“Where are you? Why are you not here?”
Luger was about to tell Smoliy to stuff his questions and his fake concern up his ass. but he was too busy thinking about the situation he had left at Dreamland: Samson on the warpath, Patrick and Rebecca probably on their way to be court- martialed—things were going to hell in a handbasket.
To his own surprise, Luger began running it all down to the Ukrainian general: the spy in Russia, the stealth warplane shed uncovered, the rescue missions, the charges leveled against them, the court-martial, and Luger’s psychoparalytic reaction. “It’s this stealth fighter. General, I know it.” Luger concluded. “Someone is directing these attacks against Albania and Macedonia. The NATO AWACS plane just got in the way. The question is, why?”
To Luger's double shock, the first thing Smoliy asked was “And how are you doing. Colonel?”
Luger was thunderstruck. Out of all the questions a Ukrainian general could have asked about possible Russian stealth air strikes in Europe, Smoliy asked about him. “I’m doing okay,” Luger heard himself say.
“What do the doctors say? What are they doing?”
“Just a bunch of tests,” Luger replied. “It’s a standard battery, and a physical exam to start the medical exploratory process. All the usual stuff, along with a shitload of psychiatric tests.”
“Ah. Psychiatric tests. When I saw you the other night, I thought I noticed a sort of dissociation. I never truly believed you might be suffering from a psychotic condition. Could it be related to what happened at Fisikous and then seeing me again?”
“Possibly.” A strange sensation began to creep into Luger’s brain, starting in a spot in the back of his head. What Smoliy said made more sense than anything else he had heard in years of therapy or hours of tests and questioning here at Brooks. But it made sense—because no one at Brooks knew, or ever would know, of the Fisikous episode, because that might reveal details about the Kavaznya mission, which in turn would reveal details about Dreamland. Smoliy did not know a lot about Dreamland, but he knew everything about Fisikous, and he could certainly make the connection now. The key to whatever was going on inside Luger’s head would be locked away forever. The government would rather have him locked away in a loony bin for the rest of his life than reveal anything about Dreamland.
“Could it be,” Smoliy’s voice caught, cracked, then went on, “that it was what I did to you that has caused this to happen?”
Luger instantly felt sorrow for him—and it was a strange feeling, because it seemed like an eternity since David Luger had felt anything for anyone else. In fact, not since being rescued from Fisikous had David Luger been able to connect on an emotional level with another human being. He had tried to do so with Annie Dewey—but then he had to remind himself that it was Annie who had been trying to connect with him. He had never really contributed much to the relationship.
Annie.
It was as if a thick fog had just lifted from inside his brain. All this time, Annie had been trying to get closer to him— holding his hand, inviting him to meals, spending time with him while he worked on the flight line or in the labs. It was as if he was watching himself on television. He had been ignoring her all this time. Had he ever tried to return her kindness, her warmth? Did he even know how to do it? All this time, he’d been pushing her away with his emotionless attitude. Now Deverill wanted her, and David was watching her depart his life. Why? Did he think that’s what he deserved? Did he want to be alone because he thought he only deserved to be alone, that being alone was the only way he could hide the pain and humiliation of being tortured at Fisikous?
Funny—it finally took one of his chief tormentors talking about his internal pain to show him the source of his own loneliness. Someone else was experiencing the same detachment.
“I... I don't... no, I don't think so,” David said. When moments before he had hated this man, wanted to kill him with his bare hands—now he found himself not only feeling sorry for him. but actually apologizing to him! “That was too long ago. General. I’ve been through a lot of stuff since then. Don’t blame yourself.”
“I could not bear to think I have hurt another human being on that level,” Smoliy said. “I am trained to kill the enemy with speed and efficiency, but I would never have thought I could ever mentally hurt someone, cause them mental pain. It is too horrible to comprehend, like trying to think what it was like for a prison guard to exterminate a Jewish prisoner during the Holocaust.”
“Forget it, General. . Roman,” Luger said. “I’m the wacko in this group, remember.”
He heard the Ukrainian chuckle, then he had to move the receiver away from his ear to avoid the general’s big, booming laugh. “You Americans, you surprise me,” he said. “You are in a mental hospital, and you make jokes.”
“General, you’ve got to find out what happened out there, find out why the Turks are leaving,” Luger said.
“Things are exploding in the Balkans....”
“I heard that,” Luger said. “Albania declared war on Macedonia. Some kind of border skirmish set them off.”
“But there’s more than that. Russian and German peacekeepers are swarming into Kosovo, Macedonia, and Albania. KFOR has all but disbanded. The British and French are still in Kosovo, but the other major powers are sweeping south. NATO seems to be handing the fate of the Balkans over to Russia and Germany.”
“All this sounds too staged,” Luger said. “Just like that attack on Kukes. A small hot spot that quickly spreads into a major wildfire, and the Russians and the Germans ready and eager on such short notice to push right in.”
“You think there is a puppetmaster at work here? A Russian puppetmaster, to be exact?”
“A Russian puppetmaster with a stealth fighter-bomber,” Luger said. “I’ll lay odds that the Russian stealth fighter has struck again. The Russian—” Luger froze, his words jamming in his throat until all he could exclaim was “Oh, my God...
“What is it, David?”
“Roman, the spy that was rescued in Russia was working at a facility at Zhukovsky Air Base run by the Metyor Aerospace firm.”
“So you said.”
“Don’t you get it, Roman? Don't you remember what Metyor used to be?”
“I do not know this. Who—?” Then he stopped, and Luger heard a sharp intake of air even over the scrambled line. “Good God . . . you mean, Fisikous? Metyor is Fisikous? Are you telling me... ?”
“The stealth fighter that launched from Zhukovsky, the one suspected of attacking Kukes—it’s the Fisikous-179,” Luger shouted. “It has to be! There’s no other stealth fighter-bomber that can fly those missions in all of Europe!”
“But the stealth aircraft were destroyed in that attack on Fisikous.”
“They weren’t destroyed. Roman. I took the Fi-170 Tuman! Me and General McLanahan.”
“Neprada! ”
“It’s true. He was leading a rescue mission, him and Colonel Briggs, when the CIA discovered I was at Fisikous. But Russia was on its way to destroying Lithuania and rebuilding the Soviet Union, and we had to act. We took the Fisikous-170 and flew it out of there. We flew it to Scotland and dismantled it. But the United States never set out to destroy the facility—they were looking for me. The facility itself was almost untouched.”
“Incredible ... unbelievable!” Smoliy breathed. “So it must be the second model, the Fisikous-179.”
“We took the curled-wing flying prototype model, so it must be the forward-swept-wing model,” Luger said. “We started working on an aircraft that had just as great an air-to-air capability as it did an air-to-ground bombing capability. We hadn’t even rolled it out yet—it was still years from its first flight.”
“Maybe whoever bought Fisikous finished the Fi-179 and is now flying it,” Smoliy surmised.
“Fursenko,” Luger said. “Pyotr Fursenko. He was the director of the facility. I think the spy had him on tape, along with Pavel Kazakov.”
“Kazakov? The drug
dealer? That scum runs Fisikous?”
“He runs Metyor Aerospace.” Luger said. “And be runs several other companies, too.”
“Tak. He runs construction companies, shipping, banking, petroleum, exporting, mining—“
“Petroleum? I remember something about him building a pipeline from the Caspian Sea to the Black Sea.”
“Yes. That was completed a year or so ago. He pumps almost a million barrels a day from the Caspian and ships it through .Azerbaijan and Georgia. Ukraine buys much of it. He—” And then Smoliy stopped and gasped again. “And I heard he wanted to build another pipeline, a huge one. from the Black Sea to Western Europe, to bypass the bottlenecks in the Bosporus Straits and Turkey's high transit tariffs.”
“Western Europe from the Black Sea.” Luger mused. "That means through Bulgaria—”
“And Macedonia and Albania.” Smoliy said incredulously.
“It can't be.” Luger said. “It can’t be that simple.”
The word was that Kazakov did not build the pipeline because of the war in Kosovo, the unstable relations between Albania and the West, and the West's increasing intervention in Macedonia—perhaps even Macedonia to join NATO.” Smoliy said. “But with Thorn wishing to disengage from NATO, and Russia wanting to secure its position in the Balkans, the opportunity presents itself to get the pipeline built...
“With the help of the Russian army.” Luger said. “Russian peacekeepers’ swarm into the Balkans and secure the region, and Kazakov is free to build the pipeline. And if any governments balk, they find a city or maybe even their national capital under attack.”
“Under attack by a stealth aircraft—unseen, silent and untraceable.” Smoliy said. “Russia can claim complete ignorance of the attacks, and Western spy satellites have no idea where to look for the stealth aircraft or have any idea where it will strike again.”
“It must have struck in Turkey.” Luger said. That's why the Turks are packing up and going home—their country is under attack."
“There was nothing in the news about an attack on Turkey," Smoliy said. “But I cannot find out anymore."
“I think I can," Luger said “It might be a problem getting out of here, but I’l1 try."
“Are you a prisoner there?"
“No," Luger said, “but I’m not free to go, either."
“Says who, David?" Smoliy asked. “The same people who want to court-martial you? They send you to a hospital because you might be going insane? If you are, they will confine you for the rest of your life, but if you are not, they will court-martial you? What loyalty do you have for these men?"
“Good point," David said. “But I’ll need to get plugged back into the information network at Dreamland."
“And I know just the person to set that up for you." Smoliy said. “Be patient. We will be in touch shortly."
Dozens of trucks rolled up onto Nellis Air Force Base's main parking ramp, and crews from many nations were helping load pallets of supplies into two Turkish C-135 military cargo planes. At the same time, crews were busily preflighting the Turkish F-16 fighters, preparing them for immediate takeoff. Crews were also loading weapons aboard the F-l6s—all of the Turkish fighters that w ere fully capable of carrying air-to- air weapons were armed with AIM-9 Sidew inder missiles plus ammunition for the internal guns. The cargo planes w ere going to have fighter escorts all the way home. All the men and women worked quickly, purposefully, some even feverishly . . .
... as if they w ere preparing for war.
Inside, the mass departure briefing had just concluded, and the crews were splitting up into individual flights. The Turks worked swiftly, speaking only Turkish, not willing even to attempt to slow their pace long enough to translate their thoughts into English. American crews simply helped out where they could and stayed out of the way. This time, it was not their fight. Their commander-in-chief said so. Their allies, their fellow air warriors, were going home to prepare to fight the unseen, invisible enemy on their own.
Colonel General Roman Smoliy, commander of the Ukrainian Air Force, stepped to the door of one of the briefing rooms as the flight briefing finished. Major-General Hrdal Sivarek. chief of staff of the Turkish Air Force, was packing up his papers, preparing to depart, “I need to speak with you. sir.” Smoliy said in English.
Sivarek looked at the big Ukrainian, “I am sorry. Colonel-General, but I do not have time.”
“I received a briefing about the incident over the Black Sea," Smoliy said. “I have information you must hear, and I have a proposal—”
“What incident over the Black Sea?” Sivarek asked. “I know of no such incident. I must go.”
“General, I know you lost an F-16 fighter earlier today while it was on a training exercise over the Black Sea,” Smoliy said “I know your pilots and your ground radar controllers never saw whatever downed your plane. But because you have some of your country’s best fighter pilots here, your government has ordered all of your forces returned to Turkey immediately and to make preparations for war. although you do not know against whom yet—Kurds, Russians, Greeks, Iranians, Iraqis. Syrians, Martians.”
Sivarek’s eyes were wide with disbelief—he knew there was no use in denying it any longer. “How do you know all this. General?”
“Because I briefed him, sir,” Major Nancy Cheshire said. She stepped into the briefing room and closed the door behind her. “I intercepted the satellite feeds and radar data, and combined them with CIA listening post intercepts to piece the incident together. I don’t know why you chose not to brief NATO on what happened—”
“NATO? Why bother with NATO?” Sivarek snorted, scowling at the lady test pilot. “NATO has all but ignored Turkey ever since we were inducted into the organization. Wc were allowed to be the only non-Christian members of your exclusive European club only because you did not want us falling into the Russian sphere of influence, perhaps even turning communist ourselves. My government appears to have had enough of your weak leadership in NATO, first with your aimless and politically motivated interventions in the Balkans, and now by your insistence in not getting directly involved in affairs that concern your European allies. Turkey will take care of itself, with no help from America.”
“General, I’m not going to say our relations with Turkey have been exemplary,” Cheshire said. “I’m not going to apologize or offer any explanations. But I’m telling you now—we think we know who attacked your F-16 tonight, and we think we have a way to help defend against future attacks.”
“Who was it?”
“We believe it was a stealth fighter-bomber,” Smoliy said. “A Soviet fighter-bomber, built years ago but only recently activated. It is a combination fighter and bomber, with an equally effective air-to-air as well as air-to-ground attack capability. Its stealth technology is second-generation at best, but it is extremely effective against standard air defense systems—including those deployed in my country, and yours.”
“How could you know so much?”
“Because I helped build it,” Smoliy said. “Years ago, in a Soviet research and development facility in Lithuania.” And he quickly, breathlessly explained everything. Sivarek’s eyes were soon wide in complete and utter shock. “We believe this aircraft is responsible for the attacks against Albania, the downing of the NATO AWACS aircraft, and your F-16. We can help you find him.”
“But how? If it is a stealth aircraft, how can such a plane be found, unless you simply stumble over it?”
“Because we know everything involved in its design, construction, testing, and capabilities,” Cheshire replied.
“The general was just a test pilot—he said himself he did not even fly it. How could he possibly know all these things?”
“Because we also have the aircraft’s chief design engineer, sir,” Cheshire replied. “Colonel Luger.”
“Luger? Luger is really a Russian aerospace engineer? I always thought the man was odd.”
“Luger’s an American who was ... involuntarily a
guest of the Soviet Union,” Cheshire explained. “He was forced to apply his knowledge and expertise into building Soviet warplanes, including the one we believe is flying right now.”
“This ... this is extraordinary,” Sivarek breathed. “All this, just so a money-hungry gangster can build a pipeline through the Balkans?”
"What would you do for a hundred million dollars a day, sir?” Cheshire asked. “That’s how much Kazakov can earn if he builds his pipeline But more important, Russia occupies the Balkans again.”
“And if this plan works, what will stop Russia from moving against other countries so they can build more pipelines and occupy more territory?” Smoliy asked. “You know as well as I that there are two nations in the region that will certainly be prime targets for both this stealth warplane and the Russian army....”
“Turkey and Ukraine,” Sivarek responded. “Neutralize both nations, and the Black Sea belongs to Russia, just as it did in the Soviet era.” Sivarek grew silent, his mind racing.
"You are thinking of your homeland. General, no?” Smoliy asked. “You are thinking, who stands with Turkey? Believe me, sir, I have thought of little else regarding my homeland as well. No one stands with Ukraine at all. We are already dependent on the Russian Federation for so much of our raw materials, trade, foreign debt, and political influence. But if we opposed Russian interference in the region, to whom can we turn? We have already been battered to near obliteration by Russian bombs, and we are not yet full members of NATO.”
"Why is your president doing this to us?” Sivarek snapped at Cheshire again, running his fingers through his hair in confusion and frustration. “Why has America become so weak? Do you enjoy your prosperity so much that you are willing to see madmen destroy the rest of the world so you will have no more competition?”
“You know that’s not the situation, sir,” Cheshire explained. “I believe our president wants to show the world how strong our country is, not by stationing tens of thousands of troops on foreign soil like the world’s only supreme superpower, but by letting our friends, allies, and adversaries have their own identity, free of American influence and interference.”
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