Grant rolled his chair away from the table, then walked closer to the screen, studying the sat image. Continuing to look at the image, he asked, "General, do you know the distance from Berlin to this base?"
"About 160 miles as the 'crow flies,' but no more than two from the Baltic Sea." The Baltic Sea, one of the largest brackish water areas in the world, was designated as international waters.
Resting his hands on the back of the leather chair, Grant locked eyes with Bancroft. "Where's Reznikov being held?"
"What does that have to do with the exchange?"
"More curiosity than anything."
"At an East German prison near Schonefeld."
Grant wondered if Reznikov was subjected to the standard G2. "Has it been decided where your men will be taking him after the exchange?"
"We'll have a military plane waiting at Tempelhof."
"Not Schonefeld?"
Bancroft shook his head. "No. We want to fly him out by military, away from as many civilians as possible. We'll have a U.S. passport for him, so the plan is for them to cross at Checkpoint Bravo, near Kleinmachow. It's a straight shot up to Tempelhof from there."
Grant looked again at the screen, deep in thought. Finally realizing how quiet it had gotten, he turned toward Carr. "Sorry, Mr. President. My mind just fast-forwarded a few days."
"And you're thinking about, what?" Carr asked, as he poured a glass of water, then dropped in a lemon wedge.
"Do we know what plans the Russians have for Dotsenko after the exchange, I mean, where are they going to take him?"
Bancroft shook his head. "They've been damn secretive about those plans. What we do know is Reznikov will be transported directly from prison to Glienicke."
Grant thought for a moment. "The only two places that make sense would be the Soviet Embassy or Schonefeld. I only see one way to make this happen. We need to snatch him right after the exchange, before they get too far. If we let them leave Germany, or reach the embassy, we'll be up shit creek." Grant cleared his throat, then continued. "We've gotta get him outta harm's way and as quickly as possible. We can take him to our embassy. He'll be safe there while we go to Poland."
Bancroft exchanged glances with Carr, then breathed deeply, mulling over the idea. "And just how do you plan on finding her without him?"
"You said he knew where she was, right?" Bancroft gave a slight nod. "I think we'll be able to convince him to tell us." Grant glanced over at Carr, who was looking at him through narrowed eyes. "Mr. President, with the second part of our op taking us to Poland, there's no way in hell it'll be safe taking him along — for him or us. We've gotta leave him at the embassy."
Bancroft pointed a finger at Grant. "You know, Captain, there are folks who are willing to give up a helluva lot for something they believe in — or for someone. What if you can't convince him?"
"If he feels so deeply for her, he won't want to put her in any additional danger. I'm positive he'll agree." Grant kept his eyes on Bancroft, and thought to himself, It's what you should've done, you ass! Bancroft rocked back and forth, keeping his eyes on Grant.
"Grant, do you have any questions, or anything further to add?" Carr asked, before taking another drink of water.
"With Dotsenko at the embassy, am I to assume that's where you want us to take her? And whatever your answer, how and who will be transporting them …?"
"Once you return with her, you make contact with State, then we'll decide the safest way to get them out," Bancroft answered.
"Very well. I'll be talking with Scott as soon as I leave here, lining up details for our flight."
Secretary Daniels removed a ballpoint pen from his suit jacket pocket, and clicked the top. "Captain, will you be requiring any additional 'heavy' equipment?"
Grant understood Daniels' question meant chopper, boat. "Hard to say right now, Mr. Secretary. I probably won't know until we get more definitive information from Dotsenko."
"And what about Colonel Moshenko?" Carr asked.
"If Grigori knows anything that might jeopardize the op, I'll advise you immediately. Then you all can decide where to go from there."
Carr handed Grant a piece of paper. Several names had been scratched out, except for one, and that was circled. "What do you think about that code name for the mission?"
"'Operation Gold Eagle,'" Grant said aloud. "Think you picked a good one, sir."
"Then that's what we'll go with." Carr rolled his chair back, then stood. Grant took the hint, and walking nearer, took hold of the President's offered hand. "Good luck, Grant."
"Thank you, sir." He gave a quick nod to the men in the room, then he left.
Turning the Vette onto Virginia Avenue, heading back to his apartment, Grant ran the meeting through his mind, putting everything in order. He picked up the phone and dialed Moshenko's home number.
"Hello?" a soft voice answered.
"Hey, Alexandra! It's Grant."
"Oh, Grant. It is good to hear you."
Grant answered with an obvious smile in his voice, "And you. Your English is getting better all the time!"
"Yes. I am learning much."
"Well, you're doing great. Hey, is Grigori home?"
"He is in yard." She corrected herself. "He is out in the yard. Do you want speak with him, Grant?"
"No, that's okay. Just tell him Joe and I are on our way over."
"I will. Lunch is ready, but I will have extra food for Joe!"
"Hey! What about me?!"
"Yes, and you, Grant!"
"Looking forward to it! I've gotta go, Alexandra. We'll see you in a little while."
Making a right turn, he pulled into the apartment building's garage, parked in his designated space, then immediately tried calling Adler at Eagle 8. Stalley reported Alder was out making a food run. Next to the importance of a mission, food was next on the list for Grant's best friend. He dialed the car phone.
"Yo!" the familiar voice answered.
"Joe! Where you at?"
"In my car!"
"No shit!"
"I was on my way back … "
"Need you to meet me at my apartment. We're going to make a short trip to Maryland. I'm hoping to get some feedback."
"I take it you've got our 'traveling' papers?"
"Affirmative."
"Hey! Do I need to pick up any goodies to take?"
Grant just shook his head, as he responded with a smile in his voice, "I've been advised lunch will be awaiting our arrival. Your reputation precedes you, Joe."
"Outstanding! See ya in a few."
Twenty minutes later the two friends were in the black Vette heading to the Moshenkos. Adler reached into a bag containing a dozen Dunkin' Donuts, then offered a raised sugar one to Grant.
"No, thanks. I'll just suck on coffee."
"So, fill me in."
Grant detailed his meeting at the White House. "CIA wasn't too happy about givin' up so much of its secret shit."
"They never plan ahead," Adler laughed, as he licked his fingers. "How the hell did they think we'd begin the op without full disclosure?"
Grant gave a short laugh. "The President used his powers of persuasion to prod Bancroft into disclosing."
"A cattle prod would've been much more fun!"
Traffic increased as they drove through D.C. heading for Maryland. A normal twenty minute drive had taken thirty minutes when Grant finally pulled the Vette into the Moshenkos' driveway, parking behind a dark blue Ford sedan.
Moshenko was sitting on the top step near the front door, smoking his favorite, a Davidoff Grand Cru cigar. He snapped a quick salute as he was standing. His 5'10" frame was still solid, the same as when he and Grant first met. The short black hair had a few more grays, however.
Car doors slammed. "Hey, Grigori!" Grant waved.
"Colonel," Adler said, holding up the bag of donuts.
"My friends!" He greeted Grant then Adler, giving both a bear hug, slapping his good friends on the back. "It is good to see you! Come! Come! Let us go inside."