by Dale Brown
cause, he could hardly expect her or anyone else to do it for
him.
He sat in the outer office for nearly an hour, jotting down
occasional notes to himself on how to best organize HAWC for
the upcoming investigation. There was a telephone in the outer
office, and he considered using it to find out how Wendy Tork
. . . now McLanahan . . . was doing, but decided against it.
He'd do it on his way out. He had made a note to stop by San
Antonio and Brooks Medical Center on his way back to Dream-
land when the door to the Oval Office opened and Paul Cesare,
wearing a grim face, opened the door for Elliott. "This way,
General. "
When he was shown into the Oval Office he was surprised at
282 DALE BROWN
the people assembled there. Deborah O'Day was standing beside
the President, hands folded in front of her, Secretary of the Air
Force Wilbur Curtis, the former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of
Staff,'was there along with generals Kane and Board; only Curtis
had a welcoming smile for his old friend. The other surprise
addition was Speaker of the House Van Keller, the ranking Dem-
ocrat in Congress. All but Curtis and O'Day were tight-faced as
he made his way into the Oval Office.
"Great to see you, Brad, you old throttle jockey," Curtis
said. "Sony I couldn't be here earlier, they had me in Europe
inspecting some old Russian missile silos."
"Good to see you too, sir.
"Can the 'sir' stuff, Brad. I'm wearing a suit now, and it's
not a blue suit, either. And don't look so down in the mouth.
We've just begun to fight."
The President took a seat at the big cherry desk, and the others
found seats around him. Curtis sat beside Elliott, arranged so
that he could watch both him and the President.
"I don't have a lot of time," the President said. He turned to
his National Security Adviser. "Deborah, go ahead."
"As you know, Mr. President, the story broke a few hours
ago. Alcng with questions aimed at this administration and my-
self, the media focused in on the Soviet Union. It was very well
prepared-they had statements from our own FAA air traffic con-
trollers, Mexican controllers, a few of our low-level military
sources and local police authorities dealing with the F-15 crash
near Yuma. They even got statements from air traffic controllers
at Managua. The press has damn near re-created the whole se-
quence of events, and in very short order.
"But when asked directly, the Soviet Union still denies any
involvement in the incident, denies that they have an American
plane, denies they had a secret agent working in Drearniand,
denies everything about James . . . Maraklov. But I've just re-
ceived the preliminary report from Rutledge. His CIA confirrns
that the aircraft that flew through Honduras into Nicaraguan air-
space did land at Sebaco Airbase."
"So we've traced it from Dreamland to a KGB airfield in
Nicaragua," Curtis said, "and the Russians are denying it ever
happened."
"It's not going to be another Belyenko incident," O'Day said.
"The Russians aren't going to admit they have it."
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 283
"I agree," Speaker Van Keller said. "This is no disillusioned
young pilot flying his jet out of the country. If they admit they
have the XF-34, they admit to an international criminal act, an
act of war, in effect - . . "
"It looks to me like we have no choice anymore, Mr. Presi-
dent," Curtis said. "It would be a political and military disaster
to allow them to get away with this. Even if they should later
admit it, we must do something now.
"Never mind the politics, Wilbur, that's my business. As for
the military, what were the Air Force and the DIA doing when
this Soviet agent was planted, then allowed to exist so long in a
place he gets to be the top pilot in our most advanced experi-
mental aircraft? All right, I need a plan of action." He looked
at Elliott. "General?"
"Yes, sir . . . we need to do two things immediately: first,
verify exactly where DreamStar is at Sebaco, and second, show
the Russians that we know that DreamStar is there and that we're
prepared to do something strong about it. I propose a flyby of
Sebaco by a single high-perfonnance reconnaissance aircraft. No
weapons except for self-protection. No ground-attack arsenal.
It--
"I want no weapons at all," the President said. "Unarmed.
If the thing crashes in Nicaragua I don't want to see pictures of
Nicaraguan fishermen dragging American missiles out of the wa-
ter with their nets. Can you do it without weapons?"
"It'll be more difficult, but it can be done."
The President looked skeptical and irritable. This thing was
more and more taking on the risks and implications of the Cuban
missile crisis . . . "How? A high-altitude jet? I want one air-
craft, remember-no escorts, no waves of aircraft-"
"One aircraft," Elliott said. "And it will be at low altitude.
We want there to be no question that the Soviets know we mean
business. "
"Not another damned B-52?
"The thought had crossed my mind," Elliott admitted, "but
Managua is very heavily protected, and this would have to be a
daylight mission. We would probably lose a B-1 or even a B-2
Stealth aircraft. No, no bomber aircraft."
"How do you expect one aircraft to do the job and still sur-
vive? " Van Keller asked. "Use an unmanned aircraft? A drone?
A satellite?"
Pr
284 DALE BROWN
"No, a single aircraft but a very special one," Elliott said.
"Twice through Sebaco on photo runs, in and out, perhaps sixty
seconds over the base and five minutes in Nicaraguan ai
We'll have what we need." - rspace.
Paul Cesare moved closer to the President: "Mr. President,
our meeting with the Foreign Relations Committee .
"All right, Paul," the President said. "Wilbur, General El-
liott, this is what I want: a single aircraft, unarmed, not more
than five minutes over Nicaragua. This will be the only chance
you'll get, so it had better be done right the first time. Wilbur,
you have command authority. Brief me tonight.
"One more thing. If you people screw this up I won't wait
until after the election to clean house."
As Curtis and Elliott left the Oval Office for the elevators down
to the White House garage, Curtis turned to Elliott and said, "I
knew the Old Man couldn't ignore you, Brad."
"Thanks for the support. I haven't seen much from the White
House lately.
"There's more than you think," Curtis said. "And I'm not
just talking about the National Security Adviser."
Elliott looked at Curtis. "What about her?"
"Don't play dumb with me. The lady-is quite taken with you,
personally and professionally. Don't ask me why-anyone who'd
get involved with a pilot can't have all their marbles. I wouldn't
be surprised if she cooked up this morning's b
ombshell in the
press. Am I close?"
"Don't know what you're talking about, sir," Elliott replied
with a straight face.
"Okay, we'll leave it that way-it's safer for her too. Besides,
everyone around this place has a pipeline to some reporter.
There'd be more double-dealing and backstabbing in this place
than in the Kremlin if there wasn't the occasional leak. But get
caught at it, suddenly you're a leper. "
In the garage they moved into waiting sedans. "I assume
you'll want to use the command center to run this operation,
Brad," Curtis said as they drove off. Elliott gave him a surprised
long look.
Curtis returned it. "Let me guess . . . you're not going to
use a bomber-that was my first guess. What's the hottest ma-
chine on your flight line right now? Cheetah. And McLanahan
7
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 285
and P - well go with it. How'm I doing? Don't answer that ...
You had Cheetah in mind from the start. You've got some sort
of camera pod rigged up on it, self-protection devices up the
ying-yang-you're going to have to take the missiles off, the
President said no." Elliott allowed a smile. The Secretary had
hit it right on the mark. "Cheetah's been ready to go ever
since last night . . . Ever since O'Day agreed to help you.
Right? "
"No comment, sir."
"I like it, General, I like it. You want to send a message-
Cheetah will do it."
F-
Sebaco Nfilitary Airfield, Nicaragua
Friday, 19 June 1996, 0643 CDT (0743 EDT)
WORK HAD BEGUN on DreamStar less than three hours after the
last transmission from Moscow, and even though he had diverted
the plan to dismantle his aircraft, every minute that Andrei Mar-
aklov watched DreamStar's refit was like another twist of the
knife that seemed to be stuck in his gut.
He was standing a few meters in front of DreamStar's hangar,
just a few dozen meters from the flight-line ramp leading to
Sebaco's runway. The hangar doors, which had remained closed
to guard against sabotage or espion@ge, were now wide open
because of the huge volume of trucks and workers scrambling
in and out. The hangar was guarded by KGB border troops, two
stationed every ten meters around the perimeter, along with a
manned BMD armored vehicle or BTR-60PB armored personnel
carrier on every cardinal point. Workers carried large picture
I. cards slung around their necks, which allowed the point
guards to check I.'s against wearers without the workers stop-
ping.
The technicians and engineers assembled to do the job seemed
to be even more ham-handed than General Tret'yak had de-
scribed. They tore at fasteners they did not understand how to
open, yanked at delicate data cables, got greasy hands all over
the superconducting antennae arrays. They made notes about
everything, in writing and by video camera, but mostly they
cared about getting their jobs done on time, not on how well the
fighter flew after leaving Sebaco.
Each twist of the worker's wrench brought home another re-
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 287
ality to Maraklov-that along with the delivery of DreamStar to
the Soviet Union came the end to his own usefulness. General
Tret'yak was correct, of course-DrearnStar would be disman-
tled in ultra-fine detail once it was safely delivered to the Ra-
menskoye Test Facility near Moscow. It might be flown once or
twice, but more than likely its avionics would be activated arti-
ficially and all its subsequent "flights" would be confined to a
laboratory. If there was no DreamStar, there would be little need
for a DreamStar pilot, especially one who would seem more
American than Russian. They might create an ANTARES ground
simulator to study the thought-guidance system and train future
pilots on how to fly DreamStar, but that would not last long.
After that, he doubted very much that the Soviet military would
allow him to fly or even participate in any way, except as some
glorified figurehead . . . until his usefulness there ran out too.
The workers were struggling with a service-access panel on
DreamStar's engine compartment. The senior non-commissioned
officer, Master Sergeant Rudolph Artiemov, spotted Maraklov
standing outside the hangar, came over to him, gave him a half-
salute, pointed to the engine and said something unintelligible
to Maraklov.
"Speak slower, Sergeant," Maraklov said in halting Russian.
The technician squinted at him. "Mahtor sestyema smazki nyee
khod@aht, tovarisch Polovnik. Vi pahnyemahyo? "
"I don't understand what the hell you're saying," Maraklov
exploded in English. The startled sergeant stepped back away.
"You're tearing my damned aircraft apart and you want me to
tell you from here if it's okay? Is that it? Get out of my face."
"He said the engine-lubrication system access-panel is stuck,
Andrei," a voice said. He turned to see Musi Zaykov beside
him, her attractive smile momentarily piercing his gloom. Musi
said something to the technician in a stem voice and the sergeant
saluted, turned and trotted back to the workers.
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him that you said he is an incompetent fool, and that
you will kill him first and report him second if he is not more
careful. "
"My thoughts exactly."
"They say they will have the aircraft ready for a test flight in
twelve hours," Musi said. Maraklov looked at her, then turned
288 DALE BROWN
the flight line. Musi followed.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"No," Maraklov said. "I just feel .
He was beginning to feel he could. She had become something
of a confidante over the past few hours. If she was a KGB op-
erative assigned to watch him, shewas either doing a very good
job, or a very poor one . . . "I feel a terrible mistake is being
made here . . . they don't trust or respect my judgment. I brought
them the U.'s most advanced fighter, and all they can seem to
think of is taking it apart. Musi, that is no ordinary aircraft. It
is . . . alive. It's part of me . . . Can you understand any of
that? "
"Not really, Andrei. It is, after all, a machine-"
"No . . . " But he knew it was useless to try to explain. He
changed the subject. "You tell me, Musi, what will they do with
me after I return to Russia?"
"You will be honored as a hero of the Soviet Union--
"Bullshit. Tell me what's really going to happen." She seemed
to avoid his eyes. "Come on, Lieutenant."
"I I don't know, Andrei." Her voice now seemed to lose
its easy tone, to become almost stiff, as though she were recit-
ing. "You will be welcomed, of course . . . following that, you
will be asked to participate in the development of the aircraft
for the Air Forces--
"I want to know what kind of life I'll have in Russia. I want
to know if I'll have a future."
"You ask me
to predict too much, Andrei." Her tone changed
again. "In my eyes you are a hero. You have done something
no one thought possible. But there are . . . people who are dis-
trustful of any foreigner-"
"I'm not a foreigner." Or was he?
"Andrei, I know what you are, but you know what I mean ...
You do not speak Russian. You must understand that there will
be less trust at first." She took his hands in hers. "Could it be,
Colonel Andrei Maraklov, that it is perhaps you who do not trust
us? "
Maraklov was about to reply, stopped himself. She was right.
The U. bias toward the Soviet Union had taken hold and was
his now-distrust, fear, the works, in spite of the show of glas-
nost and perestroika.
away from the open front of the hangar and began walking down
Could he trust her?
DAY OF THE CHEETAH 289
He smiled at Musi, pulling her closer. "How did you get so
smart, Lieutenant Musi Zaykov?"
"I am not so smart, Andrei. I think I understand how you
feel. Living in Nicaragua for a year, feeling the resentment from
the people, isolated in this little valley-it is easy to mistrust,
even hate, those you do not understand or who seem not to
understand you." She moved in closer to him, her lips parting.
"I love it when you say my name. I wish you'd do it more
often. "
And then she kissed him, right there on the little service road
next to the flight line. "I know you don't trust me, Andrei, not
yet. But you will. Just trust your instincts and I will mine - - - "
Without another word they turned their backs to the flight line
and headed back to the officers' quarters hidden in the trees
beyond. They shut themselves in her quarters, and Maraklov
gave himself up to the remarkable skills of this woman who
exercised all his earlier doubts and made him, for the moment,
even forget about DreamStar . . .
Over the Caribbean Sea
0825 EDT
"She's about as maneuverable as an elephant," JC. Powell
said irritably, "and five times as heavy."
Powell and McLanahan had just completed their second re-
fueling from a KC-10 Extender refueling aircraft from the 161st