Sunday evening, September 16th, 1984 – Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland
Arthur and Margaret Cantrell sat side by side on the diplomatic flight from Andrews Air Force Base outside Washington, D.C. The big DC-10 spooled up and the chocks were pulled. As they taxied out to the active runway, Margaret squirmed in her seat. “Arthur, I hate these seat belts, must they always make them so tight?”
Cantrell turned to his wife of 20 years and said, “Honey, relax. The belt is the same for everyone. You and I have just filled out a little and I’m finding it just as uncomfortable as you. We’ll be able to take them off as soon as we level off.” He knew she was uncomfortable about all this spy stuff, even though they weren’t actually doing any spying. Maggie just didn’t like the idea of the government using a young boy in the scheme to get the two people into Russia. The NSA agents didn’t tell them very much at all. They said it was a “need to know” thing. They were assured that neither they nor the boy would be in any danger whatsoever. It was just a very slick way of getting two special agents into Russia to correct something that had gone wrong in one of the many “sensitive” programs that they heard rumors of from time to time. The less they knew, the better for them, as far as Arthur Cantrell was concerned.
“Arthur, I’m glad we can help out in some small way. Those NSA men said the tour group with the students from the State Department exchange program would arrive at the museum just after we do. Won’t that be risky with two other people made up to look just like you and I?”
“Not really, Honey. The two people who are the supposed parents of our ‘son’ will conveniently leave the group to visit the rest rooms. We’ll be in there a couple of minutes before them. There are agents who will be placed outside the rest rooms who will quickly place “Closed for Cleaning” signs on the doors while they make a fast change out of the outfits that make them look like us. We aren’t even supposed to talk to them. We just stay in a booth until they tell us to leave and then go out and join the tour group as though nothing was any different other than visiting the rest room. The whole process shouldn’t take more than five minutes, I’m told.” Maggie squirmed again and looked forward to getting out of the seat and making a trip to the galley. She had heard that they served terrific dinners on the diplomatic flights and wanted a look at what the stewards were going to serve for the evening meal.
Monday morning, September 17th, 1984 – Moscow
Victor Panin kissed his mother and went out to his old car to make his way to the weekly briefing at the Ordzhonikdze Aviation Institute before boarding the flight from the nearby Central Airfield to the Cosmodrome. Panin was a brilliant young man. He was always at the top of his class in the university and because of this was handpicked to work in the space program. Also fluent in English, he could speak and write it as though he were born and raised in America. He became a key factor in disseminating the complex diagrams that were brought to them by the KGB.
Victor Panin started out as many of the young people did in Russia; patriotism ran strong in the schooling they received. Unfortunately for his instructors, Panin had the wherewithal to see through the Communist doctrine. The equality factor was just a lot of bunk to him. Corruption ran rampant throughout the government – those who were high on the Communist political ladder were well off, but the working class was constantly struggling to find the next meal. The long lines his mother had to stand in to get stale bread and scraps of meat were a joke in the western world. Hard work didn’t pay off in Russia, political power did. He hated it and with each passing day he became convinced that he was wasting his life working for the Communist system, as it was a dismal failure. Communism had struck out in every place it was tried. Panin thought, Just look at that sot Castro. The big brave new world for his people was a twenty-five year joke. Cuba was starving now and if Castro hadn’t been successful in his coup, the Cuban people might have worked their way out of the dictatorial regimes and moved toward a republic like the United States. The lucky ones made it out of Cuba and were living in the southern United States and sometimes were able to send help to their families left behind, but not often.
Communism was a failure everywhere as far as Victor Panin was concerned. It had ruined his beloved Russia and would ruin any other country that embraced its doctrine.
That’s what made him a target for the CIA. The promise that he might someday be made an offer of freedom in the United States and a chance to make something of himself, as he knew he could if given the chance. The information he could provide to his control agent would have to be something extremely valuable for him to get that kind of offer and he knew it. The small pieces of information he was able to pass on so far didn’t amount to much. The money helped to buy more food and a nice coat for his mother. His success in the next few days could earn him a new life in America. Panin knew that he couldn’t help his mother by staying in Russia. She was old and often talked of going to live with her sister in Irkutsk in Siberia, just north of Mongolia if only she could know that her son Victor could manage without her. He had tried on many occasions to convince her to take the train and go live with her sister. Since his father died, she had been very lonely. Victor couldn’t give his mother much time because his work was so demanding although he tried hard to spend as much time with her as he could. He’d saved enough for the train fare for her and had tried to talk her into going to Irkutsk. S