The Prague Plot: The Cold War Meets the Jihad (Jeannine Ryan Series Book 3) (20 page)

The beam of a flashlight appeared to Bill’s right. Bill poured six rounds from the Beretta at the only opening in the brush on that side. The beam waved wildly and came to rest pointing straight upwards. The bearer of that “lampe de poche” was no longer a threat.

Bill turned to his left. In the open, but diving for cover, was a second pursuer, Though barely discernible in the darkness, Bill had determined his field of fire before hand. Another four rounds from the Beretta covered the target area at ground level. There was a distinct gurgling moan, then silence.

The firefight was over in seconds. Clearly these two pursuers had not expected any resistance.

Bill stood. He released the Beretta’s magazine and jammed in a fresh one. There was only one question on his mind.
Where is Hrubec?

Then Bill heard the sounds of branches snapping. They became faint and disappeared altogether. Hrubec had retreated.

The battle by the creek was over.

It was 10 am when Mila Patekova stopped her SUV in front of the Currituck County Detention Center in Maple, North Carolina. Anne Simek was waiting on the steps. She came to the car.

“Mila, thanks for picking me up, but why didn’t Peter and Jim Harrigan come?”

“Peter went to find a lawyer for his father. I told Jim you didn’t want to see him.”

“But why? What made you say that?”

“Because he’s a cop. He made you talk to the sheriff, and look how that turned out. You spent the night in jail.”

“It wasn’t bad. I had my own cell. And it was my mistake. I panicked and didn’t go to the sheriff when I should have. It’s not Jim’s fault.”

Mila frowned.

“Maybe not, but the police are the police. I thought I liked Jim Harrigan, but he’s just a cop after all.”

“That’s silly. You still like him, and he likes you.”

“That’s what you say, but what about you? What about the sheriff? What’s the verdict?”

“The ‘verdict’ is they asked me not to leave the state before they depose me, that’s all. I’m just a witness, nothing more. ‘Your’ Jim Harrigan spoke up for me. You’re mad at him for no reason. You should tell him you’re sorry.”

Mila tightened her grip on the wheel. She was happy she could still be friends with Jim Harrigan, but she damned well was
not
going to apologize.

They drove in silence. Mila glanced at her passenger. Anne looked drawn.

Mila had forgotten Peter Zeleny.
Wake up, Mila. You are really stupid.

“Anne, I’m sorry. I almost forgot, Peter wants to take you to lunch. He’ll be back at the beach house by noon, if you want to go.”

Anne smiled to herself and began to hum.

The rest of the drive to Corolla was relaxed.

When Mila and Anne arrived at the beach house, the parking area was full. Jim Harrigan’s F250 was next to Anne’s Focus. A Honda Accord with Maryland plates was parked in the farthest spot.

Mila stopped the SUV behind the F250 pickup, blocking it.
Take that, Mr. Harrigan. You won’t leave unless I say so
. She switched off the motor
Mila and Anne were still in the car when Peter Zeleny emerged from the house and came down the steps.

Anne stepped out of the car to meet him.

“Peter, what’s wrong?”

Peter tried to answer, but choked on his words. His eyes were reddened and moist.

“Peter, what’s wrong? Tell me.”

“It’s my father, Johan, he’s dead.”

“Dead, how?”

Peter started to answer, but Anne did not hear him.

Her thoughts drifted to her own father, and the many times he had shared the story of Johan’s desertion with her. She had been too young to comprehend the stories of his pain at Johan’s treachery, the drawn-out suffering in the prison on Bartolomejska Street.

Now that Johan was dead maybe her father could overcome the bitterness that had destroyed half his life. Maybe he could find peace, maybe?

Peter’s voice jerked her back to the present.

“Anne did you hear what I said?”

“I’m sorry Peter. How? I mean what happened.”

“Cardiac arrest. Exercise time, right there in the prison yard.”

“Peter, I’m sorry. I know you needed to talk to him.”

But Peter was staring across the dunes. He seemed lost in thought, as she had been.

She took his arm.

“Come on. Let’s go in the house.”

They went up the stairs together.

The great room of the beach house was bright with light. In a far corner, Anne recognized Aileen Harris deep in conversation with Jim Harrigan and a woman with red hair.
That must be Jeannine Ryan.

Anne guided Peter to a couch as far-removed from Aileen as possible.

Mila headed for the kitchen, and soon was busy opening and closing cabinets and arranging pots on the stove.

Anne turned to Peter.

“Cardiac arrest? Was this expected in any way?”

Peter shook his head, “No.”

Maybe with my father gone, this woman and I can have a future together?
At that thought, guilt assailed him. He focused anew.

“It’s odd. One of the witnesses in the exercise yard said my father had a seizure, that he was paralyzed and couldn’t move. He died within a minute.”

Anne held his arm.

“Where was your father when this happened?”

“At a Federal facility near Butner. They moved him upstate yesterday from the Currituck Detention Center in Maple where you spent the night. I didn’t get to talk to him.”

“That’s not your fault. He refused to see you.”

Peter hung his head.

“Maybe it’s good I didn’t see him.”

He paused and looked into her eyes.

“You told me we should live in the present. We can’t relive our fathers’ lives. Our life is ahead of us.”

Anne inhaled. She loved the words “our life.”

In the kitchen, Jim Harrigan informed Aileen about Johan’s death. She walked to the couch where Anne and Peter were huddled together.

“Peter, what did they say caused your father’s death?”

“They said cardiac arrest.”

“And you think?”

“Some of the symptoms were odd, as if he had some sort of seizure. One witness said it was like his chest froze. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move his limbs.”

Aileen’s eyebrows rose.

“That sounds like organophosphate poisoning, maybe a nerve agent?”

“Maybe, but they told me there was no vomiting, little sweating. Why do you ask?”

“Because we know that Hus-Kinetika has stocks of a nerve agent more deadly than VX or Sarin, but different. And because the FDA Administrator responsible for the Xolak report was found dead this morning in his office in Rockville. He was healthy, a runner. There were no prior problems with his heart.”

Aileen paused.

“They said it was cardiac arrest too.”

Peter started to reply, but Anne Simek broke in.

“Come on Peter. You can talk about this later. Mila has food ready in the kitchen.”

She pulled Peter away
.

Aileen rejoined Jeannine and Jim.

It was mid afternoon in Prague. At the knock on his office door Karel Moravec looked up.

It was Fiala. She was as attractive as ever, but Fiala lacked something that Ivana possessed. How would the Americans put it? Fiala lacked the “Spunk,” that Ivana had. “Spunk!” He liked the word. It was strong. It propelled itself from his lips.

“What is it Fiala?”

“Mr. Hrubec, called you, Sir. He wants you to call him back.”

“Where is he?”

“In Belgium. In the countryside near Brussels.”

“Does he have Ivana?”

“He didn’t say, Sir.”

Karel scowled. Hrubec had failed. He did not have Ivana or he would have said so.

Faced with that scowl, Fiala withdrew. She shut the door carefully to make no noise.

Rather than please him, that accommodation irritated Karel.
Damn it.
Ivana never catered to his moods. Her departures had flair. Once she had slammed the “holy” door to his office. Ivana had “Spunk.”

Karel looked at the photo of Bill Hamm lying on his desk. The American was an ignorant bore who doubtless had never heard of Mozart, Dvořák or Beethoven. Karel studied his hand-crafted Italian shoes. In the photo Hamm wore sneakers. Yet he had spirited Ivana out of the country in spite of Karel’s best men. He ground his teeth and turned the photo face down.

Karel sat, face between his hands.

Fiala spoke through the intercom.

“Sir, it’s North America, on line 1.”

Karel looked up. Indeed a button was lit. He punched it and spoke.

“Yes?”

“Johan Zeleny’s mouth is closed, permanently.”

“Do they suspect how?”

“No, and they won’t. They’re going to cremate the body tomorrow.”

“OK, Zeleny is no longer a problem. What about Hodges, and Xolak?”

“A janitor found his body this morning. They called it a heart attack. And the Xolak report has been fixed. There should be no more problems with the FDA.”

“Unless Ryan and Harris protest. Eliminate them! Where are they?”

“We lost them. They never returned to the office. Our best guess is North Carolina.”

Karel’s face turned red.

“You guess! Find them. Take care of them now!”

Karel slammed the button and broke the connection.

He tried to call Hrubec, but there was no answer, only a whining sound.

The beach house in Corolla, North Carolina, was the site of considerable activity. Jeannine had tried to contact Bill Hamm in Belgium, but without success. Thus Jim Harrigan was dependent on her account of Bill’s efforts to obtain Gustav’s cooperation.

And Jim had a new concern. The house in Corolla was not safe. If not already known to Karel’s men, it soon would be. It was a week ago that Jim had smashed the electronic bug at Mila’s house. If they knew of her, they would be able to trace her rentals.

Meanwhile, Mila kept herself busy with household chores so as to not think of Jim. Occasionally, she would glance in his direction as he talked with that attractive redhead, Jeannine.

Anne Simek and Peter Zeleny kept to themselves. Anne acted as if Peter needed protection from Aileen more than from Karel Moravec. Aileen found that ironic. She had lost all attraction for Peter after his “friend,” Gustav, had destroyed her office and nearly killed her. Though Peter then had saved her, he had brought Gustav to the office in the first place.

Besides, Aileen was busy. Lacking input from Gustav, she was to check which Hus-Kinetika facilities in the United States were equipped to handle nerve agents. Handling such extremely dangerous agents requires buildings with special ventilation systems.

Moreover, the Novichok agents, unlike Sarin and others, had precursors that occur normally in the production of pesticides. Perhaps some Hus-Kinetika facility was near a pesticide plant. There, the presence of critical chemical residues could have an innocent explanation.

Another possibility was for the facility be near a CWDF, a “Chemical Weapons Destruction Facility,” mandated by the CWC, the “Chemical Warfare Convention.” In the U. S. these facilities were located at or near former production sites, like Pine Bluff Arsenal in Arkansas, or Edgewood Chemical Biological Center in Maryland. There suspicious chemical residues could be explained easily.

Her search was like that for a needle in a haystack. Doggedly she perused website after website on her laptop.

Additionally she was nagged by the thought of Xolak. It had to be linked to her search.

But how?

At Jim Harrigan’s approach, Aileen looked up from the laptop.

“Jim, what did your friends at the CIA say when you told them about the 95 tons of Novichok-H.”

“They don’t believe Gustav, and they’re skeptical about Jeannine’s analysis, but they’ll check on it.”

“That’s no help.”

“No it isn’t. They say they will check if the nerve agent could be in the States, but they’re skeptical. They think it would be too dangerous to ship without special containers that would have been detectable.”

“But Novichok-H is a “binary agent,” it’s not dangerous until the two precursors are combined. And the evidence is that both precursors occur in normal pesticide production. If we can’t keep illegal immigrants out of the country, why would anyone think we can keep ‘legal’ pesticide chemicals out.”

“Aileen, I agree, 100 per cent. The CIA will continue checking, but I think only to cover their butts in case something bad happens. Maybe Bill Hamm has found more.”

“But we haven’t heard from Bill, so it’s up to us, and we have no resources.”

“But you have the internet. Use what you have.”

Aileen went back to the computer as Jeannine appeared holding a cup of coffee.

“Would either of you like some coffee?”

Jim took the cup as Aileen jumped in her seat.

“Wait. Here’s something, Hus-Kinetika has a facility in Maryland, not far from the Aberdeen Proving Ground.”

Jim looked over her shoulder.

“Use Google Satellite and take a look.”

“Google won’t let me focus on the proving ground. It’s blurred.”

“Right, that’s military security. But move away from it to the Hus-Kinetika plant. You can focus in close there.”

“What am I looking for?”

“An add-on to the complex. An isolated building, with few or no windows. And special ventilation, fans, pipes, on the roof or along the sides. Like the Aum Cult building in which they made and tested Sarin for their attack on the Tokyo subway.”

Aileen Googled in on Hus-Kinetika’s plant.

To the north stood a single building with almost no windows but with structures on the roof that looked like ventilators. It was isolated from the southern part of the complex by a high fence. A thick grove of trees shielded it further.

Bingo!

Aileen looked up at Jim Harrigan.

“What next?”

“This is a possible site. It’s better than nothing, but we need more. Check the arrival of ships at the Port of Baltimore from 2005 to 2006. Particularly search for ships from Hamburg, and its Vltava Port, what the Germans call “Moldauhafen.”

Aileen turned back to the computer to Google “Moldauhafen.”

Jeannine spoke.

“But Jim, the conspirators have had years to perfect a plan. They could be ready to strike any time.”

“True, but there are two things in our favor. The handling of nerve agents is difficult and dangerous, and you need special facilities, like that isolated building with super ventilation, as well as trained lab people.”

He added.

“And delivery systems are damned complicated. They take years to perfect. It’s not easy to impact the target without killing the deliverer. Novichok-H needs to have its two precursors mixed in specific proportions and at the right temperature just prior to delivery. The development of the M687 binary Sarin artillery shell at Pine Bluff was a slow difficult process, for years. And the conspirators don’t have the resources of the military. They may not be ready yet.”

Before she could frame a reply, Mila called from the kitchen.

“Jim, come and give me a hand with these sacks of garbage. Tomorrow is pickup day.”

He left.

Jeannine shook her head and went to Aileen’s side.

Aileen was not the only individual on the Outer Banks using the Internet for research.

In Nags Head, a man hunched over his computer and adeptly clicked keys to craft searches. He did not need much skill to find what he wanted. The Patek Realty website listed its rentals.

He completed his task and signaled his partners.

“There are six possible rentals where Patekova could be hiding people. Three of them are in Nags Head, two in Kitty Hawk and one up north in Corolla.”

Hugo, a short stocky individual with the look of an “enforcer” answered.

“What do we do?”

The third individual, Hermann, was tall and had a well-groomed beard. He closed his eyes as if reflecting.

“We’ll check Nags Head and Kitty Hawk because they’re closer and on the way, but they’ll be in Corolla. They want to be as far from Patek Realty as they can get.”

He opened his eyes.

“We must go. Karel needs results, not excuses.”

At the beach house in Corolla, Mila sent Jim Harrigan to wheel the large garbage can to the roadside. Jeannine followed. She wanted a moment alone with him

“Jim, I don’t think that these former communists will gain enough by destroying our cities.”

Jim recalled his cold war service with the Agency. He had no doubts about the ruthlessness of those guys, whether Czechs or Soviets.

She read his mind.

“I know they could wipe us out with a clear conscience, but I don’t think revenge is enough of a reward for them. In the present clime, they are more thugs than communist ideologues.”

“Get to the point, Jeannine. What are you saying?”

“They want money. Lots of money. What if jihadists, who lack the knowledge and means to mount a massive nerve gas attack, are willing to pay them multi millions of dollars to cripple the ‘Great Satan.’”

Jim frowned.

“Jihadist Petrodollars for cold-war weaponry?”

“Right. The loss of lives and the damage to the U.S. economy would be much worse than after 9/11. That could be the communists’ revenge for the destruction of Communism. Plus, millions of Euros for each of them would satisfy their thuggish appetites. And the jihadists would further their goal of establishing the Caliphate.”

Jeannine made sense. Jim’s brow furrowed as he spoke.

“So what holds the conspirators back is not the means of delivery, but negotiations to maximize their payoff. They want to extract as much as they can from the radical Islamists. When people are willing to die, the delivery system can be simpler. Those who deliver the agent will die, but they want to.”

A cloud passed before the sun. The air chilled. Jeannine shivered and pressed her arms about her body while climbing the steps to the house. At the top, she looked back.

To the West behind them, the sun shone blood-red on the horizon. Was it an omen, a portent of what lay ahead?

The terrorists would strike, but when and where?

But there was no time to reflect.

Jim Harrigan knew that the conspirators could easily locate the beach house. And his truck and the other cars parked outside proved that it was occupied.

It was only a matter of time before Karel’s men found them.

They all needed to leave, now.

In thirty minutes, everyone was packed!