Delta Green - страница 49
And six names: Averyanov, Bryntsev, Maslov, Nikitin, Pronnikov, and Yevstigneyev.
Tapping the intercom pad to the communications room, she said, “Anyone there?”
Donna Amber responded, “Amber, Colonel. And congratulations.”
“Thank you, Donna. Would you toss a hot coffee pouch my way?”
“Coming up.”
Two minutes later, Pearson leaned out of her cubicle and arrested the flight of coffee soaring toward her from the radio shack.
By noon, after reading carefully through each of the six files several times, she had compiled a long series of notes on her right console screen. She had Amber complete a communications hook-up with General David Thorpe, Brackman’s deputy for intelligence.
“It’s nice to drop the ‘lieutenant’ part of it, isn’t it, Amy?”
“Would it be a major breach of protocol to write a thank-you letter to General Brackman?” she asked.
“Not necessary. He’s thanking you.”
“But…”
“Be better to do it in person sometime, Amy. What have you got?”
“My possibilities for the pilot are still six, but the other twenty-eight possibles are firmly rejected now. In examining the files, I’ve come up with some repetitive names that we should explore, and I’d like to have the CIA track down some rumors. That request should probably come from you, General.”
“I’ve got my pencil handy,” Thorpe said.
Pearson read off all six names. “Averyanov and Pronnikov, according to the Commonwealth files, are rumored to be somewhere in Germany. Nikitin might be in Italy. Bryntsev and Maslov were last reported to have been seen in Syria. Yevstigneyev was supposedly in Iraq at one time. I wonder if our friends at Langley could check those out?”
“We’ll find out. What about the other names?”
“I’ve been looking for patterns involving the names of higher-ranking men,” she said. “I don’t think a pilot dreamed up this escapade by himself.”
“You don’t have a very high opinion of pilots, Amy?”
“You know what I mean, General.”
“Sure. Who have you got?”
“Chestnoy, Guriev, Shelepin, and Dneprovsky. They are all generals at this time, and their names appear more than three times in various pilot dossiers. They were commanders or recommenders or signed letters of commendation. I’d like copies of their files as well as some indication of their current assignments.”
“Those dossiers are frequently cross-referenced by their known close associates, Amy. How would it be if I asked for those, too?”
“That’s a good idea, General. Please. How long do you think?”
“Oh, this will be a national first priority. It shouldn’t take long at all.”
McKenna assigned Kenneth Autry to a round-trip flight to Wet Country, and Benny Shalbot and his technicians mounted one of the passenger modules in the payload bay of Mako Three.
McKenna and Avery arrived at the Mako hangar cell together. Polly Tang was tethered to the control console which, with its window, overlooked the hangar interior. The MakoShark cells had windows that could be darkened so that visiting civilians could not get a close look at the space fighters.
Avery was towing a stuffed plastic bag.
“Not much in the way of personal items accumulated over two years, is it?” Avery said.
“There’s not a hell of a lot of places to go shopping, Milt.”
“True.”
“Let me take that, sir, and I’ll stow it,” Benny Shalbot said.
Avery gave him the bag, and Shalbot arced across the hangar to the Mako, which was held in place in the center of the hangar by bungee cords. Since the craft’s velocity was matched to that of the space station, only the reaction to a technician pushing off her skin would change her attitude.
Polly Tang gave Avery a kiss on the cheek. “We’ll miss you, Milt.”
“Can I have one of those?” McKenna asked.
“You’ll get yours, for sure, McKenna,” she said. “And besides, you’re not leaving for good.”
He gave her a grin, then gripped the hatchway, tugged, and floated across to the Mako.
Autry and his backseater were already in the cockpit. McKenna gave them a thumbs-up, deflected himself off the nose, and sailed beneath the Mako.
The bay doors were wide open, and Shalbot was tending the module.