craft and we did. Now we must capitalize on our achievement.
The technology we gain will be-"
"Will be useless if they attack and kill a hundred of our peo-
ple and destroy that base in Nicaragua to get their fighter back,"
the General Secretary said. "I will not risk a shooting war with
the Americans over one damn plane!"
"If the Americans were going to attack, they would have
done so," Kalinin said. "They know where the fighter is-
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 261
their radar planes tracked the XF-34 throughout its entire flight.
So the point is, they will not attack. They will not risk war
over the fighter-"
"You underestimate them," the General Secretary said. "I
do not."
"Sir, this whole incident is part of a game," Kalinin said.
"A game. Military secrets are stolen every day by both sides.
Messages of protest are sent by both sides daily. I lose one or
two operatives a month, sometimes more, to espionage or
counter-espionage activities. Wars aren't started over such
matters.
"We lost six men! The Americans lost a B-52 bomber, two
fighters, and six of their people. This is a game?"
"But, sir, none of it affects the strategic balance," Kalinin
said. "It is simple maneuvering, part of the give-and-take
between our governments. I say the Americans will not take
action or retrieve their fighter. We will open secret negotia-
tions, perhaps eventually trade captured agents or information
for the aircraft after we have learned what we want from it.
We may even lose something important to us in the near fu-
ture, but we should not, sir, panic. As I say, we will even-
tually return the aircraft-after we study it. Please remember,
this fighter is the most advanced aircraft in the world, sir. it
is controlled by thought. Everything-flight control, weap-
ons, every system is activated at the speed of light, all by
thought commands.
The General Secretary paused. Actually he had very little ex-
posure to this side of his government. It was, indeed, he real-
ized, a coup to obtain such an aircraft intact, a unique opportunity
to study the best of American military technology . . . But Kal-
inin's apparent success also posed a danger. Kalinin's prestige
and popularity would rise with the recognition of such an
achievement, and the fact that he had done it all behind the
General Secretary's back would make matters worse. Kalinin
had to be carefully reined in. Right now . i, ,
"Very well," the General Secretary sa d, "I am opposed to
this operation, but because of the unusual nature of the aircraft
and the benefits of having such a machine to study, I will allow
you to JC.
ontinue with your plans-after I review your project
files. I will assign a member of the senior Politburo Central
Committee to oversee your operation. He will contact your Col-
7-
262 DALE BROVVN
onel Maraklov in Nicaragua and speak with him, as well as with
members of your staff, and report back to me. Control of this
operation reverts to me. Is that clear?"
"Of course, sir." Kalinin's response was automatic-but he
was thinking about who the General Secretary's representative
could be. Cherkov? Tovorin? Some unknown? He would have
to deal with him as he came along.
"Meanwhile, I want all activity on the American aircraft to
stop. The aircraft will not be moved from Nicaragua until I give
the order. Is that clear?
"Yes, sir."
It was a small setback-he would, of course, have to contend
with an informant in his own office. But in effect, so far as he
was concerned, his coup was intact. And the future was brighter
than ever.
Sebaco Military Airfield, Nicaragua
Friday, 19 June 1996, 0445 C7D (1345 EE7)
Maraklov was startled'out of a deep sleep by a ringing telephone.
He took a few moments to collect himself-the feelings of im-
balance, of disorientation, were still plaguing him-before he
touched the speaker-phone switch.
"Vash vrizeveahyota peho tehyeh1fono, tovarisch, " a
woman's voice replied-Musi Zaykov, he guessed. "Mos-
kva. " There was no apology for speaking Russian this time,
he noted. Never mind. He had been studying a bit of Russian
all day; because of that, plus listening to it spoken between
the technicians and soldiers in Sebaco, he was able to under-
stand more and more of it as time went on. His own vocab-
ulary, however, was still very limited, and his reading
comprehension was almost nil. Cyrillic characters were al-
most impossible to understand. Luckily, most of the machin-
ery and matters relating to the flight line were the Russian
export versions, which had instructions and labels printed in-
of all languages-English.
"Da, " he replied. "Sechyahs. " He had gotten very good
at saying "wait a minute" in Sebaco, because everyone
seemed to want him at once. Maraklov slipped on a flight suit
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 263
and a pair of boots and opened the door to his apartment. It
was indeed Musi Zaykov, now without her seductive bush shirt
but wearing a KGB casual uniform, pants and black riding
boots.
-Kahtoriy chyahs? What time is it?" Maraklov asked, as he
emerged from the apartment.
"Your Russian is improving, sir," Musi said as she led him
out of the hangar. "Byehz dvahtsatye pyetye pyaht. " Maraklov
was expecting Musi to answer in English, since she'd begun
in English, and her Russian escaped him. No matter. It had to
be some time before five A., because the guards he could
see all looked bored and tired; guard-post changeover was at
five.
They walked across the flight-line ramp, had their badges
checked by a gruff, sleepy KGB Border Guard, then walked
down a dark, mossy path toward a grove of mangrove trees. The
trees disguised a twenty-foot-diameter satellite dish and other
communications antennae, the only visible landmarks of the So-
viet Air Force command post and KGB detachment headquarters
nearby. They were stopped by still another guard post, then pro-
ceeded down a short flight of steps in the semi-underground
facility.
Unlike the rest of the camp, this building was well venti-
lated and air conditioned-much like most of the buildings in
Dreamland. They signed in, punched codes into an electronic
door lock and entered the communications facility. On the
right was the main communications console, with two Air
Force non-commissioned officers manning it and a KGB of-
ficer supervising them; on the left was a radar console with
one Air Force NCO in charge. The rest of the room was filled
with smelly transformers, old teletypewriters, and storage
lockers.
"'Ah. Tovarisch Polkovnik Maraklov. Zdyehs." General
Tret'yak motioned to Maraklov and Zaykov, who followed him
into a small conference r
oom. The general looked a bit nervous
as he closed the door to the conference room.
Vsyo tovarisch Vorotnikov, Andrei," Tret'yak said, motion-
ing to a telephone on the desk at the front of the room. "Sta
Politischeskoye Buro. Yah khatyehl
"Hold on . . . er, prastiti, sir," Maraklov said. "I don't un-
derstand you. Damn it, yah nyee pahnyenzahyo .
-M
264 DALF, BROWN-
"All right, Polkovnik, pryekrasna. It is Comrade Luscev
Vorotnikov, a member of the Politburo, representative to Gen-
eral Secretary for Central and South America," Tret'yak said
in awkward English. "He wishes to speak with you." Mar-
aklov reached for the phone. "I would like to know what you
will say about the dismantling of the MiG-39," Tret'yak said.
"Don't worry, General. As pilot of the aircraft I have au-
thority to decide what happens to it. It was my decision and
my responsibility to recommend the halt." Trct'yak looked re-
fieved but immediately disguised the expression and motioned
to the telephone. Maraklov picked it up. "This is Colonel Mar-
aklov.
"Dobrayeh otrah, tova?isch Polkovnik, " the voice on the
other end began. The satellite connection was remarkably clear.
Yah- "
"Please speak English, sir."
There were some sounds of anger and confusion at the other
end, then a much younger voice came on line: "Sir, this is
Yegor Ryzhkov, an aide to Chairman Vorotnikov. Can you un- f
derstand me, Colonel?"
"Yes.
His accent was British-quite possibly an exchange student or
maybe a Connecticut Academy graduate; a favorite target for
Academy-trained men and women was Great Britain. "I will
translate for the chairman. He welcomes you back and congrat-
ulates you on your heroic work."
The congratulatory message when translated did not match the
angry voices he heard in the background, but Maraklov ignored
them.
"Chairman Vorotnikov has been advised by routine message
traffic from Sebaco that you have recommended that the process
of preparing the air-craft for shipment to the Soviet Union be
halted. Can you explain this?"
"I stopped the workers from taking the aircraft apart because
they were destroying it," Maraklov said. "I will not deliver a
nonfunctional aircraft to Ramenskoye."
There was a pause at the other end; then Maraklov could hear
the voice of Vorotnikov rising in irritation.
"The Chairman wishes to know what you recommend be done
with the aircraft now," the interpreter said.
"I intend to add long-range fuel tanks to it," Maraklov told
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 265
him. "I estimate that two L1uyka in-flight refueling drop-tanks
can be added to the wings of the XF-34-these are tanks with a
retractable refueling probe built into them. The tanks will in-
crease the effective range of the XF-34 aircraft and provide an
in-flight refueling capacity. In this way, the aircraft can be
delivered intact."
"Ahstarozhna, tovarisch Polkovnik, " one of the radio oper-
ators said. "Telefoniya eahnyateh. " Maraklov did not under-
stand and turned to Zaykov-
"He said be careful," Musi said. "The line is not secure. Do
not mention the name of the aircraft."
The translation from Moscow took a long time, interspersed
as it was with comments and questions in the background. Gen-
eral Tret'yak, who was listening in on another phone, was be-
coming more nervous-Maraklov was sure he had just lost the
general as an ally. Then: "Colonel Maraklov, Comrade Vorot-
nikov has ordered that no further actions be taken on the aircraft
until further ordered. We shall transmit orders from the Kremlin
through the KGB Central Command."
"I understand," Maraklov said. "But understand, it will
take two or three days for technicians here to saw the aircraft
up into pieces, a half day to load it on a ship, at least a week
for that ship to arrive in a Russian port and another one to two
days for it to be transported to Ramenskoye. And when it ar-
rives there it will be of no use to anyone-it will be nothing
but-piles of circuit boards and plastic. If I am allowed to pro-
ceed it will take two days or less to modify the aircraft for
Lluyka tanks. Then, once fighter escort and tanker support has
been arranged, it will take only ten hours to fly from here
directly to Ramenskoye Research Center. When the aircraft
arrives it will be,in flyable condition and ready for operational
inspection, with its computer memory and structural integrity
functional. "
This explanation took even longer, but this time there were
fewer interruptions and outbursts from Vorotnikov and who-
ever was with him in his office. But a few moments later the
translator came back with "Colonel, Chairman Vorotnikov
has some reservations about your plan, but he would like time
to confer with his advisers. He orders you to continue your
plans for mounting the aerial refueling tanks on the aircraft
and preparing it for flight. He reminds you of the danger of
266 DALE BROWN
remaining in Central America and orders you to do everything
in your power to bring the aircraft home intact. Do you un-
derstand?
"Yes," Maraklov said. General Tret'yak seemed happier.
"Tell the chairman that he can assure the Politburo that their
orders will be carried out." But the satellite link had gone dead
by then.
-0chin prekrahsna, " Tret'yak said, slapping him on the shoul-
der. "It looks like the pilots have beat the tibniys once again."
Maraklov erased the relieved expression on his face as
T t'yak led him out of the communications center. Well, he
re
had made Tret'yak a buddy once again-at least until the next
crisis blew in.
In Vladimir Kalinin's office at KGB Headquarters in Moscow,
Vorotnikov threw the phone back on its cradle. "I did not un-
derstand most of what was going on, " he said. He waved a
hand, dismissing Ryzhkov, waited until his assistant had left,
then reached for the bottle of fine Viennese cognac on the desk
and poured himself a glass. He took a sip, then drained the glass
in one loud gulp. "But the pilot, your Colonel Maraklov, ap-
pears to be in charge."
Kalinin nodded, moving the silver tray with the cognac de-
canter closer to Vorotnikov. "An extraordinary man. His loyalty
is firmly to the Party and to his country.
Vorotnikov shrugged, lifted his thick body far enough up off
the chair to pour himself another cognac. "Excellent cognac,
Vladimir.
"If you enjoy this, Luscev, I will see to it that you will have
a bottle. " He buzzed his outer desk, and a young, blonde woman
in a red low-cut dress entered the office. "Anna, would you
please see to it that Comrade Vorotnikov is given a bottle of this
cognac . . . at his convenience?"
. Anna favored the old bureaucrat with a dazzling smile, folded
her hands behind her back, which served to accent her breasts,
and bowed slightly. "It would be my pleasure.-
"Thank you very much, Vladimir," Vorotnikov said. "Very
kind of you. Back to business-this Maraklov, can he be
trusted?
"I believe so, sir.
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 267
"Yet he countermanded your orders that the air-craft be dis-
mantled and shipped back to Russia."
"He ... what ...
Vorotnikov was too busy enjoying his cognac to notice Kali-
nin's confusion. "He wants to fly the thing all the way from
Nicaragua to Russia, under the very noses of the Americans.
Foolish. You should get that straightened out."
What was this Maraklov thinking? Kalinin was furious. Fly
DreamStar to Russia? If he screwed up this mission now, every-
thing he was trying to accomplish would be destroyed.
To Vorotnikov, Kalinin said, calmly as possible, "Yes, sir.
Now, if you would like to review my files on the project . . . ?"
"Not necessary at the moment, Kalinin." Vorotnikov
glanced at the door for a few moments, then hauled himself to
his feet and straightened his tie. "I think I have heard enough
to report to the General Secretary." He held out his hand, and
Kalinin grasped it. "I believe the operation is being run in a
satisfactory manner and I shall so report to the General Secre-
tary in the morning. I must leave. " Kalinin buzzed his outer
office, and Anna arrived to escort the smiling Vorotnikov out-
side.
When the two had left, Kalinin hit the outer office buzzer
again. "I want another secure voice-line set up to Sebaco im-
mediately." Suddenly Kalinin realized how little he really knew
about Andrei Maraklov. Vorotnikov, the General Secretary's fat
spy, was easy to take care of-this Maraklov, who had spent
eleven years in the United States, was a loose cannon. More
than anyone else, Andrei Maraklov was now the greatest threat
to his plan for ultimate power.
The White House, Washington, D.
That same moming
The secret, Lloyd Taylor had discovered, of staying on top of
things as President of the United States was information, infor-