Liberty (45 page)
Authors: Stephen Coonts
The front of the van was perforated with bullet holes and only shards of windshield remained. Antifreeze leaked from the radiator and made a puddle on the road. The tires were still intact. With a mighty shove he got it rolling. The crown of the coquina road helped. He managed to get it rolling fast enough so that it went down off the road before the brush stopped it. Good enough. He used his shirttail to wipe away his fingerprints on the steering wheel and the front of the vehicle, then wiped the perspiration from his face.
He kicked the weapons in the road into the brush.
Nguyen retrieved the Remington and walked to where
his submachine gun lay. He put both weapons in the cab of the tractor, lit another cigarette, and wiped his hands and face with a rag from behind the seat. He checked his reflection in the mirror, making sure he had no blood on his shirt. Satisfied, he climbed behind the wheel. The diesel roared into life, spewing smoke from the chromed stacks. When the engine was running smoothly, he slipped the tractor into gear and fed gas.
his submachine gun lay. He put both weapons in the cab of the tractor, lit another cigarette, and wiped his hands and face with a rag from behind the seat. He checked his reflection in the mirror, making sure he had no blood on his shirt. Satisfied, he climbed behind the wheel. The diesel roared into life, spewing smoke from the chromed stacks. When the engine was running smoothly, he slipped the tractor into gear and fed gas.
The rumor that the shipping container in the Wal-Mart parking lot in suburban Atlanta contained a nuclear weapon, not drugs, spread quickly. A policeman used his cell phone to tell his wife; she called her best friend, who called her husband, a reporter at an Atlanta television station. In minutes the rumor was on the air. Within an hour the White House was forced to admit that the rumor was true.
Trading at the New York Stock Exchange and the NASDAQ were suspended at noon. In Washington nonessential government workers were sent home by nervous cabinet officials in early afternoon. The president decided to address the nation via television from the Oval Office that evening, and the networks agreed to broadcast his speech.
The White House press spokesman went in front of the national media to answer questions about the FBI's arrest of a terrorist group and answer questions about the nuclear warhead. One of the very first ones was, “Is this a stolen American weapon?”
“No,” the spokesman replied.
He refused to amplify that remark or answer additional questions on the warhead's origin, so talking heads all over the nation began speculating.
Tommy Carmellini and Anna Modin walked into a café in Virginia Beach for a late lunch and found the staff huddled around a television. He and Anna watched over their shoulders. After ten minutes he steered her to a table.
“I have to go back to Washington,” he said. “It's hit the fan. Vacation's over. They may need me.”
She nodded. She hadn't discussed the four Russian warheads with Carmellini, but she certainly had with Jake Grafton, and she knew Carmellini worked for him.
They ate in silence, each of them lost in their own thoughts. When they were walking back to the motel to pack and check out, she told him about General Petrov and Frouq al-Zuair.
“How do you know all this?” Carmellini asked.
“I was there when Petrov sold the warheads and Zuair took delivery. I told Janos Ilin. He came to America and told Jake Grafton.”
Carmellini nodded. He had wondered how it went down but never asked Grafton or Tarkington, and of course neither of them would volunteer a fact like that, which could cost Ilin his life if it got out. Carmellini had no need to know. “You shouldn't be telling me this stuff,” he said.
She reached for his hand and held it. “It's nice to have one person in this world that I can tell everything. Sometimes the load gets very heavy.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, turned her around, and kissed her.
The cabinet room at the White House was crowded that evening. Jake Grafton found a seat against the wall. Cabinet officers sat around the table, the heads of various agencies behind them, and interspersed here and there, key members of both houses of Congress. These people were talking to each other in earnest, whispered conversations.
The president's address was an hour away. Jake knew he planned to show the nation the videotape of the weapon the FBI had made that morning.
The White House photographer took a few candid shots after the president came in, and Jake managed to stay out of those. The president stopped on his way in for a few
private words with a knot of senior members of Congress. The president looked tired. Jake noticed that Myron Emerick managed to be talking to the attorney general when the photographer aimed the camera at the people around the table.
private words with a knot of senior members of Congress. The president looked tired. Jake noticed that Myron Emerick managed to be talking to the attorney general when the photographer aimed the camera at the people around the table.
When the photographer left the room, the president got down to business.
“As everyone in America knows, the FBI confiscated a nuclear weapon from a group of Islamic terrorists this morning in Atlanta. Regardless of the speculation on television, the warhead was not American. We believe the terrorists had four of them.”
The Senate majority leader, who was not of the president's party, spoke up. “Why weren't we briefed about this sooner? Four nuclear weapons imported by terrorists? How the hell do we know that?”
“I'm not going to stand here and discuss intelligence sources,” the president snapped.
“I was briefed about nuclear threats. And biological and chemical and so on, all very theoretical. Nobody told me there were four goddamn bombs being delivered to Wal-Mart. What in hell is going on here, anyway?”
The president was not apologetic. “This administration has kept you as informed as the needs of national security would allow. The intelligence oversight committees were briefed in more detail.”
“We weren't told enough, sir,” the senator said hotly. “Not by a long shot.”
The meeting went downhill from there. The president was at the center of a firestorm, an inevitable one, Jake thought. Regardless of what the man did or failed to do, the critics were going to be after him. Jake wouldn't have traded jobs with him for all the money on Wall Street.
“We've heard all about these damned Corrigan detectors,” one congressman said loudly, “and we've been asked to provide money to buy hundreds more. Where are they and why didn't they work?”
After a few heated exchanges, the president demanded
silence and got it. “We are trying with every means at our disposal to find the weapons,” he said, “and arrest terrorists. What we can't do is shut the country down and stop the economy dead while we hunt for them. If we do that, the terrorists have won. That is what they are trying to make happen. Our way of life is at stake. This is a war we cannot afford to lose.”
silence and got it. “We are trying with every means at our disposal to find the weapons,” he said, “and arrest terrorists. What we can't do is shut the country down and stop the economy dead while we hunt for them. If we do that, the terrorists have won. That is what they are trying to make happen. Our way of life is at stake. This is a war we cannot afford to lose.”
“If a bomb goes off, we've lost it,” a congressman shot back.
“We all know that,” the president retorted. “And we lose if the public panicsâ”
“I got news for you,” another congressman said hotly. “They've panicked.” He waved hugely. “You've got 250 million frightened people out there. They wake up on a Thursday morning in May to another ordinary day, and by the time the sun goes down they are on the brink of being victims in a nuclear war. They want to know what the hell happened.”
Before the president could respond, another congressman thundered at his colleague, “Last week you were on every network saying the administration was too focused on terrorism and ignoring the economy.”
The president was icily calm. “
Enough!
We're doing our best to keep the country running and find the bombs. We've found one warhead. We'll find the others. We'll tell the public everything we can, when we can. Someone around here has to have some faith in the good sense and resiliency of the American people. I do! They've survived civil war, world wars, depressions and recessions, and September eleventh. They can weather this crisis, too.”
Enough!
We're doing our best to keep the country running and find the bombs. We've found one warhead. We'll find the others. We'll tell the public everything we can, when we can. Someone around here has to have some faith in the good sense and resiliency of the American people. I do! They've survived civil war, world wars, depressions and recessions, and September eleventh. They can weather this crisis, too.”
That ended it. The cabinet officials stayed behind, but everyone else was asked to leave the room.
Sal Molina was waiting for Jake Grafton outside the room. He led him along the corridor to his office. Before he could close the door the president joined them.
“Talk to me,” the president said.
“All four warheads are probably in the country,” Jake said, meeting the president's gaze. “The FBI has been
tracking seventeen suspected terrorist cells in south Florida; last night they began moving. Two of the cells rendezvoused at that parking lot in Atlanta, and soon thereafter a truck drove up to deliver a container to that Wal-Mart store. The weapon was in the container packed in lead, which is why all our search efforts with Geiger counters didn't find them. I hope and pray the Corrigan detector will do better.”
tracking seventeen suspected terrorist cells in south Florida; last night they began moving. Two of the cells rendezvoused at that parking lot in Atlanta, and soon thereafter a truck drove up to deliver a container to that Wal-Mart store. The weapon was in the container packed in lead, which is why all our search efforts with Geiger counters didn't find them. I hope and pray the Corrigan detector will do better.”
“Detector? I thought we had two of them.”
“One was hit by a garbage truck last night in Boston. We have one operational detector, and it's in Washington, which is, in my opinion, the most likely target.”
“Emerick thinks that some of these groups will lead him to the other weapons,” the president said. “He promised me they would.”
“I hope he's right, but I doubt it. I think the terrorists thought the FBI might know of these groups, so they were sacrificed as a diversion.”
The president rubbed his face. He looked ten years older than he did the last time Jake saw him.
“I've damn near kissed Corrigan's ass to get more detectors. Promised him everything but sainthood, and if I had ten detectors right now, I'd put in a personal call to the pope.”
“His engineers are hand-building the things and having their troubles. It's a complex piece of gear. Corrigan was never in a position to manufacture them.”
“Shit!” said the president of the United States, and dropped into Molina's desk chair. Jake sat on the desk with his legs dangling. Molina sat behind the desk.
Jake continued: “The CDs Anna Modin brought from the bank in Egypt led us to believe that the money the Sword of Islam used to purchase the weapons came from the United States. It's a tenuous trail and wouldn't hold up in court. As far as I know, the FBI has done nothing to try to find that trail in this country.”
The president grunted.
“One of the possibilities is that Corrigan provided the dough.”
That comment rocked the president and Molina. They sat stunned. “T.M.?” the president said. “Blowing up a city?”
“Oh, no. Selling the government a hundred Corrigan detectors. Being named ambassador to Great Britainâoh, yes, I've heard the rumors. Money, prestige, power, position. He's the man of the hour, so he's my prime suspect.”
“I told you he's a suspicious bastard,” Molina remarked to his boss.
“You're wrong,” the president said fervently, directing that remark at Grafton.
“Let's hope I'm not. If I'm right, I'm on the trail of a bomb. If I'm not ⦔
The president was thoroughly confused. “But you said Corrigan doesn't want to blow up a city.”
“He may not, but apparently the possibility that someone might double-cross him never crossed his mind. His number two man is a guy named Karl Luck; he likes to ride around Washington and Boston in Corrigan's limo. He's been meeting with a CIA employee named Sonny Tran. Tran works for me. Tran could be the man behind the disappearance of another CIA agent, a man named Richard Doyle.”
“Got any evidence?”
“Of the meetings, yes. Zelda Hudson has tapes of Corrigan's limo driving around Washington. She has Sonny Tran on two of them getting into that limo. One shot of him getting out.” He explained about the police traffic cameras at intersections, how he was stealing a video feed from police headquarters. “And last night Sonny Tran was behind the wheel of the van carrying Corrigan Unit One when it was hit by the garbage truck in Boston. The fact that he was there was a mistake on my partâI thought I should keep him away from Washington.” He threw up his hands. “We're monitoring Tran's and Karl Luck's cell
phones, we've got a beeper on the limo, we're digging into both men's backgrounds, trying to find leads that will take us somewhere.”
phones, we've got a beeper on the limo, we're digging into both men's backgrounds, trying to find leads that will take us somewhere.”
The president looked at his watch, then at Grafton. “What about the buried bombs? Who put them there?”
“We won't know for sure until we dig one up and inspect it. I think we'll find the Russians buried it when they realized Star Wars was going ahead regardless. There's a faction in the Russian government that refuses to give up a nuclear deterrent.”
“Secret weapons don't deter anything if your enemies don't know about them.”
“Ah, they know they have them, so the weapons are political chips in Moscow.”
The president knew all about power politics in a nation's capital. He accepted that assessment without further comment. “Who sent Ilin to us?” he asked.
“No one in Moscow. Ilin came on his own hook. If you need a conundrum to ponder when you go to bed tonight, ask yourself if Ilin knew about the buried weapons. Did Ilin arrange for Petrov to sell warheads to the Sword of Islam so that we would look for weapons, thereby finding the buried Russian bombs, or was that a coincidence?”
“Jesus Christ, who is this fucking guy?”
Jake Grafton took a deep breath before he spoke. “Assuming we can find these terror warheads before they pop, he's a guy who did us a favor.”
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