"You call your own country a bully?"
Frank fidgeted uneasily. "I love my country, sir. I would die for it. But yes. For the past thirty years, American diplomacy has mostly consisted of bullying nations around the world, usually using money as the means. 'Do as we say,'" he mimicked in a scratchy voice, "'and we'll give you foreign aid', or 'do as we say or we'll cut off your foreign aid;' or 'do as we say or we'll shut off imports from your country', or 'do as we say or we'll invade'. It takes a strong nation to stand up to that kind of pressure."
Gorneliev nodded. "And what if we are unable to complete the deal?" he asked quietly.
Frank scowled. "Then the project may have to be cancelled. Or we might have to look into converting an aircraft airframe into an orbiter."
The Russian snorted and shook his head. "As someone with experience in spacecraft design, I can tell you that is scarcely a practical solution."
Frank leaned forward. "Yes, sir, I noticed on your website that you were with the space agency during that time. Were you part of the Buran project?"
The ever-present smile turned wistful, remembering. "As a matter of fact I was. I worked on the life support systems. There were good times then, as well as bad ones." He came back to the present. "At any rate, you would practically have to remanufacture an aircraft fuselage to make it able to survive the stresses of spaceflight."
Frank nodded soberly. "So I'm told. I'm hoping we don't have to try."
The easy smile was back on the Russian's face as they chatted for a few more minutes before he ushered Frank out. Outside the building, Frank released an explosive sigh. He hoped he'd given an impressive sales pitch. He realized with regret that he had revealed the desperation he felt, and was uncomfortably aware that that fact would probably be an expensive one.
The trip to Kazakhstan was in a small, elderly, rather uncomfortable Tupelev airliner.
He was met at Yubileyniy Airport, a small, dusty field in the middle of nowhere with an amazingly long runway, by David Tarrant and a rather tall, sour-faced man in a too-small suit
"Hi! Frank!" David shouted and waved as he saw Frank exit the plane. He jogged over and collected Frank's small suitcase and laptop case. "Why the hell did you ride that relic?" he asked. "Why didn't you just charter a plane? Hell, you're rich enough, you could have bought one!"
Frank shook his head. "Not without it showing up in newspapers in half the world. Right now, I'd rather be invisible."
David led him toward an elderly Mercedes parked nearby. "By the way," he said, gesturing toward his sour-looking companion. "Laughing boy, here, is Sergei Andorovich. As best I can figure it, he's the guy that makes all the errors for the rest of the engineers to find."
The sour face dissolved into a toothy smile. "Ah!" he said in accented English, "But think how many of them I keep employed! Without me, they would be sweeping kitchens."
Sergei turned out to be urbane and witty, with excellent, if accented English, and a quick sense of humor. He reminded Frank of sour-faced Buster Keaton, the early film comedian.
They drove to David's quarters, a small room in a grim-looking apartment block. The furniture was ratty and old, and the room reminded Frank of '60's vintage movies showing the grimness of Soviet-era Russian life.
"Like the room?" David smiled. "We've furnished it in Early Gulag. The accommodations are pretty spartan, but we have a beautiful view of the brick wall across the ventilation shaft."
Frank grinned. "It doesn't have wings, so I imagine you don't care."
Sergei laughed heartily. "This is true! If it does not have wings, David can barely see it!"
David went to the small, new refrigerator, and got soft drinks for them. Then he could wait no longer. "Well?" he blurted. "How did it go in Moscow? Did you get to see someone at Roscosmos?
Frank nodded. "Yep. A Deputy Head of the Federal Space Agency, Dmitri Gorneliev."
Sergei whistled softly. "But this is excellent! Gorneliev is one of the younger Heads, and is Head of Operations. This must be why the Director of the space center here asked me to bring you to his office tomorrow morning so he could 'welcome you properly,' as he said."
"Really?" David's grin widened. "He called you?"
Sergei shrugged. "In a way. I was called into my supervisor's office to take the call. He said to tell you that all the facilities of Baikonur are at your disposal, and he is looking forward to meeting you."
Frank waved a hand. "All I'm interested in is seeing the Burans."
David and Sergei exchanged glances. "That's hard to say. It may be that the Director is planning to take you on a tour of the surviving Burans. On the other hand, it may have to wait a bit," David finally replied. "A couple of weeks ago, right after I called you, word came down that access to the hangars holding the Burans was restricted. For a few days, we were able to still able to check out the one sitting outside. It's pretty rough; the weather here isn't kind. Lots of corrosion. I'm not sure it's repairable. But the one inside looked good!" He paused. "Anyway, suddenly we weren't able to get near them. Maybe they got a call from Moscow about you coming. It may take a call from Moscow to get us access again."
"Is the one in the picture still in the hangar? What is it, Building 112? The one on the booster?"
David shook his head. "I don't know. But that picture was twelve years old, Frank. In 2001 they were still thinking about reactivating Buran. Hell it might have been the one that got smashed in 2002. If not, they probably pulled it all apart the next year, to make room for something else."
Frank shrugged. "Perhaps. But you're missing the main point. Somewhere here at Baikonur is not just a Buran orbiter, but a complete Energia booster, complete with tank and engines! No more Burans were launched, and it would cost too much to move, so the booster must still be here. Theoretically, you could assemble it, fuel it, and fly it!"
David and Sergei both laughed aloud. "I think it might take a little more than that, Frank," David said. "But I see your point. If they haven't scrapped it, they have at least one complete system, right here. Do you think they'll let us have it?"
Frank shrugged again. "That's up to Gorneliev and his friends. I told him I'd fly back to Moscow on a moment's notice. Hell, there was no sense trying to conceal anything. He knows I want it badly. In the last few years, they've been trying to set up joint ventures with ESA and others, so I think we have a good chance. But I won't be surprised if they hold me up for more money."
"The booster and strap-on's are probably in the Energia area here at Baikonur," Sergei said. "Only Energia management could get you into that area."
David was eager. "What about that AN-225? Will you be going to Kiev to talk to the owners?"
Frank shook his head. "Not yet. I want to make sure we have something for them to haul. You know that the owners are the Antonov Design Bureau? They figured out how to make a successful business of getting stuck with a bunch of soviet-era aircraft. A real lemons-to-lemonade story. I admire them."
The Director of Baikonur, Vasily Arkanov, was a large man, hulking and dark, almost a caricature of the soviet-era Russian. But he had a hearty laugh and a pleasant personality. He was obviously excited about the possible resurrection of the Buran program.
Frank asked him courteously if he had worked on the ships. "No," he replied with one of his hearty laughs. "I was at the time in the military. But as a pilot I flew the BTS-002 in flight testing. That was the Buran spacecraft fitted with jet engines."
Frank nodded. "I read about it on the Internet. How did it fly?"
Arkanov laughed his massive laugh again. "About like a thrown brick," he replied. "Of course we could not tell our bosses that." He shrugged. "It flew, and it landed without killing anyone. What more can one ask?" He clapped Frank on the back with a ham-sized hand. "You must be a very important man, Mister Weatherly. I received a call from the Deputy Head of the Federal Space Agency himself! He suggested that I assist you in locating and examining the remnants of the Buran program. Would you like a tour?"