code, then radioed the base. When the Rear Admiral came on, Zilash handed the headset to Orlov.
'Sergei Orlov?' said Pasenko. 'Cosmonaut, fighter pilot, and reclusive homebody? One of the few men I would get out of bed to talk to.'
'I'm sorry about the hour, Ilya,' Orlov said. 'How have you been?'
'I've been well!' said Pasenko. 'Where have you been hiding these past two years? I haven't seen you since the all-service senior officers' retreat in Odessa.'
'I've been well—'
'Of course,' Pasenko said. 'You cosmonauts exude well-being. And Masha? How is your long-suffering wife?'
'Also well,' Orlov said. 'Perhaps we can catch up later. I have a favor to ask, Ilya.'
'Anything,' said Pasenko. 'The man who kept Brezhnev waiting to sign my daughter's autograph book has my undying friendship.'
'Thanks,' Orlov said as he thought back to how irate the leader of the Soviet Union had been. But children are the future, the dreamers, and there was never any hesitation on Orlov's part. 'Ilya, there's a crippled aircraft that will be landing at the airport in Vladivostok—'
'The Gulfstream? I see it here on the computer.'
'That's right,' said Orlov. 'I've got to get the cargo to Moscow. Can you give me a plane?'
'I may have spoken too soon,' Pasenko said. 'Every plane I can spare is being used to transport materiel to the west.'
Orlov was caught off guard. What can be happening in the west?
'I'd be happy to piggyback your shipment in my aircraft,' Pasenko continued, 'space permitting, but I don't know when that will be. Part of the rush is we're expecting several days of severe weather from the Berring Sea. Anything still on the ground tonight is expected to remain there for at least ninety-six hours.'
'Then there isn't even time to send a plane from Moscow,' Orlov said.
'Probably not,' Pasenko said. 'What is so urgent?'
'I don't know myself,' Orlov said. 'Kremlin business.'
'I understand,' Pasenko said. 'You know, rather than have your goods sit here, Sergei, I can help arrange for a train. You can run your shipment north from Vladivostok and meet it when the weather clears.'
'The Trans-Siberian Railroad,' Orlov said. 'How many cars can you get me?'
'Enough to carry whatever is in your little jet,' Pasenko said. 'The only thing I couldn't give you is personnel to man it. That would have to be approved by Admiral Varchuk, and he's in the Kremlin meeting with the new President. If it isn't a matter of national security, he can get thorny about interruptions.'
'That's all right,' Orlov said. 'If you can get me the train, I can get a crew to run her. Will you let me know as soon as possible?'
'Stay where you are,' Pasenko said. 'I'll radio back within the half hour.'
Signing off, Orlov handed the headset to Zalish. 'Radio the military base on Sakhalin Island,' he said. 'Tell the operator I'd like to speak to a member of the spetsnaz detachment— I'll stay on the line.'
'Yes, sir. Which member, General?'
'Junior Lieutenant Nikita Orlov,' he said. 'My son.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Paul Hood and Mike Rodgers were sitting behind Hood's desk studying the psychological profiles which Liz Gordon had just sent over.
If there was any strain between the men over what had happened in the Tank, it had been put aside. Rodgers had a strong independent streak, but he was also a twenty-year man. He knew how to take orders, including the ones he didn't like. For his part, Hood rarely overruled his deputy, and almost never in military matters. When he did, it was with the backing of most of his senior staff.
The Peggy James call had been a tough one, but the bottom line was simple. The intelligence community was small, much too small for grudges. The risk of sending a seasoned agent with Striker was acceptable, compared to the risk of alienating DI6 and Commander Hubbard.
Hood was careful not to be too solicitous with Rodgers after their little showdown. The General would have resented that. But Hood made himself more open to Rodgers's ideas, especially his enthusiasm for Liz Gordon's psychological profiles. Op-Center's Director put as much validity in psychoanalysis as he did in astrology and phrenology. Childhood dreams about his mother were as useful to understanding his adult mind as the gravitational pull of Saturn and bumps on the head were to predicting the future.
But Mike Rodgers believed and, if nothing else, it was useful to review the personal histories of their potential adversaries.
The concise biography of the new Russian President was on the screen, along with access to file photographs, newspaper clips, and video footage. Hood scanned through details of Zhanin's birth in Makhachkala on the Caspian Sea, his education in Moscow and rise from the Politburo to an attache in the Soviet Embassy in London and then as Deputy Ambassador in Washington.
Hood stopped scrolling when he reached Liz's profile:
' 'He sees himself as a potential modem-day Peter the Great,' ' Hood read Liz's summary, ' 'who favors open trade with the West and a cultural influx from the U.S. to make sure his people continue to want what we have to sell.' '
Rodgers said, 'That makes sense. If they want American movies, they'll have to buy Russian VCRs. If they want enough Chicago Bulls jackets or Janet Jackson T-shirts, companies will begin to open factories in Russia.'
'But Liz says here, 'I don't think he has the same aesthetic sense as Peter the Great.' '
'No,' Rodgers agreed. 'The Czar was genuinely interested in Western culture. Zhanin is interested in building the economy and remaining in power. The question, which we also discussed with the President last night, is how sure are we of his devotion to this course of action as opposed to militarism.'
'He has no military background whatsoever,' Hood said, looking back over the biography.
'Right,' said Rodgers. 'And historically, that kind of leader is quick to try and use force to get his way. Anyone who's been in a combat zone knows firsthand the price you pay there. As a rule, they're the most reluctant to use force.'
Hood continued reading. ' 'Given the military warning General Rodgers heard at the White House meeting last night,' Liz wrote, 'I do not believe that Zhanin would pick a fight somewhere to prove himself or to appease the military. He prides himself on rhetoric and ideas, not on force or the use of arms. In these early days of his new government, his overriding concern will be not to alienate the West.' '
Hood sat back, shut his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose.
'You want some coffee?' Rodgers asked as he continued to scan the report.
'No, thanks. I swam in the stuff on the flight back.'
'Why didn't you try and sleep?'
Hood laughed. 'Because I got the last seat in coach, stuffed between the loudest-snoring humans on earth. Both of whom took off their shoes and passed right out. I can't watch those cropped and edited movies on airplanes, so I just sat there and wrote a thirty-page letter of apology to my family.'
'Was Sharon mad or disappointed?' Rodgers asked.
'Both and more,' said Hood. He sat back up. 'Hell, let's get back to the Russians. I've got a better chance of understanding them, I think.'
Rodgers gave him a light swat on the back as they looked at the screen.
'Liz says here that Zhanin isn't an impulsive man,' Hood said. ' 'He always sticks to his plans, guided by what he feels is moral or right, whether or not it's at odds with prevailing wisdom. See extracts Z-17A and Z-27C from Pravda.' '
Hood brought up the cited newspaper clippings and saw how, in 1986, Zhanin strongly backed the plan of Deputy Interior Minister Abalya to crack down on mobsters who were abducting foreign businessmen in Georgia,
