'So it appears that your main problem is computer control, both of your magnetic flux field and the mirror array.'
'Correct, Colonel.' Pokryshkin nodded agreement. 'And we need some additional funding and support to correct these difficulties. You must tell them in Moscow that the most important work has already been done, and proven to work.'
'Comrade General, you have won me over.'
'No, Comrade Colonel. You merely have the intelligence to perceive the truth.' Both men had a good laugh as they shook hands. Bondarenko couldn't wait for the flight back to Moscow. The time had long passed when a Soviet officer needed to fear at the delivery of bad news, but the delivery of good news was always good for one's career.
'Well, they can't be using adaptive optics,' General Parks said. 'What I want to know is where their optical coatings came from.'
'That's the second time I heard about that one.' Ryan stood and walked around the table to get his circulation going. 'What's the big deal about the mirror? It's a glass mirror, isn't it?'
'Not glass-can't handle the energy. Right now we're using copper or molybdenum,' Gregory said. 'A glass mirror has its reflecting surface at the back. This kind of mirror, the reflecting surface is on the front. There's a cooling system on the back.'
'Huh?' You should have taken more science courses at BC, Jack.
'Light doesn't reflect off the bare metal,' Graham said. It seemed to Ryan that he was the only dummy in the room. And he, of course, was the one tapped to write the Special National Intelligence Estimate. 'It reflects off an optical coating. For really precise applications-an astronomical telescope, for example-what's on the face of the mirror looks like a skim of gasoline on a puddle.'
'Then why use metal at all?' Jack objected. The Major answered.
'You use metal to keep the reflecting surface as cool as possible. We're trying to get away from it, as a matter of fact. Project ADAMANT: Accelerated Development of Advanced Materials and New Technologies Group. We're hoping the next mirror will be made out of diamond.'
'What?'
'Artificial diamond made from pure Carbon-12-that's an isotopic form of regular carbon, and it's perfect for us. The problem is energy absorption,' Gregory went on. 'If the surface retains much of the light, the heat energy can blast the coating right off the glass, then the mirror blows apart. I watched a half-meter mirror let go once. Sounded like God snapping His fingers. With C-12 diamond you have a material that's almost a superconductor of heat. It permits increased power density, and a smaller mirror. General Electric just learned how to make gemstone-quality diamond out of Carbon-12. Candi's already working to see how we can make a mirror out of it.'
Ryan looked through his thirty pages of notes, then rubbed his eyes.
'Major, with the General's permission, you're coming up to Langley with me. I want you to brief our Science and Technology people, and I want you to see everything we've got on the Soviet project. Okay with you, sir?' Jack asked Parks. The General nodded.
Ryan and Gregory left together. It turned out that you needed a pass to get out of here, too. The guards had changed shifts, but looked at everyone just as seriously. On reaching the parking lot, the Major thought Jack's XJS was 'boss.' Do they still say that? Jack asked himself.
'How does a Marine get to work for the Agency?' Gregory asked as he admired the interior leather. And where does he get the coin to afford this?
'They invited me. Before that, I taught history at Annapolis.' Nothing like being the famous Sir John Ryan. Well, I don't suppose they have me listed in any laser textbooks
'Where'd you go to school?'
'Bachelor's at Boston College, and I got my doctorate right across the river there, at Georgetown.'
'You didn't say you were a doctor,' the Major observed.
Ryan laughed at that. 'Different field, pal. I have a lot of trouble understanding what the hell you're up to, but they stuck me with the job of explaining what it all means to-well, to the people who do the arms negotiations. I've been working with them on the intelligence side for the last six months.' This drew a grunt.
'That bunch wants to put me out of business. They want to trade it all away.'
'They have their job, too,' Jack allowed. 'I need your help to persuade them that what you do is important.'
'The Russians think it's important.'
'Yeah, well, we just saw that, didn't we?'
Bondarenko got off the plane and was agreeably surprised to find an official car waiting for him. It was a Voyska PVO car. General Pokryshkin had called ahead. The working day was over, and the Colonel instructed the driver to take him home. He'd write up his report tomorrow and present it to Colonel Filitov and later, perhaps, brief the Minister himself. He asked himself over a glass of vodka whether Pokryshkin had handled-he didn't know the Western expression 'stroked'-him enough to create a false impression. Not enough, he told himself. The General had done quite a job of selling both his program and himself, but this was not mere pokazhuka. They hadn't faked the test, and they'd been honest in detailing their problems. All they were asking for was what was really needed. No, Pokryshkin was a man with a mission, willing to put his career-well, if not behind it, then at least alongside it; and that was all anyone could reasonably ask. If he was building his own empire, it was an empire worth building.
The pickup was made in a way that was both unique and routine. The shopping mall was quite ordinary, a roofed-over promenade of ninety-three shops, plus a cluster of five small-screen theaters. There were six shoe stores, and three for jewelry. In keeping with the western location of the place, there was a sporting-goods store that catered to sportsmen, and had a wall full of Winchester Model 70 hunting rifles, something one does not often see in the East. Three up-scale men's clothing establishments dotted the concourse, along with seven for women. One of the latter adjoined the gunshop.
That suited the owner of Eve's Leaves, since the gunshop had an elaborate burglar-alarm system; this, combined with the mall's own security staff, allowed her to maintain a sizable stock of exclusive women's fashions without an overly expensive insurance package. The shop had started shakily enough-the fashions of Paris, Rome, and New York do not translate well west of the Mississippi River, except perhaps along the Pacific Coast-but much of the academic community came from both coasts, and clung to their ways. It didn't take much exposure at the country clubs for Anne Klein to become a hot item even in the Rocky Mountains.
Ann strolled into the shop. She was a very easy customer to fit, the owner knew. A perfect six, she put the clothing on only to see how it looked. She never needed any alterations, which made life easy on everyone and allowed the owner to discount what she bought by five percent. In addition to being easy to fit, she also spent a lot of her money here, never less than $200 per visit. She was a regular, coming in every six weeks or so. The owner didn't know what she did, though she looked and acted like a doctor. So precise, so careful about everything. Oddly, she paid cash, the other reason for the discount she got, since credit card companies got a percentage of the sales figure in return for a guarantee of payment. This returned the five percent to the owner, and then some. It was a pity, she thought, that all of her customers couldn't be like this. Ann had brown bedroom eyes and hair, the latter shoulder-length and slightly wavy. Willowy, with a petite figure. The other odd thing was that she didn't ever seem to use perfume of any kind; that's what made the owner think she was a doctor. That and the hours she came in- never when it was crowded, as though she were entirely her own boss. That had to be true, and the 'doctor' dressed the part. This appealed to the owner. Every time she moved about, you could see the purpose in her stride.
She picked up the skirt and blouse combination, leaving for the dressing rooms in the back. Though the store owner didn't know it, Ann always used the same dressing cubicle. While in there, she unzipped her skirt, unbuttoned her blouse, but before she put the new set on, she reached under the plain wooden shelf that you could sit on and removed a cassette of microfilm that had been taped there the evening before. This went into her purse. Next she dressed and paraded outside to the mirrors.
How can American women wear this garbage? Tania Bisyarina asked her smiling image in the mirror. A captain in Directorate S of the First Chief (also known as the 'Foreign') Directorate of the KGB, she reported to Directorate T, which oversees scientific espionage and works in cooperation with the State Committee for Science
