by Dale Brown
but we didn't. Poor Cathy ... I wonder what happened to
her .
He is going to kill me, Janet thought. He's crazy, he's going
to ...
Abruptly the terrifying grin was replaced by a broad, pleas-
ant smile. His body relaxed and he let her drop back onto tier
feet, then planted a playful kiss on her nose.
"Gotcha."
"What?" Her voice high, edged with fear. "What do you
think you are doing?" She said it in Russian.
"Uh oh, remember, lover, English only is spoken at this
academy .
III thought . . . I thought you .
were crazy," he said. His smile was making her even
angrier. "I know what you're thinking. Every time we're to-
gether you want to hear my little stories about the American.
So I tell you what I think he's like, what he's going through,
what kind of life he lives."
"You scared me to death. Why?"
"Because you wanted it. I was only doing what you-"
"You are crazy," she said, grabbed up her clothes and put
on her blouse and pants. "Get out of here."
"Janet, wait . . . "
"I don't want to see you again." She yanked open the front
door to her bedroom. "Now get dressed and get out."
The smile stayed, but he obediently put on his jeans and
sweatshirt, gathering his underwear and shoes in his'arms. But
just before he left her apartment he turned to her.
"You'll miss me," he said. "The sex you can get from any
of the others. But you need the excitement of living with a real
American. It's your high. It's the worst transgression for a fe-
male KGB operative. You love it."
"Andrei lvanschichin Maraklov--
"My name is Kenneth James."
16 DALE BROWN
"You will not be allowed to leave the Academy. You Will
never see America except in your own mind. That I prom-
ise-"
His smile disappeared, but she couldn't stop. I
." will make recommendations to Mr. Roberts that you never I
be
allowed to graduate. You could compromise the whole op-
eration. "
It pleased her to see the panic in his face that had now re-
placed his smug expression. "What are you going to tell them,
Janet? That while we've been screwing each other I somehow
scared you and you think I'm crazy? You've no credibility. A
thirty-year-old ex-whore having sex with a seventeen-year-old
high school student. You'll make a very reliable witness." He
stepped toward her, his expression softening. "You'll drag
yourself down as well as me. Don't do it. I promise I won't
scare you again. Janet .
She pushed him away. "I don't need credibility. I can de-
stroy you without anyone ever knowing it was me. A notation
here and there, a rumor, a changed grade or a negative entry
on your progress charts. You will be on your way to a border
post before you know it. Now once more, get out."
"Don't do it," he was still saying as the door slammed in
his face. "You'll be sorry if you do .
His morning regimen had been the same for the past five years.
Wakeup at five A., calisthenics and a morning three-mile
jog, breakfast by six-thirty. The Academy even taught students
to enjoy the typical American breakfast dishes while at the
same time giving them healthier, more substantial foods.
Classes began at eight. Usually there was a bit of time before
the morning class-today's was on the stock market and Amer-
ican economics-so James spent his time reviewing the latest
intelligence on his "target--the real Ken James.
How could anyone with so much going for him act the way
James had? Maraklov asked himself. The report said James
was going to ace every course he was enrolled in in his final
semester of high school, including several advance-placement
college-level courses. At the same time a police blotter report
noted that James had been caught with a bag of marijuana. He
was not charged with a crime, only reprimanded-his stepfa-
ther carried a good deal of influence in the small town where
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 17'
he lived. But James had risked his whole career on a one-ounce
bag of dried grass. Stupid.
No pictures were included in the latest intelligence, but pre-
vious photographs showed a tall, handsome youth shopping in
fancy stores, driving expensive cars, going to parties, every
weekend. He had seemed like a normal well-adjusted teenager.
Maraklov knew, of course, about James' unfortunate past, but
that was ancient history. Surely that ugly episode was long
forgotten? Maraklov sat back now and thought about what it
was like to be Ken James
I have everything I ever wanted. Brains, money, things. What
am I missing? What else do I want? Why did I need to smoke
marijuana and get in trouble with the cops? I have a good
family, minus a brother-my natural father killed him in a
drunken rage. I don't have a father, a real father-he's either
dead or in a mental institution. I haven't seen my mom in
months-the only grown-ups around are the housekeeper, the
gardener once a week, and the occasional relatives of my step-
father who show up and say it's okay for them to borrow the
Jag or bring their mistresses in for a nooner. "Nooner"
Janet would have trouble with that Americanism ...
The big house is lonely at night. My "'friends" stop by once
in a while, but they study pretty hard, and I'm not exactly
popular ... There are alarms 0 over the place-I have to be
careful to shut them off even when I just want to get some fresh
air or take a dip in the pool. Cathy Sawyer doesn't come by
much anymore. I wonder where she is-?
A call on the room's intercom interrupted: "Mr. James, re-
port to the headmaster's office immediately."
As he headed toward Roberts' office he thought of Janet
Larson. Damn her. She had really done it, had blown the whis-
tle on him. She would pay for this, he told himself as he
straightened his tie. She would pay ...
But Janet Larson was just as surprised, and just as fearful to
see him, as she walked into Roberts' outer office. They ex-
changed no words, only anxious glances as he knocked on the
headmaster's door. He was ushered in by Roberts himself and
left standing in the middle of the office.
"The question about whether or not you will ever graduate
has been made for us, it seems," Roberts began. He motioned
to a message form. "A report from our agents in place in
18 DALE BROWN
Washington. It seems your Mr. Kenneth Francis James has de-
cided on a college."
Maraklov smiled. Washington, D. That must mean
Georgetown. Ken James has decided on-
He surprised everyone," Roberts went on. "We did not
even know he had applied for the Air Force Academy."
Maraklov was stunned. "The Air Force Academy?"
He received a senatorial sponsorship last winter, obviously
from his stepfather's connections," Ro erts went on. were
> fortunate-we learned he had cut his scheduled vacation in Ha-
waii short by two months, and one of our operatives did some
checking to find out why. He is supposed to begin summer
orientation training in six weeks."
Maraklov's mind was beginning to catch up. "My father,"
he mumbled, then looked at Roberts. "I mean his father is
. . .was . . . a highly decorated veteran of the Vietnam war.
Even without political connections he could have received
sponsorship as the son of a combat veteran. There could be a
sympathy factor too. I should have known. The possibility of
a military academy placement was always there .
"Whatever, this changes our plans for your graduation, Ken-
neth James." He was testing as he said it.
"Sir?"
"Your counterpart-target is about to enter the Air Force
Academy. We cannot risk putting an agent into the Air Force
Academy. He has a pilot-training appointment. He will be in
the United States Air Force for four years-"
Eight years, sir," Maraklov corrected him, eyes bright with
anticipation. "Pilot candidates must serve eight years after UPIT
graduation . . . "
"You have learned well, but that is not the point, Mr. James.
We have never placed a deep agent in the American air force's t
cadre. He would have little chance of surviving the security
screening. It is very intense, especially for a pilot candidate.
They check every move from present day to birth, check his
parents, his relatives, his neighbors-"
And Kenneth James will pass with flying colors," Maraklov
said excitedly.
'.But the applicant for a security clearance initiates the pro-
cess with a detailed report on his background, relatives, ad-
dresses," Roberts said nervously. "You would have to supply
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 19
every detail of James' life from memory-you could not risk
being caught with a dossier on yourself. And the process is
repeated every five years while in the service. Could you do
that?
"Of course, sir."
Roberts hesitated, but only for a moment. If any other stu-
dent had made that confident a reply he would have dismissed
it as bravado. But not Maraklov. The boy knew his counterpart
so well . it was almost frightening. Beyond any of the other
student-target linkages.
"You will need plastic surgery," Roberts said. "And if the
scars and bruising from surgery do not heal in time, you will
be discovered."
"I assume James will be in Hawaii until July," Maraklov
said. "The summer orientation course starts in mid-July, as I
recall. That gives us five weeks before we need to intercept
James. Five weeks is time enough for my scars to heal. And
the surgery would not need to be extensive, sir. My . . . his
parents won't be visiting very often. And plebes are not al-
lowed visitors until Thanksgiving. By then his appearance will
have changed enough to explain any minor differences-" his
voice dropped, sounding depressed--if my parents notice at
all.
Roberts scarcely noticed James' changing moods, his jux-
taposing of himself and the real Kenneth James, the angry dis-
tant look. But he was too busy marveling at Maraklov's
xtensive knowledge of even the most esoteric bits of infor-
e
mation.
"This will have to be approved by Moscow," Roberts said,
sounding as excited as Maraklov had earlier. "But we have a
chance to do it . . . And if we do, it will be the espionage coup
of the century-"
"Yes, sir," James agreed, though he was not thinking about
espionage coups, or success or failure.
He was thinking, I will be . . . complete. Yes, that was the
word. For the first time in my life, I will have a chance to
become a complete person. Thanks to Ken James . . .
20 DALE BROWN
Wednesday, I July 1985, 2103 EET
It was late that evening. As usual Katrina Litkovka, known as
Janet Larson, was finishing a stack of paperwork, clearing her
desk and preparing the Academy administrator's morning busi-
ness. She heard the outer office door open. Before she could
look up from her desk, Maraklov was in her office and had
slammed the door behind him.
Katrina knew it was Maraklov, but it still took a moment for
the shock to wear off-after all, it had only been a few weeks
since Andrei Maraklov had had his new face. This new one
was thinner, with a higher forehead and a stronger, squarer
jaw. The quality of the plastic surgery was excellent-the scars
were nearly invisible and the bruising had all but subsided.
This Ken James could be considered very handsome-except
right now what she felt was a stab of fear. Maraklov, if rec-
ognizable, was also much more a stranger now, unpredictable
as any other intruder.
She forced down the anxiety she felt and managed an au-
"You are not to be here after
thoritative edge in her voice .
hours, Mr. James."
Maraklov did not say a word but quickly scanned Litkovka's
desk. His attention settled on a memo paper still in her type-
writer. Before she could react he had yanked the paper out of
the platen and read it, his face darkening with every word.
"So," he said in a low voice, "you are going to try to block
my mission to the United States." y psychologist," she
"It is a report from the Academ said.
"It has nothing to do with me-"
"He's another one you sleep with."
"You should know about that." Litkovka stood up and
snatched the paper out of his fingers. "He, not I, says he is
uncertain about your emotional stability. He thinks you may
not be prepared to enter the Air Force Academy. It is my duty
to make sure that Mr. Roberts knows about the doctor's opin-
ion-"
"Don't do this to me," Maraklov said. "I'm the perfect
candidate for this operation. I am prepared. I've prepared for
years. I know exactly what I'm doing-"
"Spoken like a schizophrenic bordering on psychotic," she
s aid with a smile. "If you 'graduate' and compromise us,
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 21
all our careers are in jeopardy. I must not allow that to hap-
pen-"
Maraklov slapped his hands on the desktop, then visibly
fought to relax, put on a hint of a smile, and reached inside
his jacket. Her eyes widened with fear, but what he pulled out
was a small half-liter bottle of amber liquid.
"This is for you, Janet," Maraklov said. "I know it's your
favorite." He set the bottle down and she read the label.
"Scotch whiskey?" she said in a surprised voice. "Where
did you get Scotch whiskey?"
"Never mind, Janet. It's yours. Please take it."
"But that is contraband, Andrei--
"My name is Ken James .
He really did seem beyond the edge, although that identifi-
cation with his subject-target was what he had been trained to
achieve. Still, wasn't his extreme, so much so he might los
e
control and endanger his mission? Her personal anger over his
treatment of her helped the rationalization, if that's what it
was.
"Having that in your possession is a serious offense. I sug-
gest you get out of my office and get rid of it immediately or
I will be obliged to call the headmaster-"
"No, don't do that. Please-- his tone was abruptly sub-
dued-"I'm going .
He picked up the bottle, stuck it back into his coat pocket
and left without another word.
True, Litkovka had used her well-honed talents to get the
school psychologist to write a perhaps more damaging psycho-
logical report on Maraklov than otherwise. But it was only a
matter of degree, she assured herself. Without question, Mar-
aklov would do anything to go to the United States-his mo-
tives were personal as well as patriotic. Why this was so she
didn't know. She did know that Andrei Maraklov could be a
dangerous man. Well, he had accepted the situation, finally.
At least it seemed so . . .
She stayed until ten o'clock that evening-curfew for all stu-
dents was ten P. and bed-check was shortly thereafter, so
she would be safe from Maraklov just in case he tried to do
something crazy when she left the office. She gathered up the
papers on Maraklov and locked them in her briefcase-if Mar-
aklov got his hands on a bottle of Scotch whiskey, he could
22 DAIE BROWN
easily get his hands on this report if she left it in the office-
and headed for her car in the parking lot.
She found herself checking around outside her car, checking
the back seat and trunk until a passing security patrol saw her.
She had to smile. "You are acting very strange, Katrina. Go
home and get some rest and put Maraklov out of your mind."
Minutes later she was outside the front gate of the Academy
heading down the two-lane chickenseed road toward the main I
highway. After turning onto the wide, two-lane asphalt high- I
way, she switched her headlights to high-beam and roared east-
bound to her apartment complex a few kilometers from the
Academy. The road was curvy in places but it was wide and
fast and she kept the speed up to a hundred kilometers an hour.