabbage. He took off his aviator sunglasses, cleaned them with a napkin, then put them on, pushing them back on the bridge of his nose. His attention returned to Adler, watching him savor his meal as if it were the last thing he'd ever eat.
The last bite of sausage, some mashed potatoes and sauerkraut were shoveled onto his fork. He twirled the fork slowly in front of his face, quietly sighed, then devoured the final mouthful.
Grant stifled a laugh. "Are you finished?"
"Never! What's for dessert? Hand me that menu." Speaking to the waitress in German, Adler ordered two coffees, and an apple strudel. When the waitress left, he rested his arms on the table, and said quietly, "It'll be interesting to hear what Nick has to say."
Grant rocked back in the chair, trying to get a clearer view down the street. "I'm worried, Joe. This might be our last shot at finding that sonofabitch Reznikov."
They both went quiet as the waitress brought their order, and Adler asked for the bill. As he cut into the strudel, he glanced at Grant. "Don't tell me you're not worried about Nick."
Grant sipped on the strong black coffee. "Can't imagine him having to face the director when the time comes."
"Yeah, but you're gonna be in the same boat when we get back to the States." He held up a hand. "I know. You've been there, done that, but still … "
Just then Grant spotted Kalinin walking toward the cafe. Kalinin signaled to follow him. Grant nodded. "There he is, Joe." He glanced at the bill, took Marks from his wallet, and dropped them on top of the bill. He pointed to the strudel. "Take that with you. C'mon." Adler scooped up the pastry, and followed him out the door.
After two blocks, Kalinin turned down a side street. The Volga was parked in the third space. As he unlocked it, he spotted Grant and Joe turning the corner. Without acknowledging them, he got in the driver's side.
The Americans walked past the car, then after doing a quick scan of the area, they doubled back, and immediately got in the Volga.
"Nick, you okay?" Grant asked, detecting an unfamiliar expression on Kalinin's face. Worried? Pissed?
Without responding to the question, Kalinin opened his hand, revealing the mini-recorder. "Baskov's full confession."
Adler leaned toward the front seats. "Jesus! Itwashim?!"
"Yeah, Joe. Here. Listen." He pressed the 'play' button.
After fifteen minutes, the recording automatically shut off. Fifteen minutes of hearing Kalinin's questions, and Baskov's voice shaking as he answered. Reasons for committing the attacks at times seemed preposterous, and the person who headed it all, even more so — Premier Gorshevsky.
Lowly Sergeant Baskov fell under Gorshevsky's control when the Premier discovered Baskov had a brother. He'd been convicted of drug possession and was sentenced to twenty years in a Siberian gulag. Baskov could either help with Gorshevsky's plan and have that sentence reduced, or never see his brother again.
Baskov revealed that during more than one of their meetings, Gorshevsky drank heavily. It was then he ranted about being totally embarrassed, ridiculed, made a fool of by his rival, President Andrew Carr. The escape of American POWs, and the defection of Colonel Grigori Moshenko only added insult to injury.
The silence inside the car was finally broken as Grant asked, "Is he still in the hospital?"
Kalinin nodded. "Oleg and a couple of East German police are standing guard. I had him handcuffed to his bed."
"Christ, Nick!"
"Yeah, but I'll worry later about what's next in the scheme of things. Right now we've gotta plan on tracking Reznikov. That farm where they're staying shouldn't be hard to find, with Baskov's explicit directions."
Grant looked at his watch. "We'll have time to put the op together, but we've gotta leave the embassy not long after dark."
Kalinin kept his eyes on his friend. "You know I want to be part of it when you find those bastards."
Understanding Kalinin's comment, Grant answered, "I know, but how would you explain that to Antolov, right?"
"Yeah. The only way I can help is to wait until you finish the op before turning the evidence over to him," he said with a sly grin.
"Think about this, Nick. The op should be over well before daylight. If you and your partner decided to look for Reznikov on your own, who knows what you'll find."
Kalinin let the suggestion roll around. "Are you saying you know how it's going to end?"
Grant shook his head. "It depends on the cooperation we get. Plus, there's always a possibility they could 'accidentally' fuck up fooling around with those explosives, you know?"
"Understand. I think Oleg and I will make the trip."
Adler had been thinking about the explosives inside the house. "We're still gonna have to be cautious not knowing completely about those interior explosives, you know, if Reznikov booby-trapped them."
"Roger that, Joe. It's too bad that Baskov didn't have time to finish his earlier work. Our problems could've been over. Nick, you think he told the truth about that?"
"Positive."
Adler leaned over the center console. "If Baskov had succeeded in killing those three, do you think the Premier would've let him live with what he knew?"
"Good point, Joe," Kalinin answered. "But, he won't have to worry about that now — just gulag time."
Grant turned sideways in the seat. "Listen, Nick, that was one helluva G2 you ran on that guy. You were masterful in getting him to reveal the info about the explosives."
"I'm KGB! It's what I do!"
In his mind, Grant heard those exact words spoken by his other Russian friend, Grigori Moshenko. He also knew with the info revealed about the POWs and Moshenko's defection, it wouldn't take long for Kalinin to realize who pulled it off.