Alexandra walked in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a flowered apron. Her dark hair was cut shorter than usual, curling just below her ears. "Grant and Joe!" She walked to Grant and gave him a hug, then tilted her head back, looking up into his brown eyes. "We are happy you are here," she smiled.
"I'm next," Adler announced, with his arms spread wide.
"Joe," Alexandra said, "I have cooked special for you. Come into dining room."
Adler licked his lips, as his eyes roamed an array of steaming, hot food. "You outdid yourself, Alexandra! What is all this?"
She pointed to each large dish: "Sweet cabbage soup; pirog (a yeast-raised dough formed into a circle and filled with meat, mushrooms, rice); beef stroganoff and noodles; Russian black bread, and apple cake for dessert."
Adler couldn't stand to wait any longer. "Let's eat!" He slid a chair from under the table for Alexandra.
"And I have something special for you both," Moshenko announced, coming from the kitchen holding two bottles of Budweiser.
"You're both after our hearts!" Grant smiled, taking one of the ice cold bottles.
Two hours later the three men were sitting on the back patio. Moshenko lit another cigar, then blew out a steady stream of smoke. "Now, what is it you wish to discuss, my friends?"
Grant leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. "Grigori, have you ever heard of Drazowe, Poland?"
"You know of that place?!" He actually seemed surprised.
"Uh, yeah, but just recently. I mean, we don't know a helluva lot yet. I was hoping you could give us more."
"I will be honest with you, Grant. There were few people outside a certain circle of the government who were given details. I know I was KGB, but … "
"Listen, Grigori, that's okay. Don't worry about it."
Moshenko looked between Grant and Adler with a worried expression. "You have a new mission."
"Think so."
"If there is anything I can do … "
Grant flashed him a grin. "How 'bout a couple more Buds?!"
The security gate automatically swung open, responding to a signal from a sensor under the bumper of Adler's red Mustang. He drove through, with Grant right behind him.
As the gate started closing Grant saw in his mirror a green Ford F-150. Frank Diaz flashed his lights, waiting for the gate to reopen. Once he drove through, he stomped on the gas, getting within a few feet of the Vette.
The closer they drove to the 4,000 square foot ranch-style log house, faint lights inside became more visible. With the sun still shining, security lights had not yet come on. Five other cars were already parked near the garages — the remaining members of Team Alpha Tango.
Responding to Grant's call, they arrived within twenty minutes. None of the men were currently married, and that was one of the reasons Grant and Adler selected them. Except for Doc Stalley, the youngest of the Team, everyone had been married at least once. They knew the hardships placed on families, the guilt they themselves felt for contributing to that hardship. They still had the occasional "relationships," and for them, those were enough.
Even though the entire Team was on call 24/7/365, their life didn't match those of active duty SEALs. With A.T., when a mission was over, it was over. Chances of being sent to a world "hot spot" so soon after would be rare, and so far that hadn't happened.
"Hey!" Diaz shouted, slamming the truck door. As he jogged toward Grant and Adler, he no longer showed any sign of his previous injury, a gunshot wound in the leg during the last mission.
"What's up, Frank?" Adler responded, following Grant up the porch steps.
"I was about to ask you two the same thing! I guess we've got the mission?"
"Fill you in inside," Grant answered, as he opened the door.
Recaps of baseball games were showing on TV, the sound all but drowned out by the men's voices. Sitting at the long, rectangular walnut dining room table, they were popping open cans of soda, beer, digging into bags of chips. A typical healthy meal.
"I smell pizza!" Novak said, sniffing the air.
Adler dropped five boxes on the counter. "Sorry the main course is late, guys!"
Grant tossed his keys on the coffee table, shut off the TV, then went to a wall cabinet in the living room, and sorted through a box of maps, taking one out.
"Hey, boss, you gonna have some food?" Stalley asked while he walked to the table, carrying two slices of pepperoni pizza.
"Not right now, Doc." He sat on the couch and unfolded a map.
Adler was opening a can of Coke in the kitchen, when Garrett leaned across the counter. "Is he okay, Joe?"
Adler looked over his shoulder at Grant. "Yeah, he's fine. You know him when he's got that brain going 'full tilt' on an upcoming mission."
Garrett picked up a slice of cheese pizza, then joined the men at the table.
Adler grabbed another Coke and took it to Grant. "Here. Caffeine is a requirement."
"Thanks, Joe." He popped the top as he continued studying the map.
Adler sat on the arm of the couch. "The way you're looking at that tells me you see problems."
"Maybe not problems, but more like large obstacles."
Adler lowered his voice. "One of those obstacles wouldn't be this, would it?" He tapped a spot on the map. Grunewald, Germany.
"How many times have you asked me that, Joe?!"
"Hey! Don't get your ass in a twit. I worry about you."
"Yeah, I know. But a helluva lot of other guys went through more shit than me. I'm over it, Joe. End of story. Okay?"
"Roger that."
One side of Grant's mouth curved up. "If you weren't my best friend, I'd beat the crap out of you right about now!"
Adler held up his hands and leaned back. "Consider me afraid!"
"What's goin' on over there?!" Novak shouted.
Grant picked up the map, then stood. "C'mon. We've gotta put our heads together." He snatched a folder from the counter, then went to the dining room table, spreading out the map.
"Make some room, guys," Adler said, pulling out a chair. James and Diaz moved their chairs away from each other.
After Grant explained the reason for the Team being asked to participate in an exchange, he proceeded to discuss the mission. "Okay, code name for the mission is 'Operation Gold Eagle.' Destination: Germany and Poland. There'll be two parts to the mission, but let's discuss the extraction of the operative in Poland. In that folder is information on both 'assets.' Take a good look, 'cause we've gotta shred everything before we depart."
Adler held a photo in each hand, then turned them over and read the print: "Pankova, thirty-seven; 5'4"; medium length light brown hair; brown eyes; fair skin. Dotsenko; forty-one; 5'9"; short salt and pepper straight hair; small scar on chin." He passed them to Diaz.
For the next twenty minutes Grant detailed everything he gleaned from his White House meeting.
"Do you think she's still alive, boss?" Stalley asked with concern.
"Hard to say, Doc. There isn't proof either way."
"Christ!" Draper spat out. "How the hell didn't we know about that place?!"
"Look, our mission isn't to recon the area specifically, but I'm sure somebody will want to question us when we return. Our immediate mission is extract the operative. She's the one with all the intel. So, take a look at this map." Grant slid his finger along a route. "Here's Berlin, and here's Drazowe. That's about 160 miles. From the Baltic coast inland to that town is less than two. The kicker is, we won't know exactly where she is until we have Dotsenko. I couldn't convince them to get the info from him while he was here, so … " He pulled out a chair, sat down, and rocked back, balancing on the two back legs. "Let's talk."