She nodded.
‘And clean yourself up, you’re a mess.’ Konstantin let go of her hair and pulled her to her feet.
Bazhukov waited until Igor had led Adriana out of the room.
Konstantin looked up at him, wondering why he was still hanging around.
‘There was a message from the general, boss. He said to make sure you got it, he was in a hurry.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Stroika… just Stroika… he said you’d understand.’
13 OCTOBER 1989
Chapter 43
MOSCOW
Yuri boarded the military transport by the cargo ramp and made his way up to the cockpit. Four faces looked up at him as he entered.
‘General,’ said the captain. He introduced himself as Captain Yevgeny Derevenko. ‘We’ll be pushing off in fifteen minutes, now that you are on board. There’s a seat up here in the cockpit, if you’d prefer.’
Yuri nodded and buckled himself in in the seat behind the co-pilot. Opening his attaché case, he pulled out his brief for the weapon’s test scheduled for that afternoon in Archangel – a new anti-aircraft shoulder missile – and sat there staring at it, struggling to concentrate. Misha had assured him Viktoriya would soon be released and that Konstantin had it all in hand, but the fact was that she hadn’t been, not yet. His first instinct, when Misha had told him, was to hop on a plane to Leningrad, but Misha had convinced him against it and persuaded him he would be more use to her in Moscow with his contacts there if there was no progress. He had reassured himself he could be back in Moscow that evening if necessary but still a big part of him felt he was deserting her.
‘Coffee, General?’ The engineer handed him a welcome shot of caffeine. He looked at his watch: seven thirty.
Ten minutes later they were airborne. Yuri marked familiar landmarks as they cleared Moscow on a perfect October morning. There was nothing he could do now. He would ring Misha when he landed at Archangel and decide whether to return that afternoon.
Yuri looked around the crew, each intent on some task or other. Hardly anyone spoke. He wondered if they would be more talkative if he weren’t riding up front but was grateful for the quiet after everything that had been going on. He picked up his brief again, ready to read, when a loud thud reverberated down the fuselage. The aircraft shuddered like a fatally wounded bird.
‘We’ve lost all fuel pressure on the port engine,’ said the co-pilot, reading off the control panel. The aircraft lurched to the left. Derevenko threw his coffee into the bin, reached forward and switched off the autopilot.
Warning lights flashed red. An alarm sounded. Yuri leaned forward and looked back at the high octane fuel that trailed the aircraft.
‘Pyotr,’ said the captain to the flight engineer, ‘cut the fuel supply to the port engine.’
Derevenko took a firm hold of the stick to correct the yaw. The aircraft steadied momentarily.
‘Send out a Mayday, Anatoly,’ the captain said calmly. ‘Let’s do a position check.’
The navigator checked the computer navigation system and a foldout map indicating surrounding airfields.
‘The nearest airport is Cherepovets, 100 kilometres to the south-east’ said the navigator, reading out the bearing. He handed the map to the captain.
‘Anatoly, give them our position and airspeed.’
‘We don’t want to bring her in over the city,’ he said, studying the map. ‘We need to swing in over the mountains to the north.’
‘We can jettison fuel here,’ said the navigator. He indicated a position twenty kilometres south of Cherepovets.
Anatoly switched to Mayday frequency.
‘Air traffic control Cherepovets, this is Flight 236, we have an emergency… do you read?’
There was a pause and then the reply: ‘We read you, Flight 236. We have you on radar.’
Yuri looked over Derevenko’s shoulder at the map; a mountain still stood between them and the runway… if they made it that far. It was hardly the easiest approach, even on full power. Yuri guessed their chances at less than even.
Derevenko tacked the aircraft through a slow turn eastwards. The co-pilot looked rattled but busy, checking instruments and gauges. The flight engineer and navigator had their heads down concentrating on the flight displays and mapping systems.
‘We just follow the book, all of us. It’s not going to be easy but we can bring her in. Is there any coffee left in the thermos, Anatoly?’ asked the captain, trying to bring some normalcy to the situation.
Anatoly reached for the thermos and poured his friend a cup of hot strong coffee, his hand shaking.
‘General?’
Yuri held out his cup for a top-up.
Cloud had settled in over the mountains ahead. If there was any error they would have little or no time to adjust their inbound course. With only one engine and no fuel they would have insufficient lift or time to circle the airport a second time and the descent from the mountain to the forest canopy in front of the runway would be almost vertical.
The minutes ticked by painfully slowly.
‘We’ll only have one chance at this, boys,’ said Derevenko.
‘This is air traffic, Flight 236 adjust your bearing five degrees to south. This will put you into the wind when you approach the mountain.’
‘Roger that, control tower. That will help’ said Derevenko, turning around to face Yuri. ‘It will give us some natural lift.’
The mountain loomed on the radar. It would not be long now, just minutes. The captain banked the plane using the rudder to counteract the effect of the dead engine and began a one hundred and fifty knot turn before tipping the yoke forward to begin their descent.
The aircraft yawed as the plane picked up speed and the flight engineer started to dump fuel. The captain stared alternately at the radar and out the cockpit window. They were descending rapidly now through thick cloud. Air traffic had told them this would break at about five thousand feet, which was no great height above the mountain top. Eight thousand feet… seven thousand feet… Yuri watched the LED clock their descent. Derevenko had already switched the warning systems to silent. Every one would be flashing or buzzing right now.
The cloud broke. They had come in too low. The mountain rose up in front of them, a flat wall of stone. Derevenko reached for the throttle. He had only seconds to correct the Antonov’s height before they flew into the cliff face. Pulling back on the yoke, he throttled the engine to full power and applied left rudder with his foot to prevent the aircraft turning round on itself. A fraction’s delay and the engine kicked in. The nose of the aircraft lifted, hauling its load upwards, the noise deafening. Loose objects clattered to the deck. Slowly at first, but with gathering momentum, the aircraft began to rise.
Too slow… too slow! thought Yuri. Like a siren, the mountain beckoned them forward.
Seconds later, it was upon them. The screeching and rending of metal seemed to go on forever. Yuri imagined rock ripping undercarriage panels and lights.
‘Air traffic control,’ said the captain, ‘we’re over. We’ve incurred damage. We are beginning our final descent.’
Final descent, Yuri said to himself.
Derevenko made one final check. ‘Everyone strapped in? General?’
Yuri fastened his seat belt as tight as it would go.
‘Flaps half down, Anatoly.’
Derevenko tipped the controls forward and throttled back. The aircraft nosed down towards the forest that stretched for a mile directly in front of the runway.