---
Chapter Title: Tension at Dawn
"Because you've already been exposed!" Serov snapped, eyes locked on Andrei. "Don't think the KGB just got involved. We had Annie under surveillance for six months. Her mission was clear: turn you and Belenko."
He leaned in. "On August 5th, she gave you a note—asked you to meet her at the Hongqi Street Hotel. She was supposed to tell you that the situation in the U.S. had changed, that the operation was suspended, and you were to inform the others. But when you returned, Belenko was already en route to defect. You panicked, rushed to your aircraft, and shot him down—to cover your tracks."
Andrei was stunned. This twisted logic left him speechless. Did KGB officers always create theories to fit their goals?
"Where's the note?" he asked.
"In your pocket. Our agents already found it," Serov said coldly, holding up the crumpled paper. "This wasn't your first attempt either. Months ago, you flew near Hokkaido. We believe you wanted to defect then but were shadowed by other MiG-25s and aborted the mission."
"What kind of nonsense is that?" Andrei exploded. "Do you KGB types always fabricate stories to earn promotions? Last night, I never even met with Annie!"
His fists clenched. That woman must've slipped the note into his pocket while he was dining with Ekaterina. She had set him up, even in death.
"Then where did you spend the night?" Serov asked sharply. "You'd signed your discharge papers, yet never returned to your unit."
"I… stayed elsewhere," Andrei answered, hesitating.
He couldn't bring himself to say he'd spent the night at Ekaterina's place. A single, unmarried man staying overnight with a woman? That would only add fuel to the fire. His silence seemed incriminating.
Serov's gaze hardened. "Captain Andrei, due to your suspected treason, you are being taken to Moscow for formal investigation. Come with us."
Two muscular agents stepped forward. Like wolves circling prey, they grabbed Andrei by the arms and reached for handcuffs.
No. He knew what awaited him in a KGB detention center—interrogation, isolation, maybe worse. If he left Sokolovka now, he'd disappear into a system no one escaped from.
"I'm innocent!" Andrei barked. "I shot down the F-4. I stopped Belenko. I even intercepted an American EP-3 last month! Every action I've taken has been for this country!"
The agents didn't slow. Andrei resisted, trying to free himself.
"Boom!"
The office door burst open. Colonel Ivanov, commander of the 513th Regiment, stormed in, his face grim.
"What is going on here?" Ivanov demanded.
"Captain Andrei is under suspicion of treason," Serov replied coolly. "We're taking him to Moscow. Interference will be treated as obstruction of justice—and treason."
Though outranked in title, Serov knew few dared to challenge the KGB. Kozhedub, standing behind Ivanov, remained silent, his gaze avoiding Andrei's.
Ivanov didn't flinch. "Captain Andrei is the best pilot in our regiment. A decorated officer. He is our first postwar half-ace, and I trust him. If you need to investigate him, you'll do it here—at Sokolovka. My men and I will fully cooperate."
His hand hovered near the grip of his Makarov pistol, not drawn—but not idle.
Andrei felt a wave of gratitude. Ivanov was staking his career to protect him, standing firm against the dreaded Second Directorate.
But Andrei knew he couldn't let this escalate.
"Commander," he said calmly, "I believe in our country's justice system. This is a misunderstanding. I'll go with them."
He couldn't risk dragging the entire regiment into political fallout. One misstep could destroy more than just his own future.
Ivanov's jaw clenched. "Captain Andrei, we all believe in your innocence. I will personally report to headquarters about your bravery and loyalty."
Andrei gave him a respectful nod and turned toward the door. The agents reluctantly released their grip—no handcuffs. Outside, a crowd of pilots had gathered, their eyes full of concern and anger.
Though Andrei had been in the unit for less than a month, his performance—his courage—had earned their respect. They glared at the KGB men, silently showing support.
He stepped outside. The sun was just rising, casting the eastern sky in brilliant crimson. A new day, but for Andrei, the future was uncertain.
A once-mighty country—one he now realized was crumbling. The corruption, the paranoia, the slow decline under Brezhnev's leadership—was he naïve to think he could change it?
He let out a bitter laugh.
"Move!" Serov ordered.
Near the helipad, a Mi-8 transport helicopter waited, its rotors spinning slowly. Andrei knew the moment he stepped inside, he would no longer be free.
Suddenly, the sharp screech of tires broke the silence. A white ambulance skidded to a halt nearby.
The door flew open, and a woman in a white coat leapt out.
She wasn't wearing a mask—and her face was contorted with fury.
---