DEFCON One

PROLOGUE

Fouad Baqir al-Sadr watched the Aeroflot Ilyushin-62 accelerate down the runway, then climb gracefully into the gray, overcast sky above Moscow’s Sheremetyevo Airport.

The stocky Libyan militiaman glanced quickly around the apartment roof, then raised the weapon to his shoulders. An expert in the use of portable air defense missiles, he braced his feet, steadied himself, and aimed the Russian-built SA-14 missile launcher. He carefully set the element sight on the Soviet transport and immediately heard the high-pitched screech that indicated the weapon was tracking.

“What a beautiful flying machine,” the Libyan lieutenant said to himself, then took a breath and held it while he waited patiently, watching the transport’s landing gear disappear into the fuselage. Three seconds later, the militiaman gently squeezed the trigger.

The launcher kicked slightly as the projectile arced away, nosed-over for a split second, then curved skyward toward its unsuspecting prey.

Baqir al-Sadr lowered the launcher, then watched, fascinated, as the lethal missile pursued the climbing jet. The thin wisp of the weapon’s exhaust trail blended perfectly into the leaden overcast.

Almost instantly the quiet morning was shattered by a deafening explosion. The lieutenant stared, transfixed, as the huge Aeroflot transport shed an engine, then a wing, and tumbled out of the sky, trailing flaming debris.

The Ilyushin-62 crashed on the perimeter of the airport in a horrendous fireball, showering nearby traffic in blazing jet fuel.

Lieutenant Baqir al-Sadr turned away from the inferno, smiled, then dropped the missile launcher down a ventilation shaft.

The general secretary had made his last trip. The era of glasnost was over.