Chapter 2: Meeting the Shepherd

It's good to see that some of us have managed to make it back from hell, boys. Now it's my job to help you all get sent right back in to it. There's been a lot since some of you last saw freedom. Berlin's been sliced in half between all of the western Allied powers and the Soviet Union. We are always trying to get info from over there and to have local contacts on the Communist side. One of our contacts is a Russian named Petya Yevgeniy Radimir, under the call-sign of "Shepherd". He's a GRU double-agent who contacted the United States about eight months ago with information.

Well now he wants out.

Petya says that he thinks that the GRU and KGB are starting to track some information leaks to him. He believes that if we don't get him and his girlfriend out soon, then they'll both be dead. Normally this would be handled by the CIA, but apparently our superiors believe that this would be a good test for our skills. That's why two of our agents will be crossing over the wall to get the two of them out by a plane we've planted in an airfield on the eastern side of Berlin.

"Meeting the Shepherd"
April 4th, 1968
Sergeant Adam Setser
1st Army Research Division, a.k.a "the Trust"
Berlin, Germany

"It's good to see you walking, Sergeant." I heard a voice say.

Even though I was startled, I didn't outwardly show it. Instead I removed the cigarette I had been smoking from my lips and slowly blew a cloud of smoke out while giving a side-long glance to the passenger-side window. Petty Officer First Class Darryl Birdsong was leaning in through the window with a smile on his face.

To tell the truth, I wouldn't have recognized him for who he was if it hadn't been for what he had said. He was in denim jeans, some hiking boots, a dark red t-shirt, and a dark brown leather jacket. He seemed like a different person without camouflage face-paint, LBEs on his chest, and a shotgun in his hands. Taking another drag on my cigarette, I turned my head fully to face him.

"What are you doing here, Squid?" I asked with a chuckle.

"It seems your friends like the way I operate." Darryl replied, still grinning as he got in the car.

"Or maybe they just wanted a break from all us Army and Marine boys." I shrugged.

"Yeah: I wouldn't blame them." Darryl lit a cigarette of his own.

We hadn't even met up until now, having entered western Berlin separately for security's sake, yet already we were acting like close friends. I suppose that's what happened when one guy rescued another guy from a prison camp. Besides, I guess that was the way with all of us "Trustees". Our profession of choice didn't exactly allow for girlfriends, wives, and other forms of social life so we had to take what we could get in life. That made making friends amongst fellow Trustees all the easier, but losing a fellow agent all the harder.

I started the car and pulled away from the curb.

We had been provided with forged papers in order to get across the wall without any resistance from the West German and Soviet sentries. After we had gotten past the wall, we were supposed to head for the back door of an old, abandoned warehouse. There, Petya would meet us, and after we had him we would take him to his girlfriend. She was at her mother's house and so he would guide us there. Once we had her, we were to head for the airfield, and then we would fly out of there to western Berlin.

Darryl and I had both been trained how to fly for just this mission.

Moving through the streets, I headed for the signature Berlin Wall. In some areas, it was only some barbed wire strung between wooden poles, but here it was much different. It had high stone walls, spotlights, and guard towers equipped with machineguns. Armed guards manned all of the entrances and exits: an attempt to make sure that nobody got in or out without express permission from the Soviet government in Moscow. They claimed it was to keep everybody else out, yet many people had been shot trying to escape to the West.

I pulled up to one of those many checkpoints and pulled to a stop. The guard standing outside the checkpoint building walked slowly towards me. Looking at him, I could tell that he wasn't expecting anything despite the late-night passage. He was holding his AK-47 loosely, letting it hang by the strap around his neck, and he seemed totally disinterested. As he approached, I retrieved the papers I had been given from inside my coat. He came to a stop on my side of the car and waited as I rolled down the window.

"What brings you here, my friend?" He asked; his Russian accent light.

*"Заказы от Москвы." I held up my papers for him.

That seemed to shock him. He gave me a nod, shot a hand signal to the man inside the checkpoint building, and I watched as the red-and-white painted wooden rod that blocked the street raised up. The sentry waved me through. Casually, I put the false orders back in to my coat and drove past the checkpoint. Once we were on the other side I began to roll my window up and pulled off on to one of the side-roads. From there I took as many turns as I could on the way to our first destination, moving through the streets.

We kept an eye on our surroundings as we went, constantly checking to make sure we weren't being followed as we made our way towards the industrial district of East Berlin. When we arrived, we found that here was a lack of sentries on our route. That perplexed me somewhat. I had imagined there would be more guards to make sure that curfews were enforced. Instead we went totally unopposed as we approached our destination. The abandoned warehouse where we would be meeting Petya sat out from the rest: totally unguarded.

There was a chain-link fence that surrounded the warehouse compound. I stopped to let Darryl out and watched as he pushed open one side of the gate. Then I drove through, he pushed it shut once again, and then got back in. Then we turned off our headlights, slowly circling around to the back of the building. Once we had reached the back of the main warehouse, Darryl and I checked to make sure the Makarovs we had been given were ready, and then we both got out. The plan was that Darryl would stay to watch the car for now while I got Petya.

We had no need to, though, because as I approached the backdoor I saw it open up. I got ready to run for cover until I saw the man walk out. He was a short man of only about five feet and five inches in height, or at least it seemed to me from this distance. He had messy dark blonde hair and a pair of large aviator sunglasses. He was wearing jeans like ours, tennis shoes, and a dark green t-shirt, and a black leather jacket like mine. He approached cautiously, constantly looking around the area as if scanning for any threats.

I threw the stub of my cigarette to the ground, "Hershey."

He looked perplexed as I retrieved another cigarette, and cupped my hand around the match.

"Hershey." I repeated more harshly now, getting suspicious.

"Almonds." He finally replied, his confused look disappearing.

"Good to meet you, Shepherd." I removed the cigarette from my lips.

"I assume you are the CIA man who is getting me out of here?" He asked.

"You could say that: let's go." I waved for him to follow me to the car.

He got in the back seat as we moved back towards the gate and we went through the same opening-and-closing routine as before. We turned our headlights back on and followed directions from Petya towards the house of his girlfriend's mother. He constantly seemed to be checking around the car as we went, as if he were afraid a Soviet strike team was suddenly going to come out from one of the alleys, and grab us. Thankfully, that didn't happen, and we pulled up to the two-story house where we came to a stop.

"I will go in and get her." Petya told us, getting out from the back seat.

We watched him as he circled around to the back of the house. The car was silent.

"I don't trust him." Darryl suddenly piped up.

"What do you mean?" I asked, taking another deep drag on my cigarette.

"He just seems wrong." Darryl replied, "Like there's something he's not telling us."

"Everybody has secrets in this kind of business." I chuckled, "Haven't you seen the movies?"

"Fair enough." Darryl sounded somewhat defeated, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

We kept our eyes out while we waited and I occasionally glanced at my watch. Ten minutes later Darryl tapped me on the shoulder and pointed out the alley once again. The girl behind Petya was short, maybe five foot-five, and she had bright blonde hair. She was wearing a short blue skirt, a white button-up shirt, and high heels. They both piled in to the back seat of the car and I wasted no time pulling away from the house.

I didn't even notice the car two blocks away that started moving, it's headlights off.

We continued through the streets once again. I continued to use all of the side-streets and indirect routes that I could think of. So far this was the least eventful mission of my career. Then again, I only had one other under my belt, and I had gotten captured at the end of that one! It wasn't something that I planned on reliving if I could help it. I didn't want to think about that, though. Instead I just focused on getting to the airfield and getting out of Soviet territory.

We continued through the streets, getting ever closer to the airfield. The closer we got, the more relaxed Petya seemed to become, but I was still nervous as we drove. I just hoped that the guard at the gate would believe the papers, even with all four of us in the car, and that we would be able to get to the plane without any incident. My last mission hadn't ended so well and so I was keeping my fingers crossed that this one didn't go the same way. I didn't know why, but there was something in the back of my mind telling me that this wasn't going to be easy.

Pushing the feeling to the back of my mind, I drove on the rode alongside the airfield's barbed-wire topped fence, and headed for the gate. There, I pulled to a stop at the signal from the guard standing outside the small checkpoint building. Like the last person, he came to my side of the car, and waited as I rolled down the window. I wasted no time in retrieving the order papers from my coat. Seeing the crest at the top, I don't think he really looked at them after that. He gave me a nod and with quick hand-motions the gate was opened.

I drove through and headed for the hanger where the plane was kept.

"Something's up." Darryl suddenly piped up.

I looked to the hanger.

"I see it." I grunted.

"What's wrong?" Petya asked nervously.

"Look." Darryl ordered, pointing to the hanger we were headed for.

The two black cars were parked beside the hangar. There were four men standing beside the four cars. Two of them looked like they were smoking and they were all wearing heavy black trench coats. It was obvious that they were either KGB or GRU agents who had been waiting for our arrival. Somehow, they had found out about us, found out where we were headed, and had come ahead to capture or kill us before we could escape. My grip tightened on the wheel as I stopped around eighty yards short of the waiting agents.

"Darryl, come with me; you two stay here." I was gritting my teeth in anger as I spoke.

"What is..." Petya froze.

"Like I said; stay here." I repeated just as harshly as before.

Darryl and I both got out. We had already gotten the attention of the four men waiting for of us and two of them started in our direction as we started in theirs. We came to a stop only three or four feet from each other, standing exactly across from one another. To try and act casual, I retrieved a cigarette from my coat, and lit it up. I watched Darryl do the same. Looking at the agent across from me, I started to get picked off. He was a puggy but tall individual, with a smug look of satisfaction on his face as if he was sure he had just won something.

"So Americans," The man across from me started, "What brings you to glorious east Berlin?"

"Just seeing the sights." Darryl replied, a look of contempt on his face.

"No need to be so..." I didn't let him finish.

Even though I hadn't told Darryl ahead of time, we both moved like one person. We each crossed the short distance between ourselves and the agents. The man across from me began to reach in to his coat for a gun. I stopped his arm with my own hand and delivered a knee to his stomach. As he fell to the ground winded, I drew my own Makarov, and emptied three rounds in to his chest. I heard Darryl empty two in to his man while the two men remaining by the cars drew pistols of their own and began to fire.

They each only got off two or three shots and each one missed. Darryl and I both opened fire and emptied our magazines. Both men fell dead and three windows between the two cars now sported bullet holes. While Darryl took the time to reload, I waved for Petya and his girlfriend to come over, and looked past the car to the gate where the guard and the occupants of a now stopped black car were jogging in our direction. One of the guards raised his rifle and fired off a single shot that bounced off the pavement near my feet.

"Let's go!" Darryl shouted to Petya and his girlfriend.

We both headed for the hanger and we came through the open hanger doors with our pistols raised in case any more company was waiting for us. There was none. I stopped just inside the door and waved Darryl towards the plane.

"Start her up: I'll cover them!" I turned around and crouched down.

I watched as Petya and his girlfriend came running across the open tarmac towards the hanger. I took aim at the pursuing Soviet agents and guards, opening fire once again. Gunfire was echoing through the night and the sounds of sirens in the distance were starting up. We didn't have long to get out of this area before police officers and soldiers would be all over the place. Petya and his girlfriend went running past me on to the plane and I emptied the rest of my magazine.

"Get to the plane!" I yelled, not bothering to look back.

"I don't think so!" I suddenly heard a voice behind me.

Turning to look over my shoulder, I saw Petya's girlfriend facing me, with a gun in her hands, and a rather pissed off look on her admittedly pretty features. I slowly rose to stand, the barrel of her gun following me the entire time. The people from the gate had stopped advancing and had taken to making pot-shots towards the hanger entrance. Petya stood halfway between her and the plane, a look of disbelief and shock on his face.

"Sasha, why?" He sounded heart-broken.

"Shut up, traitor!" She snapped, her eyes still on me.

"Petya, get to the plane." I ordered, looking over her shoulder.

He nodded and ran for the plane as fast as he could, only looking back once.

"It doesn't matter: we'll still recapture him." Sasha said, her voice like ice.

I kept looking over her shoulder intently to the back of the hanger. She obviously noticed with the way that she quirked her eyebrow. I saw her eyes dart in that direction for a moment but she couldn't see where I was looking. Apparently she was thin-skinned and easily manipulated because then she made a very bad mistake. She turned her head to try and see what I was looking at, which she would find out too late had been a simply trick, and one that I had been gambling on the success of at that.

I stepped forward and knocked her gun hand up, holding tightly to her wrist. She yelped in surprise as I rotated on my heels, sent an elbow in to her stomach that knocked the wind out of her, and flipped her over my shoulder on to her back. Then I wasted no time in driving a punch down at her. I swear I could hear her windpipe collapsing as much as I could feel it. She laid there on the hanger floor, gasping uselessly. Her face was filled with shock as her eyes looked up to me. In a classy manner, I gave her the middle finger, and then ran to the plane.

Climbing in, I barely had time to shut the door before Petya was suddenly beside me.

"What happened to Sasha?" He had to yell the question over the sound of the plane's engines.

"She's taken care of!" I yelled back.

I didn't say anything else, pushing past him. I patted Darryl on the shoulder to get his attention and gave him the thumbs up. The plane started lurching forward and I moved in to the back of the plane. I placed Petya in a seat and he strapped himself in with shaking hands. Apparently his girlfriend had shook him to his core, despite his experience in the GRU. I took the seat across from him and both Petya and I ducked down when a few rounds punched through the walls.

We stayed down like that until we felt the plane pulling off the ground. Then we both sat up again and I sighed with relief. I grabbed my cigarette pack from my pocket and held it out to Petya. His hands were still shaking as he took one and I lit it up for him. Once the cigarette was gone I watched as he leaned back against the wall and went to sleep. Once I was sure he was alright, I unbuckled, and took the copilot's seat in the cockpit. I barely had time to secure the headphones and strap in before Darryl suddenly started talking to me.

"I was meaning to ask you something." Darryl said, keeping his eyes on flying.

"What's that?" I asked with a yawn.

"When I busted you out: were you in the Trust?" I could tell he was genuinely curious.

I chuckled, "That's classified information Darryl."

"Really: even though I'm a Trustee?" He asked, sounding somewhat shocked.

"Even though you're a Trustee." I yawned again and made myself more comfortable.

Even though the only occupants of the office were the Director and the Doctor, the air in the room seemed to be much lighter, but no less filled with tobacco smoke. There was an open envelope on the desk, with papers inside that were each crammed with matte-black type, photographs of the two agents involved, and a photograph of Petya amongst its contents. The ashtray was comparatively unfilled as compared to other times and the Doctor wasn't smoking a cigarette at that particular moment.

"It's good to see the operation was a success." The Doctor said.

"Yes, except for his lady." The Director tapped Petya's picture with a single finger.

"I agree: we should have done more looking first." The Doctor said.

"Yes, we should have." The Director agreed tersely.

"Now, what are the plans for Petya?" The Doctor asked.

"Simple: he's been assigned to help us, he'll be kept away from the headquarters, and he won't officially be a Trustee, but he'll help us on certain field assignments." The Director replied.

"Very well then: I suppose I should get going." The Doctor said.

With that, he stood, and headed for the door.

* = "Orders from Moscow."

Author's Notes: Just so you all know, the idea for Petya has been inspired by VerityA and I talking with each other. Anyways, I hope you readers have enjoyed the story so far, and know that I plan on making another chapter soon! I hope that this is exciting and interesting for you all to read. I know it's not as exciting as the CoD games, but keep in mind that this is almost related to those in name only for this specific story.