He unlocked the back door with a skeleton key, then shoved the suitcase across the worn, gray vinyl kitchen floor. Once he was inside, he relocked the door, then left the key in the lock. He laid his jacket on the small wooden table, as he scanned the room. Plain white cabinets, older white appliances, and a white enamel sink made him wonder how many times this place had been used.
He didn’t expect to find much food, if any. He was right. The fridge was empty, but some canned and packaged goods were in a small pantry. Enough to sustain life, but not very appetizing.
Wood floors creaked as he walked through the living room to the front window. Spreading the blinds apart with his fingers, he took a moment to look across the property. Seeing nothing of immediate concern, he turned and finally spotted the telephone on a small table by a dark brown upholstered couch. The KGB was efficient at installing scrambler equipment. Behind the couch a connector cord went from a block on the baseboard to the scrambler, with a similar cord going from the box to the phone. He picked up the receiver. Dial tone.
Now he had to find the other important piece of equipment. Stairs opposite the front door led to the second level. Taking two steps at a time, he hurried up the narrow staircase.
Straight ahead was a small bathroom. To the right was an unfurnished bedroom. He went to the main bedroom. It had simple furnishings: a single bed, dresser, nightstand with a lamp. Blinds were closed on both windows. He opened a closet nearest the room’s entry door. A single light bulb, with a cord hanging from its base, was overhead. He turned on the light.
The back wall was covered in thin, six-inch vertical wood planks. Running his fingers down the middle section, he felt an indentation. Hooking his fingers in it, he pulled carefully. A panel swung open. On a shelf was a shortwave radio. He had the frequency memorized, and was an expert at Morse Code, but more importantly, he had the one-time pad. He removed the small book from his trouser pocket. Tapping it against his hand, he debated whether to keep it with him or conceal it in the house. If the Americans found this place… He put it back in his pocket, then closed the panel.
As he started to leave the room, he hesitated by the bed. As much as he needed sleep, he needed food more. There was no telling when he’d get another opportunity. He decided to pass on the canned goods. A rundown diner he drove by would have to do. Besides, the fewer objects he touched, the fewer he’d have to worry about wiping down.
He had one more task before leaving. Notify the ambassador he was at the safe house. And since he now had access to the radio, he’d assume responsibility for contacting the cargo ship, confirming weapons were onboard. Vazov would notify Kabul the weapons were on their way.
With the scrambler activated, he dialed the embassy.
Chapter 10
Diaz stood by the large picture window with one hand resting on the wood frame, the other holding a can of Pepsi. Any minute now Grant should be arriving, driving his black Vette. Diaz thought as menacing as that Vette looked, it wouldn’t compare to Grant’s expression. The meeting wasn’t going to be pretty.
“Hey, Frank!” Adler called from the kitchen.
Diaz turned around, took a gulp of his drink, then walked to the kitchen. “Yeah, LT?”
Adler rested his elbows on the counter, as he balled up a wad of napkins. “You’ve been worried shitless since you walked in the door.” Diaz sucked on more Pepsi, then just shrugged his shoulders. “Hey!” Adler called, as he threw the crumpled napkins, hitting Diaz square in the face. “C’mon! Get your mind on track and remember every minute detail from this morning. Did you have glasses on that newspaper? Was there anything that made that car stand out?”
Diaz’s head started bobbing up and down. “I got ya, LT.” He hustled over the the table. Sliding a pad and pencil toward him, he grabbed the pencil and started jotting down notes.
“Need some help?” James asked dragging a chair closer.
“You’re in this just as deep as me!” Diaz replied, jabbing James’ ribs with an elbow.
Ten minutes later, they heard the deep rumble of the Vette’s engine. Within seconds, the door leading from the garage slammed. Grant ignored the two men and went right to the kitchen, dropping three boxes of donuts on the counter, then the thermos.
“You look like you need some fresh, hot java,” Adler said, reaching for the coffee pot. Grant slid a mug toward him, as Adler asked quietly, “You still pissed?”
“I can’t believe they lost him, Joe.” He picked up the mug and blew some breath into the hot brew, as he noticed Diaz and James hunched over the table. “What’s with them?”
“Besides trying to avoid you? They’re scrounging through their brains, trying to dig out details from this morning.” He leaned over the white boxes, opened all three, and finally selected a jelly donut with powdered sugar. “Speaking of this morning… let me show you something.” He headed for the dining room.
Grant followed him. “Have you heard from Mike?”
“He should be back by thirteen hundred. Sounded pretty giddy,” Adler laughed.
“I’ll bet.” Grant swiveled his head. “Seems like we’re missing three more.”
“Oh, that reminds me! Doc, Matt and Ken are at the airfield checking out our most recently acquired piece of equipment.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You’re gonna love it. A Seasprite chopper.”
Grant nearly choked on his coffee. “Where the…?”
“Our most kind and illustrious benefactors! Apparently, Matt’s been trying to work a deal to get us one. Now, just to let you know, he said it’s used, but it’s been extensively overhauled and it’s the one with twin engines. It’s supposed to reach airspeeds up to a hundred thirty knots with a range of four hundred eleven nautical miles. Certain modifications were made just for us!”
The Seasprite was a conventional type of turbine-powered helicopter, with a four-blade main rotor and three-blade anti-torque rotor, retractable tailwheel landing gear and a streamlined fuselage.
“That’s the one that can float, right? Sealed hull?”
“Usually floats like a boat!” Adler laughed. “Except with the modifications made, we may not want to try it!”
Grant just shook his head, unbelieving. The generosity of the gentlemen who made Team Alpha Tango possible was still overwhelming. “Like to take a look, but too much going on right now. Didn’t you say you had something to show me?”
“Oh, yeah.” Adler shoved the last piece of donut into his mouth as he walked to the opposite side of the table and spread out two photographs. “Look at these.”
Grant leaned toward the photos, then picked up one. He snapped his head up, staring almost dumfounded at Adler.
Adler pointed at the picture. “The guy looks like he could be your brother!”
“Is this the guy they lost?!” Grant asked, tilting his head toward Diaz and James.
“Yeah. He was in front of the Russian Embassy.”
“This is very … ”
“Creepy?” Diaz asked, without looking up from the writing tablet.
“Not exactly what I was going for, Frank,” Grant responded. “But close enough.”
He dropped the photo on the table, while Adler watched him, wondering why there hadn’t been more of a reaction.
Grant sipped the coffee, then went near the two men. “Well, what’ve you got for me?”
“Besides an apology, boss?” James asked.
The phone rang. “That might be Scott,” Grant said, walking to the side table. “Stevens.”