“That’s true, Mr. President,” Rogozin acknowledged. He entered a new command on his computer. Icons depicting military aircraft, alerted air defense radars, and missile sites suddenly appeared on the wall map. They were deployed along a wide band from Turkey and Georgia through Turkmenistan and all the way to Afghanistan. “But we observed intense American and American allied air activity all across this zone last night. True, the PAK-DA’s stealth features might have allowed it to evade their observation, but Petrov would know that he could not count on that, at a time when even a fleeting detection could lead to disaster.”

The defense minister nodded his concurrence. “Yvgeny is right, Piotr,” Kokorin said. “Besides, where could Petrov hope to find safety on the ground in Africa or the Middle East, in places where the real power is in the hands of terrorists, murderous chieftains, and religious fanatics? It would be madness for him to assume he could hide a large aircraft from such people for any real length of time.”

Zhdanov shrugged. Perhaps they were right. He waved a hand at the digital map. “What about some isolated spot in Southeast Asia, then? Or maybe a desert landing strip out in the empty Australian Outback?”

Rogozin shook his head. “It’s highly unlikely. Reaching either place would have required the PAK-DA to penetrate some of the most heavily defended airspace in the world—by flying across the People’s Republic of China, the Korean Peninsula, or Japan.”

“So you believe Petrov flew our stolen bomber north,” Zhdanov realized.

“Yes, Mr. President.” The general touched more keys, highlighting all of northern Russia, the unclaimed Arctic, Alaska, and much of northern Canada. “Most of these regions are almost completely unsettled. And while the idea that anyone could have constructed a hidden airfield somewhere in these tens of millions of square kilometers of wilderness might seem far-fetched at first—”

“Some bastards have done it, nonetheless,” Zhdanov said tersely.

Rogozin nodded. “So it appears.”

Zhdanov stared at the highlighted zones of the map, almost mesmerized by its enormous extent. This was not a comparatively simple case of finding a needle in a farmer’s haystack, he realized grimly. This was more like hunting for a single grain of sand in the wastes of the Gobi Desert. For a moment, he felt sure the task was impossible. But then he dismissed this feeling as unnecessarily pessimistic, the product of too little sleep and too much stress. He reminded himself that what one man could hide, other men, especially those equipped with sophisticated satellites, air-to-ground radars, and high-resolution cameras, could find.

He spun back to Rogozin and Kokorin. “All right! I want a full mobilization of every reconnaissance asset in our arsenal. All our satellites, all our aircraft, all our drones! Everything! Scour this entire area, starting with our own territory.”

The Air Force general frowned, deep in thought. “We only have four of our frontline Tu-214R recon planes in service,” he admitted. “But I can convert some of our Tu-95 strategic bombers for reconnaissance, perhaps as many as ten in the next twenty-four hours.”