Operation Gold Eagle

by Jamie Fredric

  "Did you get specific orders?"

  "They're to be returned to Moscow."

  "Hmm. Well, the only orders we got were to find them. You know, Nick, there's a very simple way to resolve the issue."

  The Russian's face broke into a grin. "Glad you said that, 'cause that's exactly what I was thinking."

  "Nick, when's the last time anyone intercepted anything from Reznikov?" Adler asked.

  Kalinin started mentally reviewing intel. "You know, Joe, I don't think we ever did, so that means communication was done by messages or dead drops."

  "Yeah," Grant said, "but that may have been during the earlier attacks. If we assume Reznikov has been on a revenge rampage, then no form of communication was necessary. He was on his own -- right?"

  "Probably," Kalinin nodded in agreement. "But where the hell does that get us?"

  Grant linked his fingers together and laid his hands on top of his head. "Don't know. But maybe we're going about this the wrong way. Maybe we need to focus on who tipped off Reznikov's men." He turned in the seat. "Who would've known?"

  "The Premier, of course, Director Antolov, FCD Borskaya, General Komarov and the men with him at Glienicke Bridge. Oh, and Minister Sokoloff."

  "What about the OIC at the East German prison?"

  Kalinin shook his head. "He was informed only hours before the exchange." Kalinin stared at Grant, knowing something was going on in his brain. "What are you thinking?"

  "Listen, I was waiting for more intel from my source. Maybe we need to forgo the G2 at the rifle brigade, and head back."

  "Sure. No problem. Can you give me a hint?"

  "C'mon, Joe. Head out." As Adler started the engine, Grant said to Kalinin, "You might have more luck than me on this, so you need to check records on those men who were at the exchange."

  Kalinin was obviously surprised. "Seriously?!"

  "Serious as a heart attack, Nick. I may be stretching it here, but they're the only ones who stand out right now. Agree?"

  "Yeah. I think you may be right. One of them is still in hospital."

  "You need to check on him, too."

  The quick-moving storm showed signs of letting up. Winds calmed, rain turned to drizzle, daylight showed on the horizon, as Adler drove toward the Monbijou Bridge.

  As they were approaching the bridge, Kalinin pointed toward his car. Adler pulled the BMW behind it, but kept the engine running.

  "No calls," Kalinin commented as he lifted his satchel with the radio. "Guess everything's quiet."

  Grant turned in the seat. "We'll be at the embassy, Nick, making some inquiries. If you find out anything, call that number I gave you. Any suggestions how I can reach you?"

  "Think I'll check in with Oleg, then I'll start doing research on those four." He glanced at his watch. "Give me at least an hour to . . ." He paused, "Maybe I'd better call you when I'm through. Hate to arouse suspicion."

  "Very well. We'll wait for your call." Grant extended his hand. "Take care, my friend."

  Even before Kalinin was in the Volga, Adler drove away, heading for West Berlin and the embassy.

  Chapter 13

  Near Village of Lanke

  0930 Hours

  The same storm that hit near Karlshorst, blew through Lanke. Dripping water from two small leaks in the aged country home's roof, splashed against beams before pooling on wooden floor planks. Outside, leaves, twigs, other debris covered the wood door of the underground storage room.

  Leaning against the doorframe, with the door wide open, Ivan Reznikov waited for his men to return from the village. Their instructions were to purchase a few supplies, but he was really after news, anything that could tell him about the attacks, the damage and deaths inflicted. He was curious whether or not the three of them had been identified. Even if they had been, it mattered little. Plans for the next attack had been completed. The following day they'd head for Sperenberg.

  Located in the forests 35 miles south of Berlin, Sperenberg was originally developed for the Prussian Army. At the start of World War II, it was the first site where Werner von Braun tested his rockets, before the research was moved to Peenemünde. In May 1945, the site was overrun by the Red Army, then mostly abandoned. But in the 1950s, the Soviet Army began looking for a military airfield suitable for use by heavy transport planes. They rebuilt Sperenberg, and in 1974, the concrete runway was extended to 8,200' with the creation of an additional parallel grass runway for emergencies. The "new" airfield supported heavy transports, attack helicopters for defensive purposes, out-stationed and transiting bombers. Sperenberg became a key location for Soviet forces in East Germany. Its airfield radio call sign was "Souvenir."

  After a recon of the outlying area, Reznikov realized it would be nearly impossible to inflict any amount of damage with the base "buried" so deeply within the forest. Even if they were able to cut through rows of barbed wire, the distance they had to travel on foot was prohibitive, making their escape practically non-existent.

  What they had observed was a constant flow of fuel trucks along the main road. A train, once a day, brought military families transiting through Berlin from Moscow. Reznikov searched out and found a precise vantage point where he and his men could attack either the trucks or train, and still escape easily.

  Hearing a sound of a vehicle, he backed up into the house, until finally catching sight of the Trabant, now painted a dark blue with another East Berlin license plate, IRL 35-28.

  Once Botkin parked behind the house, he and Orlov rushed around to the front. "Ivan!" Botkin called. "Look at this!"

  Reznikov reached for a folded newspaper, the Neues Deutschland, the official party newspaper of the Socialist Unity Party of Germany (SED), and its most important propaganda tool. An article on the first page reported Russian Premier Gorshevsky was due to visit East Berlin, to pay his respects to fallen comrades killed in the terrorist attacks. The article went on to name KGB Director Antolov and Minister Sokoloff as being in attendance.

  "No mention of the date for their arrival," Reznikov said under his breath.

  Orlov started to offer a suggestion. "Do you think we should consider . . ."

  "Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Pavel, but we must stick with the current plan, especially since nothing is definitive for the visit. Once we have returned from Sperenberg, and if a date and time have been announced, then we will see." He shoved the newspaper at Orlov. "Confirm that all our equipment is ready."

  "Everything is ready to load in the car."

  Realizing East German vehicles were prohibited from traveling at night, Reznikov said, "We will leave after daylight tomorrow." He turned and went into the house.

  Just prior to their departure in the morning, his two men would examine the explosives strung along the overhead beam, then set the tripwires.

  *

  U.S. Embassy

  Grant and Adler arrived back at the embassy. "C'mon, Joe. Let's walk the compound for a while. We need to get feedback from the guys anyway." They adjusted their holsters, then started walking.

  Two hours later, they headed for Sam Nichols' office. His secretary informed them Nichols was on a call to D.C. They waited.

  Nichols' door opened. "Gentlemen, c'mon in." He sat on the edge of his desk, while Grant and Adler stood in front of him. Silence.

  "Something you want to tell us, or discuss, sir?" Grant finally asked.

  Nichols exhaled a long breath. "Special Agents Abbott and Zwick were recalled to Langley."

  "Will you be getting replacements, especially since we might not be here much longer?"

  Nichols locked his eyes with Grant's. "You know why they were recalled, Captain."

  Grant shoved his hands into his pockets, and with his head lowered, took a few paces away from Nichols and Adler. The station chief already had enough intel on the Dotsenko mission. What happened at Schonefeld was still under the Team's "umbrella" of top secret.

  He finally walked back near the desk. "Mr. Nichols, I'm sure you unde
rstand that we can't discuss anything concerning our mission, beyond what you already know. If Langley wants to give you additional information, well, that'll be up to whoever. We're still under top secret orders."

  "And did those orders include authorization to strike our agents?" Nichols' eyes went from Grant to Adler, back to Grant.

  Damn straight, it did!Grant thought to himself, but he answered, "If that's all, sir, we have to contact Washington. There's still the matter of finding Reznikov."

  Nichols remained quiet, and merely nodded. Grant and Adler left.

  As they stood by the elevator, Adler finally commented, "Maybe you need to write a book, you know, 'How to Make Friends, and Piss Off Everyone Else.'"

  As the elevator doors parted, Grant shoved Adler inside.

  *

  Scrambler Room

  "Are you calling Scott?" Adler asked as he sat on the corner of the counter.

  "I'm hoping he got some intel on those four Russians. If he didn't we're gonna have to depend on Nick."

  "Yeah, but do you think his records were 'scrubbed' like the others?"

  "Time will tell, but we're running out of ideas on how to find . . ."

  "Hey, Grant!"

  "I've got you on speaker, Scott. Joe's here. Tell me you got something on those names."

  "I did, but I'm not sure what you're looking for. Nothing specific jumps out at me."

  "I guess we'll do process of elimination, which means going back to just before the first attacks on the barracks and the ambassador. Where were they stationed?"

  Mullins ran a finger across lines of data. "One at the Poltava Air Base in the Ukraine, one at the embassy in Pakistan, one . . ."

  "Scratch those two. Which of the next two transferred to East Berlin prior to the barracks' attack?"

  "Both went to the embassy."

  Adler had an outlandish thought. "Scott, either of them stationed at the Kremlin?"

  "One was on Gorshevsky's staff, Sergeant Baskov."

  Grant and Adler were quiet, staring at one another in disbelief.

  Mullins finally broke the silence. "Wait a minute! You two can't be serious! Gorshevsky?!"

  "Who else would have the authority to release prisoners from a gulag or prison, or finance those attacks?"

  "Or 'scrub' records," Adler added.

  Mullins threw his pen on the desk. "But why the fuck would he do it, Grant?!"

  "Don't know, but maybe Nick can come up with a reason."

  "Who?! You can't mean Nicolai?!"

  "Yeah, we do."

  "Christ! You two are making me crazy!"

  "Sorry, Scott, but only the Team was aware that I met him here. You've gotta keep that 'close to the vest.'"

  "Yeah, yeah, sure I will. I suppose one of these days you'll give me all the dirty details."

  "Affirmative, my friend. And one day we'd like to meet your contact!"

  "Absolutely! But for now just know that he was a good friend of Tony's."

  "Guess that says it all, Scott."

  "Hey! Do you know where that Baskov is? Will you be able to G2 him?"

  Adler answered, "He's in the hospital, with a gunshot wound I sorta gave him."

  "Enough for now, Scott," Grant cut in. "We've gotta get this show on the road."

  "Stay safe, guys."

  Grant rocked his chair back, balancing it on the two back legs. "We've got a helluva situation, Joe."

  "Where the shit are we gonna go with this?"

  "It all depends if Nick can get the truth from Baskov. He's gonna have to 'run with it' and I know he will."

  A knock at the door. Adler opened it then took a note he was handed by one of the crypto guys. After reading it, he asked, "Can you put it through on the scrambler?" Once the door closed, he handed Grant the note. All it showed was: 'Cougar.'

  The phone rang, and Grant answered, "I'm here."

  "Same place as 0500 asap." End of call.

  "Did he say 'at 0500'?" Adler asked as he reached for the door knob.

  "No. We're meeting at the bridge again."

  Twenty minutes later a BMW and a Volga parked across from the Monbijou Bridge. Leaving the cars separately, Grant, Adler, and Kalinin walked to the center of the bridge, then entered the Bode Museum on Museum Island.

  Kalinin climbed the stairs to the balcony of the Dome, with Grant and Adler following a few seconds later. By the time they reached the balcony, Kalinin was standing in front of a glass display cabinet.

  The display commemorated the fires that engulfed the 'flak bunker' in Berlin-Friedrichshain in May 1945. The bunkers were used primarily for air defense and shelters for soldiers stationed in Berlin. Of the three "towers," the most famous was the Fuhrerbunker, part of a large complex of underground bunkers built to protect the elite of the Reich. It stretched for miles under the center of the city.

  Adler backed up near the corner of the glass display, keeping watch. Grant and Kalinin stood side by side, talking softly, looking at each other's reflection in the glass.

  "I'm going to question Baskov," Kalinin said. "Do you have anything?"

  "Intel indicates he's probably our target's contact."

  "You sure?!" Kalinin asked just above a whisper.

  "There's more." Grant hooked his thumbs in his jeans' pockets. "It's gonna be a bitch of a decision for you, Nick."

  "I'm listening."

  "He was on Gorshevsky's staff before he came to Berlin."

  "Jesus!"

  Grant could tell that Kalinin was shaken. "Look, Nick, I believe you'll get what you need from Baskov. What you decide to do with it, well . . ."

  "Director Antolov. I'll have to report to him."

  "If you find out where Reznikov is . . ."

  "That's our proof."

  "Affirmative. Any idea how long you'll be with Baskov?"

  "Give me two hours."

  "Hate to chance another phone call, though." Grant pictured the route they took. "We'll wait at the cafe one street west of Museum Island. If you don't show, we'll go back to the embassy."

  As Kalinin turned to leave, he laid a hand on Grant's shoulder, nodded to Adler, then walked to the staircase. Once he was out of sight, Grant and Adler left.

  Chapter 14

  Friedrichshain Municipal Hospital

  East Berlin

  1530 Hours

  As they rode the elevator, Zykov asked, "Will he be well enough to answer questions?"

  "I spoke with a doctor earlier. Baskov has recovered enough from his wound and concussion, and could be discharged tomorrow morning. So, yes, he will answer questions."

  The two men got off the elevator, then asked directions for the ward where Baskov was being cared for. Noises echoed from gurneys being pushed along the stark corridor, along with the footsteps of the KGB agents. They stopped by the doorway. Four beds were in the room, lined up along one wall. The first had a patient. Baskov was in the third bed. His head was bandaged, his arm in a sling.

  Kalinin spoke softly. "Oleg, you stay here while I question him. Keep everyone away but doctors and nurses." Zykov nodded and posted himself near the entrance.

  As Kalinin walked into the ward, he mentally reviewed questions he'd ask the suspect. This might be the only chance they had for finding Reznikov -- and discovering who was behind it all.

  Baskov spotted Kalinin coming toward him, noticing the KGB badge hooked on his belt. While he'd been in hospital, he'd expected to be questioned, but now that the moment arrived, he began to panic. Stay calm!he said silently.

  Kalinin stood at the foot of the bed, as he reached for a small recorder in his pants pocket. Locking eyes with Baskov's, he waited briefly, then asked, "Do you know why I am here?" Baskov didn't respond. Kalinin walked around the side of the bed, and pulled a chair close, but he didn't sit. Inconspicuously, he laid the recorder on the stainless steel bedside table, pressing the "on" switch. Standing close to the bed, his height alone added to the intimidation factor. Keeping his voice low, he cut right to the chase. "Te
ll me why you became involved with the terrorist Reznikov."

  Baskov's body shuddered, his eyes went wide. He tried to deny the accusation. "I am only a driver for the embassy staff. I would not turn against the Motherland!"

  "What if I told you I had proof you had a connection with a very, very high official in Moscow."

  Baskov looked away, and stared up at the ceiling. His brain became like a jumbled mess, trying to determine how it was possible KGB knew.

  Kalinin continued. "I know you were the handler for those terrorists, provided money, assigned their attacks. I also know you leaked the information to Reznikov's men on when and where he would be transported after the exchange at Glienicke Bridge." Kalinin smiled inwardly, noticing sweat beads forming below Baskov's bandaged head.

  "Of course, you had no idea you were to become the target of an attack that same night. You are lucky to be alive, Comrade Baskov." Kalinin leaned closer. "Then again, perhaps you would have been luckier if you had died, with what I know about you." Baskov paled, but remained quiet. So Kalinin went on. "Have you heard of the East German prison near Schonefeld? I am certain you have. That was where Reznikov was held. Would you like me to tell you how they treat prisoners? Or how about KGB prison in Potsdam? Maybe I can just tell you the only way to get out of either is by death, or being shipped off to one of our gulags. Then there is Black Dolphin prison. Wherever you are sent, Comrade, I guarantee no one will attempt to rescue you."

  Kalinin brought himself to his full height. "But there is a way for you to avoid most of those places." Seeing the fear in Baskov's eyes nearly weakened Kalinin's resolve to keep "pounding" away -- nearly. He leaned closer again. "Confirm who you took orders from, and tell me where Reznikov and his men are hiding." Kalinin pulled back his sleeve, and tapped his watch. "You have five seconds."

  Baskov squeezed his eyes shut, as an image of Reznikov and his men flashed through his mind, when he had convinced the three to become terrorists.