“Yes,” he said, concerned that such a simple plan could be misunderstood. He examined his lieutenant’s eyes for fear or panic. There was none. “We stay in the four hotels separately, as I have told you. We will not see each other again until the night before.” He watched the crates being loaded. “Do you remember where we meet?”
“The exit on the freeway. Where there is nothing. One hundred miles north.”
The one with the beard nodded. “Don’t be late.”
16
Vlad settled down in front of the television in his BOQ room with a German beer and some sausage on a paper plate. He was fascinated by American television. It was so different from Russian television. Luke had made satellite television available in every BOQ room. Vlad was shocked not only at the number of channels available but at what you could find on the television at any hour of the day. Sports, drama, movies with naked women, Russian-language shows—which he found particularly humorous—anything one wanted was on the television. He especially liked the Wings shows; they detailed the history of the development and operation of famous airplanes. Vlad watched every episode he could find. Tonight was the show about the F-117 Stealth fighter. Vlad was excited about seeing it, not only because he wanted to know everything there was to know about the Stealth fighter but also because they had been based at Tonopah when they were still secret, the very base on which he now sat.
He watched the Discovery Channel logo fade in as the music started. He smiled in anticipation. The picture went dark, and one could see a vague, strange shape against the moon in the background. The sound of the lethal jet was coming into the picture from the left. Vlad leaned forward, drinking in the shape, the silhouette, plugging it into his fighter pilot data bank of possible future threats.
He snuck a deep drink from the bottle of beer as he kept one eye fixed on the television screen.
The phone rang in the kitchenette on the wall behind him. “Arrr,” he said as he stood up. He slammed the empty bottle down on the coffee table and walked to the phone. “Da,” he said.
The voice he heard chilled him instantly. “Vladimir, it has been too long,” the man said in Russian.
“Who is this?” he replied in Russian.
“How quickly you forget your friends.”
“I don’t forget my friends. You’re not one of them. Who are you?”
“If not a friend, then at least someone to whom you are greatly indebted, Major Vladimir Petkov.”
No one had called him “Major” since he left the Russian Air Force. “What do you want?”
“Did you think your perfect job with MAPS would be without cost to you? Did you think you got to the United States because of your skills and reputation?”
Vlad’s heart started beating rapidly, as if someone had placed a noose around his neck some time ago and was only now alerting him to it. “What do you want?”
“It is time to pay the debt to those to whom you owe your entire life, Vladimir.”
“Gorgov!” Vlad suddenly realized.
“Ah, you do remember me.” Gorgov laughed. “I thought you might. I told you I would get you out of that shithole, didn’t I?”
“I would have gotten out—”
“No,” Gorgov said tersely. “You wouldn’t have. Not ever. I am the only reason you got out, the only reason you are where you are.”
Vlad didn’t reply. He suddenly wished he hadn’t just had a beer.
“So. You wonder why I call, no doubt,” Gorgov said.
“It is not safe to talk,” Vlad said, stalling.
“Of course it is! America is a country of laws! They can’t listen to your phone calls without a warrant, and they must suspect you of something first! It is a marvelous country! How do you think we operate so effectively there?”
“You… are here?” Vlad gasped. He had felt safer in the United States, away from Gorgov and his type. He assumed they’d forgotten about him.
“My friends are there. How do you think we can be effective businessmen in the United States without being there?”
“Like the Russian hockey players you extort money from.”
“You have been reading the American papers again. They accuse Russians of so much.” Gorgov laughed, knowing it was completely true. “I am just a businessman.”
“What do you want of me?”
“Yes, it does come to that, doesn’t it? I will not deny it. I do want something of you. Something in payment of what you owe me for getting you the job you have.”
“What?” Vlad grimaced, waiting for whatever it was, which he knew would be unpleasant.
“I cannot tell you exactly. Both because there may be someone listening, which I doubt, and also because your ability to help will be fluid, changing, responding to the moment—”
“Get to the point!” Vlad raged.
“Don’t ever yell at me,” Gorgov growled, then waited to see if Vlad was going to respond. He continued, “Something is going to happen soon. When it does, you will know what you are to do. It will be bad for the United States. Your job is to make sure it happens without interference.”
“What bad thing? What are you talking about?”
“You will see.”
“Why me? Is it going to happen near here?”
“It is going to happen right there. Right where you are.”
Vlad shifted the phone to his other ear and peeked outside in the darkness at the base. Everything was quiet. He had no idea what Gorgov was talking about. “What exactly? Tell me!”
“No. But you will see, and soon. And it will be clear to you what you must do. Then… you simply do it. That is all. And if you don’t… well, then very bad things will happen. You don’t want that, do you?”
“I cannot help you if I don’t know what you want!” Vlad exclaimed.
“Yes you can, and you will. You will see. Do svidaniya,” Gorgov said, and the line went dead.
Brian struggled against his MS as he fought his way up the unending hill of the StairMaster in the immaculate gym at the south end of the second deck of the hangar. All the pilots were required to keep track of their workouts lifting weights. It had long been recognized that muscle mass helped resist the G forces encountered in flying jets. Although the Navy didn’t require a particular workout regimen, Luke did. And he checked the records every week. Brian always had the fullest sheet, the one who’d spent the most time in the gym, fighting the demons that were wrecking his body.
Luke walked in, ready to start his early-morning workout. They were the only two in the gym.
Brian immediately slowed his climbing. He motioned to Luke. “You got a second?”
“Morning, Brian. Fine, thanks. How about you?”
“Sorry. I was thinking about some things when you walked in.”
“What’s up?” Luke replied.
“I’ve been thinking about Vlad.”
Luke looked at Brian. “What about him?”
“We don’t really know all that much about him.”
“You’re just a suspicious guy. First it’s the Paks, now it’s Vlad.”
“Seriously.”
“What?”
“I don’t think we got the straight story on why he left the Russian Air Force.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I finally dug into his records. They’re silent on why he left. They just stop.”
“How do you know?”
“I had the records he left with us retranslated. I didn’t want to just accept the version he gave us. The translator I found in Vegas used to be in the Russian Army. He said they would never just end like that. They always put the reason. Either discharge or retirement—whatever. Vlad has kept some pages from us. We don’t have the whole thing.”
Luke frowned. “Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know.” Brian stepped off the StairMaster onto the deck and stood motionless while his legs regained their stability.