"Hmmm… Are there any other tankers east of Spitzbergen?"
"No, Comrade Colonel," replied the radar operator. "Only what you see on the plot.''
So, no other bogies off the coast except for the single tanker. That, Leonov felt, would indicate the Blackbird was surely headed for TUrkey, because whenever an SR-71 exited over the northern coastline on previous overflights there would always be two tankers — one over the Barents Sea and one hovering over the Laptev Sea. The wide spacing of the tankers gave the Blackbird an exit point almost anywhere along the north coast of Russia. And given the SR-71 's speed, it was an impossible task to cover the entire coast, even for the Rodina's awesome air defense capabilities. But since there was only one American tanker off the northern coast, that would indicate the spy plane was headed for 1\irkey.
Leonov pulled out a three-ring binder from under his console and flipped it open to the section outlining the 77th Interceptor Regiment at Tbilisi on the Tlirkish border. He found what he was looking for and quietly swore under his breath. The 77th Regiment had the sophisticated MiG-29 Fulcrum fighters, but they were armed with the medium-range AA-10 radar-guided missiles and close-range Aphid heat-seeking missiles. It would be useless to send those against the Blackbird. The damned spy plane would be too high, too fast, and out of range. A waste of time. He flipped to another section in the binder, and here it looked more promising. The 11th Interceptor Regiment out of Archangel, which he had just scrambled, had MiG-31 Foxhounds, and they carried the long-range AA-9 radar-guided missiles.
The colonel pondered this, then looked at the plot. The SR-71 was still racing south over Russia, but the tanker over the Barents Sea was altering its course and turning back to a southerly heading. Hmmm. Why was the tanker doing that if the Blackbird was headed for Ibrkey? If, by the off chance, the spy plane returned from whence it came, then maybe, just maybe, he could spring a very clever surprise on the mystical American aircraft. He pushed the button to buzz the communications officer.
"Yes, Colonel Leonov?"
"Patch me through to the squadron commander of the 11th Interceptors who is leading the scramble."
Griggs looked down and saw the curvature of the earth, then he turned his gaze skyward and witnessed a host of stars twinkling in the dark sky above him. Traveling on the edge of the stratosphere always provided a spectacular view, but Griggs knew his backseater was ignoring the panorama. The RSO had his eyes glued to the instruments. "How's it lookin', Pretty Boy?" he asked.
"So far, so good," replied Floyd. "We've been scanned by search and SAM radars since we crossed the coastline, but nobody's popped a missile yet. Three hundred miles to target. I've already got the ELINT sensor going."
"Roger."
Traveling at forty miles per minute made three hundred miles a short distance. Although it was the fastest air-breathing plane in the world with the unclassified world speed record of 2,193.6 miles per hour (and a classified record of 2,623.4 mph), even the SR-71 would have a very small time window with which to eavesdrop on the Intrepid. With a speed of 17,000 mph, the spacecraft would quickly overtake the spy plane as it flew above Perm.
Iceberg checked the Global Positioning System and figured he was within range. He keyed liis mike switch. "Flite Control Centre, this is Intrepid, do you read? Over… Flite Control Centre, this is Intrepid, do you read? Over."
"This is Centre, Intrepid, we read you. Listen carefully. Our engineering people have examined the problem, and we think we have devised a way to get you down. But we must know, do all of your control functions except the retro rockets work property?"
"Yes. I've checked them a dozen times. I can do everything except transfer fuel from the OMS tanks to the reaction control tanks. I have plenty of fuel in the RCS tanks now, though. What do you have in mind?"
"Intrepid, we are going to fabricate a device that will allow us to attach one of our solid-fuel rockets to the rear of your ship. We will be sending up a Soyuz spacecraft and a cargo vessel with the materials and assistance to help you accomplish this. It is taking some time to fabricate the attachment device, so we will not be able to bring you down for four to five days. Can you hold out that long?"
Iceberg almost laughed. "I don't like it, but what choice do I have? Five days is a long time. The Americans might try something."
"We are watching the American situation very carefully, Intrepid. We are prepared for any contingency. Stay off the air but keep this channel open. We will keep you informed of any developments. You are a brave man, Intrepid. You will be gready honored when you land."
Iceberg sighed. "Yeah. When I land. Intrepid out."
The other phone buzzed, and Colonel Leonov picked it up. Now he was holding a receiver in each hand — one to the squadron commander of the MiG-31 Foxhounds, and one to the radar operator who'd just rung him.
"Colonel,the tanker has turned again," said the radar operator. "It is now heading east on a bearing toward its previous refueling point."
Brusquely, Leonov replied, "Very well." Then he switched receivers and said, "Fox Leader, it appears this Blackbird aircraft may go out the way he came in. Do you understand what I've instructed you to do?"
"Roger, Colonel. But if we do what you suggest we will not have much fuel to get home."
"I know that. I am a pilot myself. Do not go to afterburner until I tell you… And that is not a 'suggestion.' Is that understood?"
"Understood, Colonel," replied the leader of the Foxhounds. "But it is on your order we are firing our missiles." Which meant the Aerospace Warning Centre would be responsible for the paperwork.
"We have standing orders to shoot down any aircraft that violates Soviet airspace, Fox Leader. Is that understood?"
"Roger, Colonel. My squadron is deploying now."
Leonov's trap was really quiet ingenious. The SR-71 had speed, but at 2,500 miles per hour it was much like a supertanker in that it couldn't alter course very easily. The plan had two premises — one, that the Blackbird would exit on the same axis that it had entered Soviet airspace; and two, that it would be traveling with its throttle wide open. The eight interceptors were strung out on a line one hundred miles long. If it looked as if the Blackbird would follow the same path, they'd all go to afterburner and scoot to their maximum altitude of eighty thousand feet, where they would all fire their AA-9 missiles underneath and astride the enemy aircraft. Each of the Foxhounds carried four missiles, but it was unlikely they'd have time enough to fire more than two apiece. The AA-9s had the range to go the final thirty thousand feet and possibly hit the SR-71 from an angle perpendicular to its axis of advance. Even a magical airplane like the Blackbird would have trouble flying through sixteen missiles… or so Leonov hoped.
"Colonel!" cried the young radar operator.
"Yes?"
"The spy plane is turning!"
Griggs brought his throttles back ever so carefully before starting a long banking turn to a northern heading of 349 degrees.
The mission had been.laid on so fast there simply hadn't been enough time to make arrangements with the Tbrkish government for the Blackbird to land at Encirlik Air Base in central Tbrkey. Nor had there been time to deploy a second refueling tanker from Alaska with JP-7 fuel to cover the Blackbird's possible exit points over the northeast Siberian coast. The SR-71 was forced to violate normal procedure and go out the way it had come in.