Liberty (52 page)
Authors: Stephen Coonts
Jake walked around and sat down beside Ilin. “Thanks for inviting me to your little meeting. It's not often I get to sit close to a billionaire.”
“They are a rare breed. Did you get enough?”
“To ruin Corrigan? I think so. No doubt he thinks I recorded it.”
“Hmm.”
“We've still got one of those goddamn terrorist warheads rolling around loose. Any idea where I might find it?”
“None. I have faith in you, though.”
Grafton snorted. “If you hear a big bang from America, don't bother sending flowers.”
“How many buried bombs have you found?”
“Three so far. How many are there?”
“I have no idea. The leaders of the SVR are industrious and don't do things by halves.”
“You could have just told me, you know.”
“No, I couldn't. Then they would have smelled a leak. Corrigan provided a perfect coverâthe money and the terrorists and the warheads Petrov sold them are real. Moscow doesn't suspect me, and they won't.”
“I'm not going to thank you until we find the last warhead.”
“I suppose not.”
“In a couple weeks we're going to start digging up the buried bombs. Any danger of those damn fools in Moscow popping them when we do?”
“I think not. They were assets to fight the political battles in the Kremlin. The ultranationalists took comfort from them. The people responsible were promoted to very high positions. You understand these things.”
“I have a favor to ask of you,” Jake said. “Unlike Corrigan, I can pay nothing.” He told Ilin what it was.
“I'll see what I can do,” Ilin said.
The admiral nodded. “Well, thanks for the e-mails. Now that you have our address, send us a Christmas card.”
Jake Grafton stuck out his hand. Janos Ilin shook it, then got up and walked away, scattering the pigeons.
On Monday morning Sonny Tran stood looking up at the Statue of Liberty. The pedestal and the statue were covered with scaffolding. “Are you going to be able to get all that scaffolding off in the next five days?” Sonny asked.
The man he directed the question to was Hoyt Wilson, the chief engineer on the statue refurbishment project.
“Oh, yes,” Hoyt said, “but let me tell you, I've been damn worried about your gadget. We're right up to the wire, man, with my neck on the line.” He was referring to the deadline made necessary by the Fleet Week schedule. The refurbishment project had to be finished and the scaffolding removed from the Statue of Liberty by Saturday, the first day of Fleet Week.
“The Park Service engineers have been all over this project,” Hoyt continued. “They've tested the new light, worked out all the bugs. It's going to be officially turned on and dedicated at the opening ceremony the first evening of Fleet Week, Saturday night. With the fireworks and ships all lit up, this will be a once-in-a-lifetime sight.”
“Oh, yes,” Sonny said. “Still, we live in troubled times, and Pulpit has priority over light shows and fireworks.”
Pulpit was a classified project. Hoyt Wilson had a security clearance, as did the handful of workmen who were going to help install Pulpit. Yet Wilson didn't know what it was. He asked now. “Just between us, Gudarian, what
the hell is this thing you're putting up there?” Sonny's badge proclaimed that he was Harold P. Gudarian (“I was adopted after the Vietnam War”), an employee of the department of defense.
the hell is this thing you're putting up there?” Sonny's badge proclaimed that he was Harold P. Gudarian (“I was adopted after the Vietnam War”), an employee of the department of defense.
“Man, I don't want to go to prison,” the fake Gudarian said smoothly, “and I'll bet you'd rather not.”
Wilson nodded curtly and bit his lip. “Forget I asked.”
Sonny looked around, then said in a low voice, “Why do you think Corrigan Engineering got this job? The company wasn't the low bidder.” Indeed, Corrigan
was
the low bidder, but Sonny doubted if Wilson knew that. In fact, Corrigan won this project three years agoâthat the firm's radiation research had led to hardware, and the age of terrorism had arrived almost simultaneously was purely coincidence. And a horse Sonny could ride.
was
the low bidder, but Sonny doubted if Wilson knew that. In fact, Corrigan won this project three years agoâthat the firm's radiation research had led to hardware, and the age of terrorism had arrived almost simultaneously was purely coincidence. And a horse Sonny could ride.
Wilson stared as Sonny continued, “Surely you know about the firm's work with radiation detectors?”
“Oh!” The light dawned for Hoyt Wilson. His eyebrows went up toward his hairline. He had heard the news of the warheads being discovered in Atlanta, Washington, and the Bronx.
“You never heard it here, amigo. Officially Pulpit is a system that keeps track of ships in an anchorage. The mechanics are classified.”
“I appreciate your confidenceânot another word,” Wilson said abruptly. “The chopper is going to set your gadget on the balcony. As you know, it wouldn't fit insideâthings are damn tight up there. I want you up there supervising when the chopper brings it. There shouldn't be a problem. When it's in place we'll start tearing down the scaffolding.”
“After we get it up there, I'm going to seal the statue, put locks on the doors. I'll be up there through Fleet Week. We don't want any unauthorized persons in the statue until after Fleet Week.”
“That might be a problem,” Wilson said, frowning. “There's a television crew that wants to film from inside
the crown when the torch light comes on. The Park Service gave them permission.”
the crown when the torch light comes on. The Park Service gave them permission.”
“We'll see how it goes. Don't cancel. I'll be talking to you. Believe me, my superiors at D.O.D. have the authority to overrule the Park Service on national security grounds.”
“I understand.”
“One of my colleagues is going to be along later today. I'll let him in.”
“Sure.”
They entered the structure through the visitors' entrance, an opening in the mid-nineteenth-century star-shaped Fort Wood, which once guarded New York Harbor. Although the architects who designed the fort would have never believed it, the granite fort made a perfect base for the colossus. Above the old fort rose the base of the pedestal, then the pedestal itself, the foundation upon which the 225-ton weight of the statue rested. Both the base and the pedestal were poured concrete structures faced with granite.
As Wilson and Tran rode the elevator to the observation level, Wilson said, “We could have lifted your toy up there with the crane if we'd had it in time.”
“Saved time doing it with the chopper,” Tran explained. “Then there is the security angle. The fewer people who see it, the better. And absolutely no photos. We'll cover the thing so all the planes and helicopters flying around next week don't breach security.”
“Let me know if we can help,” Wilson said.
When the elevator reached the observation deck, they walked outside onto the viewing platform, or balcony. At this point they were roughly halfway up the 302-foot total height of the statue. From here they rode a tiny elevator up the side of the scaffolding.
The elevator had no sides, no rails, nothingâeach passenger donned a safety harness at the bottom and snapped a carabiner ring onto a metal piece, so they couldn't fall off. Sonny Tran held on grimly as the open elevator rose.
The wind tugged at his hard hat. He wanted to close his eyes as the elevator rose and rose, and the island below shrank dramatically. Finally, he could resist no longerâhe slammed his eyes shut and didn't open them until the elevator jerked to a stop. He found that the elevator had stopped at the level of the goddess's chin. Wilson hopped off the elevator as if they were on the fifth floor of a department store, motioned for Sonny to join him, then jogged up a short ladder to the lady's right ear. From here a longer ladder went above her arm to the torch balcony.
The wind tugged at his hard hat. He wanted to close his eyes as the elevator rose and rose, and the island below shrank dramatically. Finally, he could resist no longerâhe slammed his eyes shut and didn't open them until the elevator jerked to a stop. He found that the elevator had stopped at the level of the goddess's chin. Wilson hopped off the elevator as if they were on the fifth floor of a department store, motioned for Sonny to join him, then jogged up a short ladder to the lady's right ear. From here a longer ladder went above her arm to the torch balcony.
Sonny steeled himself and followed. He didn't look down, just concentrated on Wilson's shoes in front of his face as the wind whipped at his clothes and hatâit seemed as if the wind could effortlessly pluck him off the ladder and hurl him into space. Teeth gritted, eyes on Wilson's shoes and ankles, he climbed rung by rung.
He was shocked when he saw how tiny the torch balcony was. Actually it was about nine feet in diameter. Perhaps the fact the torch was suspended here on the very apex of the statueâa hundred yards above the island belowâmade it seem smaller than it was. A piece of the railing had been removed so that people could enter via the ladder.
“I hope I don't pee my pants,” he told Hoyt Wilson when he had snapped his carabiner ring onto balcony metalwork. Wilson didn't bother with a safety line. No doubt he had been up here so often that he was no longer impressed with the view, which was sublime. He glanced at his watch impatiently, then removed two pages of blueprints from his pocket. He kept them folded so they wouldn't blow away and began pointing out the attachment points and electrical connections to Sonny.
Tran tried to ignore the altitude and wind and concentrate on what Wilson was saying. The gentle, subtle motion of the torch as it responded to the wind didn't help.
Two laborers came up on the elevator. One climbed the ladder to the torch and strapped himself to the scaffolding. The other waited until Sonny's tools came up on the elevator
before he climbed up, carrying the toolbox in one hand in apparent total disregard of the height and the breeze. He went back down and waited for Sonny's duffel bag to come up on the elevator, then carried it to the balcony.
before he climbed up, carrying the toolbox in one hand in apparent total disregard of the height and the breeze. He went back down and waited for Sonny's duffel bag to come up on the elevator, then carried it to the balcony.
Sonny turned from looking outward to an inspection of the light assembly. The new torch light was smaller than the old one, yet the box housing the warhead would have to go on the balcony. The warhead would have fit inside if Sonny could have removed it from its housing, which was merely camouflage. Unfortunately there was no way to do thatâhe and Nguyen had used a chain hoist to get it into the box.
“I'm amazed the Park Service approved Pulpit's installation, out in the open like this,” Wilson remarked.
“The Park Service wasn't asked,” Sonny snapped. “Anyone bitches, tell him to take a good look at Ground Zero.”
The helicopter was ten minutes late. Sonny was feeling more comfortable about being up so high in such a small place when he spotted it coming from the northwest, with a load suspended under it. Seconds later he heard it.
Yes!
He forgot all about the height. He had his warhead! This Saturday night, with this harbor full of gray warships and dignitaries, he and Nguyen were going to deliver a blow from which America would never recover. They were going to change the course of world history.
Two determined men. Only two.
The noise and downwash from the rotors of the chopper as it hovered over the torch was astounding, a sensory overload that made it hard to move or think or breathe. Wilson and the laborers seemed to have no problem, although Sonny could not force himself to release his hold on a piece of angle iron. The warhead, batteries, and capacitor in their housing were lowered straight into the balcony. In less than thirty seconds the workmen had the hoist straps loose.
As the helicopter flew away the noise level dropped. Sonny leaned in, put his hand on the box.
Yes!
Commander Rita Moravia brought a giant aerial shot of New York Harbor with her when she reported to Jake's office in the Langley complex that morning. Toad helped her tape it to a wall in an office near Jake'sâthe only one with enough wall space. The shot was annotated with open lanes and anchorage positions for the warships.
When Jake arrived, the wall was completely decorated. Rita took him into the empty office to look. “We've been using this blowup to assign anchorage positions, work out liberty boat routes, VIP tours, garbage runs, everything ⦠. The Fleet Week staff had another, so I swiped this one.”
“This is just what we needed,” Jake muttered, tapping the photo. “Have you met Zelda?”
“No, sir. Heard a lot about her from Toad.”
“Today's your lucky dayâyou're about to meet a twisted genius in the flesh, the great Zelda Hudson. In the meantime, help me carry some chairs and stuff into this office. I just moved. We'll have the morning staff meeting in here.”
When she arrived, Zelda said a tight hello to Rita, nodded at everyone else, and took a seat.
Rita opened the meeting by passing out the Fleet Week schedule. The opening ceremony on the evening of the first day drew Jake's attention. The president was going to be there, ten other heads of state, six prime ministers, five vice presidents, and half the ambassadors to the United Nationsâthe ones from countries that liked America this week. The senior members of Congress, New York and New Jersey's congressional delegationsâJake ran his eye on down the guest listâcelebrities, singers, sports stars, the mayor of New York, admirals from everywhere, the list ran on for pages. Even Thayer Michael
Corrigan's name was on the list. “Holy cow,” Jake muttered.
Corrigan's name was on the list. “Holy cow,” Jake muttered.
“They've been putting this thing together for a year,” Rita said in way of explanation. “It's the navy's week in the spotlight, our chance to win a few friends, which we will need desperately for the budget wars.”
“Giving everyone a short boat ride and a ton of fireworks oughta do it,” Jake agreed. “Where is the opening ceremony?”
“Aboard USS
Ronald Reagan
.” The
Reagan
was the navy's newest carrier, just commissioned. “The CNO wanted to show her off before she transits Cape Horn to the West Coast.”
Ronald Reagan
.” The
Reagan
was the navy's newest carrier, just commissioned. “The CNO wanted to show her off before she transits Cape Horn to the West Coast.”
“Where are you going to put her?” Jake asked.
Rita used a pointer on the chart. “Here in front of Liberty Island. The scaffolding from the refurbishment will start coming down today, so Lady Liberty will be the backdrop. After the refurbishment she's all polished and shiny. The president will use a radio switch to turn on her new torch light, which is twice as powerful as the old one. The television types wanted Liberty alone in the background, rather than against the Manhattan skylineâthey don't want people staring at the spot where the World Trade Center towers used to be.”
She spent another five minutes running through the logistics and size of the operation. When she finished, Rita sat down.
Jake glanced at every face in his small audience before he began speaking. “As you know, the Sword of Islam purchased four warheads in Russia and shipped them here. We have recovered three of them. Those are the factsânow for the theory: I think Sonny Tran and his brother Nguyen hijacked the fourth weapon in Florida and are planning to explode it somewhere. New York, Fleet Week”âhe picked up the schedule and flipped to the first page that listed the opening ceremonies' guestsâ“are perhaps the place and time. You must admit, this is a juicy list of bigwigs.”
He paused, looked from face to face again. “I need you people to verify or refute that theory, the sooner the better.”
Nods from everyone. No questions about how he arrived at that theory, just nods. This was, after all, the military.
“Let's talk about how we're going to do it,” Jake said, and went on from there.
Late that afternoon Nguyen Duc Tran rode one of the work boats over to Liberty Island from Manhattan. He had credentials from Corrigan Engineering, so there was no problem. He walked along with a backpack over his shoulder and a toolbox in his hand watching a swarm of men on the statue piling scaffolding on a platform suspended from the crane. When the platform was full, the crane operator lowered it to the ground, where another group of workmen unfastened that platform and quickly rigged an empty one to the crane hook. Back up the new platform went for another load of scaffolding.
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