Grant had to make his choices carefully, knowing there wouldn’t be any refrigeration. God only knows what they’ve been fed. His hunt was on for protein and calcium.
As he scanned the shelves and cases, he thought about stories he heard and read about. Stories on the inhumane treatment these men must have faced. He worried about their systems not being used to rich foods. They had to build up their strength slowly, but for the time being, time was not exactly on their side.
Fifteen minutes later, carrying three large bags, he walked outside, then looked to his left. Moshenko drove around the corner, then pulled next to the curb. Adler hopped out, taking two of the bags. They went to the rear and opened the door.
They slid the bags across the floor, and Grant said, “Gentlemen, here’s some food. I might suggest you start with something light. There’s some black bread, hard cooked eggs and a couple bottles of milk. We’ll be at our destination soon. Oh, and there’re some chocolate bars in the bottom of that bag,” he pointed.
All five men came toward the door, leaning over the groceries. “Thank you! Thank you very much!” they said in unison.
Grant and Adler couldn’t help but smile, before closing the door and heading for the cab. Once seated, Grant said, “Let’s go, Grigori.” He reached into his top pocket. “Here,” he said, as he handed a Korkunov chocolate bar to Adler.
“Yum! An unexpected treat!” Adler laughed, licking his lips as he snatched the candy.
“Grigori, you want yours now?” Grant asked, holding up the candy bar.
“I will wait, my friend.” Moshenko managed a half smile, still worried.
They were nearing their destination. Moshenko turned onto a side street, slowing to almost a crawl, then stopped.
“Joe,” Grant said, “go on ahead and scope it out. I’ll watch your back.”
Both of them got out and closed the door. Adler stayed close to the buildings as he headed for the end of the street. Grant stayed behind the truck, keeping a hand on the pistol in his waistband, turning himself in every direction, watching for anything or anybody suspicious. He stepped to the side, seeing Adler waving them forward. Walking toward the cab, he said to Grigori, “Go ahead. I’ll keep back.” Moshenko drove on.
Adler pulled open one garage door, but still kept his guard up. He constantly scanned the area, while at the same time, trying to keep an eye on Grant. Moshenko drove the truck inside, immediately killing the engine.
Grant picked up his pace, half jogging until he reached the garage then ducked inside. Adler quickly closed the door.
Moshenko slid from the seat and hurried to the ladder leading to the upstairs loft. Once he unlocked the door and went in, he took the kerosene lamp from its hook and lit it.
Grant and Adler helped the men from the truck. As each man stepped out, he shook Grant’s and Adler’s hand and gave his name: Pete Earlman, Chris Southere, Rick Ashland, Hank Lippton, Wayne Naylor. Even though they were still in Russia, in Communist territory, they felt like human beings again… free human beings.
“Gentlemen,” Grant began, “when you go upstairs, I’d like you to introduce yourselves to Colonel Moshenko. It’s because of Grigori that you are here at this moment.”
“We’ll be happy to,” Wayne Naylor replied for everyone.
Grant pointed and said, “Just go up that ladder. Joe will be right behind you. I’ve got some business to attend to.”
As the men disappeared behind the door, Grant and Adler took the grocery bags from the truck, noticing there wasn’t a scrap of trash left behind. Everything had been placed in one of the bags.
“Joe, I’ve gotta make that call to the Embassy.” He handed Adler the bag. “Gotta let them know what’s happening, plus I want to find out if Mullins and Alexandra got there.”
“Okay, skipper. Be careful out there!”
Grant pushed open a heavy, ornate glass door leading into the lobby of the Stratsnoy Metro station. As he walked across the black and deep red marble tiles, his eyes scanned the walls above three long corridors that fanned out from the lobby. Finally spotting a sign for telephones, he headed to the middle corridor. Keeping his eyes focused on the far wall, he hardly noticed the bronze statues set in niches, lining both sides.
He caught sight of a bank of AMT-69 pay phones located against the back wall. The grayish metal boxes are approximately fourteen inches high, with a black receiver hanging from a U-shaped hook on the left. On the top right is a coin slot.
He pulled out some coins. Holding them in his palm, his pushed them around with his finger, selected two and dropped the rest in his pocket. Taking a quick look behind him, he lifted the receiver, and pressed one coin at a time into the slot. When he got a dial tone, he dialed a coded number, waited for another dial tone, then dialed the Embassy number in West Berlin.
Turning around, he kept his eyes on a throng of bustling people, riding a steep escalator, coming from and going to the subway below. Sounds from a train’s squealing brakes announced its arrival, as the ear-piercing sound echoed up to the corridor.
“U.S. Embassy. May I help you?”
He pressed the phone against one ear, a finger against the other. He turned toward the wall. “This is Grant Stevens. Could you connect me with the bureau chief, whoever took Matt Wharton’s place? I need a secure line.”
“That would be Steve Greeley. Hold please.”
Grant impatiently tapped his foot on the tiled floor. “Come on. Come on.”
“Steve Greeley.”
“This is Grant Stevens, sir. I work for Admiral Torrinson at NIS.”
“Two to one you’re calling about Agent Mullins, aren’t you?”
“Tell me he’s there, sir, with his ‘special package.’” Grant closed his eyes, waiting for the right answer.
Greeley spit a piece of Wrigley’s into his palm, then dropped it in an ashtray. “I’m happy to report that is so, captain. They just got here.” He scribbled a note on an envelope, then buzzed the secretary’s phone. She came in and he handed her the note.
Grant dropped his head back, breathing a sigh. “Glad to hear that, sir!” With the sudden blaring of a loudspeaker, announcing the arrival of a train, he leaned closer to the phone and spoke louder. “Wait one, sir.” Finally, the announcement stopped. Grant turned to face the corridor, making sure no one came too close. “Mr. Greeley, I’m at a Moscow train station, so, if I suddenly revert to Russian, it’s because… ”
“Understand, captain.”
“Tell me, is Alexandra okay, sir? How’s she doing?”
“She’s fine, captain. We’ve got a translator here so I’m sure she’s feeling more comfortable.”
“I’d really appreciate it if she could stay at the Embassy, at least for a couple more days. It’s important that she stays under lock and key, sir. If you can’t do it, she’s going to need security. I’d suggest Agent Mullins, sir. Is that possible?”
“We can keep her here for a couple of days, captain. After that, we’ll set her up with a room at the Berliner. I’ll assign Agent Mullins to stay with her. Do you have a message you’d like to give her?” He pulled a yellow notepad out of the middle desk draw.
“Tell her Grigori’s safe. He’s with me and Joe. I don’t have any timeframe for our reaching Berlin, though. That should be enough, sir. Appreciate it.”
“Hold on a minute,” Greeley said.
“Hey, buddy! How are ya?” Mullins laughed.
“Mullins-san! Jesus! Glad you’re okay! I sure appreciate you taking care of Alexandra.”
“She’s a great little lady, Grant.”
“Yeah, she is. I asked Mr. Greeley to keep her at the Embassy for a couple days. Anything beyond that, he’ll have her go to the Berliner, with you as security. Problem with that?”