Fallout (20 page)

“No idea. It’s kind of spooky.”

“You think she had your phone monitored?”

“I’m sure she does. They’re all monitored. But what would make her listen to it? What would make her think that she even had to worry about listening in on my phone? That’s what I can’t figure out.”

“That’s just weird.”

“I agree, but, dude, I ought to lay off for a while.”

“I don’t know,” Brian wondered. “Is she really worried about you wasting time, or is she trying to protect somebody?”

“Don’t go paranoid on me. Who would she be trying to protect?”

“How the hell would I know? You’re the intelligence puke.”

“So are you. Do you sniff anything? Anything else about the government? Any side shows going on I ought to know about?”

“Just the Pakistani guys. I’m probably chasing smoke. The other day, though, when the Major found out we’re going to be test-firing some live missiles, he about came unglued. It was like news he hadn’t anticipated, that
really mattered
a lot, for reasons we can’t figure out. It’s probably some sort of bias on my part. I don’t know. Maybe you should just forget about it.”

“I trust your judgment, Brian. I trust your instincts. If you want me to keep pushing, I will. I’ll be hanging my ass out, but if it’s
really
important to you . . .”

“What could you do?”

“I’ll get my person in Islamabad to do some active questioning. She has some sources. She wouldn’t tell me about them, but I know she has some.”

“It’ll get you fired.”

“I’m sick of this shit anyway. Sitting in a cubicle all day trying to patch little pieces of information together about a continent so screwed up I don’t even know where to start.”

“I can’t be responsible for you getting canned.”

“You probably need an assistant intelligence guy at the Fighter Weapons School anyway. Don’t you?”

“I’ll split my salary with you.”

“There it is. I’ll live on scorpions and rattlesnake meat.”

“It tastes like chicken.”

Kevin laughed. “Everything tastes like chicken.”

Brian laughed, too. “Rattlesnake really
does
taste like chicken.”

“You’re so full of it. How would you know?”

“SERE school, bro. Navy survival and POW training.”

Kevin laughed at the image of his little brother chasing snakes in the desert and eating them. “I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it for action.” Kevin hung up and looked over his shoulder. No time like the present. The Wicked Witch had gone home for the night, but not until she’d checked on Kevin and all the others who worked for her, to make sure they weren’t playing solitaire on their computers. He went into the conference room and closed the door silently behind him. He was breathing more heavily than he would like. He turned on the lights and went to the secure encrypted phone. He opened up his PalmPilot and looked up the number of the embassy in Islamabad. He dialed the number quickly, glancing at the closed door. The phone began its odd ringing sound, and he waited patiently for someone to pick up the receiver. Finally a voice answered in English, “United States embassy.”

“Administration, please.”

“I’ll connect you.”

Another odd ring commenced, and again Kevin waited. Finally a woman answered. “Renee Williams.”

“Renee, Kevin Hayes.”

“Kevin, how are you?”

“Not so well. Since I called, I’ve been read out by my boss for ‘interfering’ in Asian affairs.”

“Truly?”

“Truly. Who did you tell that I’d called?”

“Just the attaché. I . . . can’t think of anyone else.”

“Must be somebody. It took all of about three milliseconds for her to hear about it.”

“Maybe she was listening to your phone.”

“Possible. But I don’t think so. That would have meant she thought I was doing something
else
that might have been interesting. And I’m not. My Africa stuff is boring as shit. Nobody would spend five minutes listening to my telephone calls.”

“So what’s up?”

“I know I’m asking a lot. I asked you to look into that guy’s background, but I didn’t tell you much. The more I think about it, the more I think we have to be very careful with this. I also didn’t say why I was asking.”

“No. You didn’t.”

“Go secure,” he said.

“Got it,” she replied.

They both turned their phones to the encrypted mode that made it impossible for anyone to listen in. All someone who had tapped the line would hear was static.

“It’s my brother. He’s the acting intelligence officer for a fighter weapons school a friend of his started in Nevada.”

“I read about that in the newspaper.”

“Yeah. But did you know that four Pakistani pilots are students there?”

“So
that’s
it. I knew four pilots had gone to the United States for training, but I didn’t put the two together. I thought it was that other school at Mojave. The test pilot school. It came on our screen once a few years ago. The State Department got bent because they didn’t have the right visas to be there. This is a different school?”

“Yeah. Like TOPGUN. They fly MiGs and teach fighter tactics.”

“Wow. Nice job. So Khan is a student there?”

“Yes. He’s the leader. My brother has hair standing up all over the back of his neck. This guy is really bugging him. Brian can’t put his finger on it, but he thinks something is up. I learned a long time ago to listen to his instincts.”

Renee grew cool. “I learned a long time ago that instincts don’t mean anything.”

“So let’s split the difference and check this guy out a little bit more.”

“Kevin, look, I’d love to help you, but I really don’t have time to run this guy down. We don’t have any evidence of anything suspicious. We can’t be spending intelligence assets chasing down every Pakistani Air Force pilot.”

“I’m not asking you to chase down every pilot,” he said, pushing back against her resistance. She had to do it for him. If Khan was actually up to something, there was no way the ingrown CIA was ever going to get onto it before it happened—whatever “it” was. Kevin’s opinion of his employer was that they were much better at explaining why they didn’t anticipate something than at actually predicting anything effectively. Typical performance for a bureaucracy. But then he realized maybe that was more a reflection of his own lazy attitude toward the work he considered boring and stupid than of the CIA as a whole. He wasn’t privy to much of the work done by the Agency. He also knew if he was to have any hope of staying at the Agency, he needed to distinguish himself—and fast. “I’m just asking you to track down one pilot. Trace him all the way back to where he was born. If he has an ax to grind, if he’s up to something, we need to know it now. We’re not being told by somebody to do this, we’re doing it the old-fashioned way—by getting information
before
something happens, not afterward.”

“Come on, Kevin. What do you think is going to happen? You don’t have anything.”

“One minute the Undersecretary of Defense is against the school opening. Thinks it’s stupid. The next minute he’s authorizing the school with one stroke of the pen, giving them their license to teach foreign students, then greasing the skids with State for the foreign student visas and making sure the school gets opened with lease terms in place that will make it profitable—
all
conditional on their taking foreign students in the first class, and in particular students from Pakistan.”

“Now you suspect the Undersecretary of
Defense
of something? Are you out of your mind?”

He did. But he wasn’t ready to make an accusation. Yet. “Somebody’s benefiting. I don’t know what’s going on. But let’s find out. And no, I don’t know what this guy Khan is up to. But if he has something against the U.S. and is being allowed to fly supersonic jets inside the country, he could do a lot of things. The fact we can’t figure it out beforehand doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try to stop it.”

Renee paused. She didn’t owe him any big favors, and if she was discovered chasing some crazy theory of his, it could ruin her career. “I’ll think about it.”

“I’m not going to let you skate on this. I want a commitment from you.”

“You’re not in any position to demand anything from me. This is a wild-goose chase. I don’t have the time or the assets. Who do you think you’re talking to?” she asked harshly.

“I’m sorry. I just need your help.”

“So now you’re begging, all friendly and helpless. Don’t try to manipulate me,” she said. She thought for a moment. “There are a couple of people I can ask. But I’m not going to do much else.”

“That’s a start. Thanks. Please let me know what they say.”

“If I do tell you something, it’s not for your brother.”

“He has a secret clearance with the new school.”

“Not good enough.”

“Okay. Don’t worry about that.”

“I’ll call you,” she said reluctantly, and hung up.

Luke glanced in the rearview mirror of his Corvette to make sure the tan Taurus was following him down the Nevada highway. Khan was matching his every turn.

Katherine had been unenthusiastic about having Khan and one of his pilots over for dinner, but she was willing if Luke insisted. She had no idea what to fix. She didn’t know what Pakistanis ate. Luke had asked the Major what food was acceptable, and he’d said that anything would be fine. Katherine had decided to fix steaks with fresh vegetables.

Luke rounded the final curve and headed directly toward his house. He saw that Brian was right behind the Taurus. He’d run into Brian in the gym at the hangar that morning and watched him fight his deteriorating muscles on the StairMaster. He’d looked as if he were dying, biting the air as he fought his way through every step.

It had been hard to watch, but Luke was glad he’d stopped by. Brian had told him of the efforts Kevin was making to look into Khan. Nothing to report yet, he’d said, but they were working on it. Luke had started watching every one of them carefully.

He turned onto the private road that ran for half a mile off the state highway and passed their house. He pulled into the driveway and activated the garage door opener, then skillfully guided the Corvette to its spot in the garage. He closed up the garage and went out the side door to show Khan and Rashim, his lieutenant, the front entrance. Thud was already there.

Katherine got up off the couch and Thud stood from the chair he was in. She kissed Luke and turned to Major Khan to extend her hand. “Welcome. I’m Katherine.”

“It is very nice to meet you. This is my lieutenant, Rashim.”

“Rashim is a pilot as well. I’m sure I told you about him,” Luke said.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Katherine said. She looked at Rashim, who was her height and impossibly young. “I’m glad that you were able to join us for dinner.”

“It is my pleasure. Thank you for inviting us. I hope it is not too much trouble.”

“You both know Brian Hayes,” Luke said, acknowledging the obvious, “and Thud. May I get you something? Beer? Wine?”

Major Khan said softly in his deep voice, “We do not consume alcohol. I told you that.”

“Right,” Luke said. “Sorry. Water? Tea?”

“Tea would be fine.”

“Tea it is,” Katherine said, heading for the kitchen.

“Please come in. Let me show you around.” They started walking toward the family room, Luke next to Thud.

Thud whispered, “Sluf’s still nowhere to be seen.”

Luke glanced at him. “Where the hell could he be?”

“No idea. He definitely flew in. I confirmed it with the tower. And no one’s seen him since. He’s missed three flights and two classes. No answer at his condo. He’s got one of those tape answering machines where the beep gets longer with the number of messages? It’s completely full. Can’t even leave a message.”

Luke was perplexed. “He can’t have just disappeared.”

“True.”

“What do you think?” he asked quietly as they stopped.

“I don’t know. But I think it’s time to get the sheriff involved.”

“The sheriff?” Luke exclaimed.

“You got any other ideas?”

“There must be some explanation . . .”

“I’m all ears.”

“All right. Call the sheriff in the morning.”

“Will do.”

Luke walked toward the back of the house, pointing out the unique Western and Native American art and furniture. He took them out onto the back patio. Luke had finally finished the shade covering, and the now-sheltered patio looked out over the fifty acres they owned and the thousands of acres that, although indistinguishable, were not their property. It was federal land, as was most of the rest of Nevada. The closest house was at least a mile away and barely visible when he pointed it out.

Khan studied the leveled dirt. “What work are you doing?”

Luke stared at the dirt and his unfinished work. “Building a runway.”

Khan and Rashim looked at Luke with surprise. “What for?”

“To buy an airplane to fly to Tonopah every day instead of driving. Or anywhere else I want to go.”

“Your own private airfield? Is this allowed?”

“Sure. You have to follow the regulations, but you can fly from your own airstrip anytime.”

Khan was stunned. “You own your own fighter squadron, your own private fighter base, and now you will have an airstrip at your own house?”

Luke detected bitterness in Khan’s tone. “It’s always been a dream of mine. I want to own a biplane. An acrobatic plane that I can just fly in the sky over my house and run out of gas and dead-stick right back down to my backyard. It may sound silly to you—”

“No,” Khan said.

“I could fly to work. Take off here, land at Tonopah, fly my MiG, then fly my own airplane home for dinner.” He thought about it. “Well, it’s not going to happen anytime soon. The plane I want costs too much money.”

“What kind of airplane do you want to buy?”

“I was thinking about a Stearman, but I don’t know. A good refurbished Stearman would be over a hundred thousand dollars, and they’re sixty or seventy years old. I was thinking of buying a new Pitts Special. You can get them brand-new right out of the factory in Wyoming. But they cost even more than a Stearman.”