Sergeant Major Mike Mahoney and Corporal Lewis Franklin entered, immediately bracing themselves at attention, Mahoney saying sharply, "Sir!"
Wharton noticed both men were wearing sidearms. "Come with me." He barreled past them, nearly knocking Franklin off his feet. The two Marines looked at each other as if to say, "Oh, shit!" They stayed close to Wharton’s heels as he charged down the hallway.
Without even bothering to knock on the door, Wharton burst into Bradley's office. "Pete!"
Bradley had a set of headphones on. As he spun his chair around, the wires tangled around his throat. "Jesus, Matt! You scared the shit… "
"Get off your ass and come with me now."
"But the radio trans… "
"What part of 'now' don't you understand? Fuck the transmission! Come with me!" Bradley flung the headphones on his chair, nearly falling over himself trying to get around the desk.
The four men piled into the elevator. Wharton couldn't stay still, constantly tapping his foot on the floor. Finally, the door opened. Canetti and Kelley both turned around, surprise obvious on their faces.
"Matt," Canetti said. "What's up?"
Wharton walked toward them, finally setting his stare on Blake Kelley. "Sergeant Major, I want you to place this man under arrest."
Canetti jumped up and shouted, "What?! What the hell are you talking about?!"
Wharton never took his eyes from Kelley, even as the two Marines took their places on either side of him. "You wanna tell him, Blake? You wanna tell all of us why, why you turned?" If the proverbial pin had dropped in the room at that moment, it would have sounded like a bomb.
Perspiration broke out on Kelley's brow. He was positive he hadn't slipped up. Wharton had to be bluffing. "Like George said, Matt, what the hell are you talking about?"
Wharton shoved his hands into his pants pockets, and then shifted his eyes to the big Southerner. "George, why'd I ask you to be here tonight?" Canetti hesitated, and Wharton added, "It's okay, George. Navy's already landed. It's all over."
Canetti glanced at Kelley as he answered. "You said I was to wait for a transmission from one of the Navy boys. He was using the code name ‘Timberwolf.’”
"Go on," Wharton said.
"He was to transmit at 2330 hours, as soon as he made it to his drop zone in Kruezgarten Park."
Wharton nodded. "Have you received a transmission?"
Canetti shook his head. "No."
Then Wharton called, "Pete."
Bradley walked around Wharton and stood next to Canetti. Anticipating Wharton wanted the same type of response from him, he said, "I was expecting a transmission from ‘Silverfox’ at 2330 hours. He was to transmit from Prinzgarten Park. And, no, I didn't get any transmission."
Wharton turned back to Kelley. "And Kelley, let's see. You were waiting for a call from someone, too, weren't you?" Kelley diverted his eyes from Wharton, staring at the cold, tiled floor. "Code name ‘Panther,’ right? ‘Panther’ was to transmit at 2330 hours, also, only he would be calling from Hurstengarten Park." Wharton was seething. He spit the words out with a booming voice. "Isn't that right?!" Kelley jumped but remained silent. Wharton turned and walked away, standing momentarily in front of a file cabinet. Then he turned around. "At approximately 2329 hours I received a transmission. Timberwolf confirmed that Panther made contact with two East Germans. You care to tell us why they were there and who they were?"
"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Kelley answered flatly, in a monotone voice.
"Like hell you don't, you son of a bitch… you bastard!" Wharton shouted as he made a move toward him. Canetti grabbed his arm. Wharton pulled away then resumed talking. "You contacted somebody within the FSG organization. You told him exactly where and when the landing was going to be. You stupid bastard! We set you up, and you took the bait. Now, are you gonna tell us why?"
Kelley's shoulders went slack. He started sobbing. "I… I can't." He started shaking his head violently and screamed, "I can't tell you! I can't tell you!" He started to wretch then he vomited on his black trousers.
Wharton motioned to the Marines. They assisted Kelley in standing up then led him away to a secure room located at the opposite end of the Embassy's basement.
The three remaining men in the crypto room stared at one another in silence until Canetti mumbled, "Jesus Christ!" He looked into Wharton's bloodshot eyes, as he was shaking his head in disbelief. "What the fuck just happened here?"
"Your buddy's been feeding data to the FSG on Rick Lampson," Wharton answered. "Navy snatched Lampson because he had vital information on a drug the FSG group was working on, along with their plans for its use." He turned and walked slowly across the brightly lit room, trying to stabilize his heartbeat. An overhead fluorescent light bulb flickered and he glanced up at it. "It started when Kelley told them where we stashed Lampson."
"Christ," Canetti groaned. "But you didn't tell us anything about Lampson until two hours before he was to be extracted. How'd Kelley have the time to notify the FSG?"
"Don't know yet, George. But I can guarantee you that I'll find out." Wharton dug his hands into his trousers' side pockets. "Tonight Stevens and Adler were going back to take out the lab and rescue Lampson's kids." Canetti and Bradley shot a quick glance at one another, but refrained from asking any questions. "That's why Stevens put this scheme together, and Kelley went for it." He took quick steps over to the entrance. "Listen, George, I think you'd better hang around just in case Stevens calls in. I'll be in my office if he needs anything. Got it?"
"Right, Matt." When Wharton and Bradley had gone, Canetti got up and paced the room. His headphones were still draped around his neck. "How the hell did this happen? Why didn't I know?" A round stainless steel garbage can was just a little to close to his foot, and he intentionally kicked it across the room. The metal pail went airborne, bouncing off the door of a file cabinet then rolled across the room. Canetti flopped down in his chair, then started rolling the wheels back and forth. He stared at his former partner's chair, disbelieving but madder than hell.
Steiner stood in the living room, adjusting the uniform jacket. He looked down at the medals hanging from different colored ribbons. One ribbon was twisted, with the bronze medal facing backwards. He straightened it then ran his hand along the double row. Making his way into the kitchen, the thoughts of his three missing men came to mind. He went to the window that was facing vacant acreage. A mile away a red blinking light at the top of the television tower, Fernsehturm, marked the location of Alexanderplatz.
As he stared into the distance, he remembered the last contact he had with Kelley from the U.S. Embassy. Kelley had been unable to find out any information pertaining to Steiner's men. It's too bad, he thought, as he leaned against the window frame. But Kelley did inform him that an American was scheduled to make a drop into the East tonight. Buy why? The Americans already had Brennar. Only six members of the FSG knew the location of the lab. Wait! Could Von Wenzel have told Brennar? Steiner thought for a moment, reasoning that he'd put enough fear in both Von Wenzel and Heisen to rule that out. Suddenly his back straightened. The twins! That American's coming back to look for Brennar's brats. But it was impossible for him to know where they were — impossible. He tilted his head back, momentarily letting his eyes wander back and forth across the discolored ceiling. Unless… He rested his hand against the wall as he continued to try and answer troubling questions. Neus, Schinkel and Richter are missing. Were they dead? Or did the Americans somehow abduct them to obtain further information?