KGB Headquarters, Moscow, USSR, 1965
The office of Colonel Volkov was less opulent than his previous temporary location at the launch site, but far more intimidating. The walls were bare save for a large, framed portrait of Dzerzhinsky. Sergei Kirov was ushered in and told to sit.
Volkov did not look up from the file he was reading for several minutes, a classic interrogation technique designed to rattle the subject.
"You look troubled, Sergei Pavlovich," Volkov finally said, closing the file.
"The N1 project is my only trouble, Colonel," Sergei replied, keeping his face impassive.
"Is it?" Volkov leaned back in his chair. "We intercepted some interesting chatter on our communications sweep this afternoon. A foreign intelligence unit seems particularly interested in scientific mail bound for Switzerland. A specific journal. A Dr. Dubois."
Sergei felt a tightness in his chest, but maintained eye contact. "Switzerland is a neutral ground for scientific exchange. Dr. Dubois is highly respected."
"Yes," Volkov agreed smoothly. "It seems someone mailed him a complicated set of engineering notes today. Anonymous, of course. Full of correct data for the N1's Pogo dampening system."
Volkov smiled, a cruel, cold expression. "Now, this is fascinating. We have the American data—which you verified as 'sound'—and we have this anonymous, correct data that arrived today. Almost as if someone is trying to interfere with our intelligence coup."
Sergei felt trapped. Volkov hadn't retrieved the letter yet, but he knew about it.
"Perhaps an engineer with a conscience," Sergei suggested, trying to redirect the suspicion away from himself and onto the general scientific community.
"Perhaps," Volkov said, standing up and walking around the desk. "Or perhaps a traitor. A man who verified false data to ensure his nation’s failure, and then tried to correct his lie anonymously."
Volkov stopped behind Sergei’s chair, his presence a chilling weight. "I have not retrieved the letter from the mail system, Sergei. Not yet. I want to see if the Americans are monitoring the Swiss journal. If the data is published, then the Americans were simply wrong. If they suppress it, or if our Western counterparts suddenly change their N1 intelligence estimates, then we know we have a mole, don't we?"
Sergei realized with horror what Volkov was doing. He was using Sergei's anonymous attempt to save the cosmonauts as an intelligence counter-measure. The letter was a test balloon. The fate of the cosmonauts now depended not on the science, but on whether the CIA would interfere with a neutral scientific publication.
A Diner in Virginia, USA, 1965
Jim Donovan sat across from Captain Sterling in a dimly lit diner outside the base perimeter. It was raining, a stark contrast to the brilliant sunshine of space.
"They designed the cargo bay to be recovered, Major," Sterling whispered, leaning over his coffee. "Not to burn up. And the manifest data vanished."
Jim connected the dots. "They weren't testing storage. They were delivering something. Something designed to be found."
Sterling slid a piece of paper toward Jim: the blueprint for the Soviet N1 rocket he’d seen in the briefing room. "My sources tell me the package contained engineering data for an engine dampener system."
Jim stared at the schematic. The American-Russian rivalry was usually fought with spies and missiles. Now it was being fought with science.
"They're feeding the Soviets a poisoned apple," Jim whispered in disbelief. "A flawed design. They used my mission to do it."
"Exactly," Sterling said grimly. "We need to find out if the Soviets bought it. The CIA is stonewalling me, but I have a contact at a Swiss physics journal who sometimes gets anonymous leaks from the East Bloc. If that design shows up there, we know they're onto us. If they use it internally, then we just helped ensure their rocket blows up."
Jim’s mind raced. He had put men in danger. He had to fix this.
"We need a backchannel," Jim said, looking up, determination in his eyes. "We can't use official channels. They're compromised. We have to find a way to warn the Russians without letting the CIA know we know."
Two men, on opposite sides of the rivalry, now desperately working to prevent a fatal disaster orchestrated by their own countries' intelligence services.
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