"Look," Curtis said, "I'm going to pull the Old Dog file for you, and you'll have it when we arrive in Washington. Your eyes only." He scribbled a note to his aide, then said, "Now tell me, what's the status of

REDTAIL HAWK?"

Curtis saw the slight hesitation, the aversion of the National Security Advisor's eyes, and a sinking feeling came over him.

"I don't know what his status is . . . at this point," Russell said.

Curtis exploded, eyes ablaze: "You didn't order a sanction, did you?"

Russell said nothing.

"Goddammit, you're going to have him executed? Whatever happened to extraction?

Especially for one of our own?"

Russell loosened his tie, wishing he could simply leave the room. But Curtis would follow him all over the damn plane. "Wilbur, the last briefing I had on this guy said he was an Air Force officer who'd died in a plane crash in Alaska on a training mission. When we did some checking, DIA found out there was no plane crash and no mission. Now the guy turns up in a Soviet aircraft-design facility and doesn't show any obvious signs of duress. What were we supposed to think? How did I know it was some classified operation?"

"Let me guess," Curtis interrupted. "You just happen to have a guy very close to REDTAIL

HAWK, close enough to, say, poison him.".

Russell cleared his throat. "One of our Moscow section officers has an ex-KGB contact that still throws around a lot of weight," he explained. "This contact helped us. . . uh... place an agent very close to REDTAIL HAWK. It's verified. Wilbur-your 'friend' is a major player in this aircraft-design center. He's advanced the state of the art in Soviet aircraft design by at least five years."

"I don't believe it."

"It's true.''

"No doubt on his identity?"

"Our agent got fingerprints, photos, shoe size, eye color, the works. No doubt at all."

"Well, it doesn't matter," Curtis said, still shaking his head in disgust. "You'll find Luger's a hero, a genuine hero, when you read the Old Dog file. He's obviously been brainwashed and forced to work for the Soviets. We've got to pull him out of there."

Russell's eyes lit up in surprise. "Pull him out? How the hell am I supposed to get this guy out of one of the most top-secret and secure places in the Soviet-I mean, in Europe?" Russell asked. "If he was in a gulag or a prison, maybe. But he's in the European version of Dreamland or China Lake. It would take a damned battalion to get him out!"

"Leave that to me, George," Curtis said confidently. "You give me the details and I'll show you how we can get him out. But tell your mole to watch Luger and keep us updated constantly on his position. For God's sake, don't kill him."

"Fine," Russell said. He picked up a roll, looked at it with distaste, then put it back on the tray. "That part of the game's not in my blood anyway."