Adler blinked. Yikes!
Torrinson had his own suspicions, and they were the same as Grant’s. “I sure hope not, Grant, but we’re going to have to let it play out for now.”
Just as he finished his statement, the door opened, and Torrinson abruptly stood. “Attention!” Grant and Adler followed immediately, bracing themselves at attention.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” President Carr said as he entered the room. Andrew Carr was sixty-four years old, nearly 6’4”, slim, and had thinning gray hair. He was wearing a dark blue suit, white shirt, and a blue tie with small gold stars.
“Good morning, Mr. President,” all three men responded.
Carr stepped near Torrinson and offered a hand. “Admiral, good to see you.”
“And you, Mr. President,” Torrinson answered. “Mr. President, I’d like to introduce you to Captain Grant Stevens and Lieutenant(j.g.) Joe Adler.”
Carr reached across the table to Grant, offering his hand. “Captain, I’ve heard nothing but good things about you from Admiral Torrinson.” His grip was firm as he shook Grant’s hand.
“I appreciate the admiral’s comments, Mr. President.”
Releasing Grant’s hand, Carr shook Adler’s. “And Lieutenant Adler, the admiral had high praise for you, too.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.”
Carr stood opposite the three men, then, as he looked at Grant, he said, “I understand you two have been involved in several very successful missions together.”
“Yes, sir, we have,” Grant replied, keeping his answer short.
“Please,” Carr said, indicating with his hand, “sit.” He pulled a chair from under the table and sat down. He rolled the chair forward, then put a folder on the table, leaving it closed. Folding his hands on top of it, he looked at Grant and got right to the point. “Captain, I’ve been informed that Colonel Moshenko has contacted the CIA with information on our POWs.”
“Yes, sir, that’s what I’ve also been told.”
“I understand that this Colonel Moshenko is a friend of yours. Is that correct?”
“Yes, Mr. President. Grigori and I go back a long way.”
“Very unusual, wouldn’t you say, captain? I mean, having a KGB officer as a friend?” Carr questioned with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, sir. Very unusual,” Grant responded.
Carr opened the folder, perusing the top paper, before looking up at Grant. “And do you believe what he’s told the Agency?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Grant answered emphatically, before throwing out some food for thought. “As long as that was Grigori on the phone, sir.” Adler held his breath. Torrinson shifted in his chair, not having even thought of such a possibility.
Carr pushed himself away from the table, laying his hands on his stomach. “Any reason we should believe otherwise?”
“No, sir, not at this time. I guess there is the possibility, but I’ll know when the call comes in tomorrow.
“Mr. President, may I say that both Joe and I would put our lives in Grigori’s hands in a heartbeat. We already have, sir, and we’d do the same for him.”
Carr nodded in understanding, as he leaned toward the table, and folded his hands in front of him. “I do have one more question concerning Colonel Moshenko. Has he discussed with you the possibility of his defecting?”
Grant’s heartthumpedagainst his chest. “No, sir. We haven’t had that discussion.” Hinted maybe; not discussed, he thought.
Carr’s expression had an almost imperceptible smile, as he responded, “All right, captain. Now, do you have any plan in mind on how you can carry out this operation? Anything at all?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we just don’t have any significant information yet. Everything depends on where they are, who’s holding them, how many. There are many factors that come into play, Mr. President.”
“I understand, but once you find out, any idea on how long it will take to put something together?”
Grant’s mind was working at top speed, as he thought about the possible political implications and a plan. “Again, sir, it depends on the information, but maybe a couple of days. We want to bring those men home ASAP, Mr. President.”
Carr’s face finally broke into a smile, with deep creases forming along his mouth and blue eyes. “As do I, captain.” He was quiet for a moment before he commented, “I haven’t received any word from the Russians, so I’m not sure what they have in mind, but there sure has to be a reason.
“I don’t want this to turn into a political game. So, gentlemen, I’d like to try and keep this under wraps as long as possible.” Grant began to feel more at ease after those statements. Carr continued, “I have a request, though. Whatever plan you come up with, I hope there’s a way for you to avoid any bloodshed.” Carr realized he was placing an enormous burden on these men, these men who were willing to risk it all to save their fellow Americans.
Torrinson spoke. “Mr. President, I can assure you Captain Stevens and Lieutenant Adler will do their utmost to follow your request. But missions can go south very rapidly, sir. There really can’t be any guarantees.”
Carr nodded. “I understand completely, Admiral. As I said, it’s just a request. Now, once the captain has completed his call to Colonel Moshenko, I’d like you to contact me with further details.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
Carr picked up the folder then stood. The three men immediately got up and braced. “Well, if there isn’t anything else, I guess our meeting is over.” He walked around the table and shook hands with each man. “Good luck, gentlemen, and Godspeed.”
Chapter 4
An American flag hangs limply from a wooden pole in a corner of the twelve by fourteen, windowless, soundproof room. Three rectangular florescent lights, encased in wooden frames and covered with frosted sheets of plastic, are spaced evenly down the center of the ceiling. A white Formica top console extends the length of the shorter wall, with several electrical outlets spaced evenly across the back panel.
Three men sit quietly at the console. Adler and Mullins are each holding a set of headphones, already plugged into a central outlet. In front of Grant is a phone receiver, with the earpiece hanging from a black plastic “cup.”
Their eyes dart back and forth from a clock above the door to a round, clear glass bulb, one inch in diameter, protruding from the panel in front of them. Their growing nervousness is obvious, as they constantly swivel back and forth in their chairs.
Grant checked his watch, comparing his time with the wall clock.
“Don’t worry, skipper. He’ll call,” Adler said, trying to sound reassuring.
With anticipation, Adler and Mullins slipped on their headphones. At exactly 1200 hours, the bulb on the panel suddenly started flashing yellow. Mullins flipped the switch next to it, and nodded in Grant’s direction.
Grant picked up the receiver and answered, “00628973257.”
“Is it you, Grant?” the familiar voice asked.
“Grigori! Yeah, it’s me! Are you okay? Are you safe?”
“I am.”
“Listen, if you feel more comfortable talking in Russian, do it.” Mullins jerked his head around, giving Grant a what the shit? kind of look.
“No. English is good, but I do not have much time, Grant.”
“Talk to me.”
“The men, they are to be transported by helicopter to East Germany, the Soviet sector, in five days.” As Moshenko spoke, he continuously looked around at cars and pedestrians passing the phone booth, keeping a watchful eye out for anything, or anybody suspicious.