"You are sure these are fakes?"

Maraklov had to pause, even though he knew the hesitation, no matter how slight, would make Kramer and Moffitt suspi- cious. Then: "No, I'm not sure. The dogtooth design has been incorporated in numerous advanced fighters-it would be pos- sible for our designers to use a dogtooth wing without stealing the idea from the Americans. But I'm sticking to my hunch: I think the dogtooth wing is a fake. And that's why I didn't report it. "

"But if it is not," Moffitt said, "our own designers will be that much farther behind in our designs. Don't you think you should have at least reported this finding? It would have alerted our agents that Dreamland has stepped up counter-espionage and security effects. Don't you think that is worth a report?"

"You people don't seem to get it. If I report this stuff as soon as it happens it makes it that much easier for Briggs and his men to hunt down the source of the leaks. I won't jeopardize my cover or anyone else's over something like this. I must be able to choose my own time, place and method of reporting activity and transferring information."

T_.

96 .

"It seems you are becoming a bit squeamish, Captain James,"

Moffitt said.

"You work with Harold Briggs and half the military security police breathing down your neck all day .

"That's enough. Both of you."

Moffitt pressed. "I think Captain Kenneth James is becoming comfortable in his surroundings," Moffitt said. "He makes a lot of money, he has a nice apartment, attractive American women.

Could it be he does not want to risk losing his rich life for the Soviet people?" Moffitt suddenly switched to Russian. "Re- member, Captain? Your people? The ones you swore to protect?

The ones who gave you this mission-"

"Speak English, dammit," Maraklov ordered. Anger and confusion were in his voice. Moffitt looked at him with some surprise.

"Is it possible," Moffitt said in Russian, "you don't under- stand what I'm saying? Or is this just a part of your little game, Comrade Maraklov-?"

"Don't use that name. " Maraklov lowered his voice, but the anger was in his face. "My name is Kenneth James. I'm from Rhode Island. I'm an officer in the United States Air Force-- "You are Andrei Maraklov, II Moffitt pressed in Russian. "You are a Russian KGB deep-cover agent assigned to the top-secret Dreamland research laboratory in the United States. You-- "I said speak English . . . neighbors, they could hear you-"

"Can you hear me? What 'are you . . . an American or a Russian-? "

"I don't understand a goddamned word you Ire saying. - He turned to Kramer. "You'd better get him out of here, Kramer, before he ruins the whole deal."

"You can drop the act," Moffitt said, this time in English.

"This is not a test in your Connecticut Academy-- "That is enough," Kramer told Moffitt, on his feet now.

"Stop trying to bait him-he is trained to deny any knowledge of his past. " He turned to James. "But our North American Command is concerned, Kenneth. You give them less each con- tact. We were ordered to investigate. An immediate face-to-face meeting was necessary-"

I 'Well, you've had it. I'll get the information, but tell them I'm the only one who can control how and when I do it. It's possible the level of security intervention is so high they'll be 97.

forced to terminate the extensive searches soon. Otherwise no one will be able to get any work done. But we've got to take it easy. We can score a major espionage coup if we stay patient. "

He did not add that it was no act, his not understanding their Russian. He really had lost it ... He hadn't quite realized. it himself until now ...

"We cannot afford to be patient," Kramer said. "Our charge is to use every means to acquire this technology and build the DreamStar fighter plane. Our development of the aircraft must be parallel with the Americans'. A great deal has been invested to put you in place. For two years they've been patient. Now progress has stopped. Something must be done-"

"If you're going to pressure me like this, I might as well stop everything before I'm caught. You might as well bring me in-"

He shocked himself, saying it. It was the last thing he wanted.

Kramer looked at him. "An interesting suggestion."

"What? The Command is considering bringing me in? That's ridiculous-"

"Why? "

"It's what they call biting off your nose to spite your face. I am in place here, Kramer. Fully in place. It would take another generation to develop another agent placed so high in the top- secret American military research organization . . ."

Kramer took a deep breath. "The lack of information was the last deciding factor, but the idea had started long ago-"

"What idea? What the hell is going on?"

"Our project to build our own version of the DrearnStar air- craft was virtually doomed from the start. We knew about the F-15 fighter known as the Cheetah, of course-the Americans took it to the Paris Air Show. We built our own version shortly afterward, and with improvements it has become almost as for- midable as the American version. But when we discovered what the Americans had planned for the next generation of fighter aircraft . . . no one believed that thought-controlled aircraft would become reality in his lifetime. Now suddenly the Amer- icans had one in the air. Naturally we did everything in our power to learn about the technology, including authorizing the plan to put you in the Dreamland research area-"

"I don't see the problem, Kramer. Everything's going as planned. "

"Not exactly."

98 .

Moffitt broke in. "Those big thinkers in Moscow can't un- derstand the data. They've got it piled up to their ears but can't really decipher it. They have linguists, but the Americans use words that have no Russian equivalents. They say there are elec- tronic parts made of atomic elements . . . I think that's it ...

that even some of our best scientists have never heard of.

"So it takes time. In a couple of years everything they don't understand will be commonplace. Right now they have super conducting circuitry that weighs two hundred pounds-in two years or less they'll be putting superconductors in wrist- watches-"

"Our people will not wait two years to build a thought- controlled aircraft," Kramer said. "In two years the Americans can replace their European-based fighter force with these DreamStar aircraft. With an aircraft like DreamStar opposing our forces, our conventional-force superiority will be offset. We got them to reduce theirs and still leave us with an advantage.

A plane like this DreamStar can undo all our advantages. "

"But DreamStar is still in its early research phase. It won't be ready for production for two years. They, might have a first operational unit by the year two thousand but even that's an optimistic estimate. " He looked at Kramer. "Whoever's feeding you or the Command this stuff is dangerous, Kramer. They're trying to push the Kremlin into making a false move, one that could be embarrassing to the government and deadly for us. "

"What would you know about it?" Moffitt broke in. "You don't even speak Russian any more. You've lost touch with your country. What would you know about what goes on in the Krem- lin?

Maraklov sidestepped the accusation to firmer ground. "I know that someone has overestimated the progress on the DreamStar project. You listen, Moffitt-this project is as much mine as it is yours. It's my life if I get caught. I can be executed or spend the rest of my life in prison. If you get caught you pull out your diplomatic credentials and get yourself kicked out of the country. Big deal-"

"I said enough," Kramer interjected. "Orders have already been received from Moscow. They are what prompted and jus- tified this meeting with you. The Ramenskoye Research Center in Moscow reported that your data, although revealing, is still not sufficient for them to reconstruct the XF-34 DrearnStar air- 99.

craft. It is much more than copying the design and the compo- nents-it seems they do not have the basic knowledge of the technology involved with the craft. They estimate several years before we will have the technology to duplicate the design with sufficient quality to match the present-day aircraft." He paused, then: "The KGB has been ordered to obtain the XF-34 vanced Weapons Center. Captain James, you are to steal DrearnStar aircraft from the American High Technology Ad- DreamStar and bring it to Moscow."

"Steal DreamStar? Impossible! Crazy!"

"Nevertheless, we have been ordered-- "I refuse. You would jeopardize all this work, all this time, in an attempt to get a fighter out of the most heavily defended military reservation in the United States?"

Moffitt finally let out what he had been thinking "He has been turned, just as I thought-"

No hesitation, James rushed Moffitt, feinted with a right roundhouse to Moffitt's head, stepped closer and put him on the floor with a practiced kick in the groin.

He could hear Kramer trying quietly as he could to order him to stop. He wasn't listening. As Moffitt crumpled unconscious on the carpet, Maraklov grabbed the poker and held the point on Moffitt's throat . . . "The first thing I'll do if they ever turn me," he said, pressing the sharp iron shaft into Moffitt's Adam's apple, "is hunt you down and kill you. Don't give me an excuse to do it before then."

"Enough, " Kramer said, and grabbed away the poker.

Breathing heavily more from the adrenaline pui ping than from any exertion, Maraklov told Kramer, "He knows too much.

Any man with as little common sense who can name agents in the western United States is a major security risk-"

Kramer looked at Moffitt, back to Maraklov. "We are not unaware of the problem . . . diplomatic visas are being delayed.

I need him, for now." He noted Moffitt was beginning to come around. "Now sit down, we need to talk about this."

James went to the kitchen, brought two cans of beer. As he opened his can he said, "The idea is impossible, Henry. I can't conceive of a plane leaving Drearnland without authorization and make it away from American pursuit. Never."

"Dreamland is like a safe, correct?" Kramer said, looking as Moffitt rolled up to his hands and knees, groaning and shak- r 100 .

ing his head. "The defenses there are to keep people out, not to keep anything in.

"Wrong. The defenses around HAWC can do both." James stood and went into his bedroom, coming back moments later with a Las Vegas visual navigation chart. He unfolded it and set it on the coffee table.

"Here. R-4808 North. Groom Lake. Emigrant Valley Road, military only. Where the road meets the south edge of Groom Lake is where the four aircraft hangars, offices, labs and weap- ons storage areas are. Garrisoned right there with'the hangars are a detachment of twenty combat-ready security police with dogs, around the clock. They have an-nored vehicles, automatic weapons, guided missiles-they could hold off a regiment.

Keeping one plane from leaving the security area would be a simple exercise. The buildings are surrounded by a twelve-foot concrete reinforced cyclone fence. You have to get past all that just to get into position for takeoff on Groom Lake . . . But let's say I make it and I managed to take off. Now I've got to get out of Dreamland.

"Dreamland has this country's only fixed surface-to-air mis- sile sites. They're on Bald Mountain, on the Shoshone Mountain range, Skull Mountain, Timber Mountain and Papoose Peak.

First-generation Rapier missile batteries, complete coverage from surface to thirty-thousand feet within R-4808N. Single mobile sites are located on Tonopah Test Range to the northwest and China Lake to the southwest."

Kramer took a sip of beer, grimaced at the taste, then pointed to the chart. "So, you do not go that way."

"There is no way to go. There are a dozen Navy and Air Force fighter bases within a thousand miles of Dreamland, and I guarantee you, every one of them will launch aircraft in pur- suit. If each base launches only two aircraft, that still means there will be twenty-four advance fighter planes looking for me.

Where do I run, Kramer?"

The agent studied the chart. "Mexico is only three hundred miles away . . . "

"True. But the Mexican government would allow American fighters in hot pursuit across their borders. And that's if DreamStar could get across the border. There are four fighter- interceptor squadrons between here and Mexico, and both the 101.

Americans and the Mexicans conduct all-altitude surveillance of the airspace near the border. It's impossible, Kramer."

"You've had your nose in that plane too long. Relations are strained almost to the breaking point between the United States and Mexico," Kramer.said. "The U. pressing Mexico on re- payment of debts has turned them cold. And the pro-U. gov- ernment is being accused of selling out the country to Uncle Sam. The Soviet Union is the beneficiary. We have a carefully developed cordial relationship with the rest of Central America too. We can ensure that any American pursuit of DreamStar across the border will not be allowed, that Mexican military forces will interdict American aircraft penetrating their airspace.

They're very proud, you know . . . Anyway, that should allow you time to evade pursuit. After that we can arrange an emer- gency refueling somewhere inside Mexico."

"Even if all you say about their feelings toward the U. is true, the Mexican government would never agree to that."

"There are thousands of square miles of the interior that could serve as a temporary base," Kramer said. "From what you have described, your DreamStar aircraft could land and take off any- where-on a dirt road, a grass strip, a plateau-"

"I'm not going to try to land DreamStar on some grass strip . . . "

Kramer looked closely at him. Maraklov sounded like he was talking about a personal possession. He filed it away and decided not to use it for the moment . . . "We have Mexican transport companies on private contract-they of course do not know that their contract is with the KGB-that can fly our teams in to service your aircraft without arousing the authorities-"

"And then what? I can cruise a little over a thousand nautical miles on full tanks-no air combat, no external stores, no low- altitude flight. I'd have to cross the Gulf of Mexico undetected to be able to make it into . . . Cuba. That's impossible. We both know the U. can track every aircraft over the Gulf unless it's down at low altitude. I'd be jumped after I went a hundred miles.

If I tried to make the flight at low altitude I'd flame out before I made dry land."

"Then forget Cuba, go somewhere else . . . Nicaragua, for instance. "

"Nicaragua? Great. And how do I get out of Nicaragua? The 102 .

U. Navy would seal off that whole region tight. I'd fly right into a trap-- "You are being very uncooperative-"

"I'm being realistic. I'm not going to consider this deal with- out a detailed plan. You expect me seriously to consider this half-baked idea? I'm supposed to put my life on the line for some bureaucrat's wet dream-?"

"The North American Command has issued its orders-"

"And I'm countermanding them. I'm the commander of the Dreamland mission. That gave me the authority to decide how my operation proceeds. Unless I receive specific orders I am not going to consider any such operation. " He stood, facing Kramer and now Moffitt, who had struggled to a seat. "I'll keep you updated on any developments-about DreamStar, security and the rest. Meantime, don't contact me in my apartment again."

"You'd better reconsider," Kramer said. "An order from Moscow cannot be ignored. You know that."

"I'll consider it, but only when the situation justifies the tre- mendous loss of a trained agent in place. As of now, it doesn't.

All that's indicated is that the operation proceed with extreme caution, which is what I intend to do. " He motioned toward t door. "Now get out. And you'd better not return directly to your consulate in Los Angeles. There's a good chance that you'll be followed." He paused, then said: "Go visit your buddies in Mexico."

Moffitt left first to check the parking area and driveway for tails. Kramer paused inside the front door.

"I will report what you have said. I warn you, do not separate yourself from the Command any further."

Maraklov said nothing as Kramer looked out the door, got an all-clear flash from Moffitt's cigarette lighter, went out.

After the agents had departed, James locked and bolted the door-and suddenly felt as if he was suffocating . . .

His mind's eye could see unmarked cars roaring up the drive- way toward his stairway, plainclothes FBI, CIA and DIA agents, led by Major Hal Briggs, coming up the stairs, kicking in his door, hauling him away in handcuffs, thrown into the back of a van with Kramer and Moffitt, who must have been arrested al- ready . . . The federal authorities would interrogate them, sep- arately, of course. He could trust Kramer to keep silent, insisting that he and Moffitt be returned to their consulate, but he was 103.

positive Moffitt would spill his guts just for an opportunity to get back at him. He would be identified as a Soviet agent and taken into custody, charged with espionage. His career was ru- ined. He'd never fly DreamStar again, never experience the in- describable experience of becoming one with that amazing machine . . .

Should he just sit here waiting, or escape right now? Activate his safe's incendiary device himself so as to not risk Briggs or one of his men discovering the trip-wire and disarming the de- vice? He'd take the money he'd hidden, go to Mexico, maybe further south, maybe to the wild interior of Brazil, out of reach of both American and Soviet intelligence units. He'd contact Moscow in hiding until he could be sure he was safe-from his own people as well as the Americans . . . He removed two of the books on the top shelf in front of the hidden wall safe. In case someone tried to break in he could reach in between the books, pop open the hidden panel and activate the incendiary device. He then shut off the lights, poured himself a glass of Scotch whiskey and sat down in the darkened living room.

Half a glass of Scotch later, sleep finally overtook him, but he was not getting any rest. For the first time since those first few months of his new life in America, Andrei Maraklov as Ken James remembered what real fear, real terror was.

Now that she was a senior civilian contractor on a small military installation, Wendy Tork's hours were much more regular than in the early years when she had spent days in her laboratory, working on some irritating software bug. She remembered slav- ing over a computer terminal, staring at a screen full of lines of computer code. In the early eighties debugging software and artificial intelligence-based computerized programmers were practically non-existent-human programmers, sometimes ar- mies of them, had to disassemble a compiled routine, then read thousands of lines of code to try to find an error. One never knew if the error was on the screen or a hundred lines away or in a completely different sub-routine. Once the error was sup- posedly found, the code was reassembled into its compact faster form and run. It was a wonder anything as sophisticated as the B-52 I Old Dog's electronic countermeasures equipment, Wen- dy's first major military project, ever worked in the laboratory- not to mention in combat. Now she had computers that designed 104 .

other computers' programs, and computers that checked and de- bugged those computers' work, and a master computer that su- pervised all of them. Her job was mostly telling her computers what their jobs were and receiving reports from them on their progress - What had taken dozens of scientists and engineers years to accomplish now took one person a few days. Because of all that she could keep regular hours, enjoy a four-day work-week- most of the industrialized nations of the world had switched to a four-day work-week by 1994-and spend more time at home.

But if most of the world had gone to the four-day work-week, the military, especially military aviators, had not. It seemed to go double for Lieutenant Colonel Patrick McLanahan. Since Wendy joined HAWC and moved in with him, her nights had often been long and lonely. Patrick had become an important administrator and commander at Dreamland research center, and it was not long before Patrick would call if he was going to be home more or less on time.

Tonight was one of those. He'd be home around seven, an early quitting time. Wendy doubted it and was right. She was wide awake when he finally did arrive home. He walked quietly as he could to the bedroom, tried to fumble his way, undressed without the lights.