Adler ducked down, looking through the car at Grant. "A G2 (interrogation) session's out of the question."
"Your aim gets better with age," Grant answered.
Adler came around the front of the Audi, glancing at the shattered windshield, then stooped to look down at the dead assailant. "I'd say those holes in him were made by a .45. I believe they're yours." He stood opposite Grant with his Uzi hanging loosely by his side.
Grant leaned against the Audi, deep in thought, holding the assailant's gun in front of him as if examining it. But his question had nothing to do with the gun. "How the fuck did they find out, Joe?"
"It's pointing more and more to some asshole in the Embassy, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but it still doesn't explain how they knew we’d be here. We never mentioned where we were taking Lampson, and never mentioned Marie's name anywhere near the Embassy or the hotel."
"You remember that set of headlights we flew past? You think it was these guys?"
"Could've been. Christ! Talk about luck if it was!" A picture of Lampson screaming at him just before the chopper lifted off made him pause. Bits and pieces of words being shouted hadn't registered until this instant.
Adler waited patiently for an explanation. Then, he lifted the submachine gun and rested the barrel against the front of his shoulder. "Speak to… "
Grant held up his hand. Adler immediately went silent. Grant closed his eyes, picturing the scene in his mind, attempting to hear Lampson's words, visualizing his mouth movements. His eyelids shot open. An instant later his fist struck the car's roof, the sound like a sledge hammer pounding sheet metal. He immediately began pacing back and forth, shaking his head. Even in the darkness Adler detected anger on Grant's face. "Jesus Christ! The stupid bastard! I specifically told him not to contact anyone, to keep his goddamn mouth shut!"
"That's affirmative."
"I should've yanked his ass out of that chopper!” Grant jerked his arm up, as if pulling a heavy object. “He put everybody in danger, everybody… "
Adler stepped in front of his friend, bringing Grant to a sudden stop. He found it hard to remember a time when he'd seen Grant so infuriated. "Care to explain?"
"A letter! He sent that scientist, Von Wenzel, a fuckin' letter!"
"Uh oh," Adler responded, as he stepped back, giving Grant a wide berth. "Think he wanted to know if Greta showed up?"
"Wouldn't surprise me," Grant answered, slowly getting his voice and behavior back under control. "And no, I don't think Von Wenzel informed on him." Just then the VW came into his peripheral vision. "See if you can find papers on these two. I need to talk with Marie, then we need to get our asses out of here. Daylight's not too far off." He handed the German’s machine gun to Adler, then holstered his .45. As he walked across the ruts created by the Audi, he brushed dust and soil from his clothes. He bent down and picked up his cap, slapping it back and forth against his thigh, shaking off the dirt.
Marie was still sitting on the ground with her back against the running board, her chin length dark blonde hair disheveled and hanging in front of her eyes. Afraid to look up, her body went rigid with the sight of a man suddenly standing in front of her.
Grant knelt down on one knee, brushing hair from her face. He took one of her hands in his, feeling it trembling. "It's over, Marie."
She looked up into the strong, handsome face, coated with a fine layer of dust. Grant's brown eyes stared at her, his face showing concern and caring. Then he asked, "Are you hurt? Are you okay?"
Her blue eyes refused to tear. "I'm all right."
"I'm sorry this happened. I… "
"No, no," she interrupted, "I never thought I would ever react this way. It's been so many years, but the sounds of the guns brought back horrifying memories." Even though time was against them now, Grant was not about to pressure her into hurrying and let her continue at her own pace. "I was barely a teenager when World War II was drawing to a close. The Nazis stormed into our village, trying to make a stand against the advancing Allies." Suddenly, tears welled up in her eyes, overflowing onto her cheeks. She brushed them aside. "My father and two young brothers died during the fighting. They were used as human shields by the Nazis."
She was sobbing now. Grant drew her close, cradling her in his strong arms. Since the day they met, three years prior, Grant had known Marie to be a woman of determination and fortitude, belying her frail, slender build. The middle-aged woman had spent nearly two decades of her life offering assistance to the Allies, providing a safe house and transportation whenever she was called upon to do so.
He helped her to her feet. "I'm going to talk with Joe. Why don't you sit in the car and rest. We won't be much longer." She nodded and forced a smile, creases forming around her mournful eyes. Then, she climbed into the back, hugging her knees close to her chest like a small child trying to make herself feel safe.
Grant walked away with his head bowed, feeling guilty for having placed her in a terrifying situation, for having exposed her to the violence.
Adler interrupted his thoughts. "Is she okay?"
Grant nodded, then asked, "Find anything?"
Directing the flashlight beam over the blood-spattered identification papers he'd pulled from the bodies, Adler responded, "Couple of names — Albert Richter and Horst Schinkel. Don't mean squat to me. You?"
"I'll ask Grigori to check with Lampson. Don't want to bring in the Admiral yet."
Adler grinned. "Can't understand why not." He walked closer to the Audi and shinned the flashlight down on the muscular passenger. "Did you notice this?"
Grant leaned toward the window, seeing the disfigured index finger. "I'll be damned!"
"What?"
"He was the one in the photo holding Lampson's kids."
Adler snapped off the flashlight. "Do we need to classify this as a 'royal fuck up,’ boss?"
Grant ignored the question, trying to make some sense of what was happening. "These guys had to be FSG. Steiner's behind this. We're gonna have to rely on Grigori to get us some answers."
"Whadda we do with them in the meantime?"
Grant surveyed the area, remembering their flyover in the chopper. He pointed toward the northeast, where a stand of trees appeared as jagged shadows against the horizon. He estimated the distance to be about half a mile. "Drive the car into those trees. We're pretty far off the beaten path, but we'd still better camouflage it. I'll follow you in the VW… as long as it starts."
They pulled the driver from behind the steering wheel, then pushed him through the open back door, the body flopping over on the upholstery like a discarded piece of rubbish. As Grant slammed the door, Adler unlocked the trunk. He ripped out a piece of the carpet to use as a cover on the front seat to prevent blood from staining his clothes, as he asked Grant, "Think Marie'll be safe?"
"Can't take any chances, Joe. We'll take her back to West Berlin. It's one more reason for us to finish this shit ASAP."
"Roger that!"
Twenty minutes later, the Audi had been hidden, covered by pieces of brush and branches. The two passengers' identification papers and everything from the glovebox were burned and the ashes buried. With the Volkswagen riddled with bullet holes, they would have to find alternate means of transportation in order to pass through the Soviet checkpoint. This car would have to be ditched on the outskirts of Marie's village… and before daybreak.