Freedom Does Matter (Mercenaries Book 2) (37 page)

The webcam had a microphone, so Kevin’s running commentary accompanied the images.

“Okay, picking the device up. Gloves make it a little awkward.” Yeah, but better that than…

“The block at the end away from the plastic cover is screwed into the top of the cylinder.” He gently shook the cylinder. “Feels like there’s liquid inside, sloshing back and forth.

“Going to the other end, now.” On the screen, Kevin’s hands rotated the cylinder end-to-end. “I’m looking for any marks, like directions or manufacturer’s symbols. But, I see nothing.”

As Kevin continued his examination, Jean-Luc said, “Millie, we have low power X-ray here, do we not?” When she nodded, he continued, “Mathilde suggests if we can’t see anything, we take the second device and X-ray it, down at the plastic end.”

Everyone except Kevin had turned to stare at Jean-Luc. And Mathilde. The woman’s smile quickly faded away. “One of my jobs was doing fault analysis on engine and transmission parts. We used X-ray a lot. Maybe I can see…”

“Can anyone think of a reason
not
to try this?” Beckie asked quickly. She guessed she’d just beaten Kevin, now exiting the lab space.

He gave Derek a hard look, but the two of them couldn’t think of a risk that X-rays would exacerbate. “In fact, Mathilde, I think it’s a great idea. Especially if…”

“Especially if it keeps us from killing ourselves!” Beckie said.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed. “Especially then!”

Mathilde and Kevin discussed in detail how they wanted to X-ray the cylinder. They decided to cover it with a lead shield, from about a quarter-inch above the seam to the atomizer end. Like the BSC, the X-ray machine took far longer to prepare than Beckie wanted.

Once ready though, the machine delivered a stunning image in the space of a heartbeat. Mathilde and Kevin sat closest to the twenty-inch display. After Beckie had assured herself no little man hid inside thumbing his nose, she slipped into a seat further away, allowing Jean-Luc—who had way more engineering background—to move closer. Once Millie had started the machine, she came to stand beside Beckie.

The plastic cap was transparent to the beam. For forty minutes, they stared at the display, rotated the device, moved the lead shield and took more pictures, peering fixedly at the images. A few minutes after eleven in the morning, they all sat back to agree that the plastic cap screwed on; that the cap covered an electronic device; that the arming device was mechanical and ran up toward the atomizer end through whatever the canister held. The bottom of the canister arched inward, and like the cap, screwed into the body.

While the examination thus far revealed no clues about the trigger mechanism, neither were there any signs that the plastic cover was more than a protective shell. Kevin went back to the BSC and in another hour had bared the inner workings—those at the bottom of the cylinder, at least.

With the inside exposed, they could see that the arming device would be powered by a heavy spring; it was held compressed, Mathilde said, by three links. “Those are fusible links,” she said, “melted by electrical current passing through them.” Beckie wondered if they had to be simultaneous and how that would be done, but the others had moved on to discuss the batteries.

There were two, and with Mathilde’s opinion arguing that removing the energy source would not set the device off—“That would be bad for storage, too,” Derek pointed out—they agreed Kevin should remove them.

He came back to verify that first, everyone agreed, and second, they were all at the cockpit end of the plane. While Beckie joined the others, as soon as Kevin stepped into the lab, she ran back up the aisle to peer in the door.

He gave a resigned sigh when she scuffed the floor by accident. She smiled, a token grin. “Seriously, Kev, you don’t think I’d be any safer back there, do you?”

“Not really, no. But…” He fitted his hands back into the gloves and started to work.

By three in the afternoon, he’d removed the batteries and disconnected the electronic module from the actuator, and then from the cylinder. With no alarm from the air monitor, he stepped back to allow Millie to make her own checks before opening the chamber.

She retrieved the electronic part, leaving the cylinder inside the BSC. While the others looked at the electronics, Mathilde examined the two batteries.

She held up one the size and shape of a saltine cracker, with brass contacts near one corner. “This one, almost certainly, powers the… electronics, though I’ll say it’s a radio until we have better information. And the other one…” She touched a cylinder about a half-inch high and an inch in diameter. “This one melts the fuses. Low voltage, high current, which will vaporize the links fast enough that a little variation won’t make a difference.”

 Beckie wondered for second exactly what kind of fault analysis Mathilde had been doing, but forgot the question as Kevin made a funny grunt combined with a shout of surprise. Everyone looked at him.

“This might be the break… But first, Derek, you’ve looked at the parts there?”

“Right, and I’m not familiar with them, enough to say.” He handed the small PC board to Jean-Luc.

The tall Frenchman turned the assembly over in his hands, several times. “Some of the components are certainly a radio.” He picked up a pencil and pointed at two three-quarter inch square integrated circuits. “I have seen parts like these in older phones. I think.” He handed it back to Kevin, then backed away to a seat. “I could guess the radio and control functions mimic a phone.”

“Can you guess what band?”

“Not without more information, but based on sizes…” He pointed to components Beckie didn’t recognize. “… GSM-1800 is a possibility. That’s one of the bands used in the UK,” he said.

“Okay, thanks. Millie, do you have a magnifier around?”

With a nod, the doctor went to the lab and returned with a stand-mounted glass. Kevin waited while she set it on a table, then he placed the device under the lens. He stared for several moments, nodding. “Okay, you all can look.” As they moved, he explained, “There’s a symbol etched into the PC board.”

 Derek, examining it as Kevin spoke, nodded. “Looks like a wheel…”

“Kinda. But it’s a star, actually. I’ve seen it before, on the paperwork for a contract Ian and I handled seven or eight years ago. An Israeli arms manufacturer had misplaced a classified test article and we were fortunate enough to find it and return it to them.”

“You feel sure about this?” Derek didn’t sound as optimistic as Kevin.

“Yeah. I wasn’t, till I looked under the glass…” He waved at the magnifier, where Haleef was intent on seeing what they were discussing. “… but it’s obvious, there.” He blew out his breath, but Beckie didn’t sense it was frustration, exactly. “I’ve forgotten our contact’s name. I’ll have to get it from Ian. Or Rou.” He picked up his phone.

“Beckie, you feel up to a trip?”

“Sure, Kevin. Just give me a minute.” Beckie handed the dishes she’d collected to Jean-Luc, who carried them toward the galley. She considered herself: an ‘I Am Malala’ tee-shirt over polite shorts in faded denim. Sneakers over foot socks completed her ensemble. “Do I need to change?” She used her splayed fingers to push her hair back over her shoulders.

Kevin stepped out of the cockpit and gave her one of his patented looks. For the first time ever in Beckie’s experience, he wore a suit. The light gray jacket was open over a blue and white check polo shirt, but the creases in his pants were knife edge. “Well,” he said with a slight twist to his lips, “I like how you look just fine. However, a little more upscale might be better.” He walked down the aisle and sat on an armrest beside her. “The guy we’re going to meet, Roni Shalev, is on holiday here, staying at the Savoy.” She gave him a quizzical look. “A five-star hotel, like the Marriott, in the Strand, according to Derek. Anyway, we should arrive in time for tea. Or we’ll take him round to a pub.”

Beckie smiled. “Sounds good.”

“Derek’ll run us up, ‘cause he wants to talk to Emily. He wants to put her on a plane back to the Nest.”

“Okay. I’ll go and find something more… upscale, did you say?”

He nodded and she went to find her bag. Ten minutes later, she was back, wearing a cream-colored suit with a bright orange top. She’d pulled her hair back into an efficient pony-tail. “Is this too much?” She pulled the buttonless jacket together, then released it. “Or should I wear a white blouse?”

“You’re fine, look great,” said Kevin. “But Derek didn’t want to wait, so he gave me twenty-five pounds toward the cab fare.”

“Wow. How much will it be?”

“Probably fifty or sixty pounds. Depends on how bad traffic is.”

“I can’t imagine it’ll be anything at all. You know, 4:30 in the afternoon. No, no problem at all. We’ll be there by eight, anyway.”

Beckie’s prediction notwithstanding, by six-thirty the taxi had stopped under the covered portico announcing Savoy in large gilded letters. While the rain had slowed them, it was not an issue as they stepped out. Kevin led the way to the desk, asking for Mr. Shalev’s room. The clerk directed him through the door to a phone on one of the several tables standing around the hall.

“Roni? Kevin here. We’re in the lobby. The drive took a bit longer than I expected but I hope we can still meet.”

She looked her question at him as he listened briefly, then dropped the handset into its place. “He’ll be down in about five minutes,” Kevin said. “Hang here while I ask…” His voice faded away as he walked to the concierge desk.

Beckie dropped into the armchair beside the phone as gracefully as she could with her ribs taped tight. The front hall was a huge marvel in wood and marble. The floor was done in a black and white checkerboard pattern, the walls were polished honey blonde wood paneling. Above the panels, the ceiling, supported by black marble columns, arched over the sofas and chairs in blinding white. An elegant space. Her practical side took over: Wonder what the room rate is. More or less than over at the Marriott?

She forgot that question; Kevin was striding back across the room. “Well, we’re a bit early for the cabaret,” he said as he dropped into a chair opposite her, “but the Beaufort Bar still might be the best place to talk.”

With no opinion, she nodded. As she did, she noticed a man in a dark suit almost capering down the wide staircase across the room. She caught Kevin’s eye and pointed discreetly.

Kevin glanced over his shoulder, then stood and walked to greet the man. Beckie rose as he and Kevin exchanged hellos; Kevin took the man by the elbow and directed him to her. “Beckie, this is Roni Shalev, the old friend from Israel I was telling you about. Roni, this is Beckie, Rebecca Sverdupe, Ian’s fiancée.”

“A pleasure, Mr. Shalev.” Beckie delivered her salutation first. “Kevin’s told me so much about you, but he omitted the reason for your trip here. When we first discussed it, I was hoping I’d be able to see Tel Aviv and Jaffa.”

“The pleasure is mine,” Roni replied. “Please call me Roni. While I would be honored to show you about my country, my family and I are here on a fast holiday.” She nodded. “We have tickets for the match this Sunday between our team and the Iranian national team.”

Beckie managed to keep her mouth from falling open, but she was sure she’d had some visible reaction. How could he be involved? He wants to see first hand? But his family!

Kevin took her elbow this time, and smiled when she looked up into his face. “Let’s go to the bar.” He turned to Roni. “The concierge recommended the Beaufort Bar, though I don’t think we’ll be there long enough to see the cabaret.”

“We arrived a couple of hours ago, so everything is new. Lead on.”

The bar had few customers. Kevin looked around, but agreed with Beckie when she pointed to one of the gilded alcoves hiding a sofa and two chairs. She freed her elbow and stepped back to link arms with Roni, directing him across the room, past the stage turned bar, and sitting next to him on the couch. Kevin took a chair across the low table separating the chairs and the sofa.

Beckie listened as Kevin and Roni reacquainted themselves after their long separation, and wondered again about Roni’s motivation for wanting to kill people at an event he and his family planned to attend. No, she thought finally. He’s not pretending; he doesn’t know. I’m sure. Her confidence allowed her to lean back and enjoy her champagne cocktail.

Before she sipped the last, Kevin caught her eye as he took the little radio from his pocket and dropped it on the table. Forewarned, she observed Roni as the device bounced once and lay still.

He turned white and gasped for breath. Now
there’s
a reaction, she thought as she reached for his shoulder to break his fixed stare at the radio. While he swatted her hand away, it seemed to do the trick; his eyes snapped up to Kevin’s as he tried to speak. “Wha… how did… who… who gave… where did you find this?” His eyes swung from Kevin to Beckie and back, too fast. They almost made her dizzy. I can’t imagine how he’s feeling!

“Whoa,” Kevin was saying, trying to regain Roni’s composure for him. “I found what I suspected was IAC’s mark on the board, and I think you’ve confirmed it. Now it’s your turn.”

Roni tried to grasp the radio, but dropped it twice before Beckie placed it in his hand. “But… but… This can’t be! He said…” He cut off his voice, holding his lips tight together as if to prevent the end of the world pouring forth.

“We’re not after you,” Kevin assured him. “But there’s evil associated with this, and I need some background so I can decide how to… which way to turn.” He pulled his chair closer after surveying the room. In spite of Roni’s panicked words, no one was paying them any mind. Except the waitress, who was fast approaching once she spotted Kevin looking around. “Same again,” Kevin said to her. “You slow down, though,” he told Beckie. “Could be you’ll have to drive.”

She nodded and focused on Roni. “What can you tell us about this?” She touched the radio.

He whispered something. She looked at Kevin, who shook his head.

“Didn’t hear that, Roni,” she said, lowering her own voice.