The Operative (42 page)

Hobart put his fingers against his throat and counted the pulse, which appeared to have already slowed. Then, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, he stopped himself. Why was it that the older people got, their fear of death increased? When you’re young and with everything to live for you don’t think about it. But when you reach an age where statistically you know you should have less years to live than the number you’ve already been alive for you think about it more often. Death was inevitable.

The thought triggered speculation about Stratton’s likely remaining time on earth. The guy was on a suicide mission and surely heading in the old pine-box direction fast. If Skender’s people didn’t get him the police or the Bureau would. Even if by some miracle he did survive he was looking at a long, long time behind bars, all because he believed he owed it to his buddy,
his buddy’s wife and their kid. A sad fact of life, thought Hobart, was that if you were born a man of honour and integrity you were bound to run up against authority in the long run: the law sure as heck didn’t make allowances for those qualities.

The door opened and three men in suits walked in.

‘Bill Weighbridge,’ the taller, older, more polished-looking man said, holding out his hand unsmilingly, his stare immediately assessing his FBI counterpart.

Hobart stood, took Weighbridge’s hand and shook it. ‘Hobart,’ he said.

‘Sam Belling, Bo Anderson,’ Weighbridge con tinued, introducing his colleagues who took their boss’s lead and formally shook Hobart’s hand.

Weighbridge sat down a chair away from Hobart and the other two men sat at the other side of the table.

‘How was your flight?’ Weighbridge asked.

‘Fine,’ Hobart replied, deciding to let the other guy get the ball rolling. It was, after all, his office.

Belling was watching Hobart but Anderson was looking down at his own fingers as if he was un interested.

Hobart’s immediate assessment of Weighbridge was that he was a tough-minded man who in his younger days had been physically hard, too. He looked confident, in control and dominating.

‘I appreciate the importance attached to this visit,’ Weighbridge said. ‘And I’m sure you want to get back as soon as you can. So, what have we got here?’ he asked, sitting back and looking directly into Hobart’s eyes.

‘I’ll get right to the point. First, though, I’d like to thank you for taking the time to see me at such short notice, and also for your help with what we do regard as a very serious case.’ Hobart spoke with a hint of humility but not enough to make it obvious that he was stroking the CIA men’s sense of superiority. He was
well aware, of course, that they had not yet been of any assistance at all. ‘This man, John Stratton,’ Hobart went on. ‘I’ve come for two things. First, I need to know everything about him.’

A knock on the door interrupted them. Hobart looked up to see it open and a man step in, glance at the faces around the table and then look as if he might be in the wrong room. It was Seaton.

‘Come in,’ Weighbridge said and Seaton obeyed, closing the door behind him. ‘Take a seat. This is Agent Seaton,’ he said to Hobart. ‘Hobart is with the FBI in California.’

Seaton nodded a greeting as he sat down. Despite having no idea what this was about he suddenly felt uneasy.

‘I’ve asked Seaton to join us because he knows Stratton better than anyone in the Agency. Wouldn’t you say that was about right?’ Weighbridge asked, looking at Seaton.

Seaton’s heartbeat increased its pace as his temples tightened. He was unable to stop some of his surprise showing on his face, his immediate thoughts con cerning the box of explosives and the intelligence file that he had given to Stratton. ‘Yeah, I know him – though I wouldn’t say I know him well.’

Weighbridge interrupted as Hobart was about to say something. ‘Before we get into this, I’d like to say something – set some guidelines, if you like. I’m not about to throw up any obstacles here. You’ve got a job to do and we’ve got a responsibility to help, and as far as I’m concerned that’s how it’s going to be.’

Encouraging, Hobart thought. The man appeared sincere enough. Now let’s see if he is.

‘However …’ Weighbridge went on.

And so much for
that
, Hobart thought.

‘I don’t know this guy Stratton personally,’ Weighbridge said.

‘Never met him, but on paper he has a value, to the Brits and also to us – he’s worked for us on occasion. He has a pretty high-level security classification. Works at the sharp end. You’ll understand the Brits’ concerns about a guy like that getting sucked into
a domestic Stateside entanglement such as this. Personally, I don’t give a rat’s ass about his future. The guy’s broken the law and he’s got to pay the price. But I want to ask you, and I mean, I’m
asking
you, to bear that history in mind, whatever happens to him. The Brits don’t see him as a security risk but this is not a good time to have this kind of publicity getting kicked around by media hounds.’

‘Thank you for being so frank and direct,’ Hobart went on, maintaining his air of good-natured humility. ‘I’ll be equally candid and tell you that this case is connected to one of our most high-level and confidential operations regarding crime syndication in this country. We share equally your misgivings about publicity. The police are involved but in a manpower capacity only. As far as they’re concerned we’re looking for a crazed English guy who has some knowledge of explosives. If the media does become involved – which is probably inevitable since this began as a police case and leaks from that quarter are impossible to prevent – we shall have a credible explanation ready. I would appreciate any help from you in that area.’

Weighbridge nodded. He liked Hobart’s style and felt he could trust him. His attempts at sidestepping the bad blood between the two organisations were obvious but Weighbridge got the impression that on a personal level the man was sincere.

Hobart removed several printed sheets of paper from his briefcase and placed them on the desk, pushing one in front Weighbridge and the rest to the other men. ‘That’s a detailed history of events so far. Why don’t you go ahead and read through them, get up to speed and I’ll fill you in on the most recent information that we have.’

The men pulled the papers in front of them and began reading.

Seaton read quickly through the details of the two assassinations, the backfired retaliatory hit in the alleyway and Josh’s kidnapping. But what he was looking for in particular were any references to
the origins of the explosives. As he reached the last sentence he was relieved to see that there were none. He breathed a little easier.

Hobart waited for Weighbridge to finish before handing out another page. ‘That’s a list of products which Stratton was known to be in possession of by yesterday evening. I understand that these chemicals could be used to produce a significantly powerful explosive device as well as detonators.’

‘And a helluva lot of “products” there are, too,’ Anderson said, studying the list.

‘How long would you estimate it would take him to put a device that big together?’ Hobart asked. He’d already had an answer to that question from Phil but he wanted to get these people involved.

‘That would depend on what he was making exactly,’ Anderson replied, suddenly taking an interest. ‘He could produce maybe eighty to ninety pounds of raw cyclonite or RDX crystals in a single day if he has any experience in production. That’s a lot of high explosives. Why’s there a question mark against the metal mercury?’

‘We know he was looking for some but we don’t know if he’s been able to get hold of any yet.’

‘If he does then he’s going for mercury fulminate as a detonator.’

‘Is that easy to manufacture?’ Hobart asked.

‘If he doesn’t blow himself up he could produce fulminate in, say, half a day,’ Anderson said. ‘Then he’d want to test it, of course.’

‘Test it?’ Hobart asked.

‘Sure. Detonators are usually made up of a primary and secondary explosive, the primary being the more powerful charge that’s initiated by a secondary, less volatile one. Fulminate is a primary explosive but if handled correctly it can be used without the secondary charge. Depending on how this guy constructs the
detonator he’d want to be sure that it’s going to ignite the RDX.’

‘I’m assuming you have an idea what his target is?’ Weighbridge asked.

‘I want to stop him before he gets that far,’ Hobart said, avoiding the question. He wasn’t here to discuss every detail of his case with them, just Stratton and his threat potential. ‘What I’d like are some recent photos and a description of Stratton, if that’s possible?’

Weighbridge looked at Belling who nodded at him.

‘It’ll be in your office before you get back,’ Weighbridge said.

‘One other request,’ Hobart said. ‘I’d like one of your guys to assist us. Someone who would know how an operator like Stratton might think or react in a given situation. Better still, someone who actually knows him.’

Hobart didn’t look at Seaton. But Weighbridge threw a glance in the man’s direction and pondered the request for a moment.

‘You okay with that?’ Weighbridge asked Seaton.

Seaton could only wish that he had some hugely important high-priority task that would stop him going to California with Hobart but he didn’t. ‘Sure,’ he said.

Hobart looked at Seaton and nodded. Then he turned back to Weighbridge.

‘Anything else?’ Weighbridge asked, looking as if he needed to be somewhere else.

‘Not right now,’ Hobart said.

Weighbridge got to his feet and Hobart did the same.

‘Thanks,’ Hobart said, holding out his hand.

Weighbridge gripped it. ‘You need anything else, go through Seaton and we’ll see what we can do.’

‘I appreciate it,’ Hobart said.

The men filed out of the room, except for Seaton. Hobart repacked his briefcase and pulled his jacket off the back of his chair.

‘When are you heading back to California?’ Seaton asked.

‘I’ve got a charter waiting at Dulles.’

‘And you want me to go with you right now?’

Hobart paused to look at Seaton, picking up a feeling of deep reluctance radiating from the guy. ‘That was the idea,’ he said, being ever so nice. ‘But if you have things to do, maybe Weighbridge can get me someone else,’ he said, knowing what the reply to that would be.

‘No, that’s fine. I was just checking. I’m gonna need a few things. It’s a short detour to my house.’

‘Sure,’ Hobart said, pulling his jacket on and then extending an open palm towards the door. ‘Lead on.’

Half an hour later the two men were pulling away from Seaton’s house and heading for Dulles International Airport. Seaton and Hobart sat in the back seat of the sedan, staring out of their respective windows, both deep in thought. Then Hobart took his cellphone from a pocket, dialled a number, put the phone to his ear and waited for it to connect. ‘Hendrickson? Hobart. You should be receiving an ID on Stratton within the next few hours. It’ll probably come in on my private e-mail. Pull it up but do
not
distribute it. That’s for the team’s eyes only, you got that? Next. The sightings of Stratton in the Bakersfield area. It’s likely he’s holed up somewhere isolated. Somewhere he can test an explosive device without raising an alarm. It’s also possible that he could be done preparing the explosives by today. That means he could be heading back to Los Angeles any time. I’m on my way to the airport. I should arrive in Burbank by around six p.m. Okay.’

Hobart pocketed the phone and thought through all the information he had once again, checking that there was nothing he had overlooked. ‘When’s the last time you saw Stratton?’ he asked Seaton.

Seaton glanced at Hobart but saw nothing in his expression that gave anything away. ‘We were in Iraq together just over a month ago,’ he said.

‘Was that where Jack Penton died?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you know his wife and kid?’

‘Jack’s? I met ’em once.’

Hobart glanced at Seaton again as a thought struck him. ‘That was the last time you saw Stratton – in Iraq?’

Seaton took a moment to think his answer through. Hobart had repeated the question which suggested that it was more than just idle curiosity on his part. It would not take a senior FBI man long to find out from other sources about a domestic flight that Stratton had recently taken. Nor could Seaton ask his wife and kids to lie about the English special forces guy who had stayed overnight. A lie like that would come back to haunt him and then all the other lies, especially any about the origins of the explosives, would be difficult to cover up. ‘No. He came to visit me here, the day after he arrived in LA.’

Hobart stared at the side of Seaton’s head for a moment. Then he looked away as several pieces of the puzzle slipped neatly into place. Seaton was the one who had given Stratton the information that he’d needed to hit Leka and Ardian – and Hobart would bet his hat that Seaton had also given him the explosives.

The first thing that came to Hobart’s mind was that he now had the CIA over a barrel. But he realised that Weighbridge couldn’t have known about Stratton’s visit to Seaton or he sure as hell would not have invited the guy to the meeting. Seaton had done it as a personal favour to a friend. It was Seaton who Hobart had over a barrel. The obvious question now was where did Seaton’s true loyalties lie: with Stratton or with himself ?