16 DALE BROWN

"You will not be allowed to leave the Academy. You Will never see America except in your own mind. That I promise-"

His smile disappeared, but she couldn't stop. I

." will make recommendations to Mr. Roberts that you never I be

allowed to graduate. You could compromise the whole operation. "

It pleased her to see the panic in his face that had now replaced his smug expression. "What are you going to tell them, Janet? That while we've been screwing each other I somehow scared you and you think I'm crazy? You've no credibility. A thirty-year-old ex-whore having sex with a seventeen-year-old high school student. You'll make a very reliable witness." He stepped toward her, his expression softening. "You'll drag yourself down as well as me. Don't do it. I promise I won't scare you again. Janet .

She pushed him away. "I don't need credibility. I can destroy you without anyone ever knowing it was me. A notation here and there, a rumor, a changed grade or a negative entry on your progress charts. You will be on your way to a border post before you know it. Now once more, get out."

"Don't do it," he was still saying as the door slammed in his face. "You'll be sorry if you do .

His morning regimen had been the same for the past five years.

Wakeup at five A., calisthenics and a morning three-mile jog, breakfast by six-thirty. The Academy even taught students to enjoy the typical American breakfast dishes while at the same time giving them healthier, more substantial foods.

Classes began at eight. Usually there was a bit of time before the morning class-today's was on the stock market and American economics-so James spent his time reviewing the latest intelligence on his "target--the real Ken James.

How could anyone with so much going for him act the way James had? Maraklov asked himself. The report said James was going to ace every course he was enrolled in in his final semester of high school, including several advance-placement college-level courses. At the same time a police blotter report noted that James had been caught with a bag of marijuana. He was not charged with a crime, only reprimanded-his stepfather carried a good deal of influence in the small town where DAY OF THE CHEETAH 17'

he lived. But James had risked his whole career on a one-ounce bag of dried grass. Stupid.

No pictures were included in the latest intelligence, but previous photographs showed a tall, handsome youth shopping in fancy stores, driving expensive cars, going to parties, every weekend. He had seemed like a normal well-adjusted teenager.

Maraklov knew, of course, about James' unfortunate past, but that was ancient history. Surely that ugly episode was long forgotten? Maraklov sat back now and thought about what it was like to be Ken James

I have everything I ever wanted. Brains, money, things. What am I missing? What else do I want? Why did I need to smoke marijuana and get in trouble with the cops? I have a good family, minus a brother-my natural father killed him in a drunken rage. I don't have a father, a real father-he's either dead or in a mental institution. I haven't seen my mom in months-the only grown-ups around are the housekeeper, the gardener once a week, and the occasional relatives of my stepfather who show up and say it's okay for them to borrow the Jag or bring their mistresses in for a nooner. "Nooner"

Janet would have trouble with that Americanism ...

The big house is lonely at night. My "'friends" stop by once in a while, but they study pretty hard, and I'm not exactly popular ... There are alarms 0 over the place-I have to be careful to shut them off even when I just want to get some fresh air or take a dip in the pool. Cathy Sawyer doesn't come by much anymore. I wonder where she is-?

A call on the room's intercom interrupted: "Mr. James, report to the headmaster's office immediately."

As he headed toward Roberts' office he thought of Janet Larson. Damn her. She had really done it, had blown the whistle on him. She would pay for this, he told himself as he straightened his tie. She would pay ...

But Janet Larson was just as surprised, and just as fearful to see him, as she walked into Roberts' outer office. They exchanged no words, only anxious glances as he knocked on the headmaster's door. He was ushered in by Roberts himself and left standing in the middle of the office.

"The question about whether or not you will ever graduate has been made for us, it seems," Roberts began. He motioned to a message form. "A report from our agents in place in 18 DALE BROWN

Washington. It seems your Mr. Kenneth Francis James has decided on a college."

Maraklov smiled. Washington, D. That must mean Georgetown. Ken James has decided on-He surprised everyone," Roberts went on. "We did not even know he had applied for the Air Force Academy."

Maraklov was stunned. "The Air Force Academy?"

He received a senatorial sponsorship last winter, obviously from his stepfather's connections," Ro erts went on. were fortunate-we learned he had cut his scheduled vacation in Hawaii short by two months, and one of our operatives did some checking to find out why. He is supposed to begin summer orientation training in six weeks."

Maraklov's mind was beginning to catch up. "My father,"

he mumbled, then looked at Roberts. "I mean his father is

. . .was . . . a highly decorated veteran of the Vietnam war.

Even without political connections he could have received sponsorship as the son of a combat veteran. There could be a sympathy factor too. I should have known. The possibility of a military academy placement was always there .

"Whatever, this changes our plans for your graduation, Kenneth James." He was testing as he said it.

"Sir?"

"Your counterpart-target is about to enter the Air Force Academy. We cannot risk putting an agent into the Air Force Academy. He has a pilot-training appointment. He will be in the United States Air Force for four years-"

Eight years, sir," Maraklov corrected him, eyes bright with anticipation. "Pilot candidates must serve eight years after UPIT

graduation . . . "

"You have learned well, but that is not the point, Mr. James.

We have never placed a deep agent in the American air force's t cadre. He would have little chance of surviving the security screening. It is very intense, especially for a pilot candidate.

They check every move from present day to birth, check his parents, his relatives, his neighbors-"

And Kenneth James will pass with flying colors," Maraklov said excitedly.

'.But the applicant for a security clearance initiates the process with a detailed report on his background, relatives, addresses," Roberts said nervously. "You would have to supply DAY OF THE CHEETAH 19

every detail of James' life from memory-you could not risk being caught with a dossier on yourself. And the process is repeated every five years while in the service. Could you do that?

"Of course, sir."

Roberts hesitated, but only for a moment. If any other student had made that confident a reply he would have dismissed it as bravado. But not Maraklov. The boy knew his counterpart so well . it was almost frightening. Beyond any of the other student-target linkages.

"You will need plastic surgery," Roberts said. "And if the scars and bruising from surgery do not heal in time, you will be discovered."

"I assume James will be in Hawaii until July," Maraklov said. "The summer orientation course starts in mid-July, as I recall. That gives us five weeks before we need to intercept James. Five weeks is time enough for my scars to heal. And the surgery would not need to be extensive, sir. My . . . his parents won't be visiting very often. And plebes are not allowed visitors until Thanksgiving. By then his appearance will have changed enough to explain any minor differences-" his voice dropped, sounding depressed--if my parents notice at all.

Roberts scarcely noticed James' changing moods, his jux-taposing of himself and the real Kenneth James, the angry distant look. But he was too busy marveling at Maraklov's xtensive knowledge of even the most esoteric bits of infore

mation.

"This will have to be approved by Moscow," Roberts said, sounding as excited as Maraklov had earlier. "But we have a chance to do it . . . And if we do, it will be the espionage coup of the century-"

"Yes, sir," James agreed, though he was not thinking about espionage coups, or success or failure.

He was thinking, I will be . . . complete. Yes, that was the word. For the first time in my life, I will have a chance to become a complete person. Thanks to Ken James . . .