Delta Green - страница 48

For the first time in their entire flight, he used the radio. Soon after he had acquired the MakoShark, he had learned that the Americans must have changed the radio packs in their other craft because he no longer heard them on any of the available scrambled frequencies.

Similarly, because he was certain that American listening posts would be monitoring the scrambled frequencies on this craft’s radios, he bypassed the scramblers and utilized a clear frequency. That would change as soon as the communications technicians had altered the radios.

He depressed the transmit button and used English rather than Russian. “Commodore, Commander.”

“Proceed Commander.”

“Five minutes.”

That was all. Just the necessary information that he was close, and that the camouflage over the runway must be shunted aside.

Like his reentry into the atmosphere, the landing was flawless, and the second they were down and slowed, the runway lights were turned off. He was not yet familiar enough with the MakoShark’s special systems to attempt a landing utilizing the night vision capability. Even as he turned off the engines and the electrical systems, a tow tractor had latched onto the nose wheel and was pushing the MakoShark back into its hidden revetment on the west side of the runway.

The jungle canopy closed over them, making the darkness even blacker.

A gaggle of flashlights approached while he and Nikitin raised their canopies and rose awkwardly from the reclining seats, stretching unused muscles. Disconnecting their umbilicals, they eased over the coaming, found the makeshift ladders, and descended to the ground.

Anatoly Shelepin was the first to greet him.

“Aleksander Illiyich!”

“Comrade General.”

“You were successful?”

“Very much so,” Maslov said.

“I am so proud of you. I knew that I would be.”

Maslov was proud of himself also.

He could still be a general.

In the Air Force of the New World Order.

By ten o’clock in the morning, Pearson had toured the station — as security officer, she kept an eye on the military personnel as well as the visiting civilian scientists working in the laboratories — and met with Overton and Avery to accept their congratulations and to discuss her new duties. She congratulated Avery on his transfer and promotion.

“But let’s not sweat the routine stuff for now, Amy,” Overton told her. “The first priority on our list is Delta Green.”

“Yes, sir. I should have the information I requested from the CIA by now.”

“We’re putting a lot of credence in your theory of an ex-Soviet pilot,” Overton said.

“I know,” she admitted, “but the incident with the HoneyBee yesterday supports the theory. That pilot simply had to have had more training in Mako systems than someone with a background in, say, fighter aircraft.”

“Astronaut?” Avery asked.

“Well, maybe, Milt. Still, I want to run down my current leads first.”

“Go for it,” Overton said.

She left the Command Center for her office cubicle, strapped herself in, and powered up the console.

Entering her access code, Pearson checked her electronic mail file and found a great deal of information queued up. The first document was a long message taken by Don Curtis from Commonwealth Colonel Pyotr Volontov. He verified the whereabouts of twenty-eight of the pilots on the original list of thirty-four who had gone through his Mako training program. She didn’t know Volontov, but he seemed to have a mild sense of humor. He had added his own name to the list: “Volontov, Pyotr Mikhailovich, Colonel, Russian Air Force, 5th Interceptor Wing, Present and accounted for.”

That left the six defectors.

The electronic copies of dossiers compiled on the pilots by the Central Intelligence Agency and the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA) were as disappointing as she had thought they might be. Until a man achieved high rank, or was placed in a command or policy-making position, the intelligence agencies did little more than track his assignments when they learned them, or paste odd tidbits in the file.

She culled out the twenty-eight that were accounted for, storing the information for possible later use in one of the mainframe computer laser disk files. Cutting and pasting, she merged the CIA and DIA files with those she had received from General Sheremetevo, leaving her with six files.