They focused on their destination, straight in front of them. Hurrying across the path, they stopped in front of large double garage doors, made of heavy, vertical wood planks. A rusted bolt held them closed. Adler gave the bolt a yank, then dragged the door open. They rushed inside.
The interior was barely large enough to house two vehicles. There were two rough-hewn oak columns separating the space. The floor was made up of hard-packed dirt and tiny pebbles. Only a few, thin streaks of sunlight filtered through the doors.
Grant took the lead, walking to, then climbing a wooden ladder on the left side against the wall. At the top was a heavy, metal door with a lock below the handle. He tried the handle. Locked, as it should be. He gave Adler his satchel, then reached into his trouser pocket and removed a single key, inserting it into the slot. Forcing the key to the right, the lock finally clicked. He removed the key and dropped it in his pocket. Pressing down on the handle, he pushed the door open.
Except for faint light filtering up from the garage, the room was completely dark, without a single window. Lacking any kind of ventilation, the air was oppressive, muggy, with the temperature hovering around twenty-five Celsius.
They hesitated just long enough to let their eyes adjust to the darkness inside. Carefully stepping off the top step of the ladder, Grant had barely walked into the room, when a sudden movement behind the door made him swing around.
He was ready to strike until he heard, “Whoa! Grant!”
Immediately recognizing the voice, Grant dropped his arms and angrily said, “What the shit are you doing here?”
Mullins stepped closer, sliding his .45 into his leather shoulder holster. “Well, it’s fuckin’ good to see you, too!”
Adler dropped the bags. “What the hellare you doing here, Tony? And how the hell did you get in? No! Wait! I don't wanna know!”
Mullins leaned over and picked up a kerosene lamp. “Answering the second part of your question, Joe, don’t forget. I’ve got ‘associates’ here. That’s why you didn’t find any open locks.” He struck a wooden match, lit the lamp, then closed the door. He hung the lamp from a hook on a beam near a table. “And Grant, you wanted a special delivery, so… ”
“So, you decided to make the damn delivery personally,” Grant finally said, his irritation obvious as he shook his head.
Mullins responded, “Look, you guys are gonna need extra help. We’re talking five Americans who might need help themselves.”
Grant didn’t have time to continue arguing. It wouldn’t do any good, anyway. All he really wanted to do was spit. “I’m going to ignore you for awhile, if you don’t mind,” he said as he brushed past Mullins and started walking around the room.
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
Grant looked around the room, noticing some kind of box or trunk in the shadows, pushed against the back wall. “Yours?” he asked, indicating with his thumb.
“Nope. My stuff’s over there.” Mullins pointed to a metal case.
“Joe, you check that. I’ll see what Grigori left for us.” He glanced at his watch, thinking, We’re cutting this close.
Mullins pulled a wooden stool from under the rickety table and took a seat. He decided to stay in the background for the time being until Grant cooled off.
Grant knelt on one knee next to the old wooden trunk and lifted the lid. A familiar-looking briefcase stood upright near the left side of the trunk. Lifting it out, he put it on the floor, then pressed the latches outward. The locks opened with a snap.
Inside was the exact gear Moshenko gave them the last time they were here, encased in thick, protective black foam: two Makarov 9mm PMs (Pistolet Makarov); eight extra fully loaded clips; two throat mikes with earpieces, and two hand-held radio transceivers.
Closing the briefcase, he grabbed the handle, then walked to where Mullins was sitting. He put the briefcase on the table, but didn’t take his eyes from the agent.
Mullins slid off the stool, taking a step closer to him. “Look, you just let me tag along. You know I can do the job. I can handle this thing, you know,” he said tapping his holster.
Grant took a deep breath, letting it out through tight lips. “Let me bring you up to speed, Tony. The President doesn’t want any bloodshed. So, can you handle that, ‘Cowboy’?”
“I’ll do what needs to be done. Don’t you worry. But how the hell can you not expect any bloodshed? How can you guarantee that?”
“Never said I didn’t expect it. Just stating what the President requested.” Grant left it at that, but at the same time, he started having one of his gut feelings. It wasn’t good. A decision had to be made, and he’d just made it.
Hooking his thumbs in his back pockets, he said to Mullins, “Look, to tell you the truth, I’m worried about Alexandra, Tony. I don’t want to leave her alone. She’s probably terrified. If you insist on being part of this, I think you need to stay with her while we’re gone. We may need to get her out in a hurry.”
Mullins took a step back. Even in the dimly lit room, his face couldn’t hide his surprise. But then his eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer to Grant, asking between clenched teeth, “You’re telling me you want me to babysit?”
Grant had had it, and his voice boomed, “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“You’re just trying to keep me out of the way, aren’t you?” Mullins yelled back.
Grant couldn’t believe this conversation was happening, especially with Mullins. Something was going on, something was definitely gnawing away at him. The frustration was getting out of control.
The two men were nearly toe to toe. Grant ground his teeth, finally saying, “Do you have any idea what’ll happen to her if and when the KGB discovers what Grigori’s done? Do you?” he shouted. “Look. I don’t have any more damn time to argue with you. You can get the hell out of here, and go home. You never should’ve come in the first place.”
Mullins instantly realized he’d made a mistake. He was here to support the mission, not question it, not jeopardize it. “Jesus! Grant, I’m sorry. Tell me what I need to do.”
Grant wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, as he backed away from Mullins, getting his blood pressure back to normal. Looking at Mullins through intense brown eyes, he asked, “Are you sure? Because if you’re not… ”
“I’m sure,” Mullins nodded. He’d just become part of the mission.
Grant took a deep breath. “Okay. Now listen. Alexandra hardly speaks any English, but she’s smart, so she’ll understand. You’ve gotta be careful with any conversations in that apartment, though. There could be ‘bugs.’
“It’d probably be best if she goes to work tomorrow. I think she still just works morning hours. You know the routine. Keep her in sight, but stay out of sight. If you feel there’s the remotest possibility of danger, you immediately take her here.”
“Understand, Grant.” That was the only reply necessary.
Grant kept an eye on him as he asked, “Joe, all the gear sorted?”
“Yeah, skipper. Divvied up and put in the satchels.”
Grant turned his attention to the briefcase and opened it, took out a Makarov, then loaded a clip with the cartridges. He slipped it into the waistband at the back of his trousers, then rolled a thin belt around a black leather holster. “Here, Joe,” he said, holding the holster out. “Put this in the satchel with yours.”
“Tony, take one of these.” He handed Mullins a radio. They set the frequencies. “You got extra ammo?” Mullins patted both jacket pockets.