by Lee Jackson
His entry into Russia would be orchestrated to deliver the same shock that Berlin would feel, although in Moscow, it would be on a greater scale: he would make his triumphal entry amid apocalyptic chaos from the twin explosions. I’ll be there when Chechnya blows up.
He foresaw two potential, immediate, and key allies on arrival. One was the chairman of the KGB, Nestor Murin. The portly official had been his case officer when Yermolov had spied in Cuba as a US Air Force lieutenant at the beginning of his career. In last year’s conspiracy, Murin’s support had been crucial in organizing military, intelligence, and politburo support.
He arched his eyebrows at a sudden discomfiting realization. Murin might want to be general secretary himself.
His second potential ally was the Supreme Commander of Soviet Forces, Generalissimus Kutuzov. Last year, Kutuzov had been the Regional Army Commanding General in the vast Siberia Oblast, the Soviet Union’s largest military command. He had succeeded in coalescing the major military commanders behind Yermolov.
Somehow, neither Murin’s nor Kutuzov’s roles had been detected. Either that, or Gorbachev is keeping his enemies closer. He can’t fight the whole military and intelligence structure.
In any event, following the conspiracy’s defeat, Gorbachev had kept Murin in place and promoted Kutuzov to the Soviet military’s most senior command. If I can get Kutuzov’s and Murin’s support again, we’ll continue last year’s plan as if it had never been disrupted.
“It’s almost time to implement,” he snapped at Baumann. He walked to the window. “Make sure your subordinates are prepared to execute. Report back when the arrest and hit squads targets are identified and they’re ready to go. When we give the order, they must act forcefully and without hesitation.”
The Stasi director nodded distantly.
“Notify Ranulf to get over here with the money,” Yermolov continued. “Klaus and Veniamin will arrive in a few hours. I want two of your best nuclear engineers on hand to check out the bomb mechanisms and make sure they work.” He gazed across Berlin’s rooftops. “The world meets its destiny within forty-eight hours.”
Thunderstruck, Baumann stared at Yermolov. Despite the rapid pace of events, he clearly had not fathomed that the time of reckoning was upon them.
Sensing his reticence, Yermolov glanced at the director. He’s weak, but I have no replacement. “Director Baumann, please take your rightful seat behind the desk. I no longer need it. By the day after tomorrow, you’ll occupy the desk in the general secretary’s office.” He moved to a small table on which several bottles of beer had been set out. “Let’s drink to that.”
29
Early the next morning, Atcho observed Rafael and Ivan with the other three men of their team clustered in front of a large-scale wall map of Berlin. They had pinpointed Sofia’s relatives’ residence and now discussed alternative routes. The atmosphere was tense. In little more than half a day, Wolfgang would read his announcement. Predicting the aftermath was impossible.
Burly sat at a desk at the end of the room talking on the telephone, his voice low. Atcho could not hear him.
Abruptly, the door opened. Sofia stepped in. Spotting Atcho, she hurried across the room. “Veniamin is in East Germany. He crossed the border a short while ago.”
Atcho fixed disconcerted eyes on her. “How do you know?” Before Sofia could respond, he called across to the others. “You all need to hear this.”
Rafael and his group ceased discussion and gathered around. Burly lifted a finger to indicate he had heard and would wind down his conversation.
Sofia took a deep breath. “I just came from the intel section. Remember the general said Veniamin had left his house? That was three days ago. Just before then, our listening surveillance intercepted a call from East Berlin to a number in Paris.
“The caller demanded that three items be delivered by today. The man on the Paris end of the line was nervous about traveling in East Germany. He was told that someone would escort him. He gave his license number.
“That car crossed the border in the last hour. We ran the number with Paris authorities. It belongs to Veniamin Krivkov. The timing is right. It’s him.”
When she finished, the room was quiet. Rafael spoke up. “Great work, but how did the intel people find that specific car? Thousands come through that checkpoint.”
Sofia waved him off. “I can’t go into specifics. The Brits were alerted to watch for the make and model of car and the license number. We have eyes on the East German side of the border too.” She shrugged.
“Why didn’t the Brits stop him?” Rafael persisted. “They could have ended the threat right there.”
Sofia sighed. “They were supposed to, if they saw him. I don’t know why they didn’t. I can speculate that the word didn’t get out soon enough, or the guy on the ground wasn’t informed until too late. There are many reasons why he could have gotten through.” She shrugged. “I don’t have any good answers.”
“The threat is real now and headed our way,” Atcho broke in. “Sofia, is there any way to speed things up with Wolfgang’s announcement?”
Sofia shook her head. “We have to go with the flow. The crowds in Alexanderplatz get bigger every night. They’re openly hostile to East German officials, including Wolfgang, but if he tries to speed things up, he’s likely to blow it. We’re relying on surprise to keep the East German government from preparing counteractions, and we’re counting on the crowds to provide major screening to get him out of East Berlin.
“The latest word is that the official announcement is scheduled for tomorrow, the tenth. That means tonight is the night for Wolfgang.”
“Why not wait to see if the announcement will happen?” Ivan asked.
“That would seem logical, but the date of the announcement is still not published. If the East German government decides not to go through with the policy change, it will likely use military force to crush the crowds. It could be a bloodbath.”
The room descended into silence. At length, Rafael broke in. “We’ve got another concern.” He indicated Ivan and the rest of his team. “Atcho, you said the target of the bomb is our embassy, and that the impact area is a mile wide.” Atcho nodded. Rafael faced Sofia. “Your family’s home is within the blast area.”
Sofia’s eyes narrowed, but she remained stoic. “Go on.”
“What do we do if the announcement doesn’t happen, if Wolfgang gets cold feet, or if someone countermands his order to the guards? It could be a massacre.”
Sofia regarded him without expression. “What do you recommend?”
Rafael drew a breath, reluctant to speak. He turned to his companions. Ivan and the others nodded their support. Rafael turned back to Sofia. “You want them out, no matter what?”
Sofia nodded.
“Okay, but there are some extreme risks that can’t be avoided.”
“Give me the worst.”
“All right. Our recommendation is to take them directly to the embassy.”
Sofia’s reaction was immediate. “That’s where the bomb will be planted!”
“True, but security at the embassy is beefed up. They don’t know us. They could think we’re bad guys and open fire. But, if we go to where the crowds are, the danger could be greater. What are there, six people to move?”
“Yes. My uncle and aunt, their daughter and her husband, and two children.”
“Exactly,” Rafael cut in. “Your uncle and aunt are elderly, and one of the kids is a little girl, a toddler. The embassy is much closer than the nearest border crossing. Keeping six people including two old-timers on canes and a toddler together in a fast-moving crowd that could turn into a mob will be tough. If things go bad…” He shook his head and left the sentence unfinished.
“There’s another issue,” Burly cut in. “The embassy is prohibited from assisting political escapees in East Berlin.”
“We thought of that,” Rafael rejoined, “but as soon as Wolfgang’s announcement is made,
all the rules go out the window. We’ll plan on having the family close to the embassy around the time we expect the announcement. When the crowd starts getting excited, we’ll make our move. Keep in mind that the embassy has a bunker belowground. Staff should move there as soon as Wolfgang starts his speech.” He diverted his eyes to Sofia. “It could end up being the safest place for them.”
Sofia looked drawn. She assented with a nod.
“Burly,” Rafael continued, “can you arrange recognition signals with security at the embassy? Let ’em know we’re the good guys.” He gestured toward his group. “We’re all American citizens. They shouldn’t keep us out, but we don’t want a shooting argument on the subject.”
Burly nodded. “As you said, all the rules will be out the window. I’ll see what I can do. What happens if you get stopped by the local police or, God help us, the Stasi? Do any of you speak German?”
Rafael grinned and glanced at Ivan. “We’ve got a handle on that.”
“I speak broken German,” Ivan chimed in, “but…” He reached into his pocket. “As you know, Russian is my mother language, and,” he held up an ID card, “this says I’m a colonel in the KGB. That holds a lot of authority here. No one will dare cross me.”
Atcho had to smile. Ivan had used the ID on their last mission into Siberia. It was as good as genuine, having been produced at the Soviet Embassy in Paris.
“I kept it as a souvenir,” Ivan said with an ironic smile. He shifted his view to his compatriots. “Given the company I keep, I should have expected to use it again.”
“Is that still valid?” Burly asked.
“Not really. It was fake from the start, but the expiration date is still months away. No street cop or Stasi goon is going to question me.”
“I believe that,” Atcho admitted. “I’ve seen you in action.” The atmosphere had lifted to one of jocularity, as often happened when mission details were pounded out and execution was still hours away.
“Have the Soviets been informed?”
Burly shrugged. “I don’t know. General Marsh elevated our concerns. It’s on Washington now. We have to keep doing what we’re doing. Don’t forget that officially the state department is miffed at West Berlin’s mayor for having lunch with Wolfgang in East Berlin. Their meeting violated the treaty, but it’s a great cover story for deniability and to reduce the probability of the bad guys guessing what we’re doing.”
The room turned somber again. “The bombs,” Sofia cut in, her voice hoarse. “What about the bombs?” All eyes shifted to her. “Veniamin is on the way with them. If my family makes it into the embassy, and that bomb goes off… We’re supposed to rely on the bomb shelter?”
The mood dropped further. Atcho shifted in his chair, then turned and addressed Burly. “I’ll need my pistol and a radio. One more thing: I told General Marsh that I want that major with me—Joe Horton, the one who rescued me.” He saw Burly scribble a note. “I told the general that I won’t accept just anybody. It has to be him.” He smiled slightly. “Horton and I bonded. I know what pressure he’ll stand up to.” Then he turned to Sofia. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll take care of the bombs.”
Burly took note of the tension. “All right, folks,” he said. “We’re almost set. Go take care of your last preparations. We’ll get together here in,” he looked at his watch, “five hours to go over everything one last time. After that, we execute.”
30
Burly hurried through the door into the secured room at Berlin Brigade that now functioned as the team’s operations center. “I need your attention.” he announced.
Every member of the group ceased activity and fixed their eyes on him. They had been joined by Major Joe Horton, the Flag Tour officer. Horton seemed perplexed as he was read into the situation. He spoke infrequently and appeared detached to the point that Atcho wondered if selecting him had been an error.
But he had checked the man’s record. Horton had deployed for several tours in Vietnam, worked with the CIA, and advised the Montagnards with Special Forces.
Atcho knew little about the Montagnards, only that they were tribesmen deep in the mountains of Vietnam who fiercely opposed the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese regime. They had been reliable allies of the US. If Horton operated with them, he’s no slouch. Atcho refocused his attention.
“I just spoke by phone with Collins,” Burly said. His narrowed eyes and pursed lips revealed the gravity of what he was about to say. “He’s on his way back from Checkpoint Alpha. The news just got worse: the Stasi has Veniamin and his bombs.”
Atcho felt the blood drain from his face. He maintained his composure and looked at Sofia. Whatever emotion she was experiencing, she too held it in check.
“Ordinarily, we might think this is a good thing,” Burly went on. “But if, as we suspect, the Stasi is cooperating with Yermolov, then no government controls the bombs. Not even the Soviets.”
Burly related that Collins had followed Veniamin into the checkpoint at Marienborn. When he saw Veniamin dragged away, he had reversed course and called.
“Why didn’t Collins stop and let us, or the police know while he was following Veniamin?” Ivan asked. “He followed, the man through two countries.”
“He isn’t read in on what we know. He suspected what Yermolov was up to, but he had no confirmation until he saw Veniamin led away with the suitcases.”
“We knew this morning that Veniamin crossed the border,” Ivan intoned. “If Collins saw him with the bombs, why did he take so long to telling us?”
The room fell silent. Burly looked annoyed. “Give the guy a break. He knows he screwed up and he’s trying to set things right. Because of him, we know who the players are, and now we know where Veniamin and the bombs are. Collins was in East Germany already and had to go back through that border cluster to call us. And incidentally, he’ll have to go through it again and drive up the corridor to get here in time to do us any good. That’s the fastest way for him to get back here now. If he comes back via the route he went, that could take a couple of days instead of several hours—we might not have a couple of days or hours, and we need him to do one more thing.
“Keep in mind that he didn’t have to do any of that. He put his life and freedom at risk.”
Silence. Horton was the first to speak. Before Burly’s briefing, he had sat staring at the ceiling, seemingly bored, for much of the team discussion. He scraped his chair toward the table and leaned forward.
“Sir, I’m just a dumb grunt, and I’m late to this party.” He looked around the room as if he might be talking out of turn. As he spoke, he seemed to intensify his Texas twang. “If you don’t mind, I’d just like to reiterate—can I use that word? I sometimes use big words when I really don’t know what they mean.” He laughed at his own joke, and then caught himself, his face turning serious again. He cleared his throat.
Next to him, Atcho felt his own tension dissipate a bit. He remembered sitting in the back of the sedan on the east side of the Wall. There, Horton had taken immediate command. With a combination of humor and uncompromising determination, he and his driver had escorted Atcho safely back to the west side.
Atcho knew that Horton lived where the rubber met the road. He was the guy fighters wanted next to them in the foxhole. He had been an enlisted man, had risen through the ranks to sergeant first class, and then had attended Officers’ Candidate School to gain his commission.
Atcho thought his antics must drive his bosses to paroxysms of frustration. But he also knew they would choose to take him into battle every time.
Horton drew a deep breath and continued. “As I understand, and I know you’ll tell me if I’m wrong—y’all think this Wall is coming down in a few days, is that right?” He looked around for a response and went on without waiting for one. “And this little lady—” He gestured toward Sofia, then blushed. “Oops—no offense, ma’am. Sometimes my old-school manners get me in trouble.” He laughed again in his disarming way. Sofia’s eyebrows
arched, but she could not help smiling. She felt her tension ease.
“Don’t worry. I know some of what you’ve done,” Horton continued, still addressing Sofia. “I sure don’t want to get in a fracas with you. Did I use that word right?” He put a finger under his chin as though recapturing a thought. “As I was saying, this little lady—oops, tripped again.” He waved a hand at her. “She’s gonna make sure the Wall comes down by getting an East German official to make an announcement. And he’s going to do that before he’s supposed to, to make sure it gets done.” He paused as if a thought had intruded. His eyes bored into Sofia’s. “This guy’s name is Wolfgang? And he’s an East German politburo member, right?”
She nodded.
He grunted. “That’s what I thought. Oh, well. Ripley’s has lots of stuff that’s hard to believe too. I don’t know what a ‘politburo’ does anyway.” He chuckled, enjoying the humor. As he spoke, he gestured wildly with his arms, his tone indicating he thought the plan ludicrous. He spoke directly to Sofia again. “Meanwhile, Miss Sofia already has a team in the East who’ll swing by, get Wolfgang’s family, and bring them to the site of the announcement. Did I get that right? How many people? Three?”
“That’s right. Wolfgang’s wife Leni and two teenagers—a boy and a girl.”
Horton stared at her, open-mouthed. “Are you sh— I mean, are you kidding me?” He paused. “You’re going to escape from East Berlin with teenagers?” He looked at the ceiling. “Ah, Lord. Do you know what kind of trouble teenagers can be? I got two of ’em.
“Anyway, after this politburo guy does his thing, Miss Sofia and her team will pick him up. Then they’ll all walk together with the crowds? Out of East Berlin? Do you really think you can pull that off?” His tone became deliberate. He did not smile. “Ma’am?”