Mazur descended to 20,000 feet and finally to 10,000 upon approaching Van. He guided the plane to the lake and descended another 5,000 feet. Now he could be seen from the ground no matter what he did, but he would quickly unleash the payload and be out of there before anyone had time to react.
The Su-47 flew low over Akdabar Enterprises, and Mazur discerned the large steelworks building with its smokestacks, the airfield, and the numerous smaller buildings that appeared the size of bugs. Mazur set his sights on the big building first and fired two Kh-29s, one after the other. The recoil in the cockpit felt heavenly. The missiles hit their target — how could they miss? — and the plane pulled up as the explosions engulfed the space beneath it.
Mazur banked and came around for another pass. This time he aimed for the administrative buildings by the shore. The computer centered on the target and Mazur released the weapon. It was a direct hit, turning Tarighian’s office structure into a mass of flames and rubble. The Tirma building was next on the list. He had strict instructions to be sure and hit the white colonial-style building. Mazur flew the plane over the lake, banked, and approached the target from behind the edifice. The fourth missile launched and hit the Tirma headquarters dead in the middle.
Mazur could see dozens of people running on the ground and congregating in the center courtyard. He didn’t know if they were soldiers or civilians, and he didn’t care. He shot missile number five directly into the courtyard, reducing Akdabar’s payroll by at least forty percent.
The sixth missile went into a section of the big steelworks building that was still untouched by fire. Now the entire structure was demolished, collapsing in a fiery heap of blackened metal. Mazur fired his seventh missile into a row of smaller sheds, causing a fire to spread over the grassy open areas of the compound. Missile eight blew up the front gate and security checkpoint, where several guards attempted to shoot the plane out of the sky with pathetic handguns.
Mazur figured he was done. He still had two more missiles, but the compound was covered in black smoke. He couldn’t see more targets if he tried. Mazur contacted the base and declared his mission accomplished.
Before he could turn and head north, the passive radar beeped a warning — something was in the air with him. According to the screen, four aircraft were approaching the site from the west.
What the hell?
Mazur banked over the lake again, turning so he could see what he was up against.
F-16C fighters from the Turkish Air Force — the Taktik Hava Kuweti Komutabligi — were zooming directly toward him. The 2nd TAF HQ in Diyarbakir had received word that an enemy aircraft with hostile intentions would be in Turkish airspace near Van. Unfortunately, the air force base at Mount Ararat housed only helicopters, so the fighters had to come from the next nearest base. By the time the orders were received and the fighters made ready, they were minutes too late — but not too late to stop the enemy from escaping.
Mazur gasped and pulled up, anxious to get away from them. He soared high and shot north over the lake, but the fighters stayed on his tail. The pilot hadn’t prepared for a situation like this. He felt fear for the first time in his life.
Two warning alarms went off at once. The fighters had launched two AIM-9X Sidewinders.
Evasive action! Evasive action! Mazur struggled to keep calm and remember what he was supposed to do in an emergency, but the alarms were too loud. He couldn’t concentrate. Panic overtook him as he forced the plane into a dive, hoping he could outmaneuver the missiles and lure them into the lake. The Su-47 dipped dangerously low, maybe 1,000 feet from the surface, before Mazur pulled up and leveled out. The Sidewinders attempted to correct their trajectories but failed. They hit the lake like meteors, exploding on contact. Two massive geyser-like splashes filled the sky, but ultimately produced no harm on the fighters’ enemy.
Mazur ascended once again. Now it was simply a matter of outrunning the fighters. Before he could throttle the engines and shoot forward, the warning alarms sounded again. This time two more AIM-9Xs sliced through the air on a collision course with the plane. Mazur swerved and managed to dodge the first missile, but in doing so, he flew right in line with the second.
Unfortunately for Mazur, the Su-47 was a work-in-progress prototype and the heat exhaust suppression had not yet been perfected. A stealth plane with such a capability could have fooled a heat-seeking missile. The new AIM- 9X, however, expanded the capabilities of older AIM-9 models by developing a new seeker imaging infrared focal plane array, a high performance airframe, and a new signal processor for the seeker/sensor. The Su-47 was a goner.
The impact jolted Mazur hard and he heard the explosion deep within his inner ears. He felt the aircraft drop in altitude dramatically, and the sky outside his windscreen was a blur. Warning alarms shrieked and lights flashed all around him, telling him that the plane was a goner.
Eject! Must eject! Mazur blindly grappled for the controls, unlocked the release switch, and pushed the eject button.
Nothing happened.
He struggled with the mechanism, cursing and crying. Was it a malfunction? Surely it couldn’t be… sabotage?
Mazur didn’t realize another Sidewinder was launched at the aircraft as it dived recklessly toward Lake Van. In one gigantic powerhouse of impact, the Su-47 and its pilot became a hundred thousand burning particles that flittered slowly down to the water.
Tarighian had been away from his office for the last three hours, overseeing the installation of some replacement parts in the Phoenix. Albert Mertens had tested the targeting system that morning and found the weapon’s accuracy was off by 6 degrees. That was unacceptable. Mertens swore he could correct the problem in six hours. When Tarighian entered his private office where he could fret and curse alone, he meant to try and relax. It had been a stressful week. He had a bad feeling about Mertens and didn’t look forward to making good on the threat he had made. Tarighian had decided that the best thing would be to eliminate Mertens after the Phoenix had performed its function.
He sat at his desk and looked at his computer screen. An icon indicated that he had a dozen unread e-mails since yesterday. He checked the in-box and saw that the messages were mostly from his various committee heads. Not many other people knew his e-mail address.
One e-mail stood out, however. It was from “A Friend.” Tarighian opened it, expecting a piece of spam advertising how to get a bigger penis or the latest deal in obtaining prescription drugs. What he saw instead took his mind off his worries about the Phoenix. A conversation he would find “interesting”? What could that possible be? He opened the attached file and listened to the recording. He immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Andrei Zdrok.
“General, where the hell are you? I see. Where’s the plane? Yes, our plane, what did you think I—? Yes. I see. Listen, this is what I want you to do. I want to order an air strike on Akdabar Enterprises in Van, Turkey. Yes, I know what I’m doing. I have proof that the Shadows are double-crossing us. They never sent that money and have no intention to do so. And I know now they are responsible for what happened at the hangar in Baku. Yes. I just sent you an e-mail, did you get it? Well, check it, damn it! I’ll wait.”