Grant had to laugh, knowing Adler was "hot to trot" for some action. "How could you think I'd let a smell like that go unattended? Let's think about this. The only ones who didn't ask any questions after we extracted Lampson were Bradley and the two crypto guys."
"But Wharton would have probably clued Bradley in, right?"
"This was a lone wolf, Joe. Only Wharton knew that we were gonna snatch Lampson. Bradley wasn't brought in until he was instructed to take you to the pickup site."
"Well, hell, then, no wonder nobody's asking questions. Nobody knew."
"Oh, come on, Joe. Once we got back to the Embassy even the cockroaches were poppin' questions, yet those three guys were zipped up tighter than your fly."
"See what you mean. Think we ought to do a bait and switch on them and fuck up the bad guys? That'll give us some extra time to let us do our thing."
"Right. We'll have to get Wharton to drop the info at the right time."
"Good idea, Skipper."
Grant stroked his chin as he started pacing back and forth in front of Adler, his plan unfolding as he talked. "We'll have to give him three separate bogus locations, telling all of them that we'll be dropping into the East at 2330 hours, with transportation waiting, of course."
"Of course," Adler laughed.
"Wharton's got to make sure that they get the word separately, no later than 1500 today. Final phase will be to have him assign the comm guys to the crypto room from 2100 hours on. His orders for them will be to wait for confirmation from us that we're in."
"Ahh," Adler remarked, "and, of course, that call will never come since we'll already have contacted Wharton." He tapped an index finger against his lips as he asked, "What about Bradley? Shouldn't he be invited to the party, too?"
"You can bet Wharton will give all three of them special invitations." His concern was apparent as he added, "I was hoping we could leave Manfred out of the rest of this shit," he remarked thoughtfully, lowering his head. "But we'll have to bring him in again. He can play it safe by concealing himself in the woods and use a long-range scope."
"You know him better than me, boss, but from what I gathered, the old gentleman strikes me as someone who likes to be in the thick of things. You think he'll be satisfied with just hiding in the bushes?"
"You're right about him, Joe, but he's not one to jeopardize an operation, believe me."
"Gotcha. You planning on us covering the second and third sites, right?" Grant nodded. "So then whichever one of us acquires a target will make contact with Wharton."
"Roger that. That'll still give us plenty of time to reach our destination."
"Final question, Skipper. Do you think Wharton is gonna pull 'his boy' outta circulation mucho quick?"
"That'll be up to him. Don't think we'd be able to hold him back, though." He kicked at a small rock, sending it skittering across the sidewalk. "Jesus! He's gonna go ballistic when I drop this one on him. Three of his boys are under suspicion."
"Not a pretty thought, boss. You think we need to get him away from the Embassy for this little meaningful discussion?" Grant nodded, then Adler suggested, "How about the cafe in the airport terminal? It's usually crowded enough, so we can blend right in."
"Sounds good, Joe. It should only take him fifteen to twenty minutes to get here."
"We've got a helluva lot of names on our dance card, Skipper, including Grigori. What time are you supposed to make contact?"
"Fourteen hundred hours. That'll give us enough time to chat with Wharton then pick up our gear from the locker." He grinned and punched Adler’s arm. "Looks like I've run out of excuses to go 'dancing' tonight. What say we have our own hoe-down?"
As they turned and headed for the offices to make the phone call to Wharton, Adler said, "Skipper, I've jumped a lot of fences with you and I don't mind telling you, this one's got my attention."
Grant stopped in his tracks and stared down at his shoes for a few seconds, then turned and looked Adler straight in the eyes. "I've never been on one that didn't give me that feeling, Joe, but there's not a man in this world I'd want covering my ‘six’ more than you."
The silence of genuine respect and true friendship struck them both as they stood facing each other. Finally, Adler's rugged face broke into a broad grin, with deep creases visible at the corners of his blue eyes. He bowed and motioned with his arm. "Take me to Indian country, my fearless leader!"
The window panes of the small three room flat were covered inside and out with grime and grease. Dirt had accumulated along the window sill and on the wooden strips dividing the two panes. A man inside the living room stepped closer to the window. Ever wary of an occasional patrol, he peaked out the side of the dark, brown blanket tacked to the top of the window. He glanced at his watch, then looked out at the street and sidewalk again. From his vantage point from the second floor, no one would be able to enter the building without him seeing them. He made sure that the door leading to the basement at the rear was securely locked, forcing any visitors to use the front door.
Allowing the window covering to fall back into place, he put the beer stein to his lips and sipped on the dark beer, licking the foam from his lips. Then, he turned away, his heavy footsteps on the scuffed wooden floor echoing in a room that's furnishings were only two hand-made wooden benches placed at forty-five degree angles to one another, and set close to the wall opposite the window. During the night, the only source of light came from a kerosene lamp sitting on the end of one of the benches, placed far enough away from the window.
He went to the front door, jiggled the handle to ensure the lock was secure, then he walked into the shabby kitchen. A small radiator, chipped and rusty, was crammed between the sink basin and refrigerator that was less than six cubic feet in size. Discolored grout criss-crossed white tiles from the baseboard to midway up the walls. Small diamond-shaped black accent pieces were intermittently dispersed among the tiles, the only embellishment in the dingy room.
He glanced indifferently at two tousled-haired little boys who sat under the folding table, quietly occupying themselves by playing with teaspoons and paper cups. They were both wearing thin, long sleeve blue pullovers, green overalls, white hooded sweatshirts and white socks. Two sets of small brown shoes lay strewn near a wall.
“Did she feed them?" Steiner asked.
Victor Engels, Steiner's second in command, ran the point of a pocketknife under his fingernails, and without looking up, motioned with his head toward the sink.
Engels was a man with a penchant for having a quick, violent temper. Rows of wrinkles ran the width of his broad forehead; brooding dark eyes looked out from beneath sloping blond eyebrows. His black boots, the kind often seen worn by motorcyclists, were propped up on the edge of the wobbly table.
Steiner glanced at the soiled ceramic bowls, with clumps of dried oatmeal stuck to the sides. Sitting on a two-burner, portable propane stove, was a white enamel pot. An empty quart-size bottle of milk lay on its side in the stained sink. He sipped again on the beer, then walked toward the bedroom and unlocked the door. Pushing it part way open, he stepped into the dismal room. Peeling paint and nail holes marred the walls. A tattered, braided throw rug lay in the middle of the room on a wooden floor. A gray metal folding chair was in the corner, barely three feet away from two canvas cots that were pushed lengthwise up against the wall, end to end. Two pillows and an olive-drab blanket were strewn on one cot. A cracked, rectangular mirror hung next to the window. Even in daylight, the room remained dim because of the closeness of the building across the alley.
Steiner checked the window lock just as a precaution. He pulled back the blanket then leaned closer to the glass, finally able to see his brother, Friedrich, standing in the vacant alley, safeguarding there'd be no escape or rescue attempt. Steiner let his eyes roam up and down the alley, then at the building opposite the bedroom. Months of thorough research led him to this particular site. Both buildings were unoccupied, situated in a district completely isolated and not yet on the list for restoration by the government. Another group member, Rolf Weider, who worked as an electrician for the Ministry of Regional Housing, had obtained floor plans and duplicate keys.