Death Wave (25 page)

“Good God. But why two scribblers? Why
these
two?”

“We have an analysis team going through their books now, sir, looking for a motive. Most of their stuff is pretty far out, alien abductions and crap like that. But that newest book, the one they wrote on 2012, might turn out to be the key.”

“Really? Twenty twelve. That’s … all of that doomsday stuff, right?”

“Yes, sir. The end of the ancient Mayan calendar and the end of the world. It sounds apocalyptic enough that al-Qaeda or the JeM might have taken an interest.”

“So why kill the authors?”

“We’re not sure about that either, yet. In the conversation our operative bugged yesterday, Feng was concerned that their deaths might give away the game. So we’re researching their books with that in mind.”

Douglas nodded. “I see why you’re concerned. Twelve loose tactical nukes, two extremist Muslim operations with apocalyptic code names, and a murdered author who writes about doomsday. And Feng here is talking about next week.”

“Exactly.”

“What’s the Chinese role in all of this?”

“Probably opportunistic. In the transcript, Shah mentions concerns that Saudi Arabia is going to lose a major trading partner. Looking at the context, that could well be the United States. Al-Khuwaytir is probably Mohammad Sayeed al-Khuwaytir, the Saudi foreign trade minister. Feng points out that the PRC could step into the vacuum. If Wrath of God is designed to cripple the U.S. economically somehow, I can see how the Saudis
would
be concerned.”

“No more solid silver Rolls-Royces.”

“And another bad stretch for the global economy,” Rubens pointed out. “We’re just climbing out of one economic crisis. Something on the scale these guys are talking about might put the whole world into a financial tailspin. Again, we’re still carrying out the investigation, but we think that Feng was the money man. Best guess? He provided the money for JeM to buy twelve stolen suitcase nukes from the Russian
mafiya
.”

Douglas pursed his lips. “Ouch. What do you want from me?”

Rubens looked at Noelle. This was his department.

“When Desk Three gets this sorted out,” Noelle said, “we’re almost certainly going to need military action.
Fast
. Our people are tracking the nukes at Karachi now.” He looked at Rubens. “A freighter?”

“Russian freighter,” Rubens agreed. “The
Yakutsk
. Maltese flagged. Destination Tel Aviv.”

“The
Yakutsk
. We may need to put a VBSS team on board her.”

VBSS was the naval acronym for “visit, board, search, and seizure.” It meant a SEAL team taking down a Russian ship and grabbing the nukes on board.

Douglas made a face. “That is
not
going to fly well with the Oval Office.”

“No, sir. And that’s why the request is going to have to come from your office.”

“We can enlist Johnny James,” Noelle added. “He’s sympathetic to us.”

“We’ll need to brief him.” Douglas arched an eyebrow in Rubens’ direction.

“I can handle that, sir. This afternoon, if I can get an appointment.”

“Use my priority code for the request.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“It occurs to me that we have some people here we might want to talk to. It sounds like al-Khuwaytir may be in on this scheme, whatever it is. And your sources in Spain—Feng, Shah, and this French guy, Chatel.”

“Already on that, sir. Al-Khuwaytir may be someone for State to look at. But my people in south Asia are checking on both the ship and on other forms of transport out of Karachi.”

“Good. Anything to stop us from picking up the three in Spain immediately?”

“Just one thing,” Rubens told him. “Al-Wawi, apparently, is the guy running Operation Wrath of God. Right now he’s on the island of La Palma, Canary Islands. He’s the one we
really
want, and we don’t want him tipped off ahead of time. If he disappears, he might take the suitcase nukes with him, and we’ll have to start all over from scratch.”

“Any ideas?”

“Yes, sir. One of my best Desk Three operators is with Feng now, in Spain. I’m sending her to La Palma this afternoon.”

“To save Carlylse?”

Rubens hesitated. “If possible. But Carlylse might lead us to the Jackal. That’s our first priority.”

“Bait,” Douglas said.

“Hate to say it, but yes. I don’t know how else to flush al-Wawi into the open without spooking him.”

“Well, I’ll leave that in your hands, Bill. Keep me up to date. Let me know if anything changes. And I’ll let you know what the President says. He may insist on deniability.”

“That might not be possible, sir. It is
imperative
that we recover those nukes.”

“I agree. But in this business, imperatives aren’t always possible.”

“I know that, sir. All too well.”

HOTEL ALMIRANTE
ALICANTE, SPAIN
THURSDAY, 1725 HOURS LOCAL TIME

Lia DeFrancesca walked into the luxurious, light-filled lobby of the Almirante, holding Feng’s arm. She was wearing a brightly colored beach wrap now—she didn’t mind going three-quarters naked in public, but only where such exposure would be natural and unremarkable, like on the beach. She wasn’t about to emulate the couple she’d seen a few years before in Madrid.

“You know, Ms. Lau,” Feng told her as they waited for the elevator to arrive on the lobby floor, “you
could
share my room.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Feng,” she replied. “It
is
tempting … but what kind of a message would that send to your business associates?”

“How would they know? Besides, they would merely think of me as very fortunate indeed.”

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “Mr. Shah has the traditional Muslim scorn for women who expose themselves in public. I’m sure he thinks of me as a ‘fallen woman.’ If he learned you were sleeping with me, he would be convinced that you are as decadent and degraded as I am.”

He looked at her sharply. “How do you know he called you a fallen woman? Do you speak Arabic?”

“No, but I know what
bintilkha-ta
means. And associating with such a person would taint you as well. Unless you’re
trying
to scandalize the poor boy?”

He smiled and patted her arm. “I do like … how is it you Americans put it? To yank on his rope?”

“His chain. You like to yank his chain.”

“Just so.”

The elevator arrived; the door slid open. They stepped inside and she pressed the button for her floor, then for his.

“Mr. Feng, I’m delighted that you appreciate my skills and my experience enough to hire me. But I submit that you need to decide just what it is you are hiring me for. As a consultant knowledgeable in foreign cultures? Or as a playmate in bed? The one gets in the way of the other.”

“And what would you say if I told you I wanted you for my bed?”

“I would say no, Mr. Feng. I would tell you that I was flattered … but no.” The elevator stopped at her floor, and she walked out. “Until later, Mr. Feng.”

“Very smooth, Lia,” Rockman told her over her implant. “I’m not sure how you keep him at arm’s length with all the drool on the floor, though.”

“He wants me for eye candy,” she murmured. “I think the job is just an excuse to show off a pretty woman hanging on his arm.”

“Are you okay with that?” Bill Rubens asked.

“Oh, sure. He’s putty in my hands.”

“You’re going to want to wash your hands, then,” Rubens told her. “I’m pulling you out.”

“Why?” She was genuinely startled. Surprise was followed immediately by a flush of anger. “Mr. Rubens. I
can
take care of myself, you know.”

“I know you can, Lia, but we need you in La Palma. The sooner, the better.”

“La Palma? Why?”

“Because that’s where al-Wawi is. It’s also where a writer named Vince Carlylse is about to be murdered by al-Wawi’s people. When you went off to get those drinks this afternoon, they were discussing it.”

“They’re killing writers? Why?”

“We don’t know yet, but it’s wrapped up with a terrorist op, and it’s big.”

“Feng wants me to fly with him back to Germany. Shah and Chatel are going to La Palma.” She had a new thought. “Shah and Chatel. They’re involved with the terrorist op?”

“That’s part of what we want you to learn, Lia.”

“Feng will be suspicious if I quit now and fly off to the Canary Islands with those two instead.”

“We’ll take care of your legend, Lia. We want to preserve your relationship with Feng in case we need to penetrate his COSCO operations later. But right now, we can have you on Grand Canary in six hours … and it’ll be closer to twenty-four if I send someone out from the States.”

“You got it.”

“I’ll send along the file information on the writer, and what we know about the Canaries. We’re also sending Ms. Howorth down there. She’ll be your backup.”

CJ had been left behind in Berlin to wrap up some loose ends there.

“Very well. When do I leave?”

“We have a ticket for you at the counter at Alicante Airport. Your flight leaves in eighty-five minutes.”

“Then I guess I’d better pack and get over there.” She laughed.

“What’s funny?”

“Feng, sir. He’s going to be
so
disappointed. Or pissed. I can’t decide which.”

ART ROOM
NSA HEADQUARTERS
FORT MEADE, MARYLAND
THURSDAY, 1515 HOURS EDT

“What is the ship’s position now?” Rubens asked.

Marie Telach checked one of the Art Room displays. “Twenty-three forty-five north … sixty-five thirty-three east,” she replied. “One hundred three nautical miles southwest of Karachi. Course two two three degrees, speed seventeen knots.”

“A week to Haifa.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the
Lake Erie
?”

“Still shadowing the target, sir. Ninety nautical miles to the south and on a parallel course.”

Rubens frowned at one of the monitors, which showed an aerial view of an aging, plodding merchant ship, tiny against the endless blue of the Gulf of Oman. The image was being relayed from a tilt-rotor Eagle Eye UAV remotely piloted from the
Lake Erie
. The
Erie
was a Ticonderoga-class Aegis cruiser, CG-70, part of the
Constellation
carrier battle group. The CBG had been tasked with following the target freighter without crowding her too closely.

A CIA agent in Karachi had come up with the information that a number of containers supposedly carrying small nuclear weapons had been transported yesterday from Jinnah International Airport to a Russian freighter, the
Yakutsk
, moored on the Karachi waterfront. The agent had been unable to say how many containers had been transferred to the ship, but if the suitcase nukes were on board, even one was too many.

In fact, there was no reason to suppose that the twelve weapons had been split up.

Rubens wondered just how much they could trust the CIA’s source. This agent was a young Pakistani named Haroon who’d purportedly been turned after the ISI had arrested his sister and his father a year before, accusing them of being Taliban. Both were still in prison; the State Department was supposed to be making inquiries about the two, a part of the package that had brought Haroon to the U.S. Embassy and the CIA’s senior resident there.

It felt convenient to Rubens, and he didn’t trust convenient.

Still, the man was the only hard source they had at the moment regarding the whereabouts of the stolen nukes. If they were on board the
Yakutsk
, the United States needed to verify that—and secure them.

If they could get the authorization to do so. The administration was—as General Douglas had pointed out that morning—reluctant to board a foreign ship on a suspicion,
especially
a ship belonging to the Russian Federation. Freedom of the sea was a vital principle in both American and international law. Hell, the War of 1812 had started with the British boarding and searching American ships at sea.

What if the ship couldn’t be stopped, and nuclear warheads reached the Israeli port?

Operation Wrath of God. Operation Fire from Heaven
.

American targets? Or Israeli?

It scarcely mattered. Millions of people might die. Those warheads
had
to be found and secured, one way or another.