“I am sorry, Alexandra. I know you are concerned.”
“Yes,” she nodded, “I am.” With the look on his face she knew he understood her answer meant more than just the children.
They remained quiet while he finished his meal. Finally, he stood, went to the sink and turned on the water. When he turned around, she was standing in front of him, looking up into his dark eyes.
He held her close and whispered in her ear, “I will call you. Do not worry.” He kissed the top of her head. Taking a couple of steps to the chair, he lifted his olive green gabardine jacket from the back, then put it on.
She turned off the water, and asked him, “Will you be home for dinner?” She knew he would not be, but they must continue with the charade.
“I may be a little late.”
As he buttoned his jacket, she stood in front of him, repeating a routine she had done each day for so long. She brushed her hand over the olive green shoulder boards with three metal gold stars of a colonel, making sure the cloth collar tabs were laying flat. Finally, she adjusted his ribbons over his left chest, tilting her head as she did a final inspection. She repeated the same action for his KGB honored co-worker and academy graduation badges over his right chest.
“There,” she said with a smile.
He took her hands in his and kissed them. Then he put on his cap as he walked to the door. “You start dinner regular time, all right?”
She nodded. He closed the door quietly behind him.
“Joe! Open up!”
Adler got off the couch. “I smell food!”
Having heard the response, Grant was laughing when he walked in, carrying two full paper bags, and an open carton of milk, extending one bag out in front of him. “Whoa! Down boy!” he said as Adler grabbed the bag.
Adler immediately ripped the top of the bag open. “Bacon and egg sandwiches? Where the hell’d you get these?” he asked, as he started whipping out the wrapped food parcels, a bag of donuts, orange juice cartons, and coffee in paper cups.
Grant took off his dress blues jacket, then laid it on the back of the couch. “I bribed the geedunk manager to open up early,” he answered as he stretched his arms high overhead and yawned. Rubbing both hands vigorously over his face, he felt stubble. The hell with it. He finally plopped down on the couch.
“So,” Adler said, as he sat on the floor, “did you make contact with the colonel?” He unwrapped a sandwich and took a bite.
Grant leaned forward, pointing at the food. “Hey, hand me one of those and a coffee. Yeah. As usual, it was a really short conversation, but I got my message across.”
Swallowing the last bit of his first egg sandwich, Adler reached for another and said, “Okay. Tell me. What’s the plan?”
Grant took a swig of black coffee to wash down the remaining egg. “We’re going to Moscow.”
“Moscow? I thought East Germany was… ”
Grant shook his head. “I know. I know. But how can we be sure Grigori’s been told the truth about going to East Germany? Antolov is waiting till the last minute to give him a final destination and where he’s to pick up the POWs.”
“I see your point.” Adler got up off the floor, stretched his back, then reached for a coffee cup. “Does he know we’re comin’?” Not getting any response, he asked, “Is your mind going in a different direction again?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, he knows. Listen, I called Tony while I was in base ops.”
“Care to fill me in?” Adler drank the last drop of coffee, smashed the paper cup between his hands, then picked up another.
“Need to get more firepower.” He reached into the larger bag, took out the bag of donuts, and dumped them on a napkin. Snatching a chocolate cake donut, he reached for the milk carton.
Adler grabbed a jelly donut and asked, “So you think he can get it here before we make our exit?”
Grant shook his head. “Gonna try to have it waiting for us in Moscow.”
Adler’s eyebrows shot up. “Whoa! Tall order, don’t you think?”
“Wouldn’t think so for the ‘Cowboy.’ Besides, Grigori will have some equipment there, just like last time. If Tony can’t come through, we should have enough.” He brushed his hands together, wiping away crumbs. “Told him to back out if things started getting hairy for him.”
“Think he’ll listen?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Tell you what. If he doesn’t listen, I’ll hold him while you beat the crap out of him, okay?” Grant just smiled, then he finished off the last drop of milk.
“Hey, skipper,” Adler said in between a yawn. “I think I’ll go to my room. Need a shower and maybe a shave.”
“Thinking the same thing myself.”
“Meet you here in about thirty minutes.”
“Don’t you want another sandwich or more donuts?”
“Get them when I come back.”
The morning ride by taxi from the hotel to Schonefeld took about twenty minutes. If it had been anything but sunny, traffic along the two-lane road would have been bumper to bumper. Weather can wreak havoc close to this airport.
Schonefeld Airport was the location of the Henschel aircraft factory up until 1945. At the beginning of the Cold War, it was taken over by the Soviets, and then eventually turned into an East German civilian airport.
The taxi pulled up to a checkpoint crossing into East Berlin. An East German guard, with his weapon slung over his shoulder, stepped near the car. Adler rolled down the window, handing the guard his ID booklet showing the German name “Lukas Baeker.” The guard compared the picture to the face, handed it back to Adler, then reached for Grant’s. The guard didn’t think twice about an East German and Russian traveling together, as he examined Grant’s ID with the name “Dmitri Petrukhin.” He handed it back, and waved the taxi on.
Having secured their military rucksacks, uniforms, dollars, and wallets with all ids in a location at base ops, Grant and Adler bought plain canvas satchels with leather handles, more frequently carried by Europeans. They packed another set of civilian clothes, carried no firearms, except for det cord and pencils Adler had hidden. They couldn’t risk it. Moshenko and Mullins would have to come through.
Once they reached the terminal, they separated. This taxi ride would be the last time they’d be seen together until they reached Moscow.
Chapter 7
The Budapest Hotel is located on Neglinnaya Ulitsa, one of the most famous streets in Moscow. An old nineteenth century building, it reopened as a hotel during the 1950s. Much of its popularity came not only from its character, but from its location, being only a few hundred meters from Red Square and the Kremlin.
The two Americans arrived in separate taxis, about ten minutes apart, then they each started for their final rendezvous… the safe house.
They were familiar with the route they now traveled. Following back streets and alleys, each of them kept their senses on full alert. Never turning around to look over a shoulder, they only listened for unusual sounds and footsteps.
Walking on opposite sides and staying about two blocks apart, they occasionally glanced overhead, looking at windows, looking for eyes possibly looking at them.
Finally, they met up at the end of an alley where it came to a T. They looked up and down what could only be classified as a path, wide enough for one vehicle. Potholes, broken pieces of wood, shards of glass, and hardly recognizable material were scattered as far as they could see. On either side were rows of abandoned buildings, built above vacant garages.