rain. Scott was quiet too. He had activated his laser-scanner in
preparation for the strike, but the scanner was not moving in
any sort of search pattern.
"Nav, brief us on this axis of attack," Carter said, trying to
bring his crew back together any way he could think of. "You
said we're five miles south of course-how will this affect our
attack plan?"
"What?
"Alicia, get with it," Carter said. "Brief the crew on the
attack profile."
A strained pause, then: "We . . . we'll be heading more di-
rectly down the runway instead of perpendicular to it," she re-
plied in a ragged voice. "The triple-A will be at our twelve
o'clock. It might be harder to pick out from this direction.
"You hear that, Paul?"
11Y . . . yes.
"What else, Alicia?"
"The CBUs,- Kellerman said. "We should launch the first
pod down the runway after we defeat the triple-A site. "
"I can designate the hangars on that pass," Scott put in. He
could lock the gyro-stabilized laser-scanner on up to five differ-
ent images, and no matter how the B-52 turned, the designated
targets could be recalled and attacked at any time once they were
back within range.
"And the smoke and fire should cover our turn when we line
up on the target," Cheshire added.
Carter smiled behind his oxygen visor. "All right," he said.
"We're starting to sound like a combat crew again. Now let's
do it and get out of here.
General Tret'yak stood in the control tower of his small airfield,
presiding over preparations for the defense of Sebaco like a
modem-day Nicholas 1, with his almost medieval forces, de-
408 DALE BROWN
fending the battlements of Sevastopol in the Crimea against the
then-high-tech forces of the upstart Napoleon III -and the un-
stoppable if inept British. He fancied the defense of Sebaco as a
symbol of Soviet power in the western hemisphere, and he was
going to repel the invaders of his twenty-five-square-kilometer
airfield.
His forces were at the ready, poised for battle as soon as the
message from Puerto Cabezas had been received. An exact num-
ber of attackers could not be determined-Tret'yak had been
bracing for an entire carrier air wing of bombers, but no reports
of an American fleet within striking range of Sebaco had been
reported. That meant it was a smaller, less formidable strike
force on the way, perhaps only a few aircraft. Good-his forces
could handle that.
To counter the American attackers, four MiG-23s were idling
at the northwest end of the runway, each loaded with four AA-8
missiles on fuselage stations and two infrared-guided close-range
AA-" missiles on underwing pylons, plus a twin-barreled GSh-
23 gun and a centerfine fuel tank. Two more were in reserve,
cannibalized for parts earlier but quickly being repaired and
readied for combat.
In addition to the fighters Tret'yak had an SA-8 surface-to-air
missile-battery brought up from Managua situated near the cen-
ter of the runway on a small hill about a kilometer north of the
field. The SA-8 was a small, fast missile, capable of destroying
the American navy's F/A-18 Hornet fighter-bomber even during
a supersonic bomb run. The SA-10 missile site had been moved
.once again, down from the hills above Sebaco into the Rio TV=
river valley, and it appeared they had positioned it perfectly-
any aircraft flying toward Sebaco from Puerto Cabezas had to
fly down that valley, right into the jaws of the SA-10 system.
The SA-10 was a longer-range missile, capable of defeating at-
tackers from treetop level up to eighty thousand feet. For close-
in defense, they still had the two fifty-seven-millimeter guns on
each end of the runway, which could create a virtual wall of lead
around Sebaco for two miles.
They had other defenses, including Nicaraguan anti-air artil-
lery units deployed in three areas around Sebaco. One of them
was located in the Rio Tuma valley, again in perfect position to
Tret'yak's forces were in excellent position.
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 409
"Message from People's Militia Group seven, sir," an aide
reported.
"Who?
"The Nicaraguan militia force northeast of the base, in Mata-
galpa, " the aide replied. "They report they are under attack.
One ZSU-23 anti-aircraft artillery unit destroyed, nine casual-
ties, ten wounded by rocket attack."
"I need details, Lieutenant," Tret'yak said. "What kind of
rockets? What kind of aircraft? Speed? Direction?"
As the aide turned to the radio operator, Tret'yak checked his
chart of the area, then looked to the tower controller. "Clear the
flight for launch, Sergeant. Send them down the Rio Ibma valley
and engage the intruders at low altitude."
The controller nodded, picked up his microphone and said in
Spanish, "Sebaco flight of four, target at heading zero-nine-five,
range twenty miles, cleared-"
Suddenly they saw a flash of light north of the runway, fol-
lowed by a streak of fire. One of the SA-8 missiles leaped off
its launch rail and roared toward the southeast, the missile so
low and flying in such a flat trajectory that it looked as if it
would hit one of the hangars. The first group of two MiG-23s,
which had already gone into afterburner and had begun their
takeoff roll, abruptly pulled their engines out of afterburner and
stopped as the SA-8 missile roared across the departure end of
the runway.
"Missile site two engaging low-altitude targets," the radio
operator reported, "bearing one-six-zero true, range twenty
kilometers.
"I can see that," Tret'yak shouted. "Get those fighters
airborne.
"Missile-site two reports multiple targets, sir. They recom-
mend holding the launch until they engage again-"
"No." Then to be on the safe side Tret'yak said, "Tell mis-
sile site two to hold fire to let two aircraft depart. Launch aircraft
one and two. Tell three and four to hold position. Get five and
six ready for takeoff."
The controller called out the new orders, and soon the first
two MiG-23s were in afterburner once again and roaring down
the runway.
"Afterburner blowout on fighter two," Tret'yak's aide called
out. Only one glowing engine was visible in the nighttime sky.
410 DAIE BROWN
Tret'yak sucked in his breath as he watched the fighter skim the
trees to the southeast to build up enough speed for the climb-
out. But soon both birds were climbing and turning northeast to
find the attackers.
"Have missile site two reengage," Tret'yak ordered. "If they
are still picking up targets we'll have three and four head south
to--
His words were drowned out by the roar of another SA-8
missile leaving its rails, following the first missile's flight path
except on an even flatter trajector
y. The smoke had barely cleared
from the second missile launch when Tret'yak saw a brief flash
of gunfire from the southern fifty-seven-millimeter triple-A em-
placement.
"What is he shooting at . . . ?" His question was interrupted
by another bright flash and explosion from the mission site, the
boom rolling across the airfield and slamming into the slanted
windows of the control tower-but this time no missile left the
site.
Tret'yak stared in amazement at the remains of the SA-8 site
on the small hill overlooking the runway-half the hill had been
blown away, men and vehicles scattered around like a child's
upended toy box. The sudden destruction was clearly visible in
the glare of a massive fuel fire on top of the hill.
"The missile site has been hit," Tret'yak called out. "Launch
the fighters, send units three and four south to engage the aircraft
that is launching those missiles, get five and six airborne-"
Another volley of gunfire from the fifty-seven-millimeter unit,
followed by an explosion and fireball not a half-kilometer off the
end of the runway that lit up almost the entire base. The shock
wave from the explosion knocked Tret'yak sideways. The area
was littered with secondary explosions, and fires erupted in the
forests surrounding Sebaco.
"We got one," someone in the tower yelled. "We got an
American aircraft . . . "
The celebration was cut short by another volley of gunfire
from the fifty-seven-millimeter gun emplacement. Tret'yak, back
on his feet, stared out to watch the gun's tracers streak into the
night. Suddenly the significance of what he was watching hit
him full force: "Why is the anti-aircraft artillery unit firing
tracers?" he yelled. "Their gun is radar-guided and it's night-
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 411
time-they don't need tracers. It will only give away their po-
sition. Order them to-"
Too late. As Tret'yak watched, the gun site was obliterated.
When the glare of the explosion cleared from Tret'yak's eyes, he
saw that the gun's radar-trailer, located inside a bunker of its
own fifty meters away from the gun itself, had been destroyed.
There was collateral damage to the gun itself but it was still
intact.
"Anti-radar missiles," Tret'yak said angrily. "They are
launching anti-radar missiles. Order the north gun site to use
infrared and electro-optical guidance. I want an ambulance over
to that south gun sight to-"
"Another missile," someone yelled, pointing toward the
southeast. In the glare of the forest fires and the burning radar
trailer, Tret'yak saw it-a large, sleek, slow-moving winged-
missile. It drifted lazily past the burning trees, past the fifty-
seven-millimeter gun emplacement-Tret'yak could see men
pointing at the missile, but the gun never slewed around and
never got a shot off at the object. As if the thing was doing an
approach to the runway, the missile cruised right onto the field
just to the south of the taxiway, right on the northern edge of
the parking ramp. As soon as the missile was over the ramp
area, objects like small boxes began to eject themselves from
both sides of the craft.
And then huge columns of fire began erupting from the park-
ing ramp every ten or fifteen meters. The main taxiway was hit
almost directly down the center, carving large craters in the tar-
mac. The bombs did the same to the north half of the parking
ramp, lifting sections of concrete as if the earth itself was open-
ing up. Bombs fell on the two fully loaded and fueled MiG-23s
on the ramp, creating a destruction that spread across the park-
ing ramp. Burning missiles from the MiGs arched across the
base, and twenty-three-millimeter gun rounds pinged off the
control tower, creating jagged holes in the shatterproof glass.
Tret'yak, the controllers and the radiomen dove for the floor.
The cluster-bomb drone continued on, dropping its load of de-
struction. It missed the two MiGs parked on the runway ham-
merhead by several meters, showering the fighters with pieces
of concrete.
Tret'yak stumbled to his feet, grabbing for a microphone.
"Sebaco three and four, take off." He did not issue the order
412 DALE BROWN
in Spanish, but the MiG pilots needed little prompting. The
number three MiG put his plane in full afterburner and roared
down the runway, pulling his nose up in a hard fast climb. The
fourth MiG taxied up to the end of the runway but chose to wait
until the third MiG was clear before starting its takeoff.
Finally the fourth MiG lined up with the runway, slapped in
max afterburner, released brakes and sped away. The fighterjust
managed to get its gear up at the end of the runway when an
explosion ripped off the MiGs tail section. The MiG flipped up
and backward, and the pilot ejected just as the fighter continued
its backward spiral and slammed into the ground about a mile
off the end of the runway.
A nightmare, Tret'yak thought-except this one was real.
One by one, Sebaco's defenses had been neutralized-and not
one enemy fighter had yet been spotted-a blur of motion off
to the south attracted his attention, and then he did see it . . .
a massive dark shape hugging the ground no higher than the
ten-story control tower. It flew diagonally across the south
end of the runway about a half-mile from the tower. It was
huge, one of the biggest aircraft Tret'yak had ever seen. The
sound of its engines was like a freight train rumbling by at
full speed.
The aircraft banked sharply left, aligning itself with the row
of buildings and hangars along the parking ramp area. Tret'yak
could see a few soldiers firing their rifles at the apparition,
but to the KGB general it was as if they were trying to kill a
whale with squirt guns. The aircraft roared down the runway
with the sound of a gigantic waterfall. Illuminated as it was
in the fires on the parking ramp, Tret'yak could see that the
monstrosity had a long pointed nose, no visible tail-control
surfaces and huge sprawling wings with missiles of different
sizes hanging from them. It was not like any aircraft he had
ever seen.
Just as quickly as the thing appeared it was gone, leaving in
its wake clouds of dust and smoke swirling around the few re-
maining fires. The silence was awesome, as if the huge black
craft had sucked all air and all sound away with it. Tret'yak
stood in the control tower, staring through the shattered glass of
the control tower at the scene below. What had been an impor-
tant Soviet military base a few minutes before had been turned
into chaos.
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 413
"What was that thing?" the senior controller asked, shaking
bits of glass off his tunic. "I've never seen anything like it."
"It had to be some sort of bomber," Tret'yak said, shaking
his head. "But I've never known such a large aircraft to fly so
low on a bomb run. It was obviously the aircraft that launched
the anti-radar missilesand set off those bombs that cratered our
ramp. I I
"Could it have destroyed our fourth fighter?"
"It could not have-- But TYet'yak paused. A bomber car-
rying air-to-air missiles? Why not? That bomber that passed by
seemed to be carrying several kinds of weapons under its huge
wings. Instead Tret'yak replied, "Any reports from our radar
sites? Any reports from Managua?"
"No, sir, not yet. We should have communications reestab-
lished shortly. "
Tret'yak turned to the communications operator. "I want a
rescue crew out to find the pilot of our fourth MiG. And I want
that ramp cleared as soon as possible. Our fighters will need to
land in about an hour. " The operator nodded and began to issue
the orders. Lights snapped on, further revealing the damage
caused by the strange drone. But as men and machines moved
out to the ramp to put out the fires, the extent of the damage
was not as total as first thought.
"We have been hit, but not put out of action," Tret'yak said.
"The runway appears open, our fuel stubs and hangars are intact
and only half our ramp space has been affected. This base is
still operational."
"We've been fortunate, sir, " the senior controller said, "that
bomber looked large enough to carry a hundred bombs. It could
have caused much destruction . . ."
Tret'yak was about to reply, but the words caught in his throat.
He remembered seeing weapons hanging off the wings . . . the
bomber did not drop any bombs over the base . . .
He suddenly turned to the communications operator. "Clear
that ramp immediately, shut off the lights."
"But, sir, the firefighters-"
"That bomber is coming back. It did not withdraw-it only
found more targets. Order the gun sites to-"
Too late. An explosion erupted in the northern fifty-seven-
millimeter gun-emplacement bunker-Tret'yak didn't need his
binoculars to know that the north gun had just been destroyed.
414 DAIZ BROWN
"Tell the south gun to open fire. Forget the radar guidance-just