Vortex- Berlin

by Lee Jackson

  “Self-defense,” Atcho rumbled.

  “Don’t get belligerent,” Fenns retorted. “Lucky for you we had you in the West by the time the death was reported.”

  An army colonel at the end of the table stood and leaned forward on his fists. He was an imposing figure. “We’re not giving anyone back to anybody,” he said firmly.

  Fenns started to protest, but the colonel cut him off. “Let’s make this clear. The Army is in charge in Berlin. If we were anywhere else, you could tell me where to stick it. But our rules rule here, and we’re not giving Atcho back. Capiche?”

  The room was quiet, its occupants shifting their gazes among each other. Brown and Detective Berger sat across the table in the sparsely furnished conference room. Neither had said a word.

  The colonel broke the silence. “Who was the dead guy?”

  “He was one of the two brothers who kidnapped me,” Atcho replied. “I escaped. They both shot at me. I got to this one before he got to me.”

  “How did you kill him?”

  “I broke his neck.”

  The colonel grunted. The others in the room remained silent. Atcho turned to Brown and Berger. “Tell the East Germans to produce the dead man’s identity. They can’t. The brothers worked under the radar. They spoke in a language I don’t recognize. Based on where they locked me up—a vacant building in some war ruins—I’d guess they’re on the wrong side of East German law.” He glared at Fenns. “Are you going to listen to what I told you about those bombs?”

  Fenns ignored his comment, glancing instead at Detective Berger. “What will you do? Do you want to take him into custody?”

  “That’s not going to happen.” The colonel took a step to position himself between Fenns and Atcho, who rose to his feet.

  “Fenns, are you ignoring me?” Atcho glared at the consular officer. “I told you about three bombs. Three nukes. They’re coming to Berlin.”

  “What’s this about bombs?” the colonel demanded.

  “I heard you,” Fenns replied to Atcho. “We get three to four bomb threats a week. Everyone wants to blow up the world for peace.” He smirked. “Did you see the bombs?”

  Atcho shook his head.

  “So, some guy can whip up three nuclear bombs,” Fenns continued, “and carry them through East Germany into Berlin. Tell you what: we’ll get our Geiger counters out, and if we find anything, we’ll let you know. Now, can we get back to the subject?” He faced Berger.

  “Hold up,” the colonel interrupted again. “I want to know about the bombs.”

  “It’s nothing,” Fenns replied. “What do you want to do?” he asked Berger.

  The colonel was now visibly angry. “Mr. Fenns,” he bellowed. His eyes bulged. “Atcho is being detained by no one. I’m sure I speak for the general, but if we need to, I can call him.” He grabbed the receiver of a phone on the table in front of him and waved it at Fenns. “Do I need to make that call?”

  Fenns whirled on him his eyes bulging. “Do you really want to push that? Let me remind you that your brigade CG reports to a two-star chief-of-mission here, who works for a senior state department officer. That puts the state department in charge.”

  The colonel thrust the phone toward Fenns. “You call your two-star, sir, and I’ll stand right here and wait to find out what he has to say.”

  Fenns hesitated.

  The colonel replaced the phone receiver on its base. “Now, either you get on the subject I want to talk about, or I’ll have you escorted out by force.”

  Fenns took a breath, visibly chastened. “We get bomb threats all the time. So far, they’ve turned into nothing.”

  “So, we should wait until one goes off before we believe a warning?” the colonel growled, his expression scathing. “Dismiss them if you want to. The Army will decide for itself.” He swung around to Atcho. “Tell me about the bombs.”

  Atcho told him in detail about the conversation he had overheard between Klaus and Etzel. “They were excited. They were supposed to plant one at our embassy. They didn’t specify the second target when I overhead them. The third one is for anywhere the brothers want as long as it’s outside of Soviet interests.”

  The colonel studied him. “You think they can pull that off?”

  “I don’t know where they’re getting the bombs, but these guys are capable. They overcame our security at the hotel. They move between East and West Berlin with ease, and they set up a headquarters in the war ruins. I wouldn’t underestimate them.”

  The colonel nodded. “Detective Berger, what do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” Berger replied. He redirected his attention to Atcho. “It was strange how the demand came through from East Berlin. Almost like an afterthought.” He paused in reflection. “We’ve checked out the tunnel in the hotel. It was right where you said it was. I have men going through it now. It seems coincidental that you were staying in the hotel where it comes out on this end.”

  Brown had been listening without speaking, but now he stood. “You’re saying that Atcho had something to do with his own abduction?” he said incredulously.

  Berger grimaced. “Sorry. That wasn’t my intent.” His Germanic intonation accentuated his words. “I am…,” he paused, searching for the correct word, “uneasy about the coincidence that the hotel Atcho was staying in is the one where the tunnel came out. I don’t believe in coincidences. So, how did that happen?”

  Atcho was disheveled, tired from lack of sleep, and starved. Fenns had brought him some sandwiches, but they had only taken the edge off his hunger. He stared, dazed, at Berger. “How am I supposed to know?”

  Berger shook his head. “I don’t expect you to. These are crazy times.” He stretched. “I’m betting that we’re going to find more open tunnels into buildings along the Wall. Those tunnels were used by people in the East attempting to escape to the West. The East Germans closed the ones they found with concrete and rebar. Either they didn’t get them all, or some have been re-opened. Now, we’ll have to seal them to keep the bad guys out. But,” he cast a steady gaze at Atcho, “East Berlin is pressing hard for your return. We’ve had calls channeled through our foreign ministry three times already.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” the colonel retorted. “He’s an American citizen. He was kidnapped, and we’ve got him. End of story.”

  A knock on the door interrupted them. A big man with a balding head walked in. On seeing him, Atcho’s countenance brightened. “Burly!” he exclaimed. He leapt to his feet and bounded across the room. Sofia emerged from behind Burly.

  Atcho diverted to embrace her. “I’m fine,” he said softly. He held her a moment longer, and then turned to greet his big friend. “Thank God you’re here.”

  “Reinforcements are on the way,” Burly said in a low voice. He enveloped Atcho in a bear hug. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  The other men watched, stone-faced. Finally, the colonel asked, “Who are you?”

  Burly looked over at him, then released Atcho and strode across to him. “Sorry. I’m an old friend of Atcho’s and Sofia’s. I came to help.” He presented his CIA ID.

  Fenns leaned in and examined it. “You’re retired.”

  “I know who he is,” Brown interjected. “I suggest you check on his current security clearances and orders. You’ll find he’s authorized to be active in this matter.”

  “I am,” Burly confirmed. “I’m here to cut through red tape and make sure assets are directed where they’re needed. I’m up to speed on the broad brush, but as soon as you’ve checked my clearance, I’d like you to fill me in on the details.”

  “What’s your mission?” Fenns demanded.

  Burly arched his eyebrows. The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

  “Got it,” Brown muttered. “Classified, need-to-know.”

  “We checked out of the Mövenpick and moved to Army headquarters,” Sofia told Atcho. “With two attacks on you, you need to be in a more secure place.” They were alone with Bur
ly in a soundproofed room in the Berlin Brigade headquarters.

  ‘I’m confused on one point,” Atcho said, changing the subject. “Fenns said that the brigade’s commanding general reports to a major general who works for a state department officer. How does that work?”

  Sofia blew out a breath. “It’s complicated. Fenns is right about the command structure, but he’s wrong if he thinks either general would give up an American citizen, he doesn’t know them.”

  “But why does the Army report through the state department.”

  “I’m not sure I understand all the ins and outs. The arrangement came about because of the shared authority of the of the four powers governing Berlin. Regardless, that two-star is not going to override the one-star in a matter like this. Fenns has to know that. He just let his mouth run. The Army still runs Berlin.”

  Atcho contemplated a moment and turned to Burly. “Who else is coming?”

  “Rafael and Ivan. They’ll arrive tomorrow.”

  “You got them,” Atcho breathed, “on short notice. I wasn’t sure you could.”

  Rafael Arteaga and Ivan Chekov were two of Atcho’s closest friends. Both men had worked with Atcho in previous operations.

  Burly’s voice brought Atcho back to the present. “I don’t know what it is about you, Atcho.” He grinned. “You’re such an ornery cuss, but when you get in trouble, the free world comes running. All I had to do was ask, and your comrades dropped everything. I stopped off at the White House to speak with the national security advisor. He’s fully read in on what happened here in Berlin and called the CIA director to get the clearances set up. I’ve got a free hand with direct access to him, if needed.”

  “Great to have friends in high places,” Atcho muttered. “What’s the plan?”

  “Hey, I’m just the case officer. This is yours and Sofia’s show. Tell me what needs to be done, and I’ll coordinate as much support as I can scrounge up.” He faced Sofia. “Does your team have what it needs to complete your mission?”

  Sofia nodded. “It’s just…” Her voice trailed off.

  “She’s worried about her relatives,” Atcho interjected.

  “She explained that,” Burly replied. “She’ll be stretched thin to get them safely to Wolfgang’s press briefing and secure both families while moving across the border. What was your idea, Atcho? Why did you call me here, and why did you want me to bring Ivan and Rafael?”

  “Sofia needs to concentrate on Wolfgang and his family. That mission must succeed. We need another team to get Sofia’s relatives out.”

  Burly nodded. “That’s what I thought. What can I do?”

  “Throw your weight around, get us the equipment we need to communicate, and be here coordinating when everything goes down.”

  “OK. I can do that.”

  “The rest of us will operate in the field. We’ll need radios and firearms, and a way to get into East Berlin.”

  “That equipment should be easy but getting everyone into East Berlin will take some work. What else?”

  Atcho told him about the bombs.

  Burly whistled. “I need to stop hanging around you,” he mocked. “You’re going to get me killed.”

  Atcho ignored the comment. “Sofia can’t miss Wolfgang’s briefing, and his family has to be there. Rafael and Ivan can get her family to safety. Is anyone else coming to help them?”

  Burly nodded. “Yep. Rafael will bring along some of your Brigade 2506 compadres.” He referred to the army of CIA-trained Cuban refugees who had stormed Cuba at the Bay of Pigs. Many of them had suffered imprisonment on the same Isle of Pines towers where Atcho had been incarcerated. After their release, some had fought Castro’s forces in Angola. Two years ago, under Rafael’s leadership, several had protected Atcho’s family while he hunted down Yermolov in Havana.

  “Ivan is coming too?” Atcho asked.

  “Yes.” Ivan was a defected KGB officer with a penchant for Louis L’Amour novels. He had always wanted to bring his family to live in the United States. The price of his willing participation in a Siberian mission with Atcho had been safe passage for his family to emigrate to the US.

  “Let me get this straight,” Burly continued. He went over details of the situation and the plan as he understood them, asking many questions. “Sofia, how will you get past the security checkpoint at the door to Wolfgang’s news conference?”

  “I have press badges for that. When Wolfgang sees me, he’ll take the first opportunity to read the news release. Then, he’ll take a few questions and make his departure.”

  They discussed other aspects of the plan. “Execution is going to be very much on the fly,” Burly commented. He glanced at Atcho. “So, Rafael and his guys will get Sofia’s relatives?”

  Atcho nodded. “It’s the same plan that Sofia had, except rescuing her relatives will be carried out by a dedicated team. It’s a little trickier because none of the operators has met Sofia’s relatives. We’ll be asking for a huge amount of trust.”

  “My family will be expecting someone,” Sofia interjected. “It’ll work.” She was silent a moment. “It has to work, even if we can’t get Wolfgang and his family out.”

  Startled, both men studied Sofia’s face, a mask of unwavering purpose. She saw their consternation. “They’ve suffered under this regime their whole lives. We’re getting them out,” she said with finality.

  Atcho and Burly scrutinized her face again. She held their gazes. “I’ll get my part done,” she said steadily. “You do yours.”

  “All right,” Atcho said after an interval. “The third thing we have to do is find and neutralize those bombs. We don’t have much time.”

  “Do you have any idea where they came from?”

  Atcho shook his head. “No. I’d suggest you get the listening surveillance people to intensify their effort in East Berlin. Klaus didn’t say anything about how they were getting the bombs. We’ll have to track him down and either follow him to the source or take them from him after delivery.” He glanced from Burly to Sofia. “That’s my job.”

  Sofia stared at him. She felt the muscles tense along her legs and up her back as she contemplated the implications of what Atcho had just said. She would lead a crucial mission to try to secure the freedom of millions of people while others brought her family to safety. As that occurred, her husband would once again go alone to hunt down and stop the source of potential mass carnage.

  She said nothing. She suddenly felt extremely tired, but now was not the time to allow fatigue or emotional stress to inhibit her mind. She walked over to gaze at a map of the city hanging on the wall. “I was thinking,” she mused. “Atcho, you said you were held in wartime ruins not far from the Wall.”

  “It can’t be far from the Mövenpick, but on the other side. We twisted and turned in those tunnels for an eternity, but straight-line distance can’t be more than a mile.”

  “Is that where you’re thinking of starting your search?”

  “Yes, but Klaus will guess that I can find my way back there. He’s long gone.”

  Burly stared at him. “Any idea where else to look?”

  “No.”

  21

  While Atcho and Sofia conferred with Burly at brigade headquarters, Tony Collins called from the Azores to Jakes in DC prior to boarding a plane for his return trip to Berlin. “I hate to say we were right, but that seems to be the case. This is going to fall under national security considerations.”

  “Tell me as much as you can.”

  “I stayed another day after interviewing the family. The son took me to talk with several people who claimed to have seen a man with a hurt leg. They said he was an American, but he fit Yermolov’s description.”

  “Did they say how he hurt his leg? As I recall, Atcho shot Yermolov in the thigh.”

  “No one seemed to know. The man didn’t offer an explanation. That’s not unusual. Strangers don’t normally ask why someone limps.”

  “Did the authorities follow up?”<
br />
  “A little. They didn’t believe João. There’s not much of a murder rate here. They don’t have top-notch homicide investigators, and no one wanted to upset the widow. They attributed the blood to fishing, and since the limping man was believed to be an American, they thought João had found the Soviet jacket somewhere and rationalized the story. They pointed out that no recent Soviet accidents had occurred. Just American. They thought he couldn’t accept that his dad had made a fatal mistake.”

  “But you believe him.” The editor’s voice betrayed skepticism.

  “Jakes, Yermolov spied as Paul Clary—an American—for nearly thirty years. If he decides to play American again, no one meeting him for the first time will think he’s anything else. He was presumed dead. No one was looking for him.”

  Jakes sounded unconvinced. “The Marines sent out a rescue/recovery team. No bodies were found.”

  “Yeah, but a storm blew in and delayed the search. In fact, that storm is what the police say caused Gonçalo’s death.

  “Also, a boat that leaves from Vila Nova and goes out just a few miles northeast would be under the approach pattern for Lajes. Gonçalo could have seen the crash. A helicopter departing the airfield for a ship over the horizon would be below commercial routes. That’s the area where Gonçalo was and where the helicopter went down.

  “He seems to have been a very nice man. If Yermolov survived and Gonçalo rescued him…” He paused to let the thought sink in. “The other factors add up. Yermolov could have hitched a ride on a private aircraft to Lisbon. From there he’s a hop, skip and jump from Berlin. If the guy has proven anything, it’s that he’s resourceful. Napoleon escaped from Elba, and he didn’t have airplanes.”

  “OK, one last question. Why would Yermolov kill his rescuer?”