He had to be brought back to the fold—or he had to be eliminated.
* * *
Maraklov went to the command post, where he found General Tret’yak in his office sitting in front of a computer terminal, staring at a half-filled screen. “I need to talk to you, General.”
Tret’yak looked up, motioned to a chair. Maraklov ignored it. “I am composing a detailed report on this morning’s incident,” Tret’yak said in a distracted tone. “Five aircraft lost. Watching that Ilyushin go in—I have never felt so helpless—”
“Sir, we have to discuss the XF-34 fighter,” Maraklov interrupted. “It’s not secure here. I recommend it be moved as soon as possible to a secret location and prepared for another flight to the Soviet Union as soon as possible.”
Tret’yak stared at the screen for a few moments; then, to Maraklov’s surprise, began typing again. “Colonel Maraklov, personally, at this moment, I don’t care what happens to our fighter,” he said without looking up from his work. “I have lost seven men and five aircraft today—that is more men and more equipment than I have lost in four years as a squadron commander in Afghanistan. I will certainly lose my command and possibly my pension. The safety and security of your wondrous aircraft is out of my hands. I have no more resources to defend it with.”
He reached over to a stack of papers, selected one and tossed it to Maraklov without looking up from the computer screen. “Here are your orders, transmitted by the chief of the KGB. You are authorized to take any actions necessary to protect the aircraft. Authorization has already been obtained to allow you access to Sandino Airport in Managua, Aeroflot hangar number twelve, and Puerto Cabezas Airport, main transient hangar. You will take weapons with you. I have already ordered my men to load Lluyka tanks, ammunition and missiles on your fighter—we suddenly seem to have plenty to spare. It’s your responsibility now.”
Maraklov picked up the message. It was true—he had been given almost unlimited authority to protect DreamStar from destruction until the chief of the KGB, Kalinin, could consult with the Soviet Kollegiya. Trucks, trains, ships, tankers, weapons, hangars, men, money—anything he felt was necessary, so long as DreamStar was safe. It was an exciting prospect, but he realized that if he failed, the Kollegiya would demand repayment—and not in money.
Maraklov almost felt sorry for the man—he had, in effect, just been relieved of command because of something he had no control over. “I understand, sir, spasiba—”
“Get out, Colonel,” Tret’yak said. “You have everything you need.”
“I want to ask your opinion, sir,” Maraklov said quickly, “about where you recommend I take Zavtra. ”
The old fighter pilot looked up from his work. “You want my opinion?”
Maraklov saw the old glimmer in his eyes, at least something of the fire he’d noted when they’d met that day he arrived at Sebaco. Tret’yak wanted a piece of the action, no matter what. “I’m glad you asked, because I have given it some thought.” Tret’yak motioned to a chair, then poured a tall glass of ice water for Maraklov. “I am very, very glad you asked.”
Washington, D.C.
Saturday, 20 June 1996, 1900 EDT
President Taylor cursed, his New England accent, rarely heard after years in Washington, leaking through.
The full National Security Council had been summoned for an early-evening meeting at the White House conference room. They had just been briefed on DreamStar by General Elliott via two-way satellite videophone from the E-5 AWACS plane, in which he was still orbiting over the Cayman Islands. The President turned his face away from his advisers at the conference table, his jaw tight. “They just went ahead and lied to me.”
“According to Ambassador Vilizherchev, the military detachment in Nicaragua acted on their own without clearing it with Moscow,” Secretary of State Danahall said. “Vilizherchev insists there was no intention of deceiving us.”
“I don’t care what he insists. For starters, I want Vilizher- chev’s ticket pulled—he’s persona non grata. And I want to make sure that the press knows he’s not being ‘recalled to confer with his government’ or any such bull—I want them to know that I’m kicking him out.”
“Do you want the press to know why?” Danaball asked.
“Because he lied to me, he lied to this government.” He pointed a finger at Danahall. “You don’t need to go into details.” Danahall shook his head as the President turned back to the image of Elliott on the three-sided monitor set up in the center of the conference table. Yes, Danahall thought, the President needed to go into detail for something as serious as kicking out an ambassador, especially the ambassador from the Soviet Union.
“So we definitely know that the XF-34 was flown back to Nicaragua, back to this Sebaco airfield?” the President asked Elliott.
“Positively, sir,” Elliott radioed back. “We’ve had continuous AWACS radar coverage of Sebaco since the XF-34 withdrew. It has definitely landed at Sebaco, and so far no aircraft have departed or arrived at Sebaco except for two MiG fighters from Managua that had tried to chase our AWACS plane away from Nicaragua. Our Falcons convinced him that it was all right for us to stay. We’ve been keeping watch on Sebaco via our AWACS plane, by satellite surveillance, and by sketchy reports from covert operatives in Nicaragua when possible.” “But that doesn’t mean they can’t move it again,” William Stuart said testily. “It’s still a no-win operation, Elliott. So you caught the Russians trying to move the thing. They’re still not going to give it back until they’re good and ready—”
“We can stop them from moving that aircraft out of Nicaragua,” Elliott said, “if we act fast enough.”
“Is it true, General,” the President asked, “that we can’t detect them if they move it out of Sebaco?”
“I’m afraid so, sir. We have satellite overflights every ninety minutes to scan the base, and our radar plane can track anything in the sky. Our agents in the field are keeping watch on the area surrounding Sebaco, but the Russians have stepped up security around that base and our agents can’t get too close. There are gaps... But we don’t have to know the XF-34’s exact location,” Elliott added, readjusting his headset. “We know they have it—we don’t need to know anything else—”
“You’re recommending that we bomb Sebaco, regardless of whether we know that fighter is there or not?”
“Yes, sir, I am. It would help if the plane were returned to its hangar where it was first spotted, but there’s not too much chance of that. I’d expect them to hide it in the jungle or transport it to Sandino Airport, where we’d be less inclined to attack—”
“ ‘Less inclined’ is right, General,” Stuart said. “We will not attack a civilian airfield.”
“Sandino is a military airfield, sir. The Nicaraguans don’t operate any civilian airfields. Sandino is operated by the military but accepts civilian traffic. A surgical strike—”
“We’re getting off the point, General,” the President said. “I’ll end this right now—we will not attack Sandino Airport. It may in fact be a military airfield, but it is considered a civilian airfield. If the Soviets ship it to Sandino, then it’s just another step out of our reach.”
“Yes, sir,” Elliott said. “Sebaco is our target in any case. Our objective is to send a message that we don’t accept our fighter being stolen, our people killed and our so-called agreement being broken.”
For a brief moment the President thought about the upcoming election, the scrutiny he was under already, the criticism he could expect when the country learned that he had mounted an attack against Nicaragua. But Elliott’s carefully phrased statement seemed the bottom line—the Soviets had been banking on this election year to get away with killing American servicemen and stealing a multi-million-dollar aircraft . . .
“Let’s send that message, General Elliott,” the President ordered, and said a silent prayer.
Moscow, USSR
Sunday, 21 June 1996, 0700 EET (Saturday, 2300 EDT)
The General Secretary got right to business. He turned to his foreign minister, interlaced his fingers on his desk. “Comrade Tovorin, Vilizherchev has been expelled from the United States. Why?”
Tovorin looked anxiously at Kalinin, then cleared his throat. “I had intended to brief you this morning on Vilizherchev, sir. This deals with the experimental aircraft taken by Comrade Kalinin’s agent in the United States. Vilizherchev was called to the White House and questioned about the fighter. He agreed to consult with you and the Kollegiya on the Americans’ demands for returning the aircraft. Comrade Kalinin, however, was unaware of this. He ordered his agent in Nicaragua, Colonel Maraklov, to fly the aircraft to Cuba. When the Americans learned this they expelled Vilizherchev—”
“Why wasn’t I notified of any of this, Kalinin?”
“Vilizherchev met with the President very early Saturday morning, our time,” Kalinin said quickly. “The operation to fly the fighter from Nicaragua to Cuba began only a few hours after that meeting. You were in Leningrad for the day, sir— there was no time to consult you—”
“There was ample time to consult with me. Perhaps you chose not to consult me?”
“I didn’t wish to intrude on your holiday, sir.”
“Very considerate of you, Kalinin. Did you authorize any agreements with the American government yesterday morning?”
“No, sir,” Kalinin lied. “Vilizherchev consulted with me because the fighter was in our hands. I advised him to wait for a reply from Moscow before proceeding further.”
“The order expelling Vilizherchev says that he lied to the American President and gave assurances to the Americans that were not honored. Did Vilizherchev do these things?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Kalinin said, “but I doubt it. Sergei Vilizherchev is one of the most loyal and trusted of your advisers. More likely, the Americans are angry about their fighter and expelled Sergei in protest.”
“I want Vilizherchev to report to me immediately after he arrives,” the General Secretary said.
“Yes, sir.” Tovorin was relieved that the questioning on that score was over, at least for the moment.
“We lost five aircraft over the Caribbean yesterday,” the General Secretary said, “including a one-billion-ruble air- borne-warning-and-control aircraft, of which we only have thirty. We have two pilots dead, two captured by the Americans, and four men from the Ilyushin transport seriously injured.” He never ranted or raved, never seemed to get too upset or angry—but the deep, resonant voice, the fixated stare that seemed to bore a hole right into your skull, the hawklike eyebrows, the knotted fists—all told their story.
He turned on Kalinin. “Your mission to bring this American super-fighter to Russia is becoming very expensive, Kalinin.” “Our fighters were outnumbered four to six,” Kalinin said, “and we shot down four of their fighters and forced the other two to retreat. The XF-34 fighter shot down one and crippled another. If the XF-34 hadn’t been carrying long-range fuel tanks, sir, it could have destroyed all six American fighters—it is that superior, sir.”
“It’s no use to us, Kalinin, if we must kill off half our air force to get it . . . What’s the status of the project? Can you get this fighter to Russia in one piece without starting World War Three?”
“Yes, sir. We will make another attempt to fly the aircraft intact out of Nicaragua. Colonel Maraklov, the pilot, now believes it would be safer to fly it in a circuitous route to Moscow rather than trying to fly it first to Cuba. He tried that. It was a good plan . . . Cuba is more stable than Nicaragua, but—” “When will he make the attempt?”
“Tonight, sir.” Kalinin stood and walked to a large chart of the region. “I have arranged a diversion—a large formation of aircraft flying from Nicaragua to Cuba, much the same as the first attempted convoy to Cuba. This force will directly challenge the Americans. At the same time, Maraklov and a small escort force will launch, stay clear of American radar sites in Panama and in the Lesser Antilles archipelago and out over the Atlantic Ocean; we can expect support if needed from Venezuela and Trinidad and Tobago, both of whom have been glad to accept large amounts of aid from our government in recent years, as you know. We have arranged tanker and fighter support for Maraklov over the Atlantic, well away from commercial air-traffic routes or ground-based radar sites. The force will continue north, steering well clear of known or detected naval vessels. We can expect support from Mauritania and Algeria and we can land for crew rest and replenishment in Algiers in northern Algeria or Tamanrasset in southern Algeria. After that I believe it will not be too difficult to penetrate the relatively weak NATO southern flank or the eastern Mediterranean area and recover into Tbilisi or Odessa.”
The General Secretary appeared to be only half listening. “You seem to be very confident of success, Kalinin. You were confident about the ease at which you would get this aircraft to Cuba. Yet this aircraft is still in Nicaragua.”
“I realize that this will be a difficult mission,” Kalinin said. “Maraklov must fly his aircraft nine thousand kilometers, prepared at any moment to defend himself against the Americans’ most advanced fighters, both land- and sea-based. Yet this is the fighter that can do it, sir. This XF-34 fighter has already fought its way out of the United States and survived a large coordinated assault against it. We must have this aircraft. Much of the balance of power between the Soviet Union and the United States depends on it.”
“I suspect you are overstating the case, Kalinin” ... although for you it is crucial, he added to himself... “We have already lost five aircraft and had our ambassador declared non grata. I can’t accept much more.”
He turned away from Kalinin, considering the options ... It would be a coup for both of them, he thought, if the fighter could be brought to Russia. And they would give it back, but only after all possible information on the machine was obtained and a suitable trade arranged.
Should the mission fail, Kalinin, his chief rival for power, would be ousted, an irritating memory, taking with him the blame for the incident. Should Kalinin succeed, his strength and authority in the government would surely increase, but enough .for a takeover? He doubted it, but he would need to be very, very vigilant . . .
“What will you require?” the General Secretary asked.
“Because of the time involved, sir, very little,” Kalinin said. “Authorization for another Ilyushin-76 radar plane, another II-76 tanker aircraft, six MiG-29 aircraft with our pilots from Cuba, and landing rights and defense arrangements with Trinidad and Tobago, Mauritania, Algeria, Libya and Syria. These forces to be placed under my authority for the next seventy-two hours.”
The General Secretary shook his head. “ ‘Very little’, you say, Kalinin?” He turned to the chief of staff. “Marshal Cherkov, can these be provided in so short a time?”
Marshal Boris Cherkov, one of the oldest members of the General Secretary’s senior staff, pondered the question so long and without any apparent reaction that for a moment Kalinin and some of the others thought he was asleep. Then: “I trust young Comrade Kalinin has investigated the source of the Ilyushin aircraft and the fighters? From Cuba, I understand?”
“Yes, sir. There are a total of two II-76 radar planes at Havana, four II-76 tankers and twenty-one MiG-29 fighter aircraft.”
Cherkov nodded. “It seems he has his aircraft. Obtaining landing rights from any of these nations mentioned will not be a problem. Obtaining mutual-defense operations will be virtually impossible without days of precise pl
anning—half the government of Trinidad and Tobago is on holiday, and it sometimes takes a whole day for our embassy to contact anyone in Mauritania’s government. Besides, none of these nations has any appreciable air or naval forces. I would not expect any resistance to your operation from these nations, but neither would I expect any assistance.”
Kalinin nodded. He had hoped these governments would exclude American fighters from their airspace while allowing Russian fighters to land, but obviously that wasn’t to be. “Never mind,” he said. “Permission to cross their airspace and landing rights for our jets will be enough.”
“As for the radar aircraft, tanker and fighters,” Cherkov went on, “that must be your decision. The forces are available. Of course, if the Americans launch some sort of attack against Cuba in retaliation, then those aircraft would be needed for defense ...”
Kalinin was pleased. He had thought Cherkov, a close ally of the General Secretary, was going to raise a lot more problems . . .
“However,” Cherkov said, as if on cue, “I feel I must object to this operation.” The bastard did not let him down, Kalinin thought grimly.
“It is extremely dangerous to provoke the Americans in their own ‘backyard.’ Remember the Cuban missile crisis and that fool Khrushchev. We could invite retaliation and open conflict in an area of the world where we are hardly dominant—”
“The U.S. is in no position to retaliate,” Kalinin said angrily. “If I had decided to put the aircraft on an ocean-going vessel or even a transport plane, I will admit the danger of attack in those cases would be high. If we were holding the fighter in place for some sort of trade, there would be danger of attack by the Americans. But the fighter is a moving target. The Americans will not blindly lash out and attack unless they know precisely where the aircraft is located. Besides, they are not in good standing with most of Latin America ...”
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