Authors: Stephen Coonts
Liberty (31 page)
“Mrs. Grafton said someone tried to murder you,” she said to the patient.
His smile got even broader. “Hard to believe, isn't it? A personal thing, I think. No problem now. What is that accent you have?”
“Russian.”
“Ahh, a spy in the house of love. How about dinner tomorrow night?”
“You'll be walking by then?”
“I'm going to steal crutches and blow this pop stand. I'll call you at the Graftons'.”
When the women left ten minutes later, Anna Modin was smiling for the first time since she'd arrived in America. “He's very nice,” she told Callie as they walked out of the hospital.
“You have a date already,” Callie said. “Things are looking up.”
“A date,” Anna said, savoring the idea.
When the two women were in the car and rolling, Anna commented, “My life is so empty. Men have been interested in me, but I always push them away. One, in Cairo, put his life in jeopardy for me. Then there was the girl in Cairo, Nooreem HabibâI demanded that she drop everything and flee for her life, and instead she took the time to say good-byes to her family. Then they killed her.”
Anna Modin shook her head. “They have so much money that they can afford spies everywhereâeven here. America is full of Islamic immigrants and illegals.”
Callie concentrated on driving and held her tongue.
“Nooreem Habib had a life and lost it,” Anna mused aloud. “I have no life, and I remain alive.” After a while she added, “Until they find me.”
Jake and Gil Pascal spent Tuesday afternoon in a meeting with senior officers of Delta Force, listening to deployment options and scenarios in the event a live nuclear weapon was discovered on American soil. The options were all risky, with horrific consequences if anything went wrong. The whole thing was a nightmare.
Along toward five o'clock a staffer rescued Jake to take a call from Toad.
“There's nothing wrong with the Corrigan unit, boss. I'm sitting out here at Andrews Air Force Base with Harley Bennett and Sonny Tran beside a B-52 with a nuke in the bomb bay. This gizmo is singing and chirping just like it did the first time.”
“How does Bennett explain the alarm at the golf course?”
“He can't. Says there must be something there.”
“Buried under a golf course?”
“Right.”
“Go back to the golf course and do it again. Call me from there.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“You're keeping a log of every buzz and beep, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Terrific.” Jake cradled the instrument and stood in his office staring at the wall. Through the years he had watched engineers wrestle with bugs in new systems large and smallâbut what if something were buried beside that river?
Not in the last three weeks. He inspected that terrain himself. Sure, every day people filled holes and put sod or plants over the fill, but if they had done it within the last three weeks, the disturbance would still be evident. He would swear that area was undisturbed. The soil was compacted, the plants secure in the ground â¦
So what the hell was going on?
Unable to solve the problem, he dismissed it and went back to Colonel Kiechel of Delta Force.
He was back at his desk at six-thirty that evening tackling the paperwork that had accumulated when the telephone rang again. It was Toad.
“Harley has the sensors flaked out, boss. We're at Hains Point in East Potomac Park, precisely where we were the last time, and the Corrigan giz-mach is singing up a storm.”
“Put Bennett on.”
After a moment of silence, Jake heard, “This is Harley Bennett.”
“What do you think, Bennett?”
“Damn, Admiral. I don't know. I have two recommendations. First, let's get some of the factory engineers down here to check that I'm doing everything right and not missing something. It's possible there could be some internal interference or something that is screwing up the sensors and giving false positives. The wizards are going to have to figure it out.”
“I thought you were a wizard.”
Harley Bennett's voice sounded tired. “Admiral, I'm just a working engineer. I'm not in the league with the
guys who designed this thing; anybody who thinks I am is fooling himself.”
guys who designed this thing; anybody who thinks I am is fooling himself.”
“Give them a call. Now. Tell them to get on a plane. What's your second recommendation?”
“Dig a hole.”
“Are you satisfied that thing is functioning properly?”
“I am, but like I said ⦔
“Let me talk to Toad again.”
When Tarkington was back on, Jake said, “I told Bennett to get the boffins from Boston down here to look at your gizmo. Make that happen this evening.”
“You can hear the clock ticking, can't you?”
“Yeah. If they can't find anything wrong tonight, tomorrow morning I want you guys to drive that van up and down both sides of the Potomac from Beltway to Beltway. Drive it through downtown Washington, by the Capitol and White House and Pentagon, all of that. Do Andrews, Fort Meade, NSAâall the high-value targets. Annotate a map. Put down every buzz and cheep and chirp. If a needle twitches, I want to know about it.”
“Yes, sir. How long do we have for this project?”
“As long as it takes. But I want the map on my desk tomorrow evening whether you are done or not.”
“We'll put this thing in the garage at Langley, and I'll meet the plane from Boston.”
“Thanks, Toad. By the way, is Sonny within earshot?”
“No.”
“Keep an eye on him. He may be dirty.”
By ten that night three of Harley Bennett's colleagues from Corrigan Engineering were working on the van in a garage at Langley. Jake stopped to talk after he left the office. One of them was a pipe smoker. “Dr. LaFontain,” Bennett said, “Admiral Grafton.” The two men shook hands.
LaFontain played with his pipe as he watched the other
two peer and probe under the control panel. He said nothing.
two peer and probe under the control panel. He said nothing.
When Jake tired of the silence, he asked, “How long is this going to take?”
LaFontain looked startled. Obviously he hadn't even considered the time element. He shrugged and puffed smoke.
“I'll see you in the office first thing in the morning,” Jake said to Bennett.
“Ah, Admiral, I will need to get some sleep at some point.”
“We screw this up, a whole lot of people will be sleeping forever. Eight in the morning. Be there.”
When a uniformed naval officer wearing stars walks into Bethesda Naval Hospital, even at eleven at night, he is not anonymous. Jake managed to shed his escortâtwo nurses and a doctorâoutside the door to Carmellini's room. He went in and eased the door shut behind him. Tommy Carmellini was asleep. He had an IV catheter in his left wrist, but he was not hooked up to an IV.
Jake touched his arm. “Hey, shipmate.”
Carmellini drew back as if stung. His eyes flew open. He relaxed when he saw who was standing beside the bed.
“Hey, Admiral,” he said. He looked at his watch.
“How are you doing?”
“Fine, fine, sir. Jeez, I didn't expect to see you. Sit down. Drag up a chair there. Your wife was here this afternoon, and I appreciate that. Brought your houseguest with her.”
“Yeah.” Jake pulled the chair over by the bed and sat. “Sorry it's so late, but I couldn't get away sooner.”
“Sure.”
“I want to hear all of it, every word and gesture, everything.”
When the limo cruised into Dupont Circle at midnight, the chess player was waiting on the corner. He opened the
passenger door and seated himself beside Karl Luck.
passenger door and seated himself beside Karl Luck.
“Mr. Corrigan wants to know how the device is working,” Luck said by way of greeting.
The chess player looked at him oddly, then removed a small electronic device from his pocket. He ran it over Luck's clothes while he watched the meter, then moved it carefully around the interior of the car. Only when he had passed the instrument over every nook and cranny did he flip off the power and return it to his pocket.
“It worked as advertised this afternoon. The air force provided a live nuclear weapon to recalibrate the instrument.”
“Why? I thought it was already calibrated.”
“It is indicating the presence of a weapon buried on Hains Point, across from Reagan National Airport.”
“The weapons aren't here yet,” Luck objected.
“Apparently the device doesn't know that. From all indications, there's a weapon buried under a golf course on Hains Point. Either that, or the thing is giving false positives for some reason Harley Bennett can't figure out.”
“What in the hell is going on?”
“I was hoping that you could tell me.”
“You are sure the detection unit is functioning properly?”
“I am not. Bennett swears it is, and I don't know enough to doubt him.”
“Has Bennett talked to the factory?”
“Several times today.”
Luck was clearly puzzled. “Underground, you say?”
“Where are the Russian warheads?”
“We believe they were transshipped at Port Said, as planned. Unfortunately we haven't heard from Dutch Vandervelt to confirm that. Nothing on the radio. And we haven't heard from our man in Cairo, either.”
The chess player watched the city slide by the windows while he thought about that. “When is the ship due to reach Marseilles?”
“Tomorrow, I think.”
“Is she still afloat?”
Luck stared. “Why wouldn't she be?”
“I was thinking of Frouq al-Zuair and his cutthroat friends. One suspects they adhere to that hoary old axiom that dead men tell no tales.”
“The whole ship and crew? I don't believe it! Not a chance. There has been a radio casualty of some kind.”
“So what's with your man in Cairo? He ever run off on you before?”
“No.”
“He may have been arrested. He may be singing his heart out for the FBI this very second, naming names and places and dates. Personally I think loyalty is an overrated virtue. In this day and age you get about as much of it as you are willing to pay for, and by God it comes high.”
Luck said nothing.
The passenger glanced at Luck's face, then said conversationally, “We'll know tomorrow when the ship drops anchor, won't we?”
Luck changed the subject. “What else is happening with Grafton?”
“I don't know. I am not a member of the inner circle, I told you that. That is why we needed Carmellini. By the way, I heard Tarkington talking to him on the telephone today.”
Luck's jaw dropped. “What the hell is this? He's supposed to be dead.”
“I gathered from what I heard of Tarkington's end of the conversation that he's very much alive and in the hospital.”
“So where are Foster and Lalouette?”
“Why don't you find out?”
“Perhaps Carmellini's dead, and they are playing you.”
“Perhaps.”
“If so, Corrigan willâ”
“If they're playing me, you and Corrigan are going to prison for the rest of your natural lives. Think about that.”
Luck half turned in his seat and looked through the rear window of the limo.
“If they follow you or me, we won't see them,” the chess player said. “If Carmellini is alive, Foster and Lalouette have been arrested or bitten the big one. He probably killed them. And he's undoubtedly talked to the authorities and told them all about those two incompetents. If they have been arrested, they may have talked. Even if they are dead, an attempted contact will lead the authorities to you.”
Luck sat back in the seat and pursed his lips.
“The noose tightens, eh? We're playing a damned dangerous game ⦠for money.” He shrugged. “A lot of money, it's true, a small fortune for each of us. All so that asshole Corrigan can look good and go out in style. Well, Luck, I've got news for youâyou and I are going to earn every goddamn dime. And Corrigan's radiation detector doesn't work for shit. Tell the son of a bitch I said that.”
Luck keyed the intercom and told the driver to return to Dupont Circle.
When they got there, the chess player said in parting, “See you tomorrow night. You can tell me then about that ship and its broken radios. Let's pray that the ragheads don't change their plans. We've got to find those weapons when they arrive â¦
before
they explode. If one of those things pops anywhere on this planet, there won't be a gallows high enough for you and Corrigan.”
before
they explode. If one of those things pops anywhere on this planet, there won't be a gallows high enough for you and Corrigan.”
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