He swallowed the vodka in one go, then started to swirl the whisky, encouraging the ice to melt a little and take the edge off the deep-brown liquid. Eventually the vodka did its job. His side stopped aching, his scar stopped feeling like it was burning into his skull, and he started to calm down.

Chapter 33

Chapter 33

The crew of the Hercules stationed at Cooke Air Force Base understood why the timings of their recovery flights had to be kept secret until the last minute. But they didn’t enjoy the endless days spent on standby, waiting for the go signal. It also irked them that no matter when they flew, day or night, the Shining Emerald was always waiting for them in the target zone over the Pacific. It seemed like the KGB knew their mission parameters before they did.

Evening was always the worst time to fly. Heading west out over the coast, it took every pair of eyes on board to spot the parachutes attached to the Corona payload capsules against the fierce rays of the setting sun. At least this evening the Shining Emerald would have just as much of a problem as the Hercules. A thick blanket of low cloud stretched over the ocean, cutting visibility to just a few thousand feet from sea level.

Fortunately, luck was also on the Hercules’ side, and just as the plane entered the target zone, several shouts went up. The parachute had been spotted twenty degrees off their current path, roughly five miles away. The pilot altered course and altitude to give them plenty of time to reach it before it was lost in the clouds.

When the Hercules was about a mile from the capsule, a strange shadow started to appear on the surface of the clouds in front of the plane. It looked like it was projected a few feet ahead of the cockpit, but it couldn’t have been because the Hercules was still flying into the sun. The pilot made a small course change, and the shadow matched it. He came back onto his original trajectory, and so did the shadow.

Then the shadow pulled away. It rose out of the clouds and solidified. First a long, silver tube. Then two vast, swept-back wings. A Soviet Tupolev Tu-95 long-range strategic bomber.

The huge Russian plane gleamed in the sunlight as it climbed in front of the Hercules. It continued to pull away from the American plane, its huge engines roaring as it accelerated towards the falling capsule. There was no time for the Hercules to overtake it. All the American crew could do was watch as the Tupolev got further and further away from them and closer and closer to the parachute.