“The nav on that flight was one of the Great Experiment female combat flyers, in the same group as Marcia Preston — the first female B-52 navigator. There was one other female on that B-52,” Elliott continued. “A civilian. She was also on my Old Dog crew back in 1988. She’s in critical condition at Brooks Medical Center in San Antonio. Her husband was on my Old Dog crew too. He was one of the F-15 crew that went into Mexican airspace and tried to get the XF-34—as a matter of fact he’s the DreamStar project director, Lieutenant Colonel McLanahan.”
“Jesus. Was McLanahan one of the men killed in the dogfights with DreamStar?”
“No. He was chased away by the Mexican Air Force, missed his chance to try to even the score … I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me in there, and for your help with the Mexican government. I think you see how important this is to me. Maybe this sounds too dramatic, but those men and women are my life. I have to watch out for them — now more than ever.”
“Well, now that I know that McLanahan was one of the men in those F-15s, I’m glad I stuck up for him and you. I don’t think General Kane will push for any official action against McLanahan or anyone else involved.”
“I appreciate it just the same … Look, I’m not trying to start a palace revolt here, but I just can’t stand the idea of sitting by while DreamStar is chopped up into pieces and shipped off to Moscow. The President wasn’t interested in my idea, but maybe you would be …”
“I’m interested,” O’Day said. Elliott couldn’t be sure she meant it or was just defusing him, but he had little choice right now, he realized. “It’s true, Brad, the President isn’t interested … But what’s your idea?”
Elliott spread his hands. “Simple. Make the Nicaraguans, and the Russians, think we’re going to strike at Managua … Look, I’m not suggesting that we send the Second Fleet over to shell Managua, but we could send it out into the Gulf, on one of the Pentagon’s famous ‘previously scheduled’ exercises. We could land the Eighty-second Airborne next door in Honduras. That could shake them up enough at least to start dealing with us—”
“And what if? The bad old ‘what if’ … it doesn’t work?”
“Then we have no choice. Mount a surgical strike. Photo intelligence would be invaluable. If we can pinpoint where DreamStar is being kept, we can plan a discreet attack—”
“To destroy it?”
Elliott nodded. “Afraid so. We sure as hell couldn’t fly it out of Nicaragua—”
“Why not?”
Elliott stopped, looked at her. He had no ready answer to that one. “Well, first of all, it would be nearly impossible to get near it anywhere on that KGB base. Second, we’ve no one qualified to fly it. James — Maraklov — was the only pilot …”
“The only one?”
Elliott’s mind was racing now — Deborah O’Day seemed to be opening up possibilities he hadn’t imagined. “We’ve had several men fly DreamStar’s simulator, but only one man has actually flown DreamStar before. And no one has been able to control it as well as James.”
“Well, you could use him then, couldn’t you? If all he’d have to do is take off and land …?”
“True, if we could provide him enough air cover during his escape … steal DreamStar back … There are a lot of ‘ifs’ here. If DreamStar is still flyable, if we can pinpoint DreamStar’s location, if we can get J. C. Powell on that base …”
“J. C. Powell?”
“My chief test pilot. He checked out in DreamStar in the early phase but was replaced by James. He just might do it. He can’t dogfight in DreamStar like James, but he could get DreamStar off the ground and land it again.”
“So if we knew exactly where DreamStar was, and if it wasn’t already taken apart,” O’Day said, “we’d need a plan to get this Powell on Sebaco and into DreamStar’s cockpit. Then we’d have to arrange air cover for him after takeoff since he wouldn’t be able to defend himself …”
“Right … put Powell in under some sort of diversionary cover,” Elliott said. “Hit Sebaco with a small air strike or guerrilla force and insert Powell. Get him into DreamStar’s cockpit. Use the guerrillas to blow a path for him out to the airstrip. With a carrier from the Second Fleet sitting in the Gulf of Mexico we could provide enough air cover to fight off the Nicaraguan air force. A short flight to Texas and we’d be home free.”
“Sounds like a plan, General. Now you have just one problem…”
“I know. The President. It’s what he doesn’t want to do. That’s where I need your help. You have access to the man. Can you talk to him? Try to convince him?”
She sank back in her chair. “I’m not sure how much help I can be. The truth is, I’m not a member of the President’s inner sanctum. His brother-in-law Benson and Speaker Van Keller have his ear, not me. I’m a political appointee, damn near a figurehead. Except I also happen to be qualified. He lucked out. I was put here before the primaries to make the public think that Lloyd Taylor supports women in government. I was good for a jump in the polls, or so they say, but I’m not sure what else there is.”
“You’ve got to try,” Elliott said. “Bring it up in staff meetings. Talk to the other Cabinet members. Schedule a meeting with Van Keller or Danahall. They have got to realize that we just can’t let the Russians get away with espionage and murder. We can yell and threaten all we want, but it doesn’t work. It didn’t eight years ago with Kavaznya, and it won’t work now, even with glasnost and perestroika and all the other peaceful coexistence stuff the Soviets have been feeding us. If the President doesn’t want to authorize it, he can make it a blind operation — let me loose. and I’ll do it, and he can deny knowing or authorizing everything.”
“You can’t do that with this President,” O’Day said. “That might have worked with Iran-Contra but this Democrat has a very good memory for such screwups, especially by a Republican President. No …” O’Day stared at the ceiling. “Taylor is as hard-nosed as they come, and he rarely changes his mind … This plan … this operation to get DreamStar. Do you really think you can put it together?”
“I can get my staff on it—”
“No. I mean right now. Yes or no — can this J. C. Powell get in and get DreamStar?”
Elliott hesitated only a moment. “If I get the support from the White House I can get Powell into DreamStar’s cockpit. And I believe he can get DreamStar out.”
“Okay. I’m on the case. I’ve a plan to shake things up around here. After that I don’t know what will happen. It could blow up in our faces. But I’ll bet it’ll cause the White House at least to rethink its position on letting the Soviets get away with the XF-34.”
“What are you—?”
“No questions. Just be ready with a dog-and-pony show for the boss within twenty-four hours, and you better knock his socks off, or it’ll be too late for your XF-34. I can’t promise anything except some noise, but like Yogi said, it ain’t over till it’s over. That might even be true for President Lloyd Emerson Taylor the Third.”
Elliott straightened his right leg, locked it, and eased himself to his feet. He extended his hand, O’Day came around her desk and took it. “I bet the woman and the plan are much alike.”
“Don’t be so sure — about either one, General,” she said. “I’m expecting a few sparks around here. I’m just hoping they don’t hit any vital parts.”
“Actually,” Elliott said as he turned for the door, “I’m hoping they come too close for comfort.”
After he left, O’Day returned to her chair and felt a very rare grin on her face. Forget that, she told herself sternly. He may have this domineering presence that seems to fill the room when he enters, but does he really have all his facts together when it comes to this DreamStar business? Sure he wants the XF-34 back — that’s understandable. But is he acting like a man with little to lose, who’ll risk a major international incident to get his own way?