Most of the Interhotel chain was under the control of the Stasi, constantly monitoring the activities of international tourists. An exception to that was the Stadt Berlin, monitored by the KGB.
East German police patrolled both ends of the entry driveway, prohibiting cars from parking on either side, as they awaited the Russian Premier's arrival.
Kalinin and Zykov stood under a wide canopy, extending out from the hotel's entrance. For the two KGB agents, this might be the most important day of their lives — whether it meant success or failure was yet to be seen.
Kalinin glanced at his watch, then walked toward the edge of the sidewalk, patting his hand against his jacket pocket, feeling Zykov's tape. The other tape was in his pants pocket.
Zykov walked up behind him. "There they are."
Three black Mercedes, with their headlights on, were slowly approaching. A small, red Russian flag flew from each front fender.
Kalinin and Zykov straightened their jackets, then backed away from the curb, as the vehicles lined up in front of the hotel. As if on cue, uniformed security men, with two KGB agents, got out of the third vehicle immediately taking up defensive positions around the second vehicle.
Minister Vasily Sokoloff, carrying a brown leather briefcase, and Director Mikhail Antolov emerged from the first vehicle. Antolov took a long drag on a cigarette, then flicked the butt on the sidewalk.
As he and Sokoloff walked toward the second Mercedes, Premier Gorshevsky got out, and buttoned his dark gray suit jacket. Then, without a word or acknowledgement to anyone, he motioned to his security. They led the way into the hotel lobby. Sokoloff followed Gorshevsky, but Antolov stopped near his two agents, with his security guard standing a few feet away.
"Comrade Kalinin, Comrade Zykov."
"Sir," both men answered.
Antolov kept his voice low. "Your phone call from intel said you had vital information that could impact State security."
Kalinin replied quietly, "Comrade Antolov, it is imperative that we speak with you — only you, sir."
Antolov moved closer to Kalinin, looking up at the taller, younger agent. When Antolov approved Kalinin's entrance into the KGB program, he did so with the recommendation of Defense Minister Troski and Anton Vazov, Ambassador to the United States in Washington, D.C. Antolov recognized something in Kalinin that convinced him to give final approval.
He removed another cigarette from a pack, lit it, then took a couple of puffs. "This pertains to what?"
"Sir, Reznikov and his men are dead."
Antolov showed obvious surprise. "But isn't this something the Premier should hear?"
Kalinin blew out a quick breath. "Comrade Antolov, there is much more to this, sir."
That reply alone put Antolov on alert. He looked at Kalinin through narrowed eyes. "I am not sure where you are going with this, Comrade Kalinin."
"We have a recording, sir. A confession. It should bring the entire investigation to a conclusion."
One of Gorshevsky's security men approached Antolov. "Comrade Director, sir, the Premier is growing impatient. He wishes for you to join him immediately, sir."
Antolov motioned the man away, and in a low voice said to his agents, "Go to the rear of the lobby, take the service elevator to the basement. Wait for me there."
Zykov started following Antolov, but Kalinin grabbed his partner's arm. "We will wait until everyone has gone. We do not want to raise questions." Glancing through a plate glass window, Kalinin saw Gorshevsky and his entourage get in an elevator.
"Come on, Oleg."
The lobby had been temporarily cleared of all guests, except and employees, except for the manager, who stood at the far end of a long check-in counter. The two agents' footsteps echoed in the empty space, as they walked across black and mottled gray marble tiles. A bank of elevators was to the right of the counter. A service elevator was the first one on the left.
Kalinin pushed the button of the service elevator, trying not to get the manager's attention. A quick glance at the lighted numbers above the elevator doors told him the Premier was staying on the twentieth floor.
The service elevator doors parted. The two men immediately rushed in, then Kalinin pressed the button, sending the elevator down. Whether they met employees in the basement hardly mattered. KGB agents were known to roam different areas of the hotel, always vigilant.
"Now what?" Zykov asked.
"We wait for the director. Come on. If we run into anyone, just act like we are making an inspection." The two walked the corridor, not knowing how long they'd have to wait.
After five minutes of walking and waiting, Kalinin brushed a hand over the top of his head, as he thought,Holy shit! What the hell have we gotten into? Antolov had to believe the taped confession, or maybe he'd want to interrogate Baskov himself. The KGB director would most likely confirm everything with his boss, Minister Sokoloff.
Even with his nerves wreaking havoc, Kalinin had a strange kind of excitement building in him, thinking of what was ahead.
Security men were posted outside Rooms 2008, 2010, 2012, near the elevators and exit doors. For the next two days, no other visitors were allowed on this floor.
Gorshevsky took off his suit jacket and dropped it on the couch, before walking toward the large picture window. From this room he was unable to see the remains of the embassy, less than two miles away to the west.
As he focused on buildings and open spaces below, he wondered if he would become a target of Ivan Reznikov. Even with all the security, anything could happen, considering how successful Reznikov had been during his latest rampage. No one knew the reasons for the violence — no one except him, the Premier of the Soviet Union, and one other person who was still in hospital. Sergeant Baskov.
"Sir, when do you wish to go inspect the embassy?" Sokoloff asked, opening his briefcase.
Gorshevsky turned around, keeping his arms behind his back. "Has anything been released to the press about my arrival and itinerary?"
"Nothing specific. We only allowed the newspaper to print the day you would arrive, and that you would be taking home the bodies."
"Good. Good. We can go to the embassy first thing in the morning." He spotted a bottle of Stoli on a credenza behind the couch. He was thirsty after the flight, even though he'd had a couple of drinks aboard the aircraft.
As he started pouring the liquid, Antolov came in. "Sorry, sir. I instructed our drivers they were not to leave the vehicles until I confirmed your itinerary. Have you decided …?"
"We will go to the embassy in the morning, Mikhail." He gulped down the vodka.
"All right, sir. I must also confirm with the morgue the time to have the coffins prepared for departure."
Gorshevsky held onto the shot glass as he contemplated making a trip to the Rifle Brigade. "I think I would also like to go to the Rifle Brigade to give my condolences to those men. How far is that?"
Sokoloff answered, "I believe it is about 16 kilometers from here, sir."
"Mikhail, take care of your tasks now. When you return, we will discuss plans for tomorrow."
Antolov decided to instruct the drivers first because that would take the least amount of time. Next, he went to meet his two agents.
Kalinin and Zykov were at the far end of the hallway, when they saw Antolov exit the elevator. They picked up their pace.
Antolov swiveled his head. "Has anyone been down here?"
"No, sir," Kalinin replied. "But there is another passageway behind us," he pointed over his shoulder. "We might talk there."
The three men remained quiet as they headed for the other passageway. Kalinin tapped Zykov's arm. "Oleg, wait at this corner in case someone shows up." Zykov posted himself on the opposite wall, with a clear view toward the elevator, yet still able to hear the conversation.