“Because of our continuing five-to-one numerical advantage and our increasing technological achievements,” Chief-of-Staff Cherkov broke in. “For the first time we have an aircraft carrier force that rivals the Americans’—”
“We have three carriers. The Americans have seventeen. Even the British have more than we do.”
“We have an unrivaled worldwide cargo-transport capability. In each and every area we—”
“If we commandeer every civilian-passenger jet in Aeroflot,” KGB chief Kalinin interrupted, “not counting civil transports, the Americans still have more airlift capacity. We can juggle numbers, but the fact is that we have lost the advantage. The Americans have fielded two new types of fighters in Europe in the past ten years; we have fielded one. The Americans have launched two new aircraft carriers in the past ten years and equipped each one with new F-31 fighters. We still have one carrier of equivalent size in sea-trials, with fifteen-year-old fighters on board. In every area except armor and total manpower we have either lost our advantage or suffer a real lessening of whatever advantage we retain.”
“Times have changed,” Minister of Defense Andrei Tovorin said. “Our security is rio longer based exclusively on military strength. We have treaties and agreements with many nations. We have mutual verifiable cuts in strategic and tactical nuclear weapons, beginning with the INF treaty …”
“But we do not agree to roll over and accept domination by the West,” Kalinin said. “Sir, you will be on American television in one hour, smiling at their cameras, saying how delighted you are at the progress that has been made since you signed the INF Treaty seven years ago. But, sir, the peace and security of our nation still depend on the strong arms and backs of our people, rather than on pieces of paper. Those treaties will be the first things to be set on fire in a major conflict—”
“Are you saying that this nation is in danger because we have agreed to reduce the number of nuclear weapons pointed at us?” the General Secretary asked. “Are you saying that we are in greater danger of destruction as a nation now than ten years ago?”
“I believe we were more secure ten years ago, yes,” Kalinin said. “Then I knew that we had the military capability and the national resolve to defend ourselves against any attack. Now, I am not so sure. For the first time in my career I wonder whether we could resist an invasion of western Europe or hold off a NATO invasion of western Russia. I question the security of our cities and military bases. And yet I see American stores and American hotels being built in Moscow. Where is all this taking us?”
“Into the future,” General Cherkov said. “The truth is we are a richer, more secure nation than ever. We also are a member of the world community, no longer the ugly Russian bear.”
Kalinin said nothing. The General Secretary, probably the most popular Soviet leader in history, was a formidable enough opponent in the government. But along with Cherkov, the military veteran and hero of Afghanistan and Africa, the opposition was all but overwhelming.
“This meeting is adjourned,” the General Secretary said, and accepted the handshakes and good luck wishes from the Kollegiya members. Kalinin stayed behind after the rest of the members, except Cherkov, had left.
“I apologize for spoiling the mood of the meeting, sir, but I feel I have a duty to express my opinion—”
“You are correct,” the General Secretary said. “I encourage such discussions; you know that.”
“Yes, sir.” The General Secretary was getting ready to leave for the new Kremlin press office for his interview. “Sir … I need your authorization for additional manpower on an ongoing project. I need ten more men for five years overseas.”
The General Secretary straightened papers in his briefcase. “Overseas?”
“The United States. Deep cover operation on an American military-research base.”
The General Secretary paused, glanced at Cherkov, then shook his head. “It sounds like a major escalation. Ten people on one base?”
Kalinin tried to control his irritation. The General Secretary, it seemed, had already decided in the negative but wanted to pump his KGB chief for information before saying no. “In one city, actually,” Kalinin pushed on. “Perhaps two or three on the base itself, one or two on a separate research center nearby.”
“This perhaps refers to Dreamland?” General Cherkov asked. “More activity there?”
“It is Dreamland,” Kalinin admitted. The old man was well-informed. The crafty Chief-of-Staff’s small but highly efficient cadre of internal investigators were still very much hard at work spying on the KGB for the General Secretary. “We have received information on a new American project that I believe should be of great interest to us.”
“Obviously,” the General Secretary deadpanned. “Ten new operatives in one area at one time is a lot. Is there a danger of discovery?”
“There is always that chance, sir. But this project is so important I feel the additional manpower is absolutely vital.”
“Wasn’t your young pilot assigned to Dreamland?” Cherkov asked. “The deep-cover agent that you managed to help transfer from their Strategic Air Command?”
“Major Andrei Maraklov, yes, and he is the one who has reported on a new American project that I must track very closely.”
“And this project?”
Kalinin hesitated — he didn’t expect to be grilled like this. As reported to him so far, the new project was so unusual that he didn’t fully understand it; it was going to be very difficult explaining it to the General Secretary. This was another change from practices of ten years ago — back then, the government was so large and, more to the point, so bureaucratically compartmentalized that sending ten or even fifty new agents to the United States was relatively easy. Now all personnel movement, even covert or so-called diplomatic transfers, were approved in advance.
“I’m talking about a project begun by the same research center we obtained the short takeoff and landing data from,” Kalinin said. “Maraklov has been assigned to a project studying … thought-controlled fighter aircraft—”
“Thought-controlled aircraft?” The General Secretary quickly looked down at the small stack of papers on his desk — apparently stifling his skepticism.
“Maraklov reports they’ve had significant success with this project,” Kalinin said, stiffening. “I feel it is very important …”
The General Secretary shook his head. “I am sorry, but ten men for such a project is too much. I can authorize two in the Los Angeles consulate, and this must be coordinated with the foreign minister.”
“But, sir, I was going to use two men as handlers for Maraklov. The handlers are very important. Maraklov’s movements are carefully monitored and more than one contact is essential. If I only have two new men and use them as handlers I will not have any for inside duties at the research center. I—”
“I have another meeting, Kalinin,” the General Secretary said, snapping shut his briefcase. “I am scheduled to be in Los Angeles in one month. It will not look well if a large-scale deep-cover ring is discovered. I can’t risk that. Two men only, Kalinin. If more information on this project comes in, I may reconsider. Now I must go.”
As the General Secretary moved around his desk to leave, Kalinin quickly stepped toward him, not blocking his way but obviously wanting to hold his attention a moment longer. “Sir, I assure you, this is most urgent.”