Defcon One (1989) Page 14

  I'm not sure of the exact time, Dimitri responded, talking rapidly.

  He said very soon. Slow down, the American said, lowering his voice to where it was almost inaudible. Exactly what was said?

  They have planned for the Americans to be off guard... something about an alert being over.

  Dimitri was trying to rush, searching for the best way to explain something unbelievable.

  Go on, Wickham ordered.

  They talked about survival statistics. I couldn't hear all of it the conversation.

  What exactly did you hear, regarding the missile strike?

  The CIA agent was adamant. He also found the disclosure incredulous.

  Would his superiors think he had lost his faculties?

  THe Secretary Zhilinkhov used the term 'first strike' more than once.He said when the military withdraws, when the alert is over ... then the strike will happen.

  Anything else?

  Yes. They the six of them, including the defense minister talked about dominating the world and ... acceptable casualties.

  Then what?

  They drank a toast ... and celebrated, Dimitri said, more sure of himself.

  Do you recall any other pertinent information? The agent was insistent.

  No, Dimitri replied, trying to remember the details of the secret plan. His mind still couldn't accept the horrible fact.

  Okay, now we've Wickham was cut off abruptly when Dimitri remembered an important point. It would have been easier if he had written everything down, but one of his first lessons at the CIA was to never leave a record of anything, ever.

  They talked about a delay or reaction time they needed to test. How long it would take the Americans to react to a missile launch from the Soviet Union. The general secretary said if the Russians have a sixteen-minute period of time before the United States reacts, then they can successfully destroy America.

  Anything else? the agent asked, knowing they needed to leave the restaurant.

  Only that they discussed how they would go about occupying America and Europe ...and having all the oil they needed.' Dimitri paused, trying to collect his thoughts.

  Only the six of them know of the plan ... plus the chief of the general staff. They intend to sink an American ship, escalate ... I believe they said defense conditions to stage two, then withdraw. When the Americans withdraw, Zhilinkhov is going to launch all the Soviet missiles.

  Dimitri waited as the agent glanced through the thin curtain stretched across the door to the kitchen. Go on.

  They definitely said 'first strike* ... on America. I know that for sure, Dimitri said, sounding exhausted.

  Alright,Dimitri, can you continue in your capacity, or do you want out?

  Wickham could see that Dimitri, the agency's only Kremlin in-house operative, was on the threshold of breaking. That was the last thing they could afford to have happen to him inside the Russian headquarters.He had done a great job, under constant tension, but this astonishing revelation had fractured his mettle.

  I want out, Dimitri said in a resigned whisper. I can't stay here ...

  knowing what they are going to

  This will be tough, understand? Wickham didn't have much time for explanations.

  Yes.

  Dimitri thought about Svetlana, his mouth dry, as he tried to grasp the enormity of the task ahead.

  Tell them your mother is worse. Explain that you have to leave now to see her one last time.

  Yes, sir, Dimitri responded, openly fidgeting in the small room.

  You must be bold, Dimitri. You understand? You've got to keep it together. You must give us a little time to organize your trip out, okay?

  Yes, sir. I can do it.

  Dimitri saw a flash of Svetlana and the New York City skyline incongruous under the circumstances his mind trying to deal with too many changes too quickly.

  Take the train to Yemetsk, see the old woman, and wait to hear from us.

  We'll be in touch soon.

  I will leave this afternoon.

  Dimitri could feel relief surging through him, his fears quelled by the need for clear thinking.

  Make it appear normal. Don't take anything out of the ordinary.

  Understand?

  Yes ... but, Dimitri paused, trying to decide how to approach the subject of Svetlana.

  But what? We don't have much time.

  The agent nervously looked at the front entrance.

  What about my girl? Svetlana Grishinakov. We plan to marry when my

  commitment is

  Impossible!

  Silence filled the small room before Wickham, in a pleasant voice, spoke again.

  Look, we will be lucky to get you out alive, under the circumstances.

  The American gently squeezed Dimitri's shoulders.

  I'm sorry. It's just too risky. You must understand?

  Dimitri nodded, frightened and dejected. I understand.

  We've got to get out of here. You walk in front of me to the front door.

  The Central Intelligence expert was pressing his luck. Changing back to fluent Russian, the covert operative gave Dimitri an order.

  You report back to work immediately! You will be contacted soon.

  Your papers are not in compliance.

  The ruse might have convinced everyone except the beefy, bald-headed man sitting alone in the corner. He didn't even glance up as the two men passed his table.

  Yes, comrade, Dimitri replied in a weak voice.

  Turning to the two women, the American agent bellowed in Russian.

  Your kitchen is a disgrace. Have it cleaned before I send the inspector.

  The women trembled but didn't utter a sound as they huddled in a corner.

  Dimitri walked into the street, trying to sort out his trip to Yemetsk and what he would tell Svetlana. He had to find a way to get her out of Russia. Dimitri knew if he could arrange for his beautiful Svetlana to go to Yemetsk with him, or meet him there, it might work. First, he must tell her the truth.

  Dimitri looked over his still-aching shoulder as he crossed the street and saw the CIA agent disappear down a side street next to the restaurant.

  The Kremlin operative also saw something else from the corner of his eye.

  Panic gripped him when the black Volga, bearing KGB tags, turned down the same side street behind the American.

  Dimitri froze, confused, not comprehending the gravity of the situation.

  The desire to flee almost overpowered his reasoning.

  He looked around, sensing other KGB agents near. Nothing appeared abnormal.

  Dimitri made a snap decision. His contact, his only connection to the outside world, was in jeopardy. He had to do something.

  Now.

  Think, he told himself. The words be bold came back to him. That's what the American agent said he must be in order to survive and escape.

  Dimitri hurried back across the street and followed the black car down the side street. Ahead he could see Wickham, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his heavy coat, stepping off the sidewalk to cross the narrow street. Did the American have any idea the KGB officers were following him?

  There must have been an informant in the restaurant, Dimitri absently said to himself.' Someone who knew the American wasn't KGB.

  Dimitri slowed his walk. At that very instant the Volga stopped twenty meters from the CIA agent. The two occupants got out of the car and approached the lone man. The American, if he did notice the car, or agents, didn't react to the KGB pressure. He continued his normal pace, stepping onto the opposite sidewalk as the two Russian agents confronted him.

  The three men then stepped into a concealed space between two rusted, peeling buildings. Dimitri moved forwaid cautiously, trying to suppress the gnawing fear overcoming him. He looked up and down the street. No trace of anything unordinary.

  Dimitri could see the three men clearly now. The American presented his credentials to the KGB officers and stepped back.

  The Sovi
et agents looked at the papers, then told Wickham to turn around and place his hands over his head, forehead against the rough wall.

  The taller of the two Russians then pulled a snub-nosed gun from his coat as his companion placed the American's credentials in his vest pocket.

  Dimitri reacted without thinking. Running at full speed into the narrow space, Dimitri barreled into the two KGB agents.

  The impact knocked all four men down in a thundering crash of rubbish containers and egg cartons.

  The American leaped to his feet, whirled around and solidly kicked the taller Russian under the chin, breaking his neck and crushing his larynx.

  Dimitri, struggling to regain his footing, saw only a blur as Wickham slung a garbage can lid into the skull of the other supine KGB agent, rendering him unconscious.

  The American yanked Dimitri to his feet, grabbed the snub-nosed revolver, retrieved his credentials, and ushered the frightened young spy into the street.

  Follow me! We've got to leave Moscow immediately.

  Dimitri was amazed at the self-control demonstrated by the CIA operative.

  Yes sir, Dimitri responded automatically, so frightened he was shaking uncontrollably.

  POW! The backhand caught Dimitri completely by surprise, the result being instantaneous. He stopped shaking and his mind snapped to reality.

  Sorry, but you've got to get it together or we're both dead, Wickham said in a menacing tone. Too many people have seen this. The KGB will have our descriptions in minutes.

  Yes ... I'm okay, Dimitri replied, rubbing his jaw.

  Follow me, the agent said, breathing heavily. Stay twenty meters behind and keep your eyes open.

  Yes sir, Dimitri paused, looking around for signs of more KGB officers.

  The two men walked at a steady pace, slightly separated, as a shocked crowd gathered around the inert Soviet agents.

  No one attacked KGB officers.

  Chapter Eight.

  NORAD General Matuchek watched the continuously changing status graphics at his control module and contemplated the approaching Soviet bomber fleets. He thought about the American concept of layered defenses and fervently wished the Space Defense Initiative system were fully operational.

  The NORAD commander knew the SDI system had faults.

  Scientists and engineers, during the previous three months, had argued various theorems, trying to correct the deficiencies in pointing and tracking.

  SDI had been designed to recognize instantly the plume of smoke and fire from a hostile missile launch. The object of the sophisticated deterrent was to destroy the weapons as they rose from their silos or broke the surface of the water.

  If the enemy knew, or believed, their missiles would explode over their own territory, they would presumably not risk that option.

  The exasperated SDI experts had been working feverishly to eliminate the problems of wavefront control. Atmospheric distortion wreaked havoc with the pointing and tracking ability of the SDI satellites already in orbit. Various experiments had recently improved the system's capability.

  Astronauts and scientists, working in orbit from Starlab, had been achieving great success firing lasers at test missiles launched from ground-based sites.

  However, the final solution escaped the scientists as they continued to rework the optics in the equation. Everyone felt a breakthrough was imminent. A 100 percent reliable system of nuclear missile defense was only months, if not weeks, away.

  The real concern, in both the scientific and military communities, was the vulnerability of our SDI satellites to Soviet laser attacks. The Soviets had previously damaged the Indigo Lacrosse spy satellite, which used radar to view through clouds or bad weather. The satellite, crucial for guiding the B-2 Stealth bombers over Russia during a nuclear war, would have to be replaced.

  Excuse me. General. The assistant operations officer handed Matuchek a folder.

  Another Top Secret, huh? CINCNORAD replied, reaching for the packet.

  Yes, sir. Your eyes only.

  Appreciate it. Colonel.

  Yes, sir, replied the lieutenant colonel.

  Matuchek watched the lanky officer as he returned to his central command post, then read the contents of the secret message.

  Z010532ZFEB TOP SECRET FROM: AIR FORCE SPACE COMMAND TO : CONSOLIDATED

  SPACE OPERATIONS CENTER SUBJ : STRATEGIC DEFENSE INITIATIVE REF :

  CHAIRMAN JCS MSG Z010405ZFEB INFO : CINCNORAD SATELLITE TEST CENTER 1.

  FINAL SDI DEPLOYMENT RESCHEDULED FOR 010645ZFEB.

  WINDOW 0645Z THROUGH 0740Z. COORDINATE TRACKING WITH HOUSTON AND NORAD.

  ESTABLISH ON-LINE TAP AT 010600ZFEB.

  CALL COLUMBIA FIFTY-SEVEN.

  2. RESUME NORMOPS AT COMPLETION OF SEVENTH ORBIT.

  AWAIT REPLY.

  Matuchek looked at the twenty-four-hour clock on the wall and compared the time to his wristwatch. Less than one hour before launch.

  Christ, he muttered quietly as he punched the code for It. Gen.

  Jonathan R. Honeycutt, his Canadian vice commander.

  General Honeycutt, replied the three-star officer in his usual crisp manner.

  John, J.B. When you have a minute, I need to speak with you privately.

  Yes, sir, Honeycutt replied. Right away.

  MOSCOW Dimitri and the tall CIA agent rounded the first street corner and ducked into a narrow walkway. The American had not said a word since they had left the chaotic confrontation with the KGB agents.

  Dimitri, his pulse racing, broke into a half run as the CIA operative quickened the pace.

  Move it out, Dimitri, the agent ordered as he placed his hands on a small wooden fence and catapulted himself over the rickety structure.

  Dimitri didn't answer. His breathing was already ragged, his mouth tasted like cotton, and his right hand throbbed with pain.

  Wickham continued to instruct Dimitri as the two men hurried down walkways and back streets.

  Hang on, Dimitri. Two more minutes and we'll be in my apartment.

  Okay. I'm not

  Don't talk, barked the agent. Just listen!

  Dimitri didn't respond as he tried to quicken his pace behind the fast-moving American.

  When we get to the apartment, the CIA agent paused while he reconnoitered Cherkasskiy street, we will change into disguises to facilitate our escape.

  The American slowed to a normal walk as they approached his apartment.

  No need to draw unwanted attention or suspicion. Just be casual, the agent cautioned as they neared the Novaya apartment complex, and speak in Russian at all times.

  Da, Dimitri replied as he glanced from side to side, then down to his aching hand.

  The CIA operative looked up at his apartment window, then continued talking to Dimitri.

  We will become Soviet bureaucrats. Agriculture inspectors traveling to Leningrad to examine the truck fanning administrative center. The credentials are flawless.

  Dimitri knew, at this point, to listen, not respond to the American.

  I will brief you on the train, Wickham continued as they started up the steps to the apartment building. The area around Leningrad is full of state-run farms producing potatoes, vegetables, dairy products, and they also raise hogs and livestock.

  Okay. Dimitri ventured a tentative reply.

  The CIA agent, noticing the long hallway was empty, continued summarizing the escape plan.

  The KGB will be circulating our descriptions throughout the city in a matter of minutes. You'll be missed at the Kremlin by mid-afternoon.

  Yes. Before, probably, replied the frightened young auto mechanic, wishing he could be with Svetlana in New Jersey.

  His mind raced as the events of the morning caught up with him. No turning back.

  We have some time, not a lot, but enough to prepare adequately for our trip.

  Dimitri nodded, thinking about Svetlana.

  The agent, reaching for his keys, continued. We have to catch the ten-thirty train to Len
ingrad. The KGB will be everywhere, but our disguises and credentials will obviate any suspicion.

  Understand?

  Y-Yes, Dimitri stammered, not accepting the necessity for the sudden departure from Moscow. He ached for Svetlana and the passion-filled nights they had shared. Would he ever see her again? Could he ever explain?

  The CIA agent unlocked the door and the two men stepped inside. The American immediately went to the window and peered into the street. A black Volga containing three KGB agents drove slowly down the street, stopping in the intersection.

  The KGB is already out in force, the CIA operative reported, slowly turning his head to view the opposite direction.

  Dimitri, I hope you can appreciate how serious this is.

  The agent released the window curtain and turned to face Dimitri.

  Sorry, the wheels just fell off and we've got Wickham stopped in mid-sentence, horrified. His eyes widened and he swallowed twice before speaking, pointing his finger, arm outstretched, at Dimitri's right hand.

  Dimitri, your hand is bleeding!

  Both men stared at the bright red blood steadily dripping on the floor.

  The two agents realized they had left a clearly marked trail to the apartment. Their sanctuary was now a deathtrap.

  COBRA FLIGHT Major Digennaro concentrated on flying perfect formation while he glanced at his fuel gauges. Two minutes passed before he saw the refueling light wink out on the huge KC-10, checked his fuel load, and prepared to unplug from the tanker.

  Cobra One, announced the fueling boom operator, you're cleared down and to the left.

  Roger, One is down and left, Digennaro replied, easing back on his throttles.

  The sleek F-15 disengaged from the tanker cleanly, dropped astern twenty feet, and slowly moved below and to the left of the mammoth flying gas station.

  Now it was Parnam's turn to take on fuel before the other thirsty F-15s arrived on station. Digennaro knew their flight leader would be anxious to have his troops topped off before confronting the Russians.

  Digennaro watched as Parnam made an abortive attempt to mate with the KC-10, then smoothly plugged into the tanker on his second try.

  How ya doin', Bill? Digennaro asked in a conversational tone, noticing the pilot induced oscillations were dampening.