Operation Gold Eagle

Chapter 6

Civil twilight, when the sun was six degrees below the horizon, but objects were clearly distinguishable. A tight grouping of Venus, Mars, and Jupiter could be seen without binoculars. The temperature hovered at 40 degrees.

A Volga GAZ, four-door sedan continued traveling with headlights on as it drove slowly along Konigstrasse, the main road leading to and from the Glienicke Bridge.

With a window rolled down, the passenger held a spotlight, aiming the intense beam into the trees on the north side, as the vehicle headed west. The intent was to drive to the bridge, then return, focusing the light on the south side.

Holding the light steady, he allowed the beam to illuminate anything in its path. "Still nothing," he reported.

The driver held the speed at 20 mph. "Just keep your eyes open. If anything is in there, it may not be easy to see. It will probably be far off the road."

Lights in the distance grew brighter. Glienicke Bridge. Pulling slightly onto the shoulder, the driver made a U-turn. Again, the spotlight tried to penetrate the darkness beyond the trees. They passed the entrance for the Glienicke Palace, a bus stop, and two homes separated by more thick forest. He turned right, heading toward the next turn.

The passenger strained his eyes, trying to see into the darkness beyond the reach of the spotlight. "Wait! Go back! Something caught the light!"

Looking over his shoulder, the driver backed up the Volga, staying close to the shoulder. "Do you see anything?!"

"Keep going — slowly!" The vehicle was barely moving. "Stop! There!"

Leaving the spotlight in the car, they grabbed flashlights, then ran from the vehicle, running into the forest, with the flashlight beams leading the way. The beams reflected off a bumper and rear window.

Slowing their pace, they pulled their weapons from holsters, then continued moving forward. Shining the lights inside the Mercedes they saw Baskov stretched across the rear seat. Flinging the door open, they immediately checked for a pulse, finding Baskov alive, but unconscious, laying in his own blood.

They had to find the other men, and started walking quickly, constantly swiveling their heads, shining the lights from side to side.

They'd only walked about 30 yards, when the lights landed on three Russian officers tied to a tree. Shoving their weapons into the holsters, they rushed toward the men.

The lead KGB agent got down on a knee in front of the senior officer, and removed the hood. "Comrade General Komarov, sir, it is all right. We are here by order of First Chief Directorate Borskaya. I am Agent Kalinin and this is Agent Zykov."

Carefully, the duct tape was removed from their mouths, and finally, their arms untied. Kalinin assisted Komarov in standing. "Are you all right, Comrade General?"

Komarov steadied himself against the tree. "Yes. Yes." He looked around. "Did you find Sergeant Baskov?"

"We did, sir. He is alive, but we should get him to hospital quickly. And we must take you to Berlin. Comrade Borskaya is waiting for your report."

They started walking toward the Volga, when Komarov pointed to the Mercedes. "And what about Sergeant Baskov?!"

"Do you have a key for the Mercedes, Comrade?" Komarov shook his head. "Then, once you are settled in our vehicle, sir, we will transfer him to the rear seat. I am afraid two of your men must remain behind, though. We will send someone for them. That is the best we can do."

Once Komarov was in the Volga, Kalinin and Zykov carried Baskov to the car.

As he was driving, Kalinin glanced at Komarov. Even though Komarov was a senior KGB officer, Kalinin had to ask questions, and begin the investigation. "General, can you tell me anything about the men who did this?"

Komarov rested an elbow on the door frame, with his fist lightly beating against his mouth. As a trained KGB officer he pictured the whole incident as if it were happening right then. "There were two vehicles. I believe they were Audis."

"The men, General. Did you recognize any of them?" Kalinin pressed the accelerator.

"No. They all wore masks, one-hole masks. But they carried Makarovs and AK47s."

"What language did they speak?"

"Russian." Komarov pounded his fist on the door frame. "This was a top secret exchange! How did they know?!"

"I cannot answer that, except there had to have been a leak. This investigation will take time, sir."

"Yes. Yes it will." Komarov stared ahead. Questions continued to enter his mind. "And how did they know the route we would be taking?! And that we would be going to Schonefeld?!"

"As I said, General, there had to have been a leak, but if it were me, I would have determined Moscow wanted Comrade Dotsenko returned as quickly as possible. Schonefeld was the nearest airport."

"Perhaps," Komarov nodded, before bringing up another disturbing question. "But what was their reason for taking him? Ransom?" Kalinin didn't respond. Komarov continued reviewing the incident. He mumbled softly, "Seven men pulled off a perfect operation. Who were they?"

Kalinin resisted the urge to hit the brakes, as a strange chill ran up his spine. "How many men?!"

"Seven. Why?"

"I … I must collect all details in order to proceed with the investigation, General."

Komarov suddenly remembered the distant gunfire and explosion when he and his men were attacked. "Do you know anything about an explosion that happened earlier this evening?"

"Not much. The East German police were handling it. But we were going to investigate the area. It was confirmed two men were in hospital and two others were killed."

"Well, maybe I can point you in the right direction, Comrade Kalinin. That timeframe was close to when the CIA agents were transporting Reznikov."

Kalinin rolled the suggestion around in his brain. "Very possible."

Lights of Berlin were on the horizon, slowly fading as daylight approached. Kalinin turned on the motorway, then stomped on the gas, speeding toward East Berlin.

After transferring Baskov to the emergency room at Friedrichshain Municipal Hospital, Kalinin drove Komarov to the embassy. He pulled the Volga next to the curb in front of the main entrance, and kept the engine running.

Komarov got out, then leaned toward the car. "I was expecting you to accompany me."

"Sorry, sir, but Comrade Borskaya expects us to start the investigation. We must inspect the scene of that incident as soon as possible. Then we must report our findings to him." Without saying anything further, the officer showed his ID to a guard, then walked through the gated archway.

Zykov finally got in the front seat, and brushed a hand over his short, black hair, before asking with concern, "You think he will report our leaving him?"

Kalinin didn't waste any more time, and drove away. "Do not concern yourself with that, Oleg. We have more important work to do."

"If you say so."

Driving through East Berlin, Kalinin couldn't help but think about the Russian embassy's private jet, still waiting to transport Komarov and Dotsenko to Moscow. Just the thought took Kalinin back through memories of his years in the U.S. He had a mission to bring stolen U.S. weapons to Russia, weapons that never reached their destination, because seven men pulled off a successful mission. Now, troubling but curious questions raced through his mind. Was it you, my friend, you and your men? Are you here, Grant Stevens?