“I just don’t understand, admiral. Something must be going down. Why wouldn’t he want to discuss an exchange of our men, sir, POWs who’ve been through hell?” Grant could only shake his head, unable to understand political bullshit. He went quiet.
“Grant?”
“Sir, you know Joe and I are ready. We’ll do whatever it takes. But sending us in before even trying to negotiate, taking a chance when so much serious shit can go wrong. Uh, sorry, sir.”
“Grant, you know I agree totally.”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, admiral. Guess I got carried away. Maybe I’ve been doing this too long, sir. I might be questioning things I never would have questioned in the past.”
Now Torrinson worried. It wasn’t like Grant to disagree like this, or to question. Was he really thinking about resigning? Or maybe this POW thing had gotten under his skin too much… in ’75 and again now. “Captain, this isn’t the time.”
“You’re right, sir. I apologize. It’s not up to me to question the President.”
“Then this conversation never happened, okay?”
“Yes, sir. Thanks.”
“Now, has that brain of yours gone into action yet?”
“Yes, sir. It has.”
“Any chance you can give me a hint?”
“You know me, sir. Any plan can change in a heartbeat, but right now I think Joe and I need to focus on getting aboard that chopper.”
Torrinson got a sudden chill up his back. “You sure that’s the only way, Grant?”
“Right now, yes, sir.”
Torrinson rubbed his red, tired eyes. He was putting his trust in Grant again. “Well, just keep me in the loop… if you have the time.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Grant started to leave the room when he thought, May as well call Tony.
After three rings, Mullins answered. “Whoever you are, speak to me.”
“Hey, Mullins-san!” Grant first called Mullins by this name when they were on the Bronson mission in the Sea of Japan.
“Shit! Grant! Wait! Need to turn down the TV. Hey! Where are you?”
“Tempelhof. We landed about 2330 my time.”
“Okay. Now tell me what you need?” he laughed.
“Let me first ask you this. How fast can you make a delivery to the hometown of my friend?”
“Your friend? Ohhh! Your friend! When and what do you need?” Mullins opened an end table drawer, pulling out a notepad and pen, getting ready to add to the list.
After a previous discussion at the Agency, the three men had reviewed the type of equipment Grant and Adler would request from Mullins if they needed any.
“Need everything on the original shopping list, Tony. It’s just that we need them delivered to that out of the way apartment Joe and I stayed at one time.” The apartment was more like a safe house used by Moshenko. “Do you still have the address?” Grant asked.
“Yeah, I do,” Mullins answered, seeing the street name scroll across his brain like announcements on the bottom of a TV screen. “How soon?”
“We’ve got a flight around 0800 hours our time. So, you can figure our arrival at the apartment will be around 1500 hours. Think you can do it?”
“Will try my damnedest, buddy.”
“Tony, you’ve gotta promise me one thing.”
“What might that be?”
“That you’ll pull out of this if anything doesn’t feel right. We’ll make due with whatever my friend leaves us. Deal?”
“How much time do I have to decide?”
“Tony! I swear to God, I’ll… ”
“Okay! Deal! Are you satisfied?”
“I’ll talk to you when we get back.” He wanted to slam the phone down but thought otherwise. Maybe he never should have asked Mullins for help to begin with.
He left the office and thanked the airman and lieutenant. He started walking away when he stopped. Will have to chance it and call Grigori early. “Say, lieutenant, any possibility I could use that phone in the morning, maybe around 0400?”
“Don’t see why not, sir. I’ll leave word with the duty officer.”
“Appreciate it,” Grant said, offering his hand. He turned around, seeing Adler walking toward him with a rucksack in each hand.
Even though there was still a helluva lot to do and plan, he finally had something in mind. He could make it work. He had to make it work.
“What's up?” Adler asked, as he handed Grant his gear. “Anything from the admiral?”
Grant kept his voice low. “Grigori still hasn’t been given the location of the men, not even his final destination. It’s still just East Germany.” Adler remained quiet. “Let’s head over to the hotel and get a couple hours sleep. Then we’ll start… ”
“Skipper, why wait? Hell, you know we won’t be able to sleep anyway!”
“You’re right. Come on.”
Adler reached out and grabbed Grant’s arm. He stepped closer. He’d seen the look all too many times before. “You already have something up your sleeve, don’t you?”
Grant backed against the door, opening it. “It’s about damn time, don’t you think?”
Alexandra was in the kitchen, preparing zavtrak (breakfast). She stood by the three-burner gas stove in the corner. As she stirred the kasha (porridge), she occasionally glanced out the window.
Taking a taste of the cereal from a wooden spoon, she added more milk and a touch of sugar. She lowered the flame under the heavy pot, then went to the counter next to a small sink. The counters were made of smooth, wide pieces of oak, covered with colored oil cloth.
Unwrapping a loaf of black bread, she cut a thick slice, buttered it, then topped it with a slice of ham. She gave the porridge one more stir, as she heard her husband’s heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. It had been another sleepless night for both of them.
He walked up behind her, leaning over her shoulder, inhaling the sweet aroma from the porridge. “Ahh. It smells wonderful, my dear,” he said, as he kissed her cheek.
“Sit, Grigori,” she smiled as she poured some hot tea into the glass and put it on the table.
Hanging his uniform jacket on the back of a wooden chair, he sat down and reached for the glass. Just then, the double ring of the phone in his study made them both look into the room, then back at each other.
He got up and took hurried steps toward his desk. She followed closely, still carrying the steaming kettle. When she got to the doorway, she stopped and waited.
He picked up the receiver. “Moshenko.” Finally hearing the familiar voice speaking in impeccable Russian, he breathed a sigh. He looked at Alexandra and nodded. She took a small step into the room.
He responded, “Yes, yes, I understand, but you have not reached the correct party. Of the two numbers you are inquiring about, only the second one sounds familiar, but I am afraid I cannot help you any further. Yes. You are welcome.” He replaced the receiver, then stood and walked toward Alexandra. She looked up at him, her eyes imploring for him to tell her what Grant said. She stood by his side, waiting.
Moshenko remained quiet as he sat at the table. Finally, he reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze, refusing to let go. “Come, Alexandra. Have some breakfast with me. You have certainly made enough.” She brushed her fingers over his short jet black hair, noticing a few more grays at the temple, then she sat across from him, taking a small spoonful of kasha.
“Will you be at the hospital this morning?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “We are still trying to isolate that new strain of virus. More children have been infected.” She worked morning hours at the Moscow Children’s Hospital as a lab technician, one of the few females to hold such a position in Moscow. She was highly competent and respected, and the wife of a KGB officer.