Day of the Cheetah

by Dale Brown

  know this was short notice. "

  "I could've brought half my shop if Briggs had let me,"

  Butler said. "I've got two portable logic test units, assorted

  toolkits, and supplies, about a thousand pounds worth. The best

  test unit we have, though, will be Captain Powell. Once he's

  interfaced with ANTARES, we can diagnose and fix any prob-

  lems. "

  "Good. " McLanahan found Carmichael alone with JC.

  Powell in one of the nearby tents. Powell was leaning back

  against a tent pole, his head bent down as if he was napping;

  Carmichael was just a few inches from his ear, saying something

  to him. As McLanahan approached, Carmichael held up his hand

  to keep him away. A few moments later Carmichael pulled a

  stethoscope from a jacket pocket and placed the electronic pickup

  against Powell's chest, then stood and walked over to Patrick.

  "I saw it right away," Carmichael said. "He was jumpy as

  hell. "

  " ? I didn't notice anything. He seemed himself."

  "He's like that. He's the most laid-back guy I've ever met.

  The differences were subtle, but after working with him for eight

  months on the early ANTARES project I can tell when he's

  nervous. I put him in a mild hypnotic state to help him relax-

  actually he took my suggestion and put himself in a hypnotic

  state. "

  :'Will he be able to interface with ANTARES?"

  'We won't be able to tell until he tries it, but I'd say yes. He

  put himself right into alpha-state as if he had been doing it for

  -years. He should be able to go into theta-alpha. Whether or not

  he can maintain it during the interfacing-well, we'll find out

  soon enough.

  "Sooner than you thought," Briggs said as he came over to

  McLanahan and Carmichael. "We've got clearance to cross the

  border and into the Puerto Cabezas control zone. Final clearance

  DAY OF THE CHEETAH 451

  onto the base will be issued through the control tower. The Dol-

  phin will be topped off in five minutes."

  "Then tell everyone to get back on board," McLanahan told

  Briggs. "Let's go get our fighter back."

  Puerto Cabezas Airbase, Nicaragua

  Monday, 22 June 1996, 0605 CDT (0705 ED7)

  This was the one of the hardest jobs General Tret'yak had ever

  performed in peacetime, rivaling the unpleasant duty of telling

  mothers or young wives of their son's or husband's death in

  some training accident. To be ordered by the Kollegiya, the se-

  nior political-military staff in Moscow, to give back the

  DreamStar aircraft was one thing-to have the Americans land

  here and take it from him was doubly embarrassing.

  The DreamStar aircraft was right where Maraklov had left it

  two nights ago. The airfield at Puerto Cabezas, originally built

  in 1987 as a combined air force and navy base, was designed as

  the primary air-defense base in Nicaragua besides Managua it-

  self. A series of semi-underground aircraft shelters had been

  constructed to house Nicaragua's alert fighter-interceptors. The

  shelters, six in all, were concrete pads with six-foot-high walls

  and concrete roofs. They were located one hundred meters north

  of the west end of Puerto Cabezas' single east-west runway, well

  distanced from the rest of the base.

  But as the strategic importance of Nicaragua had tended to

  diminish over the years, fewer and fewer shelters were used until

  all alert air-inter-ceptor operations were relocated to Managua.

  These revetments had been unoccupied for years, used only for

  annual Soviet-Nicaraguan exercises. Until now.

  Tret'yak and two armed KGB Border Guards waited outside

  the revetment where DrearnStar had been parked. All of the Ni-

  caraguan troops on the base were kept away from the alert shel-

  ters-that was as much to avoid the embarrassment of the

  Nicaraguans finding out that they were turning over DreamStar

  to the Americans as it was for security. A landing pad had been

  prepared just inside the alert area fence on the throat or exit-

  taxiway from the alert area. A three-meter-high fence sur-

  rounded the entire alert area. Tret'yak's men had checked the

  perimeter and found the fence in disrepair but intact.

  452 DAIE BROWN

  "Why must we even be here, sir?" one of the guards asked

  Tret'yak. "Let the Americans get their own plane."

  "We are here because I personally want to meet the men who

  built this incredible machine," Tret'yak told him. He studied

  the amazing shape of DrearnStar for at least the tenth time since

  arriving on the base. "She's a masterpiece of aeronautical de-

  sign." The guard looked disgusted. Tret'yak shook his head.

  "It may be hard for you to understand, but building a machine

  like this is an art. And sometimes art can transcend politics."

  But don't quote me, he added to himself.

  A few moments later Tret'yak heard the rhythmic beating of

  helicopter blades. They looked up to find an American HH-65

  transport helicopter flying down the runway. It slowed to just a

  few miles per hour as it approached the west end of the runway,

  then barely to walking speed as it flew up the throat and over

  the security fence. Tret'yak signaled to one of his men, who

  pulled a flare from his belt, popped it and set it on the edge of

  their prepared landing area. The HH-65 dropped its landing gear

  and settled in for a landing.

  The first man out of the helicopter was a tall, thin black man.

  One of the Border Guards smiled. "There is your artist, sir,"

  he said to Tret'yak.

  "Quiet," the KGB general said. "He's carrying a weapon,

  obviously a security guard." The others quickly moved off the

  helicopter-one civilian, a non-commissioned officer in dark

  green -fatigues, and two U. Air Force officers in light green

  flight suits. As the rotor blades slowly moved to a halt and the

  turbine noise subsided, the five men walked toward Tret'yak.

  The short, thickly muscled officer in the flight suit headed over

  to Tret'yak while the others stopped about ten paces behind.

  "My name is Lieutenant Colonel Patrick McLanahan, United

  States Air Force," the man said in slow English. In hesitant but

  obviously pre-rehearsed Russian, he asked, "Vi gavaretye an-

  gleskiy? "

  "Yes, I speak English," Tret'yak said. "I am General-Major

  Pavel Tret'yak, senior KGB field commander in Nicaragua. " He

  looked over McLanahan's shoulder at the other men. "I was

  told there would only be four persons coming here."

  "My fault and my responsibility," McLanahan said, and

  turned toward them. "Major Briggs, my security chief. Dr. Alan

  Carmichael, chief engineer. Sergeant Butler, senior maintenance

  DAY OF THE CHEETAH 453

  non-commissioned officer. And Captain Powell, senior test pi-

  lot. "

  "And your function, Colonel?"

  "Officer in charge of the DreamStar projects

  "Ah. Captain Kenneth James' senior officer." McLanahan's

  only reaction was to narrow his eyes, his mouth tightening.

  Tret'yak nodded toward t
he four men. "Well, you are here,

  and I would prefer to get this business over with as quickly as

  possible. You are cleared to enter." McLanahan nodded, then

  waved the four men behind him to follow.

  Butler was the first to react when he saw the XF-34. "Oh,

  boy," he muttered, ran ahead and into the shelter. Carmichael

  and Powell followed. McLanahan studied the two Lluyka tanks

  and the missiles hung on the fighter. "I see you made a few

  modifications. "

  "Modifying a fighter for external ferry tanks, in-flight refu-

  eling and foreign-made weapons is a major task. Our devices

  worked very well."

  "You didn't need extra tanks to fly to Cuba."

  "But to fly to Russia, our original and eventual destimtion . .

  "This plane and its pilot shot down two American fighters-

  after you stole it."

  "Come now, Colonel, the theft, the air battles, all part of the

  game. We both played it."

  McLanahan shook his head. Get on with it, he told himself.

  Butler finished a cursory inspection and came back to Mc-

  Lanahan. "Looks like they used two pylon hardpoints on each

  wing to stick those tanks on. Simple electronic pyrotechnical

  jettison squibs. Same with the missiles. We can punch 'em off

  here but there's no telling what damage it might cause."

  "Leave them on, then," McLanahan told him. "I want

  DreamStar out of here fast as possible. " Butler nodded and trot-

  ted back to the helicopter to get his gear. McLanahan turned

  back to Tret'yak. "Where is Maraklov?"

  "On his way to Moscow. He will be debriefed. Even though

  he was not given the opportunity to bring this aircraft back with

  him, he carries a great deal of information. His talks with our

  intelligence people should be revealing."

  "And after that?"

  "After that, I cannot say. He is a difficult man, but if I were

  454 DAIE BROWN

  the General Secretary of the Kollegiya I would make Colonel

  Maraklov a Hero of the Soviet Union. We like to reward loyalty,

  courage and initiative," Tret'yak said.

  "Thanks for the compliments, General," a voice behind them

  said. Tret'yak and McLanahan turned. And saw Andrei Mar-

  aklov emerging from behind the concrete walls of the revetment.

  Tret'yak and McLanahan saw the man, but the two KGB Border

  Guards accompanying Tret'yak saw the pistol he held. They

  lifted their rifles and swung them toward Maraklov. With two

  muffled puffs of the nine-millimeter automatic pistol, they were

  dead as fast as they had reacted.

  Maraklov then turned the pistol toward Hal Briggs, who had

  only gotten as far as reaching for the Uzi at his hip. "Don't do

  it, Hal. Left hand, unbuckle your holster and toss your gun over

  here." Briggs hesitated, -his hand still poised near the Uzi. "I'll

  kill you otherwise." Briggs had no choice, did as he was told.

  Maraklov picked up the Uzi and took its safety off.

  "You had a detour on your way to Moscow," McLanahan

  said.

  "There's been a change in plans, Colonel. It happens."

  "Where is Lieutenant Zaykov?" Tret'yak said.

  At that, Maraklov's attention seemed to wander, but only for

  a moment. "She found out about our plan."

  " 'Our' plan?' " McLanahan said, turning to Tret'yak. "You

  never intended to turn DrearnStar over to us."

  "I know absolutely nothing about this," Tret'yak told him.

  "He obviously has killed the officer I ordered to escort him to

  Managua.

  "What counts," Maraklov said, "is that DreamStar is mine.

  It always has been. I decide what to do with it." Not quite the

  case, he realized, but by now it felt like it was . . . "It's not

  going back to the United States, and it's not going to be hacked

  up in the Soviet Union. I'm flying it out of here to a place where

  it'll be safe. " He stuck the automatic pistol in his pocket, cocked

  the Uzi, raised it and aimed at them-

  Out from behind the Dolphin helicopter, Sergeant Butler ap-

  peared holding one of the computer logic test devices, a large

  suitcase-sized object, up before his body like some huge heavy

  shield. And proceeded to run full speed at Maraklov, who

  whirled, dropped to one knee-more out of surprise than to help

  his aim-and fired at Butler.

  DAY OF THE CHEETAH 455

  The Uzi had been set for single-shot. Maraklov squeezed off

  two, three rounds, swore and reached down to move the action

  lever. Butler had eaten up all but a few yards of the distance

  between them before Maraklov switched the weapon to full au-

  tomatic and sprayed the charging man. But Butler had finally

  reached Maraklov and crashed into him before one of the bullets

  found Butler's unprotected legs and cut him down. Butler drove

  the test device into Maraklov's face, then used his body weight

  to haul him to the ground.

  Lying on top of Maraklov, Butler tried to raise the test device

  over his head and drive it into Maraklov's skull. But he was too

  late. Maraklov put the muzzle of the Uzi into Butler's stomach

  and pulled the trigger. The senior NCO's gut exploded, he

  dropped over backward, dead before he hit the ground.

  McLanahan yelled, "Run for cover," and made a dash for

  the helicopter. The pilot immediately started the engines in the

  Dolphin, and Powell and Carmichael, both inside DreamStar's

  shelter, ran for the helicopter.

  Briggs made his run at Maraklov, but to his surprise, General

  Tret'yak turned, blocked his path, then pushed him back toward

  the helicopter. As Briggs stumbled backward and fell to the con-

  crete taxiway, Tret'yak turned on Maraklov. "Ehtat yah sven-

  yena mo sahm. This pig is mine."

  Tret'yak never had a chance. He'd take no more than three

  steps when Maraklov raised the Uzi and emptied its magazine

  into the KGB general.

  "Hal, run for it," Patrick called out. The Dolphin's rotor

  blades were spinning up to takeoff RPMs- Hal got to his feet

  and sprinted for the open door.

  Maraklov got to his knees, took aim at Briggs, squeezed the

  trigger. Nothing. He had emptied out the magazine on Tret'yak.

  He'tossed the machine pistol aside and pulled out the nine-

  millimeter silenced pistol. Briggs had just gotten to the Dol-

  phin's starboard side-door and jumped inside, so Maraklov

  swung his aim left to the two running figures and squeezed off

  a shot.

  Alan Carmichael grabbed the right side of his chest and pitched

  forward. JC. Powell skidded to a halt, knelt down and began

  to drag Carmichael toward the helicopter. Maraklov took aim

  once again, and before McLanahan or Briggs could react, fired.

  456 DALE BROVIN

  Powell flew backward away from Carmichael's inert form, and

  lay still.

  "You bastard. " McLanahan was screaming, rushing out of

  the helicopter and heading toward Maraklov. He had just cleared

  the Dolphin's right door when the Dolphin pilot yanked the chop-

  per off the ground, hovering less than three feet above ground,

  and aimed the
helicopter at Maraklov. McLanahan, knocked

  aside, crawled on hands and knees toward Powell and Carmi-

  chael, trying to shield his eyes from the flying gravel and sand.

  Maraklov took aim on the helicopter's canopy, fired. The shot

  missed the pilot by inches, but it sped through the cabin and

  through a circuit breaker panel, showering the cockpit with

  sparks, The helicopter engine faltered, lost power, then regained

  it. Maraklov tried to get off another shot but the rotor's down-

  wash forced him to his knees, and he had no choice but to crawl

  away from the blast, though he was still sideswiped by the Dol-

  phin's fiberglass nose.

  Meanwhile Briggs had jumped out and run over to Carmi-

  chael. McLanahan took Powell, and together they began to drag

  the wounded toward the helicopter.

  The pilot halted his advance at the body of Sergeant Butler.

  McLanahan and Briggs dragged Carmichael and Powell through

  the side door, then together they picked up Butler's body and

  carefully as they could manage put his body in the helicopter.

  Blood and viscera were everywhere, on their faces, covering

  their uniforms. Briggs and McLanahan jumped inside the chop-

  per, ignoring whatever they were stepping or slipping on. Patrick

  shouted to the pilot, "go," and the chopper lifted off.

  Maraklov had crawled back to DreamStar's shelter just as the

  chopper rose off the concrete. Again he took aim at the canopy

  and fired, but at this angle the bullets were ricocheting off, not

  penetrating. He fired once more on the retreating helicopter, do-

  ing no more damage that he could see-but the chopper's engine

  was definitely faltering. He had hit something vital-no way it

  would make it back to Honduras. No reason to worry about

  McLanahan any more-he would be long gone before Mc-

  Lanahan could call in a counterstrike, and Powell was definitely

  no worry.

  But Maraklov had a new worry: the Nicaraguans. If anyone

  from the base came out here to investigate, the game would be

  over. He ran back to the taxiway and dragged the bodies of the

  DAY OF THE CHEETAH 457

  two KGB Border Guards and General Tret'yak out of sight in