Foxbat (14 page)

By late morning, the last of the departing MiG-25s had lifted into the air and roared away
from T’ae’tan, heading for Wonsan. It was the final departure Pak Je-San had scheduled. This particular Foxbat had originally been one of the first flights planned, but it had
gone unserviceable on engine start. Fortunately, it involved a relatively minor problem that the maintainers had rectified within a couple of hours, so the only subsequent delay was having to
wait for a clear window between the regular surveillance satellite overflights. Once Pak felt confident none was within range, he had ordered the aircraft to be towed out of the hangar and
started up. Just five minutes later it had accelerated down the runway.

Arranging the road convoys had presented far less of a problem, and considerably less of a
security headache. There had been no mechanical problems at all with the trucks, and he was now merely waiting for final confirmation that they’d arrived safely at their destinations.
That, however, would not take place before early evening at the soonest.

The Antonov An-72 transport aircraft touched down smoothly, the powerful brakes and reverse
thrust stopping it within a remarkably short distance. This aircraft had been designed specifically for short-field operations.

As the Coaler turned off the runway, Richter glanced out of the window and noticed a hulking
shape on the far side of the airfield.

‘That’s interesting.’ He raised his voice over the noise of the engines.
‘There’s a Condor parked over there.’

‘A what?’

‘A Condor – an Antonov An-124.’

Even bigger than the massive American C-5 Galaxy, the Condor, which the Russians call a
‘Ruslan’, is the world’s biggest aircraft. It was originally designed by the Antonov Bureau to transport a complete SS-20 intercontinental ballistic missile system. It has
an enormous payload of one hundred and fifty thousand kilograms – nearly one hundred and fifty tons – and has an eighty-eight-seat passenger cabin located behind the wing.
It’s able to transport almost anything, including main battle tanks and helicopters. And, as it immediately occurred to Richter, fighter aircraft.

‘That could be the link we’re looking for,’ he said. ‘Maybe the Foxbats
aren’t being flown out of Russia. Maybe these comedians have organized heavy transport aircraft to take them to their ultimate destination. You might be able to get one inside that
Antonov.’

Bykov crossed the cabin and looked out. ‘The MiG-25’s bigger than you think, Paul.
Unless you took the wings and rudders off, it simply
wouldn’t fit in there. And disassembling the MiG is a major job. Trust me, it would be much
easier to fly it out of the country.’

Slavgorod North’s commanding officer, a Russian Air Force colonel named Denikin,
didn’t look pleased to see them. Bykov had called him from the An-72 shortly after they took off from Bolshoye Savino, and clearly the prospect of a GRU general with an unnamed but
obviously non-Russian ‘assistant’ poking around his airfield didn’t appeal to him.

‘We’ll need to speak to the crew of that Ruslan you’ve got parked on the
airfield,’ Bykov informed him, ‘but first I want to check all your transit and aircraft movement orders.’

‘Very well,’ Denikin said stiffly, and gestured for them to follow him. He led the
way into the Operations Room, a large square space with staff working at benches along the walls, and across to a plotting table. There he pulled two loose-leaf binders from a shelf and
opened them. ‘This folder contains all the movement orders we’ve received during the last two months, and these ones here are the transit orders for the same period. May I ask
what you’re looking for?’

‘Yes,’ Bykov said, bending over to study the binders. ‘We’re
investigating unusual aircraft movements. Has Slavgorod North been involved in any deployment of fighters or interceptors heading east?’

‘Of course.’ Denikin nodded immediately. ‘This is a staging airfield.
We’re regularly refuelling aircraft in transit.’ He reached for the transit orders binder, flicked through the pages until he found what he was looking for, and pointed.
‘Here, for example: five days ago one Sukhoi Su-27 and two Su-24s staged through here. And this order is for two MiG-25s that arrived from Bobrovka two weeks ago. They were re-fuelled,
and the pilots stayed here overnight, then they left the following morning.’

‘Where’s Bobrovka?’ Richter asked, ‘and where were they going when they
left here?’

Denikin glanced questioningly at Bykov, who gave a slight nod. ‘Bobrovka’s near
Kinel, in Samarskaya, and from here the two interceptors were going on to Domna,’ Denikin replied, after glancing down at the page in the binder. Richter still looked blank, so the
colonel walked across to a wall map showing the entire extent of the Asian landmass and picked up a wooden pointer.

‘That route took the aircraft in a more or less straight line across Russia from west to
east,’ he said, indicating each base in turn.

‘What was their ultimate destination?’ Bykov asked.

‘Chuguyevka. We weren’t informed of their original airfield of departure, only that
they were routing to us from Bobrovka. From here, they flew to Domna, then Komsomolsk-na-Amur and on to Chuguyevka.’ Denikin’s pointer traced the remainder of the route across the
continent.

‘That’s one of our easternmost MiG-25 bases,’ Bykov explained for
Richter’s benefit. ‘It’s not far from Vladivostok, sandwiched between China and the Sea of Japan. I think it’s usually indicated on American charts as
Bulyga-Fadeyevo.’

‘I know where it is,’ Richter confirmed. ‘We talked earlier about Viktor
Belenko, if you recall.’

A look of pain flashed across Denikin’s face at mention of the renegade Foxbat
pilot’s name. Clearly that defection was still something of a sore point in the Russian Air Force, even forty years later.

‘Have there been any other movements of MiG-25s through Slavgorod?’

Denikin flicked back through the binder and found transit orders for three more pairs of
Foxbats, all following broadly the same route across the CIS, and all with Chuguyevka listed as their ultimate destination.

‘How many MiG-25s should there be in total at Chuguyevka?’

‘The resident squadron is 530 IAP,’ Denikin said, ‘and they fly a mixture of
MiG-25s and MiG-31s. I don’t know what their normal strength is, but probably around thirty-five to forty aircraft.’

‘Very well,’ Bykov said. ‘We’ll need copies of all the movement and
transit orders relating specifically to MiG-25s for the last six months. Please organize that immediately.’

Denikin saluted briskly, called one of the operations staff over to the plotting table and began
briefing him. Bykov motioned Richter to one side of the room, out of earshot.

‘Those documents look authentic to me, which probably means something’s going on in
Moscow that I don’t know about. I’ll need to check the audit trail of each order and find out who issued the original instruction, and that’s going to take time. It looks
like whoever’s stealing our
aircraft has a very senior officer working for them, probably at Arbat Square.’

He was referring to the location of the Russian Ministry of Defence in downtown Moscow.

Richter gazed at him thoughtfully. ‘You’re probably right. And as all the MiG-25s
we’ve seen any details of are ending up at Chuguyevka, their final destination has to be North Korea. Nothing else makes sense. If they were going to China, they’d track east or
south-east from Domna, and certainly wouldn’t go anywhere near Komsomolsk or Chuguyevka. Both Japan and South Korea are American allies, and if they wanted fighter aircraft they’d
buy something made by Northrop or McDonnell Douglas, not old-fashioned MiGs. North Korea’s the only destination that makes any sense.’ He paused, then continued. ‘And
there’s something else.’

Bykov nodded, following his train of thought. ‘The North Koreans have a nuclear
capability. Their possession of atomic weapons, plus these MiG-25s, and their rocky relationship with South Korea, make a very worrying combination. Investigating the mechanics of how they
organized this will have to wait. You’d better talk to your people back home, and I must go straight back to Moscow.’

‘Is there anything else, General?’ Denikin asked, walking over towards them.

Bykov shook his head, but Richter had one more question. ‘We’re going to have to
leave here shortly, Colonel, so we won’t have time to talk to the crew of the Ruslan. What’s that aircraft doing here?’

‘Just like most of the aircraft we handle, it’s staging through. It’s a
regular run, carrying spares and replacement parts.’

‘Spares for what exactly, Colonel? And where’s its destination?’

Denikin smiled slightly. ‘Chuguyevka, as a matter of fact, and its cargo is MiG-25 and
MiG-31 parts for 530 IAP.’

‘Thank you, Colonel.’ Richter turned and followed Bykov out of the Operations Room.
‘Cheeky bastards,’ he muttered, as they headed down the corridor together. ‘My bet is that most of the MiG-25 stuff on that Ruslan will be smuggled straight out of
Chuguyevka, down to Vladivostok, loaded onto a ship and taken down the coast to Ch’ŏngjin
or some other North Korean port. This has been
altogether a really slick operation.’

While Bykov found an internal telephone to order a car to take them back to the Antonov, Richter
pulled out his Enigma mobile phone, checked the signal, then dialled Hammersmith. The T-301 offers military-level encryption to both parties of a conversation, as long as they’re both
using Enigmas or something compatible, but it looks pretty much like any other mobile.

When the Duty Officer answered, Richter gave him a brief summary of what he’d discovered
so far.

‘Wait one.’

Thirty seconds later Simpson was on the line. ‘Are you sure about this,
Richter?’

‘Depends what you mean by “this”. I’m certain that the Russian Air Force
has lost a bunch of Foxbats, yes. The route we’ve been tracking across Russia suggests that the client state is North Korea. What I don’t know is what the men in Pyongyang intend
to do with their new toys, but they wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble just to stand around and admire them. I’m also worried about those truckloads of Acrids stolen in
Bulgaria. I’d lay money that, no matter where they are now, the ultimate destination of those missiles is North Korea.’

‘I tend to agree. The question is, what do we do about it? Is this just the North
Koreans upgrading their air force with a bunch of old Russian interceptors, or is it something more than that?’

‘It has to be more devious. If they wanted newer aircraft than they’ve got already,
they could have bought them openly. Plenty of nations are happy to deal with Pyongyang if there’s a decent profit involved. And why choose Foxbats, which are old and difficult to fly
and, according to Bykov, were designed from the start to intercept ICBMs? I’m thinking that might suggest North Korea is preparing to get involved in a nuclear exchange, and
they’ve acquired those MiGs as a last-ditch defence against nuclear retaliation.’

‘But against who?’ Simpson was openly sceptical. ‘The South Koreans
don’t have any nukes, and I really don’t see even those idiots at Pyongyang trying to take on either China or Russia. And, no matter what missiles they use, most of America is
well out of range.’

‘Agreed, but if the North Koreans invaded the South, the American cavalry would have to
come galloping to the rescue – and
they’ve
got plenty of buckets of instant sunshine.’

‘Don’t be flippant, Richter. I don’t believe the Yanks would initiate a
nuclear exchange. They’d rely on conventional forces.’

‘I know,’ Richter agreed. ‘But suppose the South Korean forces get pushed back
further down the peninsula by an initial advance from the north. That’s always been acknowledged as a possibility because of the sheer size of the DPRK armed forces. Oplan 5027 –
that’s the basic warplan the American and South Korean combined forces would follow to counter an invasion – admits that, if the North Koreans use blitzkrieg tactics, they could
overwhelm the Southerners’ defences.

‘But conventional wisdom suggests that even if the NKs managed to advance a long way into
the South, they haven’t got the resources available to consolidate any territory they’d capture. The Americans would send reinforcements and those, combined with the South Korean
forces, would push the invaders back to the north of the DMZ.’

Richter paused for a few moments, still working things out. ‘But what if the North Koreans
have a different agenda? What if, once they’ve established themselves in the South, they threaten to nuke any US reinforcements being shipped in, or any build-up of local forces that
might oppose them? That would cause a stalemate, and if the Americans couldn’t send back-up forces to South Korea safely, they’d be left with only two options. They could simply
abandon South Korea, which isn’t really an option at all. Or they’d need to escalate the conflict with surgical nuclear strikes on North Korea’s army, its airfields, or even
Pyongyang itself. So
that
could be the nuclear exchange the DPRK is anticipating.’

‘I still don’t believe the Americans would resort to the use of nuclear weapons
– but you do make a persuasive case, Richter.’

‘A lot depends on what the Yanks have got in the area already. I’ve no clue about US
force dispositions, but you should be able to find that out from Washington. If the nearest American carrier battle group is off the Korean Peninsula, I don’t think there’d be a
problem. If it’s parked in Pearl Harbor, there might be.’

‘I’ll check, and get the wheels turning across the pond.’

‘What do you want me to do? Come back to London?’

Simpson didn’t respond for a few moments. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘It
might be useful to have you there on the scene, so to speak. Get yourself out to Seoul and make your number with the National Intelligence Service people. I’ll . . . Wait.’

The phone was put down in Hammersmith and Richter heard a faint swishing sound that was probably
a mouse rolling over its mat and then a few clicks as Simpson pressed buttons. Then he heard a muttered curse and what sounded like an exceptionally angry click. Richter’s superior had
been a late and very reluctant convert to computers, and so there had been a PC terminal in his office for only about three months. He still wasn’t very good with it.

‘Here it is,’ Simpson said, picking up the phone again. ‘The man in charge is
named Bae Chang-Su. I’ve never met him, but by reputation he’s something of a martinet – even worse than me. I thought I’d save
you
the trouble of pointing that out, Richter,’ Simpson added waspishly. ‘His number two is Kang Jang-Ho. I’ll contact Bae and
tell him you’re on your way. Let us know when you get there.’

‘Right.’ Richter ended the call and walked over to where Viktor Bykov was waiting
for him beside a dark blue car, flicking through copies of the movement orders. In the distance, he could hear the sound of the Coaler’s engines spooling up.