“Jack Northrop really had something when he designed this lady,” Austin replied.

“Absolutely. Look at that slim silhouette. There's hardly any surface for radar to bounce off. They've even painted it black like the stealth planes. Let's go inside,” Zavala said eagerly.

They climbed up a ladder through a hatchway in the plane's belly and made their way along a short ramp. Like the rest of the plane, the flight deck was unconventional. Zavala sat in the rotating pilot's seat and used a hand-operated mechanism to pump the seat four feet higher into a Plexiglas bubble. He peered through the cowling, which was to the left of the wing's center line. The conventional switches and instruments were located between the pilot and the copilot, who sat at a lower level. The throttle controls were suspended from the overhead, similar to Navy flying boats such as the Catalina.

“Fantastic visibility,” Zavala said. “It feels like being in a fighter plane.”

Austin had settled into the copilot's seat on the right. He could see through window panels in the wing's leading edge. While Zavala ran his fingers lovingly over the controls, Austin went to explore the rest of the plane. The flight engineer sat in front of an impressive array of instrument gauges about ten feet behind the copilot facing the rear. He would have been unable to see out. Austin thought the layout was awkward, but he was impressed by the headroom and the small bunkroom, head, and kitchen that indicated the plane was built for long-range missions. He sat at the bombardier's seat and stared out the window, trying to picture himself high above the bleak Siberian landscape. Then he crawled into the bomb bays. Zavala was still in the pilot's seat, hands on the controls, when Austin returned to the cockpit. “Find anything back there?” he asked Austin.

“It's what I didn't find,” Austin said. “The bomb bay racks are empty.”

“No canister bombs?”

“Not even a water balloon.” He smiled at Zavala. “Fallen hopelessly in love with the old girl, have we?”

Zavala grinned lasciviously. “A case of love at first sight. Older women have always appealed to me. I'll show you some thing. There's still life in this baby.” His fingers played over the instrument console. The bank of dials and gauges in front of them glowed red.

“She's all gassed up and ready to go,” Austin said with disbelief.

Zavala nodded. “She must be hooked up to the generator. There's no reason this stuff wouldn't still work. It's been cold and dry here, and she was maintained in mint condition until they deserted this joint.”

“Speaking of the joint, let's take a look around.”

Zavala reluctantly left the cockpit. They climbed down from the plane and walked around the interior perimeter of the hangar. The space was obviously planned to service the plane efficiently. Within easy reach of the aircraft were hydraulic lifts and cranes, test equipment, fuel and oil pumps. Joe stopped to marvel at a wall hung with tools. They were as clean as surgical instruments. Austin poked his head into a storage room. He glanced around and called for Zavala.