When they finally inched forward to the gate, the Soviet Border officials examined the British diplomatic passports, turning them over and back and talking amongst themselves. They looked at the occupants again and then at the official documents. Finally, the passports were stamped, and simultaneously the barrier was raised.
83
7:25 p.m. East of Tallinn
Colonel Bucharov wasted no time calling by radio to KGB Moscow.
“Semenov is not at Tallinn. Update me on Vyborg.”
“You’ve had your radio turned off!” cried the dispatcher. “We’ve been calling and calling you!”
“What?”
“The MI6 car that went to Vyborg. The stowaway in the trunk was a United States Marine!”
Bucharov immediately understood. He slammed on his brakes while signaling and swung a high-speed U-turn back toward Tallinn.
This couldn’t be allowed to stand. Somehow, Semenov was already there. He was suddenly sure of it. And most likely, he was now inside the trunk of the British Embassy vehicle.
He picked up his microphone and called ahead to the Tallinn Border Guard station. “Stop the British Embassy vehicle! There’s a fugitive inside!”
The line went dead for several minutes. Then the border guard came back online. “Where are you, Colonel?”
“Ten minutes east!”
“The embassy vehicles are no longer here. We’re unable to locate.”
Bucharov threw his transceiver’s hand microphone at the dashboard. His rage overcame him. Pushing the accelerator to the floorboard, he drove wildly toward Tallinn.
But he was missing one piece of the puzzle. While KGB had shut down the scheduled Tallinn ferry crossing, the Sunday night ferry was a local custom, unscheduled on Soviet records.
Bucharov was unaware.
84
7:40 p.m. 106th Tallinnskiy Border Detachment
Longfellow drove onto the waiting ferry and parked on the sea level. By that point, it had filled, so Danbury went up one deck.
Longfellow switched off the engine as directed by the signage. Nobody spoke. He couldn't take his eyes from the review mirror, expecting the sudden return of Colonel Bucharov. He wiped sweat and more sweat from his face with a diaper, unable to control his terror.
At that second, the captain of the ferry announced over the loudspeaker, "Ole hyvä ja pysy autoissasi!" Please stay in your car!
The ferry moved away from the pier one foot, two feet, three.
Almost unbelievably, a Volga roared up to the pier. The driver's door flew open, and Bucharov leaped out, drawing his gun from his shoulder holster and aiming at Longfellow's car on the ferry's stern. The ferry was moving away in the water, so Bucharov tried jumping onto the stern but fell short, plunging off the pier and underwater. He surfaced and immediately twisted onto his side and took to side-stroking with one arm while pointing his gun with the other, crying out in Russian, demanding that the captain stop the vessel. Nothing. Like yelling at a mountain.
He put his face down in the water and swam, both arms and legs, propelling himself through the water faster than the ferry's sluggish pace.
Longfellow stood alongside his Saab, shocked to see the KGB officer still coming on. He ran to the trunk and unlocked it, all the while keeping one eye out for Bucharov.
A bewildered Nikolai sat up in the trunk.
"Bucharov!" Longfellow cried, pointing wildly at the stern. "He's coming!”
Nikolai's forearm lay across his eyes as he adjusted to the brilliant overhead parking lights. He sat up, shaking his head. "What?"
"Bucharov is coming up the stern ladder! I don't have a gun!"
Nikolai clambered out of the trunk and ran for the stern. He had to get there before Bucharov was aboard.
He just made the stern ladder as Bucharov's shoulders leveled with the railing. Nikolai chopped at the gun hand, sending the pistol spinning into the foamy sea as Bucharov brought his right hand up from his waist and chopped Nikolai in the throat, staggering him. He went down on one knee, violently choking and fighting for air. Bucharov lunged up and over the railing and kicked a heavy boot at Nikolai's head. Nikolai grabbed the boot just as it came at him and twisted with his full upper body, Bucharov rotating violently to the side and slamming down on the deck, cracking his head on the steel plating. He moaned and tried sitting up, then fell back.
Nikolai was gasping for air yet, clutching at his throat. Slowly, he clung to the last car's bumper and climbed to his feet and was about to deliver a death blow to Bucharov when the KGB officer suddenly jumped upright using tremendous leg muscles and jerked Nikolai’s legs out from under him. Nikolai flew backward, his head slamming against the metal flooring where it bounced once. Then he fell back and was still.
Bucharov bent and felt inside his right boot. He withdrew a long hunting knife and moved for Nikolai's throat. His arm swept closer and closer, but a small-caliber pistol barked just as the blade was at his throat. Bucharov started to turn around. "What—?" he managed to say before he fell forward, shot behind the ear by the .380 semiautomatic Sue Ellen had worn in her garter holster. The enormous roar of the ferry's engines had covered the noise. She approached Bucharov gingerly and looked at his death face. Then she turned her head away and shot him between the eyes.
Nikolai recovered and was struggling to sit up. Longfellow slipped his hands under his arms and helped him to his feet. Nikolai shook his head, focusing his eyes, and looked around for Bucharov, whom he found lying behind him, his head within a widening pool of blood. Then he looked at Sue Ellen.
Her gun had slipped around on her trigger finger so it was hanging upside down. The other hand covered her mouth. Then she spoke in a muffled tone. “My first kill.”
Longfellow went to her and wrapped her in his arms. Nikolai came and tried to take the gun, but she jerked it away, saying, “It belongs in my holster. I'm not home in my own bed yet." She turned her back to Nikolai, lifted her skirt, and replaced her pistol in its garter holster. "Got to check the babies," she said solemnly and headed for the car.
Nikolai nodded appreciatively. "You know what's best. Thank you, madam," he called after her. Then, to Longfellow, "I am Nikolai Semenov, formerly a KGB Colonel. And you are MI6 Longfellow. We met when I gave you my baby, sir. How is she?"
"She was sleeping minutes ago. So was ours."
"I see."
Nikolai went to Bucharov and wrapped his arms around his mid-section. To the dead body, he said, "Swimming, is it? All right, then." Then he lifted him up and over the stern rail and watched as he cartwheeled into the ferry's screws below. He went under and didn't float back up.
"We're not home free yet," Longfellow said and motioned toward his car's trunk. At the embassy car, Nikolai took a quick peek at Sasha, then sat down backward in the trunk, swung his legs up and over, and gave a thumbs-up sign.
Before Nikolai closed the lid, Longfellow said, "We have Finnish customs and immigration, then Finnish passport control. Then I can let you out, Colonel."
Nikolai, lying again inside the dark, knew the hurdle ahead. It would only require a single phone call from the Soviets in Tallinn to the Finns in Helsinki to turn them around.