“Steal DreamStar? Impossible! Crazy!”
“Nevertheless, we have been ordered—”
“I refuse. You would jeopardize all this work, all this time, in an attempt to get a fighter out of the most heavily defended military reservation in the United States?”
Moffitt finally let out what he had been thinking … “He has been turned, just as I thought—”
No hesitation, James rushed Moffitt, feinted with a right roundhouse to Moffitt’s head, stepped closer and put him on the floor with a practiced kick in the groin.
He could hear Kramer trying quietly as he could to order him to stop. He wasn’t listening. As Moffitt crumpled unconscious on the carpet, Maraklov grabbed the poker and held the point on Moffitt’s throat … “The first thing I’ll do if they ever turn me,” he said, pressing the sharp iron shaft into Moffitt’s Adam’s apple, “is hunt you down and kill you. Don’t give me an excuse to do it before then.”
“Enough,” Kramer said, and grabbed away the poker.
Breathing heavily more from the adrenaline pumping than from any exertion, Maraklov told Kramer, “He knows too much. Any man with as little common sense who can name agents in the western United States is a major security risk—”
Kramer looked at Moffitt, back to Maraklov. “We are not unaware of the problem … diplomatic visas are being delayed. I need him, for now.” He noted Moffitt was beginning to come around. “Now sit down: we need to talk about this.”
James went to the kitchen, brought two cans of beer. As he opened his can he said, “The idea is impossible, Henry. I can’t conceive of a plane leaving Dreamland without authorization and make it away from American pursuit. Never.”
“Dreamland is like a safe, correct?” Kramer said, looking as Moffitt rolled up to his hands and knees, groaning and shaking his head. “The defenses there are to keep people out, not to keep anything in.”
“Wrong. The defenses around HAWC can do both.” James stood and went into his bedroom, coming back moments later with a Las Vegas visual navigation chart. He unfolded it and set it on the coffee table.
“Here. R-4808 North. Groom Lake. Emigrant Valley Road, military only. Where the road meets the south edge of Groom Lake is where the four aircraft hangars, offices, labs and weapons storage areas are. Garrisoned right there with the hangars are a detachment of twenty combat-ready security police with dogs, around the clock. They have armored vehicles, automatic weapons, guided missiles-they could hold off a regiment. Keeping one plane from leaving the security area would be a simple exercise. The buildings are surrounded by a twelve-foot concrete reinforced cyclone fence. You have to get past all that just to get into position for takeoff on Groom Lake … But let’s say I make it and I managed to take off. Now I’ve got to get out of Dreamland.
“Dreamland has this country’s only fixed surface-to-air missile sites. They’re on Bald Mountain, on the Shoshone Mountain range, Skull Mountain, Timber Mountain and Papoose Peak. First-generation Rapier missile batteries, complete coverage from surface to thirty-thousand feet within R-4808N. Single mobile sites are located on Tonopah Test Range to the northwest and China Lake to the southwest.”
Kramer took a sip of beer, grimaced at the taste, then pointed to the chart. “So, you do not go that way.”
“There is no way to go. There are a dozen Navy and Air Force fighter bases within a thousand miles of Dreamland, and I guarantee you, every one of them will launch aircraft in pursuit. If each base launches only two aircraft, that still means there will be twenty-four advance fighter planes looking for me. Where do I run, Kramer?”
The agent studied the chart. “Mexico is only three hundred miles away …”
“True. But the Mexican government would allow American fighters in hot pursuit across their borders. And that’s if DreamStar could get across the border. There are four fighter-interceptor squadrons between here and Mexico, and both the Americans and the Mexicans conduct all-altitude surveillance of the airspace near the border. It’s impossible, Kramer.”
“You’ve had your nose in that plane too long. Relations are strained almost to the breaking point between the United States and Mexico,” Kramer said. “The U.S. pressing Mexico on repayment of debts has turned them cold. And the pro-U.S. government is being accused of selling out the country to Uncle Sam. The Soviet Union is the beneficiary. We have a carefully developed cordial relationship with the rest of Central America too. We can ensure that any American pursuit of DreamStar across the border will not be allowed, that Mexican military forces will interdict American aircraft penetrating their airspace. They’re very proud, you know … Anyway, that should allow you time to evade pursuit. After that we can arrange an emergency refueling somewhere inside Mexico.”
“Even if all you say about their feelings toward the U.S. is true, the Mexican government would never agree to that.”
“There are thousands of square miles of the interior that could serve as a temporary base,” Kramer said. “From what you have described, your DreamStar aircraft could land and take off anywhere — on a dirt road, a grass strip, a plateau—”
“I’m not going to try to land DreamStar on some grass strip … “
Kramer looked closely at him. Maraklov sounded like he was talking about a personal possession. He filed it away and decided not to use it for the moment … “We have Mexican transport companies on private contract — they of course do not know that their contract is with the KGB — that can fly our teams in to service your aircraft without arousing the authorities—”
“And then what? I can cruise a little over a thousand nautical miles on full tanks — no air combat, no external stores, no low-altitude flight. I’d have to cross the Gulf of Mexico undetected to be able to make it into … Cuba. That’s impossible. We both know the U.S. can track every aircraft over the Gulf unless it’s down at low altitude. I’d be jumped after I went a hundred miles. If I tried to make the flight at low altitude. I’d flame out before I made dry land.”
“Then forget Cuba, go somewhere else … Nicaragua, for instance.”
“Nicaragua? Great. And how do I get out of Nicaragua? The U.S. Navy would seal off that whole region tight. I’d fly right into a trap—”
“You are being very uncooperative—”
“I’m being realistic. I’m not going to consider this deal without a detailed plan. You expect me seriously to consider this half-baked idea? I’m supposed to put my life on the line for some bureaucrat’s wet dream—?”
“The North American Command has issued its orders—”
“And I’m countermanding them. I’m the commander of the Dreamland mission. That gave me the authority to decide how my operation proceeds. Unless I receive specific orders, I am not going to consider any such operation.” He stood, facing Kramer and now Moffitt, who had struggled to a seat. “I’ll keep you updated on any developments — about DreamStar, security and the rest. Meantime, don’t contact me in my apartment again.”