The president swept out the door, still looking troubled.
Frank was slightly confused. "I can have the contracts here for your government to review by Friday," he said. "But I gather the President was expecting a lengthy procedure."
The Minister smiled. "He is, and you should too. Take the time. Have your attorney fly down, or contract a Brazilian attorney to speak for you. This is not something so simple as selling surplus equipment to a foreigner. This must be most carefully drafted, to provide maximum protection for everyone involved." He shrugged. "The President, or our Ambassador to the United Nations, may be forced to defend this agreement before the Security Council or the International Court of justice. It must be absolutely airtight."
He rose and walked around his desk. "But the presence of the President prevented us from actually meeting each other," the Minister said. "I am Gilberto Almendes, and I am honored to meet you," He grabbed Frank's hand and pumped it enthusiastically. "I am one of those the President mentioned, who is quite passionate about your project.
"We have discussed the project and the best way to protect it at great length," Almendes said. "We feel that the best way is for us to sign the contract with great fanfare and great publicity. This will give us ammunition to refuse when NASA asks us to quietly shut you down; we will simply respond that it cannot be done quietly, and we have no grounds to do it publicly."
Frank was coming to like Almendes. "I expect their next move would be to offer you another partnership to build your large launch pad and expand your control center."
Almendes laughed aloud. "Ha! We have been bitten once by that snake; we will not be bitten again!" He paused. "We have reviewed every scenario we could think of. As long as you stay in Brazil, you will be safe. The biggest risk will be when you venture to another nation with an extradition agreement with the U.S. I realize that to accomplish your goal will require much travel. But I suggest you hurry. I do not know how long the Russian deal can be kept secret; but we will be able to preserve secrecy here until the announcement. I estimate a month. After that, you should be very careful in your travels."
Frank glanced at Susan. "If possible, I would like the lease to cover enough land to permit me to build a home as well as the pad buildings. I may be getting married soon."
Almendes looked surprised and pleased. "Really! Excellent! I will personally insure that the lease includes sufficient acreage."
Frank had been watching out of the corner of his eye. At his mention of marriage, Susan had jumped slightly, and stared at him. Her shocked expression slowly faded to a comfortable smile.
But the meeting had ended their brief "honeymoon." Frank now had a destination for the Burans and the associated equipment, and he needed to get things moving before word got out and complications began to arise.
His first call was to Paul, at Baikonur. Paul and his team had been scouring the cosmodrome for tools, equipment and parts that could reasonably be associated with the Buran program. "We've got a lot of stuff here," Paul reported. "I'd say over a hundred tons, and that's without the Buran."
"Any problem with the Buran switch?" Frank asked.
"Nope." Paul replied in a quieter tone. "Nobody said a word when we 'discovered' we'd been working on the wrong Buran. All the Kazakh workers just shrugged their shoulders as though they'd been expecting something like that."
Frank shook his head. "They probably had been. I hate countries with a culture of corruption."
"Yeah, me too." Paul paused. "So how do we get all this stuff out of here?"
Frank thought. "You said over a hundred tons. Does any of it look too big to fit in the AN-225?"
"Well," Paul replied, "There's that godawful big crane they built to load the Buran on it. I dunno if that would fit in any airplane, even disassembled."
"Forget about that one," Frank said. There's one in Moscow that will be easier to get. Besides, you'll need that one to load the Buran onto the AN-225."
"Then you've decided to fly it out?" Paul asked. "What about that other airplane, the one you bought?"
"I don't know. I haven't talked to David yet." Frank responded. "But Baikonur is too damned remote, we'd have to try to ship everything on a single-line railroad about a thousand miles before we could load it on a ship for Brazil. I think the numbers pretty much equal out. In a coin flip, the AN-225 wins. Shorter travel time, and no salt-water exposure."
"So, you'll be coming back over? When will you arrive?"
"I'm not sure. I have to get Susan visas for Russia, Ukraine, and Kazakhstan. By the way, fax me one of those letters the Kazakhs require, will you? Care of the Hilton hotel, Brasilia. Don't forget, I'll have to stop in Ukraine, to talk to Antonov about a charter."
Paul told him that the cargo stats of the AN-225 were available at Baikonur, and if they were going to have anything oversized or overweight, he'd call Frank immediately.
The next call went to David. "We got a little static from the military about the VM-T, but all the crap's been cleaned off it now, and it looks good. Hell, I'd fly it. Well, maybe with upgraded motors I'd fly it. There are a couple of more-or-less standard engine upgrades for the M-3 series, and that's what most of the static is about. The latest one is still operational with the Air Force, and they don't want to let us have them. I've got Gorneliev working on it. Hell, I don't see what the big deal is, from what I've heard, they'll sell you a MiG fighter, if you want one. But it's the holdup right now.
I've got mechs climbing all over that old bird, and the reports have been good, and the instructions for the upgrade are well known. I'm told it'll take about a week, once we get the engines. One of the Russian pilots here wants to fly it with the engines it has, but I don't want to risk it. Besides, an engine upgrade will give us more payload or more ceiling, as well as fuel mileage."
Frank frowned. "Did Gorneliev give you any idea when he could get you the engines?"
"Not really," came the reply. "I think you may need to talk to him yourself. I've got a feeling the price is an issue, and he doesn't want to deal with a 'subordinate'."
"Okay," Frank replied. "I'll be coming there after I go to Ukraine to arrange the AN-225 for Baikonur. I might have to jump back to Baikonur pretty quick, though. What about the rest of the stuff?"
"Well, we've found most of the parts for the Buran here at Ramenskoye. Did you know they call it Zhukovsky sometimes, too? Anyway, boss, I think we've damned near got us another Buran. We haven't done anything with the one at Energia. We've been kind of busy. Your pal Ternayev has been pretty busy scraping up all the Buran-related stuff at Energia. I hear he's got quite a pile. We haven't touched that big ol' crane, though. We were waiting for you to tell us what to do with it."
"Okay," Frank replied. "I'll see if I can get Gorneliev to give me a price to cocoon both Burans. I think we're going to ship them by sea from St. Petersburg, and the last thing we need is salt water corrosion."
There was a pause before David said, "Damn! It's really happening, isn't it?" His voice was awed. "You really have a launch site? We're really gonna put these birds in space?"
Frank grinned. "Yes, and yes. Brush up on your Portuguese"
"Damn right!" David yelled. "We'll get these bastards there if I have to carry them!"
Antonov Airlines was glad to hear from him. They had undertaken refurbishing the Buran anchors on spec, and were apparently getting a bit worried. He told them he would be at their offices in a few days, and wanted to arrange a cargo flight from Baikonur. They immediately assumed he was talking about the Buran, and he had to inform them that this would be a general cargo flight. He mentioned that the cargo was being palletized in accordance with the spec sheets on file at Baikonur, they were quick to tell him that those were out of date, and that updated ones, listing the new, larger capacity would be faxed to Baikonur.