Operation Gold Eagle

by Jamie Fredric

  Wearing jeans, white T-shirt, black windbreaker, and black baseball cap, Grant walked further off the main road. Street lights barely penetrated a stand of trees, but he was able to see a cement park bench centered in between them. Sitting on the bench would leave him too exposed, so he slowly walked to the nearest tree, and backed up against it. Old habits,he quipped to himself.

  A sudden gust of wind nearly took his cap. He screwed it down until his brown eyes barely showed beneath the brim, then he continued perusing the area. But his mind went back to his conversation with the President. With Dotsenko safe again, he and Team A.T. would remain in Berlin, continuing the hunt for Reznikov. Operation Gold Eagle would proceed with the mission.

  As he watched traffic passing by, he couldn't help but question the upcoming meeting. What the hell was bringing him and Kalinin together again? An eerie feeling ran through him, if only for a brief second or two. He never had the DNA test Adler and Carr suggested. After a time, it no longer seemed to matter, as he put aside the question whether he and the Russian could be related. Maybe one day he'd ask Kalinin if he ever had the same thought. Not a good idea, Stevens. A noise behind him made him automatically reach for his holstered weapon.

  "Been waiting long?" Kalinin stepped from behind the tree.

  "Nick! It's good to see you!"

  "You, too, Grant!" The two slapped hands together, their grips firm.

  Grant leaned closer to the Russian, noticing a butterfly closure near the eyebrow. "The last time I saw you, you were pretty beat up. What the hell happened this time?!"

  "That's one of the reasons I asked you to meet me." Hearing voices behind him, Kalinin glanced over his shoulder. "Maybe we'd better go for a walk." He motioned toward the darker, inner Tiergarten.

  Voices and traffic sounds began to fade in the background, as they walked at a steady pace along one of many winding paths in Tiergarten, while keeping their keen senses on full alert.

  Grant gave Kalinin's shoulder a light punch. "First tell me what the hell you're doing here? And in West Berlin?"

  Kalinin lifted the bottom edge of his black leather jacket. Grant stopped short, spotting the badge attached to the Russian's belt. "Are you shittin' me?! KGB?!"

  "They'll take anybody these days!"

  It began coming together for Grant -- the phone call, this meeting. "But how did you know I was here, in Berlin?" he asked with obvious suspicion in his voice.

  "I was ordered to find a certain person after he and his party never showed at Schonefeld. My investigation revealed that seven men ambushed them. Naturally, I thought of you and your Team," he said, spreading his hands in front of him. "So, I took a chance and left the message at the embassy."

  Grant just shook his head. "And you 'tagged' me for pulling that off?!"

  "Didn't you?" the Russian asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Grant shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "You know I can't answer that."

  "Look, we both know I'm talking about Dotsenko. Are you telling me you don't know where he is?"

  "Can't answer that either." Grant had to hold back. Even though Kalinin had pretty much figured it out, the mission was still classified.

  Kalinin stopped, reached behind him, and removed two folders tucked in his waistband. "Before I forget. Here."

  Grant held the folders close, trying to see the printing in the dark. "Holy shit, Nick! Why the hell did you take these?!"

  "Call it a whim. Dossiers are a dime a dozen with KGB," he answered, with his face breaking into a grin.

  "So, now you've got the 'poop' on Joe and me! Find it interesting?" Grant smirked.

  "Absolutely! But some day I'd like to know more, like the personal side."

  "We'll see. Do you want these back?"

  "Don't worry about it. Most of the files and cabinets sustained damage. I don't think they'll be missed. Besides, the originals are still in Moscow."

  "If you say so," Grant responded, shoving the folders into his back waistband, then pulling his jacket over them. He stopped. "Hold it! You weren't inside when the explosions . . ."

  "No. My partner and I had just driven past when the bombs went off."

  "Jesus, Nick!"

  "Yeah. Tell me about."

  Grant added, "I don't know about you, but we suspected Reznikov pulled off all those bombings . . . no, we're positive, even though we don't have downright proof."

  "Well, you can stop wondering. It was."

  "How the hell . . . ?"

  "I saw him, Grant. I recognized that fuck driving away. We were about to take chase, when it happened."

  For the next fifteen minutes, Kalinin told Grant about the embassy bombing, his inability to track Reznikov, his 'hunt' for Dotsenko.

  "Let's sit," Kalinin said, as they approached a park bench. He drew out three pieces of paper from his jacket, and handed them to Grant. "Those are all I had time to copy. They're part of the files on Reznikov and his two men. We've been over them countless times, trying to find a connection, how they got together. More importantly, we can't find out who's financing them, or who their handler is. I thought for sure we'd find something in there," he commented, pointing to the papers.

  "Is it okay if I hang onto these?"

  "Sure. Maybe you can find something we couldn't."

  As Grant folded the papers and tucked them in his pocket, his concern started to increase. "Listen, Nick, do you think you're getting in too deep here, I mean, these papers, with me?"

  "We need each other on this one, Grant. Whatever we find out is only going to help resolve the shit. I know you're just as concerned as me that Reznikov is going to attack again . . . and soon."

  "Just said that to someone today."

  Kalinin hesitated briefly. "Don't think you've heard yet, but Premier Gorshevsky is planning on making a trip here to inspect what's left of the embassy."

  "Shit. Bad time."

  "Yeah, I know. And he's bringing Director Antolov and Minister Sokoloff. I'm hoping Antolov can change the Premier's mind."

  "It hasn't been officially announced, has it?"

  Kalinin shook his head. "Not yet. I've also been advised that a couple more agents will arrive with the director."

  "Jesus! Are you sure you wanna work with me?"

  "Da!" Kalinin answered, with a thumb's up. "Listen, Grant, I owe you and Joe big time for helping me in D.C."

  "You don't owe us anything. Besides, you sorta saved my ass, if you remember. And if you're gonna help, you do it because you think it's the right thing to do. Got that?"

  The two men sat quietly, thinking about what each of them expected from the other, thinking about what each was about to do. But it all boiled down to holding accountable those who lied, committed murder -- no matter how far up the chain of command it went, whether in Moscow or D.C.

  "It's not gonna be easy staying in contact, Nick. I don't have to worry about Joe and the guys, but what about you? You said you had a partner."

  "Yeah. Oleg is a good partner, but I don't have the same relationship with him like you and your men. I'll have to be cautious."

  "What about your intel boys? Sharp?"

  Kalinin slowly shook his head. "Since all this shit happened, they're paying attention better. Which reminds me. I might stop by there tonight, and see if they've picked up any transmissions."

  "Since the Team's been officially extended to continue looking for Reznikov, we'll be basing ourselves at the embassy. In case you need to make contact, I think we need to give you a code name. What about 'Cougar'?"

  "Sounds good. And maybe I can get my hands on a portable radio." Kalinin stood.

  Grant glanced at his submariner. "Almost 2400," he commented, as he stood. "Can we start work tomorrow?"

  "Think we'd better. I've got a real uneasy feeling that something's going to happen soon."

  "Well, look, Joe and I can cross into East Berlin without arousing suspicion. So, how 'bout we pick you up at 0500 tomorrow? You pick the location." With an array of pa
ssports, Grant and Adler could switch to their Russian and German ones, once they passed through the Allies' checkpoints. The risk was still enormous.

  Kalinin rubbed the back of his neck in thought. "Do you know where Museum Island is? The Monbijou Bridge?"

  Grant was briefly taken aback, then answered, "Uh, yeah. I do."

  "There shouldn't be any traffic that time of morning. I'll meet you on the south side of the bridge."

  "Listen, Nick, I asked you this already, but are you sure you want to get yourself into this?"

  Kalinin nodded. "We're both doing this for the same reasons, Grant. You're damn right I do!"

  "Very well. We'll be driving a black BMW. No matter what, we will be at the bridge. But if you foresee any problem, you call the embassy, and use your code name. If you don't show . . ."

  Kalinin reached for Grant's hand. "I'll be there, my friend."

  As Grant made his way back to the embassy, he wondered if it was possible to experience two surreal moments at the same time: meeting Kalinin again, and the Spree River that flowed under the Monbijou Bridge. He knew the cold Spree very well because that was where he snatched Rick Lampson. Damn!

  *

  Monbijou Bridge

  East Berlin

  June 23

  0500 Hours

  Day 5

  A fog hung over the city like a thick, gray veil. Daylight was officially at 0440, but street, bus, electric trams, and vehicle low beams remained on, barely able to penetrate the heavy mist, especially along the Spree River.

  Windshield wipers intermittently swished back and forth, clearing the BMW's glass. Adler guided the vehicle slowly along a quiet section of East Berlin. "Must feel strange being topside of that river," he chuckled, anticipating a less than enthusiastic response from Grant.

  But Grant remained quiet, visualizing the route he took that night, swimming close to the riverbed, using the Draeger, the life and death struggle underwater.

  "What? No response?"

  "Huh? What'd you say, Joe?"

  "Whatcha thinking?"

  "Joe, have you ever wondered where Lampson is, or what he's doing? I mean, have you ever thought about anybody we've rescued, or snatched, for whatever reason?"

  "Whoa! Where the hell is that coming from?!"

  Grant shifted in the seat, then leaned against the door. "Well, have you?"

  "Can't help it, especially when there's some kind of trigger, like the Spree or the bridge, for instance." Adler squinted, trying to see clearly out the windshield. "We're close to the bridge . . . I think." He shut off the fog lamps, leaving the parking lights on, as he slowed the BMW until it was barely moving.

  Grant reached overhead and switched the interior light to the "off" position. "There he is."

  The tall Russian walked out of the fog, then stood close to the curb. No sooner had the car stopped, when he opened the door and climbed in, tossing a small leather satchel on the seat. The sound of the door closing was Adler's signal to move on, as he flipped on the fog lamps. Tiresthumped as they rolled over a block-long section of cobblestone.

  Turning down his collar, then unbuttoning his black leather jacket, Nicolai Kalinin scooted toward the middle of the bench seat, then tapped Adler's shoulder. "Good to see you, Joe!"

  Adler glanced in the mirror, seeing the familiar face. "You, too, Nick!"

  Grant reached around the seat with his hand extended. "Dobroye utro!"

  "Yeah," Kalinin laughed, "good morning to you, too." He brushed a hand over his wet, brown hair, then leaned toward the center console, noticing the radio. "I managed to swipe a portable." He tapped a hand on the leather satchel. "Oleg has instructions to call only in an emergency."

  "The Team has the same instructions," Grant said.

  Adler made a right-hand turn, steering the BMW across another bridge. A car approached from the opposite direction, with its headlights barely visible in the fog. The three men went quiet, keeping their eyes on the passing vehicle. Adler glanced in the mirror, watching as red taillights disappeared.

  Grant finally asked, "Where's your car?"

  Kalinin motioned with his thumb. "We just passed it."

  "What about your partner? Was he curious about you leaving?"

  "I assigned him to search through the embassy debris. He needs to collect any sensitive data that wasn't destroyed. It should keep him occupied for a while."

  "Did you find out when the other two agents will show up?"

  "They'll be flying in with Director Antolov." Kalinin ducked down, and looked out the windshield. "Where are we headed? You're not kidnapping me, are you?!"

  Adler kept his eyes on the road, as he snickered, "Now there's a novel idea!"

  Grant cut in. "I thought we'd head down to Karlshorst. What do you think about running a G2 with men stationed at the Russian Rifle Brigade? Or has someone already done that?"

  "We haven't. Oleg and I have been running our asses off here."

  "Tell me about it," Adler snorted.

  "We need to talk, Nick. I've got some intel on Reznikov and his men that might give us some direction."

  "Where the hell did you get it?!"

  "Sorry -- classified. Look, we'll drive farther away from the city, then we'll go over it."

  Once they were well past the Spree, the fog began to lift, changing over to a light rain. Adler shut off the fog lamps, then pressed the accelerator. The BMW picked up speed, heading toward the Russian Rifle Brigade, nearly ten miles away.

  Grant turned, hooking his arm over the backrest. "What about the Stasi, Nick? Involved?"

  "They're counterintelligence work is top priority, and the majority of their surveillance is on East Germans and anyone from the West. But right now they're focusing on the Border Command incident. The East Germans are in complete disarray. The Stasi will see to it that order is restored.

  "But since KGB was finally given the same rights and powers as we have in Moscow, we have a broader range for investigating. So, I've been in contact with my counterpart who's assigned to the Stasi's headquarters in East Berlin. He's been able to use their intel, but even they haven't intercepted any transmissions that could remotely be from Reznikov. You know, it's almost like those three completely vanished."

  Kalinin swiveled his head, looking between the side window and windshield. "Are we near the village of Lichtenberg, Joe?"

  "Sign back there showed a little over a kilometer."

  "Okay. Start slowing down." Adler brought the speed to 20 mph, when Kalinin said, "If you look left, down that side street. . . There. That entire complex is Stasi, right there," he pointed.

  Grant leaned toward the console, as he caught a glimpse of a six-story building. "Christ! And every light's on. Busy little bastards, aren't they?"

  "And always 24/7/365," Kalinin added.

  "Okay, Joe, get us outta here, but take it easy."

  Adler maintained a slow speed. "According to the sign, it's eight kilometers (5 miles) to Karlshorst."

  Grant continued looking at the complex through the rear window. "Maybe it's a bad idea to visit the brigade complex, I mean, being so close to the Stasi."

  "We should be okay," Kalinin said with reassurance. "My badge will help eliminate any curious questions. And with you speaking Russian, and Joe, German, how could we fail?!"

  Adler made a right onto Am Tierpark, just as heavy rain started pelting the windshield. "What the hell?!" He set the wipers on high. "Gonna be tough inspecting the property in this shit!"

  Grant leaned toward the windshield. "Joe, turn left into that small park. Looks like there're parking spaces away from this road. We'll wait it out. We need to discuss the intel, anyway."

  Adler backed into a space, then shut off the engine and lights. Propping an arm on the backrest, his eyes went from Kalinin to Grant.

  Grant dug out a piece of paper from his pocket. "Take a look at this, Nick. If anything, it's at least a good beginning to the puzzle." As Kalinin perused the paper, Grant added, "That's how Rez
nikov and his men got to be a 'team.'"

  "Jesus, Grant! They were in the same prison together?! Why the fuck wasn't any of this in our records?!" Grant just waited, knowing Kalinin would figure it out.

  The Russian flopped back, suddenly answering his own question. "Somebody 'wiped' our records!"

  "That was our conclusion," Grant commented. "When we figure out why, it should lead us to who, or vice versa."

  Kalinin held up the paper. "And maybe I'll figure out how the hell you managed to get this!"

  Grant smiled briefly. "I'd be more surprised if you didn't."

  Kalinin studied the paper again, as another thought came to mind. "If those records were tampered with, how much do you want to bet those three now have different IDs?"

  Grant and Adler both agreed, then Grant asked, "What about pictures, Nick? Have they been distributed, especially to the checkpoints?"

  "We managed to salvage those, and yes, I saw to it they were posted."

  A blinding flash of lightning lit up the entire parking lot, followed three seconds later by an earsplitting crack of thunder. Tree branches swirled in the wind.

  "Front's coming through," Adler commented, leaning closer to the steering wheel, trying to see overhead. "Don't expect it'll last long."

  "So, what do you think, Nick, I mean about that info?" Grant asked.

  Kalinin sat forward. "You know, I haven't been with KGB all that long. And now I've suddenly got the responsibility of finding and accusing someone in Moscow of backing those crimes."

  "You sure whoever it is, is in Moscow?"

  "There's gotta be at least one accomplice here, but, yeah . . . Moscow."

  "Look, Nick, what you've gotta remember is whoever did this, put himself above the law and with little regard for human life, no matter how high up the chain he is. Joe and I've been through this more than we care to remember. And I'll be honest with you, there was more than one occasion when innocents died from decisions we made, and there was more than once when we couldn't prove our case. But you've got a good shot at nailing the sonofabitch, and we're here to help in every way we can."

  Kalinin leaned back and linked his fingers behind his head. "I appreciate that. But what about Reznikov and his men? If and when we find them, who'll take control -- you or me?"