Shadow Flight

He studied the soldiers, unsure of what they were trying to accomplish. The men worked rapidly, moving rocks and fence posts. Wickham continued to observe the group until they had passed his position. Three minutes later the jet engines reached a howling crescendo, then throttled down and shut off. Wickham, having forgotten his hunger pangs, waited impatiently for an opportunity to escape from his hiding place.

Finally, after the soldiers had completed their task, Wickham grabbed the assault rifle and ventured out of the small hole. He remained on his stomach and looked cautiously around the immediate area. The bright, luminous moon would spotlight any dark object and make his escape more dangerous.

Wickham listened intently for any sign of soldiers, then crawled to the corner of the building. He edged around the side and froze when he saw the B-2. Realizing what the soldiers had been doing, he watched the bomber as it was towed down the cleared path. Then he crawled back to the opening in the foundation and returned to his place of concealment. If they were going to fly the B-2 out of Cuba, Wickham reasoned, the roar during takeoff would help cover his escape.

Gennadi Levchenko replaced the phone receiver and sat quietly at the communications console. He shook his head and turned to the watch officer. "Get Talavokine up," Levchenko ordered, "and have General Brotskharnov report to me immediately."

"Da, comrade director," the comm chief replied, motioning to the sergeant. "Wake Leytenant Talavokine." The stocky young man hurried out the door as the officer called base operations.

"Have them report to my office," Levchenko said, then stood and walked out the door. Feeling mixed emotions, he entered his office and called his deputy.

"Natanoly Vitelevich," Levchenko said in an even voice, "come to my office."

Starshiy Leytenant Talavokine, groggy and disheveled, walked into the office as Levchenko completed his call.

"Sit down, Talavokine."

"Da, comrade director," the security chief responded, then rubbed his swollen eyes and tucked his shirttail into his trousers.

Levchenko pulled out the bottom drawer of his desk and propped his feet on the compartment as he noticed Obukhov at the door. He motioned him in. "Headquarters," Levchenko said as Obukhov sat down, "has decreed a change in plans in regard to the bomber."

Talavokine and Obukhov glanced at each other with apprehension, but remained silent.

"General Brotskharnov is on his way over," Levchenko continued, "so I'll wait until he gets here to brief you." Levchenko stood, then walked into his cramped quarters and placed a fresh pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket.

General Petr V. Brotskharnov, irritation written on his face, walked through the door as Levchenko reentered his office.

"Have a seat, general," Levchenko said as he returned to his desk. He lighted a cigarette and propped his feet on the drawer again. "We have received new orders, general."

Brotskharnov looked puzzled. "And?…"

"We — more to the point — you, general, are going to be responsible for flying the bomber out of Cuba."

The three men looked at Levchenko with equal amazement. Brotskharnov leaned forward. "What am I—"

"We have much to accomplish," Levchenko interrupted, "in a short span of time. I'm going to explain the situation, then we'll discuss particulars.

"First," Levchenko continued, "this change of plans originated at the highest level of KGB and word is being sent to Fidel Castro as we speak. Castro is screaming about getting the bomber off his island immediately. He and Raul are convinced that the Americans are going to invade Cuba to get the Stealth bomber back, so Moscow has decided to fly it to the Soviet Union."

Levchenko looked directly at Talavokine. "Also, our director is outraged over the breach of security here — the pictures that were relayed to the Americans."

Talavokine nodded his head.

"You, Leytenant Talavokine," Levchenko said in his menacing voice, "are going to sequester every single person involved in this project until I give you further orders."

Talavokine swallowed, brushing back his hair. "Da, comrade director."

"You will gather everyone in the middle of the hangar — everyone — including my deputy, until I give you the word."

Obukhov turned pale.

"Now," Levchenko continued, "I will explain our orders. General Brotskharnov, along with the American pilot and the defectorSimmons — are going to fly the bomber to Russia."

Talavokine and Obukhov shot a glance at Brotskharnov. The self-styled commanding officer of what remained of Soviet air forces in Cuba appeared to be dazed.

"General," Levchenko said slowly and clearly, "your orders are to fly straight west over Mexico and the Pacific Ocean to a point twelve hundred miles east of Hawaii. From there," Levchenko said, exhaling, "you will turn northwest and land at Yelizovo on Kamchatka Peninsula."

Levchenko leaned back and looked at Talavokine. "Get Simmons in here, then take four guards and bring the pilot to my office."