"Our informant indicates that he's not a part of the normal staff" White explained, "but he's there all right, under constant guard by the KGB contingent at Fisikous. He is very well respected, considered a bit of an oddball-very freewheeling. But he commands respect and admiration throughout the facility."

"So maybe it's someone that just looks like Luger."

"Maybe." White was silent for a moment. Then: "But your reaction was the same as mine when I saw that picture, and the others the informant brought out. It's David Luger all right. He looks like he's been mistreated perhaps drugged or brainwashed, but it's him. His primary project 15 some large, weird aircraft that looks like something out of Star Trek."

"Tuman?" Elliott gasped. "My God. . . Luger is working on Tuman?"

"What is it? Some new bomber?"

"It could be the world's most sophisticated warplane," Elliott said. "It's a combination and enhancement of the B-l and B-2 bombers. Stealth technology, supercruise capability at high gross weights-that means a four-hundred-thousand-pound stealth bomber traveling over the speed of sound without afterburner-self-protection technology, slow-flight and close-air-support technology, terrain-following, air-to-air capability, even fractional orbital bombardment capability-it's the only advanced warplane in the world still being developed, after our B-2 stealth bomber program was canceled. You saw it?"

"The informant got pictures of it."

"Jesus. Tuman really exists," Elliott exclaimed. "It's been rumored to be on the drawing board for five years." Elliott began thinking out loud:

"Who would've thought it would be at Fisikous? With Lithuania a free nation, Fisikous was the last place you'd expect a bunch of old Soviet sympathizers to keep a multibillion-dollar aircraft project-"

"Let's try to keep on the subject, sir," White said. "Namely, what do we do about Dave Luger?"

Elliott scooped up the photo and jammed it back into its envelope. "This had better be for real, Colonel, or you won't be facing a courts-martial or a firing squad-I'll deal with you myself, with my bare fucking hands. Dave Luger meant the world to me. I'd give everything, everything. to help him. But the mission is classified. Reopening the files could damage the careers of many individuals, from here all the way to the White House. I hope you realize the huge can of worms you've opened up here, Colonel."

"Believe me, it hurts me as much as it does you, General. I need your help, not your retribution. Dave Luger is alive. If we leave him up to the 'proper channels' to deal with, he'll be there forever. We have to get him out. You've got to-"

Suddenly the door behind him burst open. Three men, dressed in dark-blue jumpsuits, helmets with clear plastic face masks, and bulletproof vests dashed in, automatic weapons trained on Paul White's forehead. "Hands up! Now!" Captain Hal Briggs, General Elliott's chief of security at the High Technology Aerospace Weapons Center, shouted.