Grant’s surprise was obvious. “East Germany?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure, Grigori? Are you positive?”
“Yes. I will be taking them.”
A cold shiver ran up Grant’s spine. He leaned closer to the counter. “You? Why you?”
“I will be going as security for KGB as ordered by Director Antolov. There will be three others, a pilot and two guards.” Mikhail Antolov is the Director of the KGB.
Grant had a shitload of questions but right now he just needed facts. “Grigori, where are they now? Where are they being held? Do you know?”
“I have not been given that information, but I will find out soon.” The tone of Moshenko’s voice changed, sounding distressed as he said, “I do not know where these men have been, or why they were brought to Russia, Grant, but they have been here for two years. I am sorry my government is doing this, my friend.”
“Hey, Grigori! Screw your government, okay? What you’re doing is the right thing. You believe that, don’t you?”
“It is the right thing.”
“Remember at AFN, Grigori? Remember you said you thought you were going soft? What’d I tell you?”
“You said I was just being human.”
“Damn straight, my friend.” With an index finger tapping on the counter as if trying to drive a point home, Grant said, “Promise me something, Grigori. Promise me that you’ll back out of this if you start to get a bad feeling, like someone suspects you, or suspects what you’re doing.” With his voice low, his words were emphatic, as he said, “Promise me.”
There was a slight hesitation before Moshenko replied, “I… will.”
Grant continued talking in a low voice, his words coming slowly. “Grigori, I know you, and my gut’s telling me you’ve got something in mind. I’m asking you as a good friend… don’t do it. We’ll take care of everything. That’s all I’m gonna say, my friend. Tell me you understand.”
“I will only do as instructed, Grant.”
Grant breathed a deep sigh. “Okay. Now, where will you be between now and when you’re given the information?”
“I will be here, in Moscow, either at KGB or at home.”
“Okay, Grigori. When it’s time, I’ll contact you our usual way.”
“If I find out more, Grant, what do you want me to do?”
Grant decided enough calls had been made to the Agency. “First of all, you be careful. Then, you call Admiral Torrinson on his secure line. He’ll know how to reach me, whether I’m still here or on my way with Joe.” Grant gave Moshenko the information, finally saying, “Look. I think you’ve spent enough time on the this call. You’d better get going. You’ll hear from me soon.
“Don’t vary your routine, Grigori. Go on with your regular life, you know, do your KGB thing,” he said, with a slight laugh in his voice, hoping to ease Moshenko’s mind.
“I will.” Moshenko turned toward the phone, leaning close. With no hesitancy whatsoever, he asked, “How is Washington this time of year, my friend?” He hoped Grant understood.
Grant’s heart suddenly pounded against his chest, nearly taking his breath away. “It’s perfect.” Grigori wanted it to happen. Grant and Adler now had two missions ahead of them, with seven lives in their hands.
“Da sveedahnya, my friend!”
“Da sveedahnya.” Grant put the receiver back in the holder.
Mullins and Adler pulled off the headphones, dropping them on the counter. Mullins spun Grant’s chair around, facing him, and with his eyes narrowing, he asked, “What’d he mean by ‘how’s Washington this time of year’?”
Grant and Mullins had to let this play out. Mullins already knew about the possibility of a defection. This call confirmed it. The conversation taking place now was just in case “eyes and ears” were hidden in the room.
Grant answered, “Whenever there’s a sticky situation, he’ll ask me that or I’ll ask him about Moscow. It’s just one of those tension-breakers, I guess.”
Mullins rubbed his chin, and responded somewhat skeptically, “I see.” As Grant started to get up, Mullins pulled him back into the chair. “And the shit about your gut? What the hell…?”
“No need to go there, Tony; issue’s resolved.”
Adler thought it was time for him to turn the conversation in another direction. “Well, what do we do now, skipper?”
Grant stood, as he was vigorously kneading the back of his neck. “We need to get our asses in gear.” They put their caps on as they left the room.
Mullins led them out to the parking lot and walked with them to the Mustang.
As they stood by the car, Grant put on his aviator sunglasses then turned to Mullins. “Tony, can you be our contact here?” Mullins had already talked to Grant after their conversation at the Iwo Jima Memorial, admitting his idea to go on the mission had not been well thought out.
“Of course, buddy. You let me know what you need before you go and if you need anything once you’re there.”
Grant slapped Mullins’ shoulder. “Knew I could count on you! Come on, Joe. Guess we’d better head to the office.” He had one foot in the passenger side of the car when he stopped and said, “Would appreciate it if you could give the admiral a call and advise him we’re on our way.”
Mullins grabbed his friend’s hand, holding it firmly in his grasp. “As soon as I get back to the office. Listen,” he said with seriousness, “be careful, Grant. You’re going into dangerous territory, in more ways than one.”
“I hear ya.”
Mullins leaned forward, looking through the car at Adler and gave him a slight wave. “Joe, take it easy.” Adler gave a thumb’s up.
As the Mustang started backing up, Mullins held a fist high overhead, and shouted, “Hooyah!”
For the first ten minutes of the drive, the two men discussed the upcoming meeting with Torrinson, when suddenly, Grant went quiet. He rolled down the window, then rested his arm on the door, as he stared out the windshield.
Adler gave a quick look over at him, seeing the familiar clamping of the square jaw, the grinding of the teeth. “What’s wrong, boss?”
“Just got a bad feeling, Joe. Remember the two comrades with Grigori at AFN?”
“Sure. Tarasov and Rusnak. What about ‘em?”
“Grigori didn’t seem concerned about them spilling the beans when he helped us in Sicily, but… ”
“But you were. Right?”
“Yeah, Joe. Christ! With what’s he’s trying to do now, what if those two bastards ‘threw him under the bus’? I mean, what are the odds of him being the one to fly those POWs outta Russia?”
Adler thought for a moment. His eyebrows shot up, and he asked with surprise, “You can’t think that he’s being set up, do you?”
Grant gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Don’t know, Joe, but I’m really worried.”
It was Adler’s turn to try and be reassuring, to try to ease Grant’s mind. “Skipper, don’t go there. You’re just assuming, and you know we don’t assume.”
Grant tried to think more rationally. “Yeah. I know. It may be that Antolov’s just putting his trust in Grigori. I suppose I’m not giving Grigori enough credit for who he is, for what he knows, Joe, and that’s being fuckin’ stupid.” He reached across the console and punched Adler in the shoulder. “Stupid! That’s me. Right, Joe?”
Adler laughed. “If you say so, skipper. Wouldn’t think of arguing!” Adler realized Grant was just covering up what was really going on in his mind.
Two stacks of papers and several file folders were piled on the right side of Torrinson’s desk. Since he arrived at 0600 hours, he’d been shuffling papers and folders, scribbling notes, eager to hear from Grant. Whatever new information Colonel Moshenko had was going impact the mission dramatically, in time and perhaps lives.