Suslov, who had been thinking exactly that: “Why not?”
“The Americans avoid putting nonprofessionals at risk,” said Vins, to whom there was only one profession. “And American professionals have some tradecraft. This man Medina is clever and determined, but as to professional tradecraft? Aaah,” he said, now smiling as he waved a hand lazily. The smile faded with, “But could Medina be some decoy, a superb actor? We proceed with that possibility in mind.”
Karotkin caught the implication and knew that the GRU had received sanction for the job while the KGB was still wondering. But damned if he would show irritation. “Then we do proceed as planned. You have little time to spare if you intend to meet the American in Mexico, comrade Major.”
“Or,” Suslov put in smoothly, “he may have more time than we thought.” He glanced down at the notebook on his knee, placing the point of his pen on the left-hand margins of three lines as if completing a ritual. “Since dawn this morning, my people have had more traffic intercepts on data collection channels than we can handle. As you know, we can draw many conclusions even when we cannot decrypt a given message.”
Karotkin was annotating and stacking cards, expressionless, probably angry because Suslov had not briefed him in advance. He would have to smooth Karotkin’s ruffled feathers later by proving that there had been no time for it. The others waited politely until Suslov went on. “That Elmira facility is crawling with American operatives. They have a jet-fuel truck on that little runway to handle all the executive jets shuttling in there. Every military aircraft within five hundred miles of Elmira seems to be on alert statusincluding Canadians, who evidently have been alerted as well.
“Some air national guard personnel have been placed on standby. Each state governor is the commander-in-chief of that state’s national guard, and usually honors requests by the White House. If you can believe this, comrades, some of the traffic from a state governor is by telephone, unencrypted and clear. We intercepted two interesting bits, clear unscrambled English, in Virginia and Kentucky: their Civil Air Patrols were asked to stand by for a search for a stolen aircraft. Believe it or not, they refused.”
“Refused?” It was possible to surprise Vins, after all.
Suslov chuckled. “Their Civil Air Patrol does not take part in law enforcement, nor does it search for a downed aircraft with no flight plan or other known flight corridor. But a governor also alerts the state police, which operates some small aircraft and rotary-wing craft. From what we can determine, everything that flies under military control in that region is on alert status.”
Maksimov snapped, “What region? Black Stealth One is supposed to have transcontinental range.”
“A five-hundred-mile radius from Elmira. Comrade Colonel, they seem to know it will be in that area,” said Suslov. “So far, they have made no statement to the press but as soon as they do, our man Melnik will be in on the chase.”
Maksimov, perhaps the slightest bit amused: “You are waiting for a statement from the NSA? American presidents have grown old waiting for that.”
“We have already telephoned anonymous tips to The Washington Post and Aviation Week, comrade Colonel. The American press will not long be denied,” Suslov joked.
Maksimov stroked his chin. “Why would we want this in their press?”
“Because”Suslov smiled“it will create more confusion, while ruining the careers of their most experienced men.”
Maksimov shrugged away this news as if such matters were for bureaucrats, below the notice of a warrior. “I am thinking that the aircraft’s range may be a factor if Medina was forced to liberate Black Stealth One before its long-range tanks were fitted.”
“Or perhaps the aircraft will not take off with those tanks full,” Vins said. “It would not be the first time a military design in the field failed to meet the designer’s hopes.” His tone suggested that he had faced the same problem more than once.
Karotkin had kept his silence until he had something to add. Now he said, “If that search area expands geometrically before the day ends, we can guess that Black Stealth One does not have long-range ranks, and is being refueled on the ground.”
“The one thing that bothers me is that our thief expects to refuel it while the country’s entire body of law enforcement is chasing him.” The notion offended Suslov’s sense of order, of propriety. “The man is insane.”
“Not chasing him, but searching for him. I am not sure you fully appreciate the difference, comrade,” said Vins in that deceptive soft murmur. To the KGB men this was a goad because, as was well known, GRU field operatives trained for years to elude pursuers and, more important still, to avoid being spotted in the first place.
“In any case, comrade Major Vins will be on a commercial flight to Mexico City in two hours,” said Maksimov quickly, with a glance at Vins which might have been a warning about manners. “He will need time to brief the team we are bringing in from Cuba. Unless Black Stealth One is much faster than the American search pattern indicates, they will be in place in western Mexico with time to spare. The rendezvous with the American is an old airstrip bordering a coastal swamp down the coast from Mazatlan, near a village called, ah, Llano Mojado. An ideal spot to load an aircraft onto an ocean-going cargo craft.”
Karotkin’s fingers scuttled for fresh cards as he said, “I should think we could simply fly it to a safer place.”
“Several problems there,” the colonel sighed. “We dare not risk crashing it before we have thoroughly examined it, and that cannot be done in a Mexican swamp. Besides, the Llano Mojado rendezvous is politically more expedient if the operation becomes a proval, a calamity. Let us say the American has worked out some way to hold on to his ransom money. We do not want him to know how or where we propose to move the aircraft.”
Karotkin: “And how does a naval vessel move through a swamp?”
“An air-cushion cargo vessel,” Maksimov smiled. “The team is all plausibly deniable except for two naval officers. If faced with capture, they know what is expected of them. And from there to a Nicaraguan hangar”he shrugged“is a matter we need not burden you with.”
“Of course,” Karotkin said curtly. “You seem to have accounted for all eventualities, comrade Colonel. My compliments; but as long as you have the sanction, I hope you are not counting on KGB for five million dollars’ worth of Swiss francs in ransom money,” he finished with some smugness.
“That small detail is already in flight by diplomatic courier,” Maksimov replied, “to avoid any possible questions.” Every man in the room knew that it was no small detail. The sum was wildly in excess of the usual payments made by the Soviet government to thieves. “Comrade Major Vins will sign for it in Mexico. That and certain other implements of his own choosing,” he added with a heavy attempt to be droll.
Suslov: “You speak as though the payment were real. Surely”
“Surely the GRU would not risk losing such a monster fish by using an artificial lure,” Maksimov said easily. “We do not know what clever tricks this man Medina may have to satisfy himself before he makes the trade. We do know that our bait is real. Traceable by transmitters in the banding seals, but real.” Maksimov saw only disbelieving stares from the KGB men, and now he spoke bluntly as if to children. “Do we want Black Stealth One more than we want the money? Yes? Then we pay its ransom!” More gently, then: “Of course, many things may happen to a thief after he runs with his ill-gotten money, comrades. Mexico is still a wild country, where a running man might be overtaken and eaten by wolves.”