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Kalinin didn't answer as the two East Germans came near the bed. He had to leave them in charge of Baskov, but he'd make sure they realized their responsibility.

"No one but doctors and nurses are to come near this man. The Premier and KGB Director Antolov will arrive soon. Do you understand?"

Both men nodded, taking their positions alongside the bed. Just the mention of both those Russians made them realize this was no time for screwing up.

Kalinin took the lead as he and Zykov left the ward. As soon as they were in the main corridor, Zykov asked, "Just where are we going?"

Kalinin punched the elevator button. "We have to find Reznikov's hideout before Director Antolov arrives."

"But there are just the two of us! What if … "

The elevator doors parted. The two men stepped aside as a nurse wheeled out a gurney with a sleeping patient. Once the men were in the elevator and on their way down, Kalinin answered, "If the director arrives and finds out we have not at least investigated that place, what do you think his reaction will be, Oleg, especially when I give him the recording?!"

The elevator lurched as it came to a stop. The two men immediately exited, and as they walked to the front double doors, Zykov asked, "Why did we not go yesterday, as soon as we had the prisoner's confession?"

Good question. Now come up with a reasonable answer,Kalinin told himself. "You know how much paperwork there is, and trying to get the East Germans to assist is a task in itself. And it took me longer than expected to review all the transmissions intel had gathered. Besides, it was already dark by the time I got back. Come on."

* * *

As they approached their destination, flashing lights appeared on the horizon.

"Those could be either police or fire trucks," Zykov commented.

"Slow down." Kalinin reached for the binoculars behind the console. He focused the glasses. "I see both, Oleg, and an ambulance."

They drove another 200 yards. Kalinin pointed, "Pull over." From where they parked, they had a clear view of the open field. They both got out of the car. Kalinin looked through the glasses. "Shit! That was the hideout! There is nothing left!"

"Can you make out anything?!" Zykov asked staring ahead.

"Just rubble, and worse than the embassy." He handed the glasses to Zykov. "I will talk with someone, and hope I can get details. Director Antolov will want as much information as possible, especially if those three men are buried under that mess."

Kalinin jogged toward two East German policemen. He lifted his KGB badge from his belt, displaying it for the two men.

After a few minutes, he walked back to Zykov. "Did they find any bodies, Nicolai?"

"Nothing that could be identified. From what they saw, three men, or what was left of them, were buried under that mess of concrete block and destroyed wooden beams. When the underground explosives blew, it probably set off the dynamite in the house."

"From the looks of it," Zykov said, shaking his head, "I would say they were blown to bits."

"I told the police we wanted to do our own inspection. Are you coming?"

"Sure!"

Zykov's enthusiastic reply surprised Kalinin, in a good way. "Get the flashlights from the trunk, Oleg, and see if there is anything we can use to stash evidence … if we find any."

Heavy clouds drifted across the horizon, darkening the morning sky. The two men walked across the property, ignoring distant sounds of rumbling thunder. Moving the flashlight beams in different directions, they stepped over varied sizes of broken concrete, chunks of thick wood, objects that were no longer recognizable. There was a lingering smell of smoldering wood and other flammable material.

"Looks like Baskov was right about the amount of explosives stored here." Kalinin aimed the light over the rubble, as he stepped carefully. "Oleg, take a look back there," he pointed with the flashlight's beam. "See if there is any evidence of a Trabant."

The two agents didn't have time to wait for the East German medical examiner. They had to get any kind of evidence to prove the terrorists were dead.

"Nicolai!" Zykov called, waving his flashlight overhead.

Kalinin tried his best to scramble over the debris, finally catching sight of Zykov, who was standing next to what once was a vehicle. The blast had flipped it onto its side. All that remained was its frame, and much of it was burned and under cement, dirt, wood.

The two men directed the flashlight beams around the entire area. "It had to be the Trabant," Zykov commented. "It is about the same size and shape."

Kalinin just nodded. "It might be futile, but see if you can find a license plate." He looked overhead, beginning to feel light rain on his face. The sound of thunder grew louder. He climbed over the rubble, and headed toward a section of debris, when something caught his eye, and he scrambled closer. He squatted down next to a shoe still attached to a foot, but the rest of the body was under too much debris. He stood, then directed the light around the remains of the building. If the police and firemen hadn't found any identifiable parts, he sure as hell couldn't. "That's enough."

"Nicolai!"

Kalinin looked up at Zykov trying to hustle to him. "Look!" He handed him a bent and twisted license plate. "I was just about to give up when I saw it."

"Good work, Oleg!" There was always a possibility the plate had been stolen, but at least it was something. "Did you check anywhere else?"

"No. Just in the back."

"There has got to be something else that was not destroyed. I want to check there before we go," he pointed toward the north side. "That should have been where they stored all equipment and explosives."

"But that's what blew up!"

"Anything metal could have survived the blast. You look over there!" Directing the flashlight beam away from the debris, he swiveled it side to side, working his way toward the trees. After several minutes of diligent searching, he spotted something. "Sonofabitch!" He started running. When he stopped, he was standing near the battered remains of an RPG launcher.

"Oleg!"

Zykov spun around and ran to where Kalinin was standing, holding the launcher. "Our proof they were here. There are probably more, but this is all we need." A sudden flash of lightning made them instinctively duck. "Come on!"

Rain came down heavier as the two Russians sprinted across the property, then stashed the launcher in the trunk. They'd head back to the hospital, check on the prisoner, then go to intel.

* * *

The two men remained quiet during most of the drive to East Berlin. Kalinin tried to put his thoughts in order. There couldn't be any fucking up when he presented the evidence. Antolov had to believe Reznikov and his men were dead. If he was determined to have further proof, he would have to wait until all the debris had been cleared by the East Germans.

He turned his head toward the side window, hiding a smile. He had done his best in trying to act surprised in finding the aftermath of the explosion. He glanced at the dashboard clock, then pictured a Gulfstream on course to the U.S., as he thought,You did a good job, my friends, perhaps too good!

Andrews Air Force Base
Maryland
0830 Hours — Local Time

Breaking through a thin layer of clouds, the Gulfstream was on its final approach. Taking directions from the control tower, Garrett adjusted the plane’s heading, speed, altitude. Flaps adjusted, sounds changed.

Tires met concrete on Runway 01L. As the plane slowed, and began taxiing, Garrett and Draper heard the controller in their headphones: "Mike 581, you are to follow the two vehicles pulling alongside."

Draper put a hand over the mouthpiece, leaned against the armrest, and called over his shoulder, "We've got escorts!"

Everyone in the cabin tried to get a clear view of the vehicles. Two black Chevy Suburbans, one behind the other, kept up with the plane's speed. Once it slowed, one vehicle finally pulled ahead of the Gulfstream, leading it to a deserted area of the airfield, south of the control tower and base ops.