by J A Heaton
After a thunderous boom that echoed within the office, the safe opened and revealed its secrets.
From the safe, Daniel retrieved a file folder that looked like the other personnel files, but he knew there had to be a reason Dmitri kept it in the safe. On top of that was a single document. It seemed to be a certificate. Daniel could make out Dmitri’s family name. Was it a marriage certificate with Zuhro? Daniel thought he deciphered a weight in kilograms, and he guessed it was a birth certificate of one of his children. But why would he keep this one?
Another item in the safe made no sense to Daniel. A black jewelry case held a diamond engagement ring. Though it was valuable, it offered no clues to Daniel. His mind went back to the birth certificate.
Daniel thought it was a curious item to keep in his office safe, but he didn’t have time to think about it. Daniel shoved the file folder, the certificate, and several other random folders from Dmitri’s desk into his pack. He had to get as much intelligence as he could out of this office. He slid the ring in its case into his pocket.
Daniel left the office with the key from the guard. He thought it might be for the large building that Daniel now suspected was a prison. Perhaps it would yield more clues than Dmitri’s office.
Daniel looked back at the guard, still laying on the ground unconscious, as he wrestled the key into the lock on the central building. When the door finally granted him access, he discovered a small anteroom to a long hallway. Doors with bars stretched down the hall. Noticing handcuffs hanging on the wall, Daniel grabbed them and went back outside. After handcuffing the guard, he dragged him inside and cuffed him to one of the bars forming the barrier between the entryway and the prison cells. After taking another key hanging on the wall and flipping on a light switch, he entered the row of cells.
Daniel ran down the hallway quickly, peering into each cell in turn. They were all empty. Except for one at the end.
The last cell on the left held a man at least fifty years old, wearing a gray jumpsuit. Once he realized that Daniel wasn’t one of his captors, he gave a broad smile that revealed more gaps than teeth.
Daniel began to unlock the door. As he did, he wondered if he was doing the right thing.
The man said something excitedly in Russian. Daniel gave an embarrassed look and listed the languages he did know: Uzbek, Tajik, Dari, and English. The man shook his head at each one.
“Amerikansky?” the man said.
“Da,” Daniel said, exhausting his knowledge of the Russian language. He pulled the cell door open.
The man stepped out of his cell and took in a deep breath. Daniel feared it may have been his first time out in a while. The man hobbled towards the exit, and Daniel followed. They were going to have to leave soon, especially if Daniel was going to guide this frail man back to friendly territory.
As they passed the man handcuffed at the front, the former prisoner gave him a kick and spat on him. A Russian expletive slipped from his lips.
Daniel peeked out the door to see if anybody had arrived. No, they were still alone at the black site.
But Daniel didn’t know for how long. He turned and motioned for the man to follow him, but the man stood up straight and pointed to a side door.
“Amerikansky,” he said while pointing to the door.
Daniel waved his hand again. He wasn’t sure how much more time they had until others came back. And if they came back to an unconscious guard, a missing prisoner, and a burgled office, they would hunt Daniel tirelessly. And if he was trying to flee in the rugged mountains with a weak former prisoner, Daniel didn’t like his odds.
But the freed man was resolute.
“We’ve got to hurry then,” Daniel said as he pulled the door open and looked down a staircase. The stairs wound downward into darkness.
Daniel had always heard that the Soviets had basements nobody ever wanted to go into, even if it wasn’t the basement of the KGB headquarters in Moscow.
Pavel jumbled up and down in the passenger seat of the Russian 4 x 4 Niva. The transfer of the cases taken out of the mountain facility had gone smoothly. First, the Kamaz truck moved them to their abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Shahrisabz where they were placed in another Kamaz truck. Pavel sent his most trusted man with the shipment of cases to the north while he returned to the facility with the others.
Pavel had often wondered what was so important in those cases to his master. And why was his master just now ordering them to be relocated via truck to his mansion in the mountains north of Tashkent?
Pavel obeyed the order without question or hesitation, but it had come at the most inconvenient time.
Pavel and three of his men had been engaged in a gunfight. They had held the upper ground, and they had pursued their opponents throughout the mountain terrain in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Pavel hadn’t felt such exhilaration since his time in Spetsnaz special forces late in the Soviet-Afghan War.
Pavel knew that he and his men were engaged in a gun battle with challenging opponents. They moved constantly, fired expertly, and were much more challenging than the Afghans he had defeated so quickly years ago.
But Pavel and his men had steadily pushed them back. He sensed that they were American, or at least a NATO-trained special force, but he didn’t care. His orders had been clear. Deadly force was to be used on any who would approach his master’s secret facility in the south.
But when Pavel’s master ordered him to disengage to relocate the cases, Pavel knew the cases must have been of the utmost importance.
Pavel hoped he would have the satisfaction of re-engaging with the same skilled opponents in a gun battle soon, but he was convinced that this would be his last trip to his master’s secret facility.
His master was cleaning up and closing it down.
“What about the prisoners?” Pavel had asked his master over the radio.
“Do nothing else until those cases are safely on the way to me in the north,” his master had ordered.
“And then what shall I do with the prisoners?” Pavel asked.
“Execute them,” the master said. “Dump their bodies into a deep ravine. They must never be found.”
Pavel moved his head from side to side, cracking his thick neck as he pondered the grizzly task that awaited him back at the facility.
12
Daniel descended the metal spiral staircase towards the basement of the prison. His eyes slowly adjusted to the lack of light. A solitary bulb burned dimly as it hung from the ceiling of the underground hallway. The floor was cement, and cinder blocks formed the walls. Metal doors with slits at eye level lined this hallway.
Daniel looked behind the staircase and saw a sand-covered floor with sandbags against the wall. Daniel knew that must be where they would execute prisoners. And he was sure it was no coincidence that it was done within earshot of the other prisoners in the basement.
“Amerikansky,” the man continued as he pointed down the hallway.
“Hello?” Daniel called out. “Anybody there?”
Daniel heard a slight scuffle down the hall. One door rattled slightly. Daniel ran to it and looked through the tiny slit.
“Are you an American?” Daniel asked the man that he saw. Like the Russian prisoner, he wore a gray jumpsuit, and he looked malnourished and pale.
The prisoner looked back through the slit at Daniel, without answering.
“You know I’m an American,” the man finally answered quietly.
“I’m an American too,” Daniel said. “And I’ll get you out of here.”
Daniel looked about the hallway for a key. Finding none, he motioned to the Russian prisoner with his hand, making a turning motion near the door. The Russian prisoner shrugged.
There had been no other keys in Dmitri’s office. He took the guard’s key for the front lock and tried, but it didn’t even fit in the hole.
Daniel wished he had saved some of the explosives. He would have preferred to free a person instead of documents.
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“I need to go find the key,” Daniel said. “I’ll be back.” Daniel rushed back up the stairs and outside. The guard was still unconscious, attached to the metal bar, and Daniel ran out of the prison towards the other buildings he had not yet searched. At least one of them was, no doubt, barracks for the workers at the facility and the guards. Daniel ran to each one in turn. Each was locked.
Daniel kicked at the doors, but none gave way. All the windows were barred. Daniel raced to grab his crowbar, but that also was useless.
Instinctively, Daniel knew where the key was. It had to be with the bald Russian.
Daniel raced back into the prison. He hurried past the surprised Russian man who had come up the stairs and went back to the basement.
“I’m sorry,” Daniel said as he gasped for breath. “The key isn’t here. I’m going to try with this crowbar, but I don’t think it will help.”
Daniel pounded and pried at the door for several minutes, but the door wouldn’t give.
“I can’t get you out now,” Daniel apologized, “but look at me. I promise that you will get out of here soon. As soon as I tell my contacts at the CIA and the US military that you are here, they will move mountains to get you out.”
The American did not respond as Daniel expected.
“Stop trying,” the man said. “You can’t fool me. You’re not American. You’re just pretending to trick me into something.”
“What the hell did they do to you in here?” Daniel said. “You think I’m part of an elaborate trick? By who? The Russians?”
The man didn’t respond.
“Believe me,” Daniel said. “I am as American as apple pie. I’m not part of a Russian trick.”
The man looked up at Daniel and squinted.
“As American as apple pie?” the prisoner asked. “Okay. Let’s pretend I will play your game. Prove to me you are as American as apple pie.”
“I can’t stay long,” Daniel explained. “They could come back any moment.”
Daniel saw the American shrink back. He still suspected Daniel was part of a trick.
“Okay, okay,” Daniel said. “What can I say to you to prove that I’m an American? What’s something that only Americans know? Apple pie! ‘American Pie’ by Don McLean. Everybody knows that song, even if nobody knows what in the world it’s about.” Daniel hummed the tune as his mind raced to think of more ways to prove he was an American.
Daniel thought he spotted a glimmer of hope in the man’s eyes.
“You could have prepared that beforehand,” the man pointed out. “Try this. Explain to me how to play American football.”
Now Daniel felt he was on a roll.
“I know how the game is played. The offense has four downs, and they need to get at least ten yards to get another first down.” Daniel began to speak faster. “Or, if they get the ball into the end zone, they get six points, and with the extra point, they can get a total of seven points from scoring a touchdown. Or if they don’t get that far, they can punt on fourth down. Otherwise, the other team will get the ball. Or they can kick a field goal for three points. I can even do the Superbowl Shuffle for you.”
“Oh my God,” the American prisoner said. “You are an American. I don’t believe it. How did you get here? What year is it?”
“2002,” Daniel said. “Who are you?”
“My name is Michael Devers,” the man said solemnly. “I work for the CIA, and I was captured in Leningrad, the USSR in 1987.”
My God, Daniel thought to himself. 1987?
“Did we finally go to war with the Soviet Union?” Michael Devers asked. “Has NATO made it this far, and you’re here to rescue me?”
“No,” Daniel said. “We never went to war with the Soviet Union. The Soviet Union ended years ago. The Cold War is over.”
“It ended?” the prisoner said, stumbling down onto the floor out of surprise.
“It basically ended in 1989 after the Berlin Wall came down,” Daniel said. “Then it was mostly just things sorting themselves out. You didn’t know the Cold War ended?”
The man shook his head, still unable to take it in.
“The Wall came down?” Michael mumbled to himself as he got back on his feet.
Not only has this man been in prison since 1987, but he also doesn’t even know the Cold War ended.
“You are in what is now known as Uzbekistan, part of the former Soviet Union,” Michael explained. “In a secret prison facility that nobody knew about for years. We Americans are here because we now have an air base in southern Uzbekistan to support the war in Afghanistan.”
“Afghanistan?” the man said. “We finally became overt in our resistance against the Soviets in Afghanistan?”
“No,” Daniel said. “Islamic terrorists took over Afghanistan, and then it became the launching pad to send terrorism all over the world, even to the United States of America.”
As Daniel said this last sentence, a picture of the burning World Trade Center flashed through his mind.
“The worst terrorist act on American soil took place about a year ago,” Daniel continued. “Islamic terrorists hijacked planes and flew them into the World Trade Center in New York, killing thousands of innocent civilians.”
“And now we’re going after them in Afghanistan?” Michael asked, struggling to keep up with the history lesson.
“I promise that once I get out of here, I’ll send in the cavalry to rescue you. But I need to know about the Russians who worked here during the Cold War. Did you know a KGB man named Dmitri?”
Michael nodded. “I don’t know if that really was his name. He always seemed nice, but I figured that he and the interrogator were just playing good cop versus bad cop.”
“Did Dmitri ever confide in you?” Daniel asked desperately.
“No,” Michael said. “I only encountered him a few times. I didn’t get out much, being here in the basement.”
“I’m going to have to go soon,” Daniel said in a hurry. “Think hard. Is there anything Dmitri ever did or said that seemed a little bit out of character? Did you ever suspect he was trying to pass on a message?”
Daniel knew he was taking a shot in the dark, but he couldn’t bear to leave Michael Devers in this hellhole for a minute longer and not get any closer to Dmitri’s secrets.
Michael responded with a definitive, “No,” as if the idea were preposterous.
“You said you work for the CIA?” Daniel asked. “Dmitri also worked for the CIA. He was our best asset within the Soviet Union for years, Agent Bishop. Until one day, right after he revealed he had something of the highest urgency, he disappeared. I now know that he disappeared because he was posted here. But he was on our side. He was recently murdered in Tashkent, just as he was about to tell us something vital.”
“Dmitri was Agent Bishop?” Michael asked. “I was captured in Leningrad in 1987, trying to get a defector out. The defector was supposed to have credible information about a mole within the American intelligence community. I had heard of Agent Bishop. I knew we were afraid that this mole could reveal who Agent Bishop was. But just as I met the defector, we were captured. I was supposed to meet him and escort him to a dock where a SEAL was going to meet us with a lightweight inflatable boat to take us to an American submarine lurking off the coast.
“Moments more, and he would’ve given me the identity of the mole. I’ll never forget the look of terror in his eyes when they captured us. They brought me here. I’m sure the defector was executed. This has always been my cell. For fifteen years, apparently.”
“Who did you report to in the CIA?” Daniel asked.
“Billy,” Michael said. “We used to call him Billy the Kid.”
“Do you think…?”
“No,” Michael said. “Billy wasn’t the mole. He would never betray me. We were good buddies. He was a great guy. We’d had too many good times together.”
Daniel pondered Michael’s words for a moment, but he felt that a clock was ticking. How long
until the other guards returned? And the bald man with the thick neck?
“Did anybody else know about the mission when you were captured?” Daniel asked.
“I’m sure others knew. It required a Navy SEAL and a submarine, but those two are extremely secretive and generally separate from the CIA. I wanted to tell Allison, but I didn’t. Things were complicated between Billy and us. But she might have guessed I had a big mission coming up because I acted weird.”
“Allison?” Daniel asked. But he knew who it was as soon as he said it.
“Allison Carter,” Michael replied. “Is she still…? Do you know her?”
“She’s still around the CIA,” Daniel said, downplaying his working relationship with Officer Carter. His mind was racing, though, and he wasn’t sure if he could risk more time with Michael. But Michael switched topics as Daniel began to consider if Officer Carter could be the mole.
“Now that I think about it,” Michael began, “I do remember something Dmitri did. Dmitri was kind of a soft guy, but like I said, I thought he was just playing good cop. But then, one prisoner, a Russian who’d been my cellmate for a while, was set free. Dmitri cleared his name. That was unusual for this place. It was cold out, and I remember that Dmitri gave him his old coat when he was released. That is my last memory of Dmitri. Agent Bishop. I can’t believe it. My cellmate, the man he freed, was named Vasyli Fedorov.”
Daniel made it to the end of the basement hallway when it started.
Michael Devers gave in to panic and began yelling, begging Daniel not to leave him. But Daniel knew he had no choice. He had no way of releasing Michael Devers, and the best thing he could do was to get away as quickly as possible and send other Americans to rescue him.
Daniel raced up the stairs with the Russian prisoner behind him, and after he shut the door at the top of the staircase, Michael Devers’ yells were silenced. The guard was still handcuffed in the prison entryway, but he was beginning to move and groan. He was coming to. It didn’t matter at this point, though.