Manfred sat quietly and listened, swiveling his head back and forth from Grant to Adler. Just by the conversation taking place, he knew the two Americans shared a special bond, like brothers.
Adler's first response was a statement not a question. "You think she was a 'plant.’ Whadda ya think… East German military or the dissidents?"
Grant shrugged. "Could be either. Or maybe the East Germans have a hold on her, too. From what Lampson said, anyone working on the project was constantly watched and threatened, even though she had a minor role acting as an assistant. Actually, the way Lampson described her job, it was more like she was just a gopher. But with what he brought to the table, he was probably the most valuable. What better way to keep him reeled in, and since he was the only unmarried person among the scientists, they had to come up with a way to be assured he'd be thorough with his work and wouldn't skip town." He leaned back in the chair, momentarily stared up at the rough-hewn beams on the ceiling, then looked at Adler again. "Still got some holes in the plot, Joe, but I'll bet your ass we're onto something."
Adler laughed, running his hand back and forth across his crewcut. "Oh, so it's my ass!"
A laugh escaped from deep within Manfred and he rocked back in the chair. He briefly recalled his days at the German field command as one of the officers in the Infantry War Plans Department and how he slowly grew to hate Hitler and all tyrants. It was times like these that made him feel so alive.
Grant swallowed a last mouthful of coffee, then stood as he said, "We've got to make a call, Manfred. Sorry that Joe and I got off on a tangent. Give us about a half hour, then join us and we'll go over some plans."
Manfred extinguished the kerosene lamp before opening the door. Then Grant and Adler made a dash across the yard, vapors from their breath dissipating in the air as they ran. A cold wind had started blowing down from the north, causing the temperature to drop to thirty-four degrees. Clouds began to deteriorate. A new moon broke through the heavy gray.
Grant made contact with Torrinson, who said sources had confirmed a clean check on Professor Schmitt. Not to Grant's surprise, they were unable to find a complete background on Greta Verner. The path seemed to begin at the university and went as far as Lampson. "Does that help any, Grant?"
"Well, sir, Joe and I came up with our own scenario, and you've just allowed us to fast-forward to Chapter 2."
"Can you tell me how the chapter will begin?" Torrinson smiled.
"Not completely sure, sir, but I do smell something fishy. I think it's going to go in two directions, just like Joe and me. I've gotta find that lab and I've got a suspicion where it might be. On my way in to extract Lampson, I spotted a large pipe, probably about seven feet in diameter. It just seemed to be out of place, like it didn't belong there. So I had one of my sources research some old blueprints of the city before it was divided. The Nazis put in a lot of time and effort excavating under the streets, putting in escape routes. As I was looking at those blueprints, there were two in particular that got my attention. It’s a longshot, sir, but we’ve gotta start somewhere. Manfred will drive us into East Berlin to… "
"Excuse me? Did you say you're going into the city again?"
"You’ve got to trust me, sir. We've still got a long way to go. In the meantime, can you confirm that you want Lampson to remain in Germany or do you want us to get him out?"
"Let him stay where he is for now, unless those instincts of yours start telling you something."
"Understand, sir. And I've still got to make contact with Grigori."
Torrinson hesitated but decided to ask anyway. "And when do you plan on contacting Colonel Moshenko?"
"I'll wait till I find the lab." Grant looked overhead when he heard the sound of footsteps. "Wait one, sir," he said in a hushed voice. Adler drew his "hushpuppy" and backed up into the shadows, then slowly brought back the hammer to full cock. Grant lowered the light on the kerosene lamp.
"Captain?" Manfred called softly as he tapped on the makeshift trapdoor.
Adler eased the hammer back, then holstered the firearm. Then he moved the portable wooden steps under the door, climbed up and slid the metal bar out, allowing Manfred entrance. The old German leaned over and handed him two cups.
"It's okay, sir," Grant continued. "Manfred's here. It's time we get to work. Will make contact again but can't say for sure when."
"I'll call SECDEF with the update. Good luck, Captain."
Grant switched off the radio and pulled the headphones off. A strong smell of coffee hit his senses, as Manfred poured the brew into each mug.
"Something hot to begin the day with, my friends."
Grant raised the mug in thanks. "I’ve got a big favor to ask, Manfred, above and beyond the call."
The old man's creased, pale face seemed to light up with the prospect. Grant was giving him a new sense of purpose. "At last!" he exclaimed excitedly as he slapped his knee. "Tell me."
Adler rested his back against the narrow wooden shelves, obviously rough cut with a hand saw. His eyes settled on Manfred, thinking the man was just the way he pictured him. Grant described the old German as someone full of life with a deep sense of pride and patriotism, willing to take the risks necessary to help bring freedom back to the people of East Germany. Adler liked Manfred right off.
"We need to find out more about this Greta Verner,” Grant said. "Lampson gave us the location of her uncle's place. It's about five miles from Bernau. How far is that from here, Manfred?"
After thinking a moment, Manfred responded, "About twenty-five kilometers." He quickly added, "Patrols should be minimal."
Grant nodded. "What's the countryside like around there?"
Manfred scratched his unshaven cheek. "Mostly flat, with some small rises and stands of trees."
"Any ground cover, you know, like bushes?"
"Some scattered clumps, but there are large boulders in that particular area, if that helps you."
"Sure does." Grant sipped his coffee. "We've also got an address of the flat she had in East Berlin."
Shaking his head, the old German responded, "Apartments are at a premium in the city, Captain. Once they are abandoned, new tenants quickly move in."
"I believe it, but Lampson said he continued paying her rent right up until we snatched him."
"That may not have been very wise."
Grant shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, I know, but it may be just what we need now. The address is 331 Hufeland Strasse, Flat C."
Manfred shifted his weight and rubbed his leg. Grant sensed the old man was getting uncomfortable. He rose from the chair, pushed it closer, then patted Manfred's shoulder. "Sit down while Joe and I check our gear."
They dragged two rucksacks toward the wall opposite from where Manfred was sitting, then knelt on the compacted dark, brown earth. Their planning continued as they checked each item, skillfully preventing Manfred from getting too close of a look. Adler examined one of the five concussion grenades. Each device measured about 1–1/2" high and wide and 6" long. Black, hard pressed paper made up the shell that enclosed the explosive material inside. There wouldn't be any shrapnel when the grenade exploded because of the paper shell. He glanced at several quarter pound blocks of C4. The C4's color and substance resembles white modeling clay. Det cord could be used to connect multiple blocks of C4. The explosive could be formed to almost any shape, then exploded with something like a blasting cap or chemical pencil. The three inch chemical pencils contained a one inch ampoule of acetone, that when crimped would allow the acetone to eat away a plastic washer holding back a striker under spring tension. When the washer erodes, the spring drives the striker into the explosive detonator, setting off the device.