He got up and went near the fireplace, flicking in a cigar ash. Resting an arm on the mantel, he stared into the dying flames, only imagining what Alexandra’s reaction was going to be. Not just in what he’d done, but what it meant for their lives, for their future… if they had any.
Even though Grant promised to help them, the risk would be just as great. Still, there was no other alternative now. Grant told him to back out if he felt he was in danger. Only one reason would prevent him from going through with this, and that would be if Alexandra’s life was threatened.
“Grigori,”Alexandra called, coming into the study. She carried two glasses containing steaming hot tea. The glasses were set inside traditional tulip-shaped silver holders.
“Ahh, Alexandra. Thank you.” He reached for the silver handle.
She put her glass on the small table between their chairs, then went to the window next to the fireplace and drew the dark blue curtains together.
“Come and sit by the fire with me,” Moshenko said.
They sat quietly, sipping the tea. He turned slightly to look at her. Her dark brown hair was short, the same way she had worn it from the day they married. They were so young those many years ago.
She glanced over at him with her warm brown eyes and smiled, before asking in her soft voice, “Are you all right, Grigori? You have been quiet these past few days.”
He reached over and patted her arm. “I am fine, my dear. Nothing for you to worry about.” He took a sip of tea, tasting the Ryabinovka-flavored vodka she always remembered to add.
“Grigori, after twenty-seven years, I like to think I know you, and… ”
He put a finger to his lips, and gave a slight shake of his head, pointing overhead, indicating their bedroom. “And you have imagined things in the past, have you not?” he laughed.
She looked at him quizzically for a moment, before understanding. There was something he wanted to tell her, but he would wait until they were in their bedroom. The word “fear” had not yet entered her mind, though.
Alexandra lay quietly in bed, her eyes never leaving Grigori as he hung his uniform on the chair. She folded the cotton blanket back on his side of the bed. As he laid next to her, she turned on her side, facing her husband, pulling the blanket under her chin.
She placed a hand on his chest, whispering, “What is it, Grigori? What do you want to tell me?”
Moshenko breathed deeply before beginning his story. As he quietly spoke, Alexandra began to shiver. She moved closer to her husband.
Finally, he finished his story, and he put an arm around her. Drawing her closer to him, the feel of her trembling body made his heartache.
“What will we do, Grigori?” she whispered, as tears started welling up in her eyes.
“I do not know, but I do know what I have done was the right thing. I hope you can understand that, Alexandra.”
“I… I am not sure. I understand you wanting to help those men, but at what cost, Grigori?”
“The cost? If I do not help, Alexandra, the cost will be guilt… my guilt, to stay with me for the rest of my life.” She remained quiet, taking in his words. Then he said, “Alexandra, listen to me. We must consider leaving Russia.”
She pushed herself away, staring at him in the darkness, unable to comprehend his words. “Leave?”
“We have no family here, and I think it would be best. But, whatever happens, whatever we decide, Alexandra, we must place our trust in Grant. I know, as do you, that he will do all he can to help us.”
She moved closer to him, needing his warmth, his strength. “How much time do we have to decide, Grigori?”
“I have already spoken with Grant. He will continue with plans to help us, unless you do not want to do this.” He regretted the situation he had put her in, but it would be her decision now. “I know you are afraid, Alexandra, and I understand your fear, but… ”
“No, Grigori,” she said in barely a whisper. She put a finger to his lips. “Do not say more. We will go.”
Husband and wife remained quiet the remaining night hours.
Chapter 5
Before daybreak a storm moved rapidly through D.C., being driven by thirty knot winds with occasional forty knot gusts. Rain droplets were still splashing against the two office windows, with daylight trying to break through fast-moving gray clouds.
Adler got up and looked down at his dress blues trousers. The bottom of both trouser legs were still wet. When he and Grant arrived at 0530, the storm was still going strong. Rain came down so heavily, storm drains backed up.
He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, then put a foot on the chair, trying to put a shine back on his black shoes. Folding the handkerchief, he put it back in his pocket, then he went around the desk, stretching his back as he walked to the window.
He pulled up the blind, focusing his eyes on the horizon. “Looks like the storm’s finally over. Jesus! That was like a mini-hurricane!”
Grant sat behind the desk, rocking back and forth in the black leather chair. “Huh? What’d you say, Joe?”
Adler turned away from the window, then stood opposite Grant, resting his fists on the desk. “I said, it looked like a mini-hurricane went through here.” No answer again. “What’s on your mind? Grigori?” he asked as he came around and pulled a chair closer to the desk.
“Grigori, the POWs, the mission.”
Adler leaned back, pushing the chair so it rested on its two back legs. Locking his fingers behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling, with the same three issues going through his mind. “Yeah, and we still don’t have any clear direction.” Looking again at Grant, he asked, “Are we gonna wait for him to call again or get our asses over to Germany?”
Grant got up then sat on the corner of the desk. “Once our gear is at Andrews, we’ll head out.” He snapped his fingers, remembering he had to call Zach. The medical staff had to be notified.
As soon as Grant hung up the phone, Adler asked, “Say, skipper, wanna go get some breakfast in the geedunk? We’ve got time.”
“Maybe that’s what I need. Some protein to help me think better. Come on.”
Adler punched the ground floor button with a knuckle, immediately hearing the elevator motor beginning to whine. He gave Grant a sideways glance, seeing him staring up at the lighted floor numbers above the elevator door.
“Come on, skipper; give your brain a rest, okay?”
“You’re right, Joe.
The sound of the motor stopped, the doors hissing as they parted. Just as the two men stepped inside, they heard hurried footsteps coming down the hall. As the doors started closing, someone shouted, “Captain Stevens!” Adler quickly put a hand out, pushing them open again.
Zach skidded to a stop in front of the elevator, saying out of breath, “You’ve gotta come to the admiral’s office, sir! The colonel’s on the red one!”
Torrinson was sitting behind his desk, holding the receiver, with his eyes focused on the outer office. He tried to remember the last time a call came in from a KGB officer. Never.
“Sir?” Grant said, standing just outside his office.
Torrinson motioned him and Adler in, then held the receiver out. Grant walked toward the desk and reached for the phone. Torrinson pushed his chair back, and walked over to the window, standing there quietly, with his arms behind his back. Adler stayed by the door.
“I’m here, Grigori,” Grant answered, as he stood to the side of the desk, rubbing his fingers briskly across his forehead.
“Grant, I will arrive at Domodedovo Airport before 1800 hours tomorrow, Russia time. I will be told upon my arrival where I must go to pick up the passengers.”