Sandstorm (28 page)

Though it had been years since they last spent any measurable time together, Nora knew Alex well enough to wonder what was motivating him to continue. He had always been a man of conviction and purpose. Rarely was doing anything stupid part of his agenda. There had to be something he was holding back.

Alex scanned the items on the table and tried to piece together as much as he could. “What am I looking at?” he asked.

Duncan cleared room on the table and positioned several items in front of Alex. He tapped a set of satellite images.

“The question is, where in Iran are those centrifuges you inspected going? The smart money is on a site known as Natanz,” Duncan said, placing an index finger on the location. “It’s one of several facilities the Iranians are working on. They’ve learned how to play the game of deception very well. In ’81, an Israeli air strike destroyed a plant under construction. A preemptive attack today would be met by a number of antiaircraft defense systems.”

“So why is the CIA sold on Natanz?”

“A ton of activity, for one. It’s a uranium enrichment facility the Iranians claim will only be used to fuel nuclear power plants to provide energy. But with the right materials, it can be transformed into a weapons-grade program. It’s about 160 miles south of Tehran, and the last estimate anyone could come up with was that Natanz is big enough to house sixty thousand centrifuges. That kind of inventory can produce enough uranium for twenty-five ten-kiloton nuclear bombs a year. The bomb dropped on Hiroshima was fifteen kilotons. Seventy thousand people … poof,” Duncan said, extending his arms for emphasis. “The Iranians have been constantly upgrading the centrifuges at Natanz in search of a more efficient and powerful means of enriching uranium. As you can see, they started to build part of the facility aboveground. Then, they got secretive and creative.” Duncan rifled through a pile, searching for another satellite image. Once he located it, he circled a section before handing it over to Alex. “That is a tunnel entrance—and it marks a blind spot, since satellites can’t see underground. And with no International Atomic Energy Agency inspectors allowed inside…”

“No one really knows what the hell they have down there,” Alex finished.

“That’s the scary part. It’s also heavily fortified. Watchtowers and guards all along the perimeter. Plus, the Russians officially deny they supplied them, but it’s believed S-300 surface-to-air missile systems are on the premises as well. Those nasty little babies can track aircraft and fire at them from more than a hundred miles away.”

Alex mulled that image over for a second.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Nora interjected. “If fighter jets were capable of making it past the defense systems, why not just drop crater or bunker-busting bombs? The answer is based on the amount of dirt and sand hauled away. The Iranians fortified the structure beneath the surface so it more than likely can withstand such an attack. They’re hunkered down pretty deep below ground.”

Duncan raised a cautionary finger. “Besides, if that reactor goes operational, you can’t bomb it.” He addressed Nora’s quizzical look. “You wouldn’t be able to because the fallout would make Chernobyl look like a two-alarm fire.”

Alex exhaled as he examined more of the images, taking in the sequential building blocks of what appeared to be a humongous project. “There’s still a way to take it down.”

“Do tell, Yoda,” Duncan said, waiting to be impressed.

“It has to be done from the inside.”

“Yeah, and if I could wave a magic wand, I’d win the lottery.”

Nora exhibited disbelief as well. “And just how do you propose to get all the stuff inside so you could take it down? The place is too well guarded. Everything and everybody going in and out is accounted for.”

Alex nodded. “I understand that. But what if what you need is already down there?”

CHAPTER
53

He rode from the southern border of Iran in silence during the wee hours of the morning and was eventually deposited at the luxury hotel while most of Tehran still slept. The check-in process was conducted by his two transportation specialists, who departed his side only after he’d settled into the most expensive suite at the hotel, courtesy of the government.

Dr. Franz Mueller had proved to be vital in building the nuclear plant at Natanz. In return, the Iranians had made Mueller a rich man. The majority of the millions he received was handed over to the Israeli government. The rest, a sizeable amount, Yadin had pocketed for himself. It paved the way for certain luxuries like his prized piece of real estate in Paris, but more importantly, it was bringing a comfortable retirement into focus. That was, of course, if he survived this mission. His acceptance of the Iranians’ offer to be present for their crowning achievement came as a shock to them. Throughout the building process, Dr. Mueller had only stepped foot on Iranian soil four times. His reason for staying away needed no further explanation than that being too visible risked exposure to the Israelis. The Iranians understood. He was much too valuable to have an accident or vanish into thin air.

Yadin turned on the television and channel-surfed, quickly losing interest in the late-morning talking heads that seemed to dominate the airwaves. He took a quick shower, got dressed in relaxed clothing, and kept a leisurely pace as he moved through the lobby, asking for a taxi once outside. One pulled up in no time, and before it whisked him away, he noticed that the Iranian couple that had been sitting in the lounge area was coming outside. As the taxi departed, Yadin saw the man signaling a car to come forward.

Let the games begin.

CHAPTER
54

“You son of a bitch!”

Sara was at Alex’s side before the door closed behind her. Her flared nostrils were breathing fire, and unconsciously she clenched her fists.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” she demanded. Alex was still seated at the table with Duncan and Nora as she hovered over him. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex caught Nora beginning to rise. He slightly shook his head to get her to sit back down.

“What’s your problem?” Alex calmly responded without looking up.

“You had him shot? Are you fucking kidding me? You had him shot!”

“Oh, that.” Alex couldn’t contain a slight smirk.

“Yes, that! You arrogant bastard! Do you realize how much trouble you’ve gotten me in? He’s my responsibility.”

Nora was confused. “Got who shot?”

“Your ex here had Davis Lipton shot.”

Alex raised a hand. “What? The foot! I had them shoot him in the foot. That little shit gave me bad information prior to going into the church. I could’ve gotten killed. I just wanted to send the message I wasn’t screwing around.”

There was silence in the room as Sara maintained her prickly stance, debating whether to lash out further.

“I’m sorry if I’ve jammed you up a bit, but if there’s nothing else…” Alex’s change in inflection made it clear it was time for Sara to back off. She ran a hand across her face and drifted to the empty chair around the table.

“Good. One big happy family again,” Duncan said, without diverting his attention from the table.

Sara was about to mouth something but thought better of it. She threw Davis Lipton’s cell phone on top of all the clutter. “All the messages left on his phone were from the esteemed senator himself. Seems as if he was very worried about his son.”

“‘
Was
very worried’?” Nora questioned.

“Yes, Langley eased his mind by responding with a couple of text messages. Should he get suspicious, the times and location stamp will indicate they were sent from Tbilisi. Essentially, they convey that Davis didn’t feel it was safe to talk openly.” Sara cast her gaze upon Alex again. “Davis gave us all the safeguard codes for contacting his father. He was very cooperative.”

Alex couldn’t resist. “Guess he didn’t want to get shot again.”

CHAPTER
55

Champion relished the chill of the night air. The back of his shirt and underarms were soaked with sweat. It was the main reason he hadn’t taken off his suit coat while inside. He began to grasp how, in moments like this, some people sought comfort from a cigarette. He’d prefer a shot of something alcoholic and had even been offered one, but considering the company, he steadfastly and politely declined. He wanted to take that decision back now.

The meeting was pushing past two and a half hours. Numerous phone calls had been made, reversing the nighttime ritual for an unlucky few caught getting ready to turn in for the night. They were told to prepare for a potentially long night. President Hudson decided for the moment that high-ranking members of Congress would not be brought on board. At this point, a leak was unthinkable, and there would be hell to pay if one occurred.

A stream of cool air rustled the crabapple trees and swayed the primrose bushes and grape hyacinths, filling Champion’s nostrils with a soothing scent. He took a deep breath, taking it all in. Here he was, standing just outside the Oval Office, the gorgeous and historic Rose Garden in front of him. He leaned against the wall of the West Wing Colonnade, the connector to the private residence of the White House.

He maintained a calm exterior, but on the inside, there was an intense wrestling match going on, his heart and stomach a tag team of uneasiness. He hadn’t seen his wife, Jill, since they’d gotten out of bed yesterday morning. They’d played phone tag for most of the day. His last message to her indicated that he’d spent time with the man they both voted for and that he felt good in thinking the right choice was made. They’d finally connected after he passed through security at the White House. He let her know he had no idea when he’d be home. Though he heard the disappointment in her voice, regrettably she was getting used to hearing that his time and attention was needed elsewhere. There was a very good possibility he would simply return to Langley, grab whatever shut-eye he could steal on his sofa, and start his day from the office. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Inside the White House he was initially greeted by a still-perturbed Amanda, who’d said little other than, “Follow me,” as she escorted him, her day also elongated. Midway down a corridor, she’d finally gotten it out of her system. “You really have stirred up the pot. If I’d known lunch was going to lead to this…” She cringed. “You shithead!” What Amanda didn’t tell him was that she’d spent five minutes praising him when the president asked her specifically about his qualities.

She delivered Champion to Bill Stern, chief of staff and her immediate boss. After shaking hands, Stern offered Champion a seat.

“Do you know Senator Bob Langdon?” Stern was sure the name wouldn’t come as a surprise. He sat down right next to the man from the CIA.

Champion didn’t grasp the connection, but if this was a test of how well versed he was on Washington insiders, he’d play along. “From Wisconsin? Chairman of the Commerce Committee.”

“Exactly. Way back when, he played football for the Badgers. Still fancies himself quite a competitor. Well, Mr. Champion, I had a full boat in my hands tonight. Kings over queens, and there was a sizeable pot on the table.” Stern paused to let the picture sink in. “I had to fold that hand because I got an emergency call to be back here. I’m a bit competitive, too.”

Stern spent the next several minutes mildly grilling the relatively unknown visitor who had managed to put several of the most powerful people in the US government on call. He didn’t push too hard because President Hudson had already informed him he thought Champion had potential. Tonight would go a long way toward confirming that assumption.

When Champion finally walked into the Oval Office, National Security Advisor Warren Spencer and Secretary of State Ron Drake stood up along with President Hudson to greet him.

“Doyle feeling okay?” the secretary of state inquired with a firm handshake, a little disappointment evident on his face.

So much for the pleasantries,
Champion thought. “He’s fine, Mr. Secretary. Pillar of health, actually. I’ll make sure he knows you asked about him.”

Champion didn’t really have time to take in the magnitude of his surroundings, commonplace for the men he was now seated around. The home court advantage was clearly theirs, but he wasn’t about to be intimidated.

“You can be frank and open here,” President Hudson assured. “Try and overlook Ron’s cynicism. He generally doesn’t like too many people, which, for being secretary of state, is a pretty bad character flaw. I may have to address his appointment before my term is over.”

The remark drew smiles and eased some tension. The secretary of state had a reputation for lacking charm, but President Hudson was actually pleased to have a bulldog like him on the leash when dealing with certain foreign entities.

Champion could tell by their body language that both Spencer and Drake were anxious to get this moving. The president, on the other hand, looked as fresh as he had early this morning, when the various cable networks carried his remarks live as he visited a local homeless shelter, pushing the importance of volunteerism. His energy was intoxicating, and Champion couldn’t help but wonder how long he could keep it up.

“Am I to understand this has come together in a matter of weeks, if not days?” The question came from Spencer, who was known for having one of the brightest minds on the Hill. He’d been Hudson’s highest priority when the new president was collecting the people who would form his administration. It was a tough sell, too, since Spencer had been thoroughly enjoying the challenges of a very lucrative private sector career. He’d stayed as far away from Washington as he could, because the previous administration had soured his belief in politics. Eventually, President Hudson wore him down. Spencer had come on board with the understanding that he would speak his mind, even if it meant offending those who had established careers doing what they claimed was in the best interest of the American people.

Champion hesitated before responding, knowing the answer would only increase skepticism, but sometimes you had to put all your cards on the table. “That would be correct, sir,” Champion said, making a point of maintaining eye contact. “I totally understand the concern here. This is not something you can be wrong about.”