Shadow Flight

Matthews stood slowly, not taking his eyes off Levchenko's face. His hair was matted and he had dried blood on his left temple and ear and under his cheek.

Levchenko raised his unfiltered American cigarette to his lips, inhaled deeply, and turned toward Talavokine. "Hand me the list.

The KGB officer stepped forward and gave Levchenko three pieces of paper stapled together. "Now, Lieutenant Colonel Matthews," Levchenko said, exhaling the smoke, "you will answer these questions. If we discover that you have lied about any of them.. well, let us say that it will not be in your best interest."

"We've been through this before," Matthews replied, controlling his anger, "or have you forgotten?"

Levchenko smiled crookedly, turned halfway around to see Talavokine, then karate-chopped Matthews viciously across the throat.

The fatigued pilot, caught with his guard down, partially deflected the savage blow, tripped, then fell backward onto the bunk. Two Cuban guards rushed forward and placed the barrels of their AK-47s on Matthews's neck.

"I told you before," Levchenko growled, "that we can make it easy, or we can make it difficult. I mean to get the information I need that you possess."

Levchenko inhaled again, then exhaled while he talked in Matthews's face. "I have decided to move our schedule ahead, so it's your choice. Easy, or difficult? Which will it be, Colonel Matthews?"

Matthews glanced at each guard and Talavokine, then back to Levchenko. "Since we're talking about torture, why don't I just go ahead and give your goons a reason to kill me?"

"They won't kill you, colonel, until I have the information I need. You can attack me right now and they will simply beat you into submission."

Matthews swallowed twice, feeling the end of each barrel in the sides of his throat. "Pride. You must fill the mirror with it."

Levchenko grabbed Matthews's flight suit and yanked the pilot into his face. "It's real simple, swine. We don't have to torture you. We use a much more sophisticated system."

"Drugs," Matthews said, moving his head back slightly.

"That's correct, tough guy," Levchenko growled as he crushed out the Pall Mall on the floor. "We use Versed and Brevital. You will tell us every detail you know about the Stealth, along with the operational data and your command's warfare philosophy." Levchenko grinned again and lighted another cigarette. "You won't remember a thing, so don't be stupid and stubborn."

Chapter Ten

MOSCOW

Lieutenant General Yuliy Voronoteev sat in his office at Troops of Air Defense and stared out of the rain-streaked window. His gaze covered the Moskva River and Maurice Thorez Embankment, but his mind was not registering the image.

Voronoteev knew the Soviet military system as well as anyone. If the American Stealth bomber was in Soviet hands, then one of the persons who would know — who would have been included in the logistics — was the commander in chief of Troops of Air Defense, General of the Army Ilych Dankoffevich Borol'kov.

Voronoteev unlocked his desk and retrieved a bottle of vodka from the lower right drawer. He unscrewed the top from the container and took two quick swallows, then recapped the bottle and placed it back in the drawer.

The two-star general, knowing that Borol'kov was on an inspection tour at Kubinka Air Force Base, eighty kilometers west of Moscow, picked up his phone and requested the commanding officer. Voronoteev thought about the animosity that had developed between the two officers.

"General Borol'kov's office," the senior warrant officer answered in a high, nasal voice.

"General Voronoteev for General Borol'kov," Voronoteev said as he placed the latest monthly air defense report in an Eyes Only folder.

The administrative officer responded in his most pleasant manner. "I am sorry, comrade general, but the commander is visiting Kubinka today. May I be of assistance to the general?"

Voronoteev knew the unctuous and politically savvy warrant officer well. "I'm sure you can, Lugayev. I have a readiness report for General Borol'kov, and I need access to the last combat efficiency report."

"Absolutely, comrade general," Lugayev answered smartly. "I will have it delivered to your office immediately."

"No," Voronoteev responded, closing the snap on the classified folder. "It is past time for my morning walk. I will be over in a few minutes."

"As you wish, comrade general."

Voronoteev placed the receiver down and thought back to his first encounter with Borol'kov — the encounter that had cost Voronoteev his first major command and tainted his entire service career.