There's not going to be much left of that communications building.

Castillo then touched down, and immediately unfastened his seat/shoulder harness.

"Try not to get shot moving over here to the pilot seat," he said, and then he was out the Black Hawk's door.

He reached back in and grabbed his Uzi, then went quickly around the nose of the helicopter, pa.s.sing Kingsolving as he did.

Castillo found that there was a sort of a standoff on the tarmac.

Dmitri Berezovsky-with his four ex-Spetsnaz standing behind him, more or less holding their weapons at port arms-was facing a half-dozen men wearing the striped shirts of the Spetsnaz armed with a variety of weapons.

"I asked, who's in charge?" Berezovsky said more than a little arrogantly.

And then there was a female voice.

"Lower that (expletive deleted) muzzle, you (expletive deleted) moron!" former SVR Podpolkovnik Svetlana Alekseeva shouted. "What the (expletive deleted) is wrong with you, raising a weapon to Polkovnik Berezovsky? Are you as (expletive deleted) stupid as you look?"

The muzzle was lowered.

One of the Spetsnaz stepped forward, saluted, and said, "Major Koussevitzky, sir."

"Stefan," Berezovsky said. "I didn't recognize you."

"Good to see you again, Polkovnik. May I ask what . . ."

"We are here to arrest General Sirinov," Berezovsky said. "Where is he?"

"In the hangar, sir."

"I regret that the circ.u.mstances require that I take your arms," Berezovsky said. "Lower them to the ground."

"You are here to arrest the general, Polkovnik?" Koussevitzky asked softly.

"I regret that is necessary, but I'm sure you know why."

Koussevitzky considered that a full twenty seconds before he unstrapped his pistol belt and let it fall to the ground, then put his Kalashnikov automatic rifle on the tarmac.

"You heard Polkovnik Berezovsky," he said to his men. "Lower your weapons to the ground."

Berezovsky waited until the order had been complied with, and then spoke to one of the ex-Spetsnaz standing behind him.

"Have those weapons put aboard the helicopter," he ordered, and then turned to Koussevitzky.

"Take me to the general, Stefan," Berezovsky ordered. Then he pointed to Sweaty, to one of his ex-Spetsnaz, and to Lieutenant Colonel C. G. Castillo, USA (Retired), and said, "You, come with me."

Castillo said, "Yes, sir" in Russian, hoping he didn't sound like a Saint Petersburg poet of indeterminate s.e.xual orientation.

The Tu-934A was inside the canvas-walled and -roofed temporary hangar. So were four very small travel trailers being used as makeshift barracks. As they walked toward the trailers, General Sirinov came out of one of them. He was dressed but he needed a shave.

I guess we woke the sonofab.i.t.c.h up.

"General, consider yourself under arrest," Berezovsky announced.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, Berezovsky," Sirinov said.

He seemed to be unfazed by what was happening.

"Please turn around and put your hands behind you," Berezovsky said as he took a plastic handcuff from a pocket.

"I will not."

Sweaty, holding Max on his leash beside her, walked up to him. While doing so, she took her Colt .32 ACP model 1908 from her pocket.

"And the beautiful Svetlana," Sirinov said. "Wherever did you get that absurd uniform? And that dog?"

"Turn around, Yakov, and put your hands behind you," Sweaty ordered.

"Or what? You'll shoot me with your toy pistol?"

Sweaty aimed her toy pistol quickly, and shot General Sirinov in the right foot.

He looked at his bleeding foot, then screamed with the pain and fell to the ground, looking up at her in enraged disbelief.

"Roll onto your stomach, Yakov, or I'll put the next round into your other foot," Sweaty said.

Max growled.

General Sirinov rolled onto his stomach.

Berezovsky knelt beside him and applied the plastic handcuffs.

Sirinov was moaning in pain.

"If you don't give me any more trouble, when we're on the plane I'll give you some morphine," Sweaty said.

"Where are the pilots of the airplane?" Berezovsky asked Koussevitzky.

Koussevitzky pointed to one of the trailers.

"Get them out here," Berezovsky ordered. Then he pointed at Castillo, and ordered, "Get our pilot in here."

Castillo said, "Yes, sir" in Russian, and hoped his conscious attempt to sound like a ba.s.so profundo had been at least partially successful.

He went onto the tarmac, saw Jake Torine, and waved him over. He saw that Sirinov's Spetsnaz were now all sitting on the tarmac. They had plastic handcuffs around both their wrists and their ankles.

They don't look worried.

They look terrified.

And so did the Tu-934A pilots when they walked up to Berezovsky.

Castillo went to them, and ordered, "Show the colonel and me around the airplane. If you do anything suspicious, Podpolkovnik Alekseeva will shoot you in the foot."

"You're going to fly the Tu-934A?" one of them blurted.

"That's the idea," Castillo said. "Start by opening the ramp door."

When the ramp came down, Castillo could see there were three blue barrels firmly strapped to the floor, plus a tracked forklift inside.

"Up the ramp," he ordered.

When they were in the c.o.c.kpit, Castillo asked, "Where are the rest of the blue rubber barrels?"

He believed the pilots when they a.s.sured him, with almighty G.o.d as their witness, that there were no more blue rubber barrels anywhere.

It was a very brief c.o.c.kpit tour, just long enough for the Tu-934A pilots to show Torine and Castillo the engine start procedures and to tell them the best rotation speed during takeoff.

General Sirinov, still moaning with pain, was carried aboard and attached with plastic handcuffs to the strapping holding the blue plastic barrels in place.

Torine stayed in the c.o.c.kpit while Castillo led the pilots and Sweaty off the airplane. He saw that Berezovsky and Koussevitzky were in a far corner of the hangar. He and Sweaty walked to them.

"I have offered to take Stefan with us," Berezovsky said. "Understandably, he is concerned with what Putin would do to the family of a traitor. There are six unmarried Spetsnaz who should come with us. Stefan suggests we make it appear they are coming involuntarily."

"Major," Castillo asked, "what makes you think Putin won't-"

"It would help if Podpolkovnik Alekseeva found it necessary to shoot me," Koussevitzky said.

"Well, I suppose ..." Castillo said.

There was the pop of her toy pistol and Koussevitzky fell to the ground, bleeding from a wound to his right upper leg.

"We'll try to get you and your family out, Stefan," Sweaty said. "Really try."

"May G.o.d protect you and yours, Svetlana," Koussevitzky said.

"And yours," Sweaty said.

Berezovsky knelt beside him and put him in plastic handcuffs.

"How do we get the hangar doors open?" Castillo asked.

"You have to push," Koussevitzky furnished. "They're like curtains."

"What happens if we start engines in here?"

"You'd burn the hangar down."

"Good idea. Get everybody out of here," Berezovsky ordered. "And then get the Spetsnaz we're taking with us firmly tied up and ready to get on the UH-60."

"Get aboard, Sweaty," Castillo ordered.

"I'll get aboard when you do," she replied.

There was no time to argue with her.

Castillo went outside the hangar, and made hand signals toward the sky to order the Night Stalker Black Hawk code-named Kidnapper Two to land.

"Push the hangar doors open," Podpolkovnik Alekseeva ordered in a Russian command voice that would have pa.s.sed muster at Fort Bragg. "And then help Polkovnik Berezovsky clear the hangar."

As soon as the doors had been pushed aside, Castillo heard the whine of a Tu-934A engine being started. And he saw Kidnapper Two, cargo doors slid open, coming down the runway almost on the ground. It touched down.

Two of Berezovsky's ex-Spetsnaz carried Major Koussevitzky out of the hangar and lowered him to the ground twenty meters from it. Then they ran back into the hangar as he heard the whine of the second Tu-934A engine being started.

The ex-Spetsnaz came back out of the hangar, leading the Tu-934A's pilots, their hands in plastic handcuffs. They deposited them next to Major Koussevitzky. One of them then ran back into the hangar. The other ran across the tarmac to where a half-dozen Spetsnaz in handcuffs were sitting.

Roscoe J. Danton appeared, furiously capturing everything for posterity-after of course it was published in The Washington Times-Post The Washington Times-Post-on his camera.

Two of the ex-Spetsnaz pulled one of the handcuffed Spetsnaz to his feet and loaded him--not very gently: "threw him aboard" would be a more accurate description-onto the Policia Federal Preventiva UH-60, and then threw two more of the Spetsnaz aboard.

Roscoe J. Danton captured this, too, with his camera.

One of the ex-Spetsnaz looked at Castillo and Svetlana.

"He wants to know if he should load the others aboard," Sweaty said.

Castillo pointed across the tarmac and ordered: "Put those three on the helo coming in, and then get on yourself."

Castillo then ran twenty yards-with Max bounding happily after him-so that Colonel Kingsolving could see him clearly from the c.o.c.kpit of the Policia Federal Preventiva UH-60. Then he made hand signals telling Kingsolving to take off.

The helicopter immediately broke ground, lowered its nose, and moved away, gaining speed.

Kidnapper Two stopped, still not touching the ground, where an ex-Spetsnaz stood waiting with the remaining Spetsnaz men bound with plastic handcuffs. Roscoe J. Danton's camera was at the ready to capture what happened next: As soon as the first of the handcuffed Spetsnaz had been a.s.sisted aboard, a black-suited special operator jumped out of the Black Hawk and helped the Spetsnaz throw the other two aboard.

The ex-Spetsnaz looked again at Castillo for guidance.

"Get aboard," Castillo shouted, and then signaled to the pilot to take off.

As it did, Roscoe J. Danton made a photographic record.

There was a change in the pitch of the Tu-934A engines and Castillo turned to see that it was moving slowly out of the hangar. Castillo took one last look around, ran to Roscoe J. Danton, and tried to lead him to the ramp of the Tu-934A.

Mr. Danton was not sure he wished to go at this time. He resisted. Castillo grabbed the strap of Roscoe's camera, jerked hard on it, breaking it, and then, when Roscoe started to protest, grabbed the camera itself, ran to the open ramp of the Tu-934A, and threw the camera aboard. Roscoe then jumped onto the airplane to retrieve his camera.

While he was so engaged, Castillo grabbed Sweaty's arm and led her to the ramp of the Tu-934A. She leapt nimbly onto it.

So did Max, after considering for ten seconds the wisdom of doing so. In that time, the airplane moved away, rolling faster.

For a very terrifying moment, Castillo was afraid he wouldn't be so nimble as the love of his life and his dog. He ran after the plane and made a running dive onto the ramp, landing on his stomach.