Chapter 4: Preparing for the Mission

My plane had landed in Chicago, and I was looking forward to seeing my wife. The past two weeks had been difficult for me. I miss my Viking Princess. Where was everybody? Looking around the luggage area, I tried to find Karen or Lawrence. No one was present to pick me up. They knew I was coming this morning since I had left my schedule with them. It’s unusual for a returning hero to not be greeted warmly at home, or so I assumed. I moved a bit deeper into the concourse, and there was still no one. Maybe she’s running late. I went over to the public phones and called home. The phone rang five times before the answering machine picked up. That was peculiar, I thought. I would phone Lawrence and ask him what was going on. Camilla answered, saying Lawrence was out of town on a case and would not return until at least Wednesday. Okay, he had an excuse. I thanked her before hanging up. Here I was, the self-described hero, who had to arrange my own way home.

Instead of heading home, I decided to go to my university office and finish up on any loose ends. An hour later, I opened the door to my office to see what needed my urgent attention. It appears that there is little more than a poll from the department chair asking what color the math department’s exterior office should be painted at the start of the next academic year. There were no personal messages for me. In addition, the only phone calls on my voicemail were from scammers. There was nothing that required my immediate attention. I phoned for a cab since I didn’t want to walk the two miles home. The cab was waiting for me when I left the building.

I opened the townhouse door and entered after paying for the taxi fare. There was no one to meet me at the door, so I entered a silent house. I was perplexed; I would have expected Karen to be waiting for me at the airport, or at least at home. All of this emptiness left me feeling down. I went upstairs to our bedroom to unpack and brought my dirty clothes downstairs to the laundry. Along with the mood I was in, I was starting to worry. Where was my wife? Concerned, I looked out the bedroom window to check on our vehicles. My automobiles were present, but Karen’s VW was missing. After viewing my new yellow VW, Karen decided she wanted one too. On one of our excursions to Seattle, we bought one for her in pink and had it delivered to Chicago. That pink VW Beetle was her darling, and she drove it everywhere.

At 4 pm, I heard the distinct sound of a Volkswagen engine pulling into the drive and around to the rear of the townhouse. Karen entered the house a few minutes later, dressed in medical scrubs. She seemed surprised to find me standing there, with a worried expression on my face. I forgot, didn’t I?” said Karen sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to. They were shorthanded in the ER and called this morning, asking if I could come in.”

“Are you sure there isn’t some orderly or new young doctor in the ER you are thinking about replacing me with?” I inquired, being silly. “I am gone for two weeks of training, and you forget all about me.”

I should have been an actor since I put on the most pouting expression I could.

To aggravate the pain further, Karen began laughing. If I had been smart, I would have turned and walked away. Instead, I became outraged. I went over to the hall closet and took out my helmet and gloves.

“I am going for a ride and will be back when I get back,” I said in a huff. I then walked out the door and went to retrieve my motorcycle. After starting the bike and letting it warm up, I put it in gear and headed for the open road.

I felt it was better to go to my quiet space and work out my anger. After fifteen minutes, I drew up to my lakeside tree and got off my bike. I sat under my tree, looking out over the lake. There were geese swimming in the lake, and a father and son were fishing on the other shore. Someday, I planned to go fishing with my young son or daughter. I only needed to survive this assignment.

I fell back on the grass and looked up at the sky, admiring the clouds. It was a pretty day, and I had fun trying to make out creatures in the cloud formations. Simple things like this helped me overcome my anger. I was still perturbed that Karen was not there to pick me up at the airport, but I was no longer angry.

I must have fallen asleep because I noticed that the sun was lower in the sky than it had been and was getting closer to evening. Looking at my watch, I saw I had been asleep for almost three hours. The nap made me feel better, but I had not intended to be gone this long. Karen had to be sick with worry. I got up and put my helmet on.

Once more around the park, I rode to take in its beauty and naturalness before heading home. I felt like an entirely different person than I had been earlier. After putting the motorcycle away, I walked into the house. Unsure of the greeting I would receive, I thought it was best to keep on the helmet. There was no Karen waiting for me at the door. I carefully walked into the house and put my helmet and gloves in the hall closet. I found Karen on the couch, puffy-eyed clutching a couch cushion.

She looked up at me and said, “Please don’t ever leave me again. You were gone so long, I thought you took another of your road trips away from me. I was positive you were not coming back.”

“Karen, I will never leave you like that, not with my VWs still here.” I quipped.

I didn’t see the cushion coming. She delivered a powerful hit that knocked me on my ass. My Viking princess had become a Berserker. I laughed at her all the while she beat me with that cushion. My chuckle just made her angrier. She quickly grew fatigued, and I was out of breath from laughing.

“It’s not funny,” she whined. “I thought you left me. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

This went into a 20-minute session of her crying and me holding her. I never knew the human body was capable of producing so many tears. My shirtfront became soaked. To put her in a better mood, I suggested we go dine out at her favorite place. The suggestion of dining out did the trick, and an hour later, we were sitting at Fernando’s, her favorite Italian restaurant.

Karen insisted I sit beside her at the restaurant. She held on to my arm in a death grip and rested her head against my shoulder. Looking at us, you would have thought we were still dating. It would have surprised others to find we had been married for three years.

Finally, she said, “Why did you leave? I was so worried that you were not coming back. It was bad enough that you were gone for two weeks. I was very lonely without you. And why were you perturbed at me when I came home from work?”

“Karen, I missed you as much as you missed me. I spent two weeks in training with a crew of five others, preparing. You are my whole life, and without you, I am nothing.”

Karen’s eyes filled when I said that. I did not want to repeat what I said earlier, so I continued.

“My days were spent training and familiarizing myself with what the government wants us to do. We had to learn to mesh as a team, and if not, we will not be able to complete the mission, and it is vital that we do.” I said.

“When I wasn’t training, I was thinking of you and how much I missed you.”

“Tell me about your teammates if you can.” Karen said.

Oh, Jeez, I am forced to lie to her by omission now, too. If she ever knew the truth, it wouldn’t be good for me.

“There is Mike, the team leader, and then there is Randy, Andi, Gary, and Todd. Randy is our communications person. He keeps us connected to HQ, and Andi is my assistant. Lastly, Gary and Todd are our travel and logistics team members. They make sure our equipment is where it needs to be and are responsible for our transportation. I think we all work quite well together. What is funny is that since I have my PhD, they all call me Doc.”

“Do you know anything about any of them? Like where they are from and what they normally do?” Karen asked, being her usual nosy self.

“For security purposes, that information is a need-to-know basis. All I know is their first names and what their jobs are as related to the mission.” I answered.

“I guess from small talk I am the only member of the team married. A couple of them wanted to know what you looked like, so I did show them your picture. They were very impressed by my Viking Princess.”

Karen just held my arm tighter and sighed at my words.

When our food arrived, she let go of my arm and enthusiastically devoured her Italian sampler plate. One thing about Karen is that she had a healthy appetite, which never showed on her shapely figure.

After a dessert of gelato, we left Fernando’s and walked around the neighborhood window-shopping. Once around the block, looking at the displays, we ended up back where I parked the car. We decided it was time to head home, as we both had busy days scheduled for the next day. I started the car, and twenty minutes later, we were home.

I had two weeks to prepare for the mission and had a lot I wished to work on. I went to the range daily while Karen was at work. When she was home, she would go with me. I was impressed with the Walther; just let any Blofeld types come near me; I would be ready for them.

The weekend before I had to report, Karen had to work. While she was at work, I went to the gun shop where Lawrence had taken me. I was impressed, as they remembered me when I walked in.

I asked the clerk about ammunition choices for the .380 caliber. I wanted ammunition that had more power than the practice ammunition that I currently used. He smiled and asked me to follow him. We went back once again to the indoor range where we had gone with the gunsmith/armorer. The clerk asked me to wait, and he would be right back. He soon came back carrying a couple of boxes of ammunition that had obviously been on the shelf for some time.

The clerk asked if I had my Walther with me, and when I acknowledged that I did, he smiled and ran out a new target. The clerk handed me hearing protection to put on. While putting his own on, he pointed at the fresh target, indicating I was to shoot my current ammunition at the target. I did as he requested, shooting a decent grouping on the target. He then handed me one of the boxes he had brought with him and had me load the Walther magazine. I shot the target with it as well. What a difference, it was quite snappy! All I knew was that I had to have this ammunition to carry. This new ammunition made my Walther as snappy as the Makarov had been during training. I had to rub my hand to get some feeling back in it. I later learned the ammunition I shot was made in Spain and originally for a submachine gun. I made my wish known and requested that the clerk get me a thousand rounds.

I made the comment that the ammunition made the Walther as snappy as a Makarov. My comment raised the eyebrow of the armorer, who happened to be walking by. He wanted to know where I had experienced shooting the Makarov, as they were not exactly available on the open commercial market. I had to think fast, or I would be divulging information he did not need to know.

I asked him if he knew Lawrence worked for the FBI. He said that was common knowledge around the shop. I explained that I worked for a similar organization attached to the Department of Defense, and I could not divulge any further information. He seemed to accept that. I then explained that I had attended a seminar recently where we trained to know the weapons of our enemies, and the Makarov was one of them. He was impressed and asked my opinion. I told him that when they became commercially available, I would be one of the first to acquire one.

The sales associate walked me back up front, and on the counter was a carton with 20 boxes of .380ACP ammunition waiting for me. When it was time to settle the bill, I was surprised. I think I received a substantial discount off the retail price. The average shooter would not want to shoot the ammunition; it would be too snappy for them. It was a win-win for everyone; I got my ammunition, and the store unloaded some slow-moving ammunition.

Another courier delivery was waiting for me at my office when I went in to work later that week. I chose to have it delivered there instead of at home. Knowing Karen’s curiosity, she would have opened the package. Karen would have posed all sorts of questions that I could not answer, and that would create a bigger problem.

I was to leave the next Sunday in the afternoon. It was the same flight as before to Richmond. The instructions were specific: a representative would meet me at the airport and take me to my location. We would have a week to get ready for the mission, and then we would fly to the UK for our ride to the USSR.

It was getting close; I was a bit edgy, and it showed. Karen went out of her way to keep from irritating me. I spent a lot of time in the park under my special tree. I was confident in my skills and those of the others at that time, yet I had a premonition that something was going to go wrong. I decided to follow the old saying that I learned a long time ago, and it has always worked for me. The saying went something like this: ‘Plan for the worst and hope for the best’.

I went to the range daily and shot my Walther. I burned through a lot of ammunition, both the old stuff and the Spanish ammunition I planned on taking with me. My shooting skills just kept getting better, and it was true that practice makes perfect. I would make sure I had my Walther, the “hotter” ammunition, and a cleaning kit with my gear on the mission.

When Lawrence was back from the out-of-town case investigation, he and I got together for a couple of hours. I asked him to check on Karen ever so often, as I knew she would be extremely worried. He promised that he would have Camilla be with her when Karen was off from the ER. It would be under the guise of cooking lessons, but it would also keep her from being lonely. Lastly I requested if anything happened, he would be there to help Karen.

Finally, Sunday rolled around, and I had made sure everything was packed and ready that morning. There would be no last-minute scrambles to get everything packed and me out the door. Karen and I took a final walk around the park and went to my quiet spot. We sat under my tree and held each other. I was miserable, and I know she had to be just as bad, if not worse. It was getting close to that time, so we walked back to the car to head home. From there, Karen, Lawrence, and Camilla would take me to the airport. We used Lawrence’s government-issued sedan; it had extra room to make the hour-long drive more comfortable. Karen held my hand all the way to the airport, and while she did not cry, she did have to daub at her eyes ever so often.

We arrived at the airport, and Lawrence parked the sedan in front of the terminal. He and I got out so we could get my duffle bag. I had asked Karen beforehand not to get out of the car, as I did not want to create a scene. Lawrence handed my duffle out of the trunk of the car to me. He shut the trunk, walked back around to the driver’s side, and got back in. I walked up to Karen’s door as she had the window down and had her hand reaching out. I took one last hold of her and told her I loved her and would be back soon. I let go and moved back from the car. Lawrence drove off, and as I watched, Karen waved to me for as long as possible. I turned and went into the terminal.

I walked up to the airline counter, gave them my ticket, and waited for them to issue my boarding pass and have my duffle bag checked. I received my boarding pass and went to the passenger waiting area. Roughly an hour later, I was winging my way back to Richmond, Virginia, and the SUV ride to the base where we trained.

After the two-hour flight, I was ready to get out of the plane. I had a seatmate this trip, and though he minded his own business, he annoyed me. The fellow had a sinus issue and had to blow his nose and clear his throat every ten minutes. I wanted to smother him with his used tissues after only 30 minutes into the flight. He really needed to consider an antihistamine.

It took longer this time for my duffle bag to appear on the baggage carousel than it had on my earlier flights. I was concerned that perhaps someone had discovered my secret stash and taken it. After recovering my bag, I went into the men’s room and checked my bag in a stall. I was relieved; nothing had been touched. I then went out into the reception area looking for my ride. There he was, just like the last time, and I simply followed him out to the waiting SUV. The ride again took close to an hour, and on base, they dropped me off at the same Quonset hut as before.