The sky was heavy with storm clouds as a yellow minibus with a Baltic Tours sign painted on the side,

pulled up by the docks at Kleipida.

A sharp-eyed observer on that afternoon of 7 November 1992 might have realized they were not the only ones watching

as an odd collection of characters disembarked. Hovering at the edges were a group of tough-looking

figures, bulges beneath long coats tracing the shape of weapons as they scanned the decaying

industrial docks on Lithuania's Baltic coast for trouble.

The fact that this was the 75th anniversary of the revolution that led to the creation of the Soviet Union was not a coincidence.

A suave, rakish, well-dressed man with graying hair seemed to be directing events.

Another man, heavier-built, wearing glasses, a blue scarf and a long trench

coat seemed to be helping. But then something seemed to go wrong. They were shouting. Watching

events unfold, a wiry older man was the calm center of a storm. He did not appear anxious

or nervous, not even as the limp body of another man was slung over his shoulder. For him,

the steps from the minibus to the waiting boat might be dangerous, but they represented

the culmination of his life's journey.

He carried with him a warning that he believed the world needed to hear and a weapon

with which to do battle.

At that moment, he believed he was finally about to slay the beast that had preyed upon his country and inhabited his nightmares.

Well, welcome to the rest is classified.

I'm David McCloskey.

And I'm Gordon Carrera.

And that brilliant piece of prose, worthy of a spy novel, if I do say so myself, comes from the pen of none other than Gordon Carrera.

And it is exceptional, Gordon.

...