Warning Order

by Jamie Fredric

  Grant led the way, stepping onto the first of two concrete steps. He edged his way toward double wooden doors. Adler hung close, watching their backs while Grant jimmied the lock. He tapped Adler's shoulder. They disappeared into the building quickly and silently.

  As their eyes started adjusting to the dark, they pulled pen-like flashlights from their waistbands. The thin beams cast enough light to guide them while they climbed the ten flights. Within minutes they were on the top floor.

  Walking across the squeaking, wooden floor, they aimed the flashlight beams toward a passageway at the rear of the building. Tucked in a narrow shaft were a set of steep-angled stairs that led to the roof.

  Once he was on the top step, Grant reached for the doorknob. He turned the dirt-encrusted knob, finding it was unlocked but the door hardly budged. He shined the flashlight around the frame. Years of neglect left the door warped, and its hinges completely rusted. He switched off the flashlight, reattaching it to his belt. Adler aimed his light back down the stairwell, preparing for the door to open. Grant braced himself, then threw his weight into it and hammered the door with his shoulder. Begrudgingly, it gave way enough to allow them to slip through. They took short, quick strides to reach the west side of the roof. Black strips of tarpaper ran across the width of the roof, most of it ripped and shredded. Small torn pieces were caught in a ten knot wind swirling around the building.

  Finally reaching the side that faced the alley, they took a quick look across at their final objective. On the opposite side about fifty feet away was an exact duplicate of the building they were on. They ducked down behind a four-foot high, cement block wall that ran around the building's perimeter.

  "What the hell...?" Grant said suddenly, as a familiar noise got their immediate attention. They snapped their heads around. The sound grew louder. It was the unmistakable noise of rotor blades. A chopper was approaching from the rear. Their eyes immediately focused on a beam of light, a searchlight affixed to the outside of the cargo bay. The operator swiveled it slowly, back and forth, sweeping the surrounding grounds.

  Grant and Adler knew they were too exposed. The light had a range of nearly a hundred yards. Their only chance was to make it back to the stairwell. The chopper was nearly two hundred yards away, the light aimed at the field directly behind the two buildings. Taking off at the same time, the two raced across the roof, squeezing through the partially open door. Adler grabbed the door knob. He hoped that by using his forward momentum it would help pull the door closed behind him, but it jammed. Grant reached around him, and the two of them asserted all their effort, pulling on the knob. A shaft of light started to penetrate the open space just as the door slammed shut. Again in pitch black surroundings, they waited, directing their eyes overhead, unable to see, but listening to the noise above them as the chopper continued to hover.

  Several seconds later, the repetitive noise changed direction. Grant and Adler followed the sound, moving their heads to the right. Gradually, they were listening to silence. Once back outside, they took a quick glance toward the horizon, still able to see the beam of light reaching down to earth as if on a quest.

  Adler pulled the Starlighter from the rucksack, as Grant was removing a black object that resembled a long tube. It was about eighteen inches in length, had a wire running from the handle to an earpiece, and the opposite end had a ‘sight.’ A collapsible dish opened around the mike in order to capture more sound. The directional microphone, known as a "shotgun mike" was highly sensitive. Adler once said that the powerful microphone could pick up a gnat's fart.

  Grant started to fit the earpiece into his ear when Adler nudged him and whispered, "One sentry, six o'clock."

  Grant reached for the scope then leaned over the edge of the wall, aimed it at the alley directly below, and spotted a man standing in the middle of the dark alley. He wore a heavy jacket, and had an Uzi slung over his shoulder. A tiny flame suddenly glowed in the darkness, as a match was brought close to the tip of a cigarette. The small light flickered a moment before being extinguished, then the burned matchstick was dropped to the ground. A puff of cigarette smoke drifted into the air before the sentry turned and started meandering toward the vacant lot.

  Grant nodded then handed the scope back to Adler. Once the small earpiece was snugly in his ear, he aimed the head of the shotgun mike toward the opposite building. Starting at the top floor, he moved it in a back and forth pattern, trying to cover every floor, every apartment. He leaned against the wall, keeping his eyes closed, allowing him total concentration on the sounds filtering through the earpiece. Minutes later, he stopped his arm motion and tilted his head.

  Adler detected that Grant heard something significant, and he lowered the scope, waiting for confirmation.

  Pressing his index finger against the earpiece, Grant heard what appeared to be whimpering, immediately followed by a female voice attempting to quiet a child. He whispered, "Live bodies. Kids, one female."

  Adler's face broke out in a wide grin. He motioned with a thumb's up then asked, "Location?" Grant held up two fingers. Adler pressed the scope against his eye, moving the sight along the fire escape, zeroing in on a window that didn't have a trace of light filtering through it. He stepped back and ran behind Grant, heading for the rear of the building about forty feet away. First he made sure the sentry was still in the alley then he leaned over the wall as far as he could and checked every angle of the two buildings.

  Beyond the rear of both buildings was an area covering approximately one hundred acres. Adler steadied the scope then moved the sight methodically back and forth, scanning the acreage they crossed earlier to reach their objective. They had made their way through piles of rubble and debris scattered across ground. Most of the rubble consisted of large chunks of concrete, broken sections of rusted pipe, window glass, and even pieces of furniture, making it obvious another building had once occupied the site. There was little chance the average East Berlin citizen would wander into this neighborhood. All Grant and Adler had to worry about was an occasional patrol...or another flyover by a chopper.

  Adler hurried back to Grant, who still had the microphone aimed at the second floor across the alley. "Anything?"

  “At least one male,” Grant replied. He pulled the earpiece from his ear, handing it and the microphone to Adler, who was on one knee, storing the scope in the rucksack. "Let's move," Grant said.

  Once Adler had the rucksack secured on his back, they headed for the door leading from the roof. Securing it behind them, they immediately reached for the pen-like flashlights, the tiny beams guiding their way down the steep stairs. Staying on the top landing, they knelt down and gripped the flashlights between their teeth before they proceeded to check the equipment. Grant opened his chest vest and examined the roll of det cord, blocks of C4, and chemical pencils. Adler put a new clip into both his and Grant's .45 then tightened the silencers. They each carried five additional clips in their vests, one MK6 CS vial of tear gas, a set of lock picks, along with phony passports and “haul ass” money sealed in plastic. They sealed the chest vests and removed the flashlights from their mouths.

  "Ready?" Grant asked, as he checked his knife, secured in the leg strap.

  "Let's do it!"

  All their planning, down to the most minute detail, was about to culminate. The flashlights were extinguished and slipped into their pockets for easy access. With weapons drawn, Adler partially opened the door, sliding his body through, then taking cover behind it as Grant exited, quietly closing it. He gave Adler a signal, and they both made a dash across the front of the building then turned the corner, running full bore across compacted dirt, heading for the rear. Their black clothes made them blend into the darkness, becoming shadows themselves.

  Adler poked his head around the back corner. He gave Grant the "all clear" then they cautiously followed the building toward the alley. Once they reached the end of the wall, they paused, listening for anything that would tell them the sentry's location. While
they were on the roof, Adler had timed how long it took for the German to make one pass around the entire building. But they couldn't depend on that. If he was smart, the sentry would vary his routine and maybe even use the fire escape to check the roof.

  Detecting a slight odor, Adler turned his head and signaled it was a cigarette. Grant nodded, partially opened his vest and felt around inside. He pulled out a thin telescoping rod with a three inch round mirror attached to the end then handed it to Adler. Slowly extending the rod past the corner, Adler adjusted its angle as he stared into the mirror. He withdrew it, handed it back to Grant then gave a thumb's down. But the smell of cigarette smoke still lingered. Adler slid his back down the wall, getting himself into a low crouch. His eyes searched the ground, finally spotting a cigarette butt about seven feet away. He pointed for Grant to see.

  Goddammit, Grant thought. They were wasting time!

  Suddenly, a sound made them all but melt into the wall. They strained their ears, trying to pinpoint the location and identify the sound. Grant pressed on the throat mike, barely whispering, "Fire escape."

  Adler nodded, taking a quick look around the corner. He signaled with a thumb's up then held up three fingers, indicating the second floor then pointed down with his index finger. The sentry was on his way back down to ground level.

  The German had stopped on the second landing of the fire escape, his ear pressed against a window. He finally started down the metal steps, facing toward the front of the building. Adler cautiously ran across the alley, taking cover behind the building. He could hardly see Grant from that angle, but it didn’t matter. They knew what had to happen next.

  They didn’t have time to wait and see which direction the sentry would go. They poked their heads around the corner, seeing the German beneath the fire escape, lighting up another cigarette then leaning against the wall. Adler took the penlight flashlight from his pocket, then clicked it on and off once, signaling Grant, who stood ready, holding the .45 with both hands in front of him, his elbows close to his body. He turned and faced Adler and the alley, poised and waiting.

  Adler stuck the light around the corner and aimed the tiny beam along the ground, tracking a path toward the German whose eyes fell on the light. He blinked and threw the cigarette away, fumbling with the strap of the Uzi, finally pulling it from his shoulder. He started walking, when the light suddenly disappeared. He stopped in his tracks, staring at the ground then lifted his head, looking into the blackness of the field beyond, uncertain whether to proceed, but then he tried to reassure himself it was probably nothing. There hadn't been a single sighting of anyone near here, let alone any attempt to try and attack or break into the flat or lab. He hesitated, but knew he had to investigate. With the Uzi clutched in his hands, he started cautiously forward. The quiet was almost deafening. He swung the Uzi slowly from side to side, trying to cover both buildings, not knowing what to expect. He was less than eight feet from the corner when a black form swung out from behind the building on his left. Stunned, his reaction was only quick enough to raise the Uzi. The last sound he heard was a muffled “putt.”

  Grant and Adler rushed to the dead German. Each grabbed an arm and started dragging the body beyond the building to the edge of the field. Adler pulled the clip from the Uzi then rolled the German over, face down. Grant quickly scanned an area close by, quietly asking Adler, "See any camouflage?"

  "Behind you," Adler answered immediately, spotting something over Grant's shoulder. He ran about fifteen feet, lifted a rusted piece of crumbled sheet metal, carried it back then covered the body. Only the bottoms of the German’s shoes were left exposed.

  Grant motioned with his head toward the building then took off, Adler right next to him. Jesus, Grant thought, where the hell is the trail of bodies going to end?

  Not surprising, the basement door was locked. Grant pulled a case from his vest, removing a lock pick. Adler pulled double duty, holding the flashlight and standing guard. Grant manipulated the instrument inside the lock like an expert burglar, finally hearing a click.

  Adler entered first, shining the beam of light ahead of him. Grant was right behind him, closing the door silently. "Nine o'clock," Adler whispered. He aimed the flashlight on what looked like a rectangular wooden box. "Trap door?" They moved cautiously toward the box. Grant knelt down on one knee, running his hand along the edge of the wooden frame, lifting one edge. Adler leaned over, shining the light down through the folding stairs. "Look familiar?"

  "Yeah." He reached for Adler's flashlight, searching for some kind of switch. Finding it, he stood up and handed the flashlight back to Adler who started to close the lid. "Leave it," Grant said. "In a little while, it won't matter who knows we've been here. Let's go." At the top of the steps, they confronted another locked door. Christ! Grant again removed the lock picks. He swung the door out just enough to poke his head through the opening. His eyes had adjusted fully to the darkness, and he spotted the stairs just to his left. "Clear," he whispered. He led the way up the stairs to the first landing. Standing by the front door, Adler pressed an ear to it. They both listened for any sound, but there was only silence.

  Grant moved to the next flight of stairs, as Adler stuck close. Almost in unison, they stared up toward the second landing, the outline of the apartment door in sight--their final objective. With adrenaline pumping, they ascended slowly, one step at a time, staying close to the wall, their weapons cocked and ready.

  Karl Breite stood at the entrance of the kitchen, with a Luger gripped in his hand. He drew back the hammer, while never taking his eyes from the partially opened bedroom door. The children were quiet again after nearly thirty minutes of fussing. He made the decision to dispose of the woman first, then the children. He breathed in deeply, knowing he had no choice if he wanted to survive. Steiner would make good on his promise. Breite's only consolation for what he was about to do was that he'd make sure they didn't suffer.

  A kerosene lamp sat near the edge of the folding table, its flame barely giving off enough light to cast shadows in the kitchen. Breite pictured in his mind the position of the cots and where the woman and children were. Deciding he couldn't take the chance and maybe miss the targets with first shots, he carried the lamp and put it down on the floor near the bedroom entrance. He turned up the wick. He stood in front of the door and began to push it open with his foot, his weapon secure in both hands. The cots were directly opposite him, the sleeping children coming into view as the door opened. He took a slight step to his left as he entered the room, preparing for the other cot to come into view. He started to pull the trigger when suddenly, out of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of someone lunging at him from behind the door. He began to swing the gun around when an excruciating pain shot through his chest, just below the sternum, the instrument of death being forced up at an angle, plunging into his heart. A reflex action caused his finger to squeeze the trigger.

  Grant and Adler were at the front door when the shot rang out, sounding like a cannon in the empty building. Screams from the hysterical little boys made Grant's blood turn cold. "Oh, Christ! Go! Go!" he yelled.

  Without hesitation, he and Adler fired at the lock then kicked in the door. Adler rushed in at a forty-five degree angle to the right, sweeping the room with his .45 as Grant came right in behind him. The children's screams were earsplitting. Adler searched the living room. "Clear!"

  Grant pulled open the closet door, also confirming, "Clear!" He headed for the kitchen entrance, close behind Adler. A kerosene lamp on the floor outside the bedroom still burned, casting eerie shadows across the floor and wall. Adler took a position near the door's opening, Grant opposite him. Grant nodded. Adler reached for the doorknob, pushing the door open but something blocked its movement. The screams from the little boys had turned to pathetic cries. Every once in awhile one of them would choke and start coughing, then the crying would resume.

  Adler tried to see inside the bedroom. All that was visible were a man's legs, his upper bo
dy hidden behind the door. Adler stood up and looked at Grant, moving an index finger across his throat. They had to make their move now.

  Grant motioned that he'd throw his body weight against the door. Adler took a deep breath and nodded. Grant slammed his body against the door with full force. Adler rushed into the room. For one split second, there was complete silence. The twins stopped crying, shocked for a second time. But seeing two strangers, dressed completely in black was too much for the little boys, and they screamed.

  Both men ignored them, keeping their guns ready and their senses on alert. A quick look around the room told them it was clear. In unison they looked down. "Jesus," Adler mumbled.

  The man's body had been shoved across the floor from the force of the door, but it was the first time they noticed the woman. She was laying half under the man's upper body. No movement or sounds came from either one. Blood was pooling on the floor between both bodies. Her blond hair was draped across her face, the long strands showing streaks of blood. A metal nail file was embedded in the man's chest just below the sternum. His Luger remained clutched in his hand.

  She nearly made it, Grant thought grimly. He opted not to have Adler bring in the kerosene lamp. His immediate thought was to try and block the view from the boys. He shook his head slowly. "Get the kids and get the hell out."

  Adler quickly slipped the .45 into the shoulder holster. He stepped over the dead man and went to the cot where the twins were huddled. Tears streaked the small, pale faces. They stared at the stranger talking softly to them in their native language. Their cries changed to whimpers as Adler picked them up, carrying one in each of his arms. Grant snatched two blankets from the cots and caught up to Adler on the landing, taking one of the boys from him. Then, they rushed down the two flights with their penlights in hand, and continued down into the basement. Adler extinguished his light then Grant handed him a blanket. Grant bundled up the little boy he was carrying before handing him over to Adler.