Authors: Alex Lukeman
Tags: #Fiction & Literature, #Action Suspense, #Mystery & Suspense, #Espionage
CHAPTER 25
Elizabeth and DCI Clarence Hood were eating dinner in a private room on the second floor of an exclusive restaurant in Georgetown, not far from Elizabeth's brownstone. The room was decorated with Victorian furniture and textured, flowered wallpaper. The lighting was subdued and warm, mimicking the oil lamp wall sconces of the nineteenth century.
The restaurant was noted for discretion and privacy and boasted of security measures to protect against unauthorized eavesdropping. Even so, Hood had placed a small black box on the table, a product of CIA technology that made it impossible for unwelcome ears to listen in on their conversation.
"A little more wine, Elizabeth?"
"No, I'm fine, thanks."
"Dessert? They do an excellent crème brûlée here."
"I'll settle for a cup of coffee."
"Cognac?"
"Why not?".
A nineteenth century oil painting of George Washington hung on the wall by their table. Beneath it was a button set in a polished brass fitting. Hood pressed it and summoned the waiter. He ordered coffee and drinks for both of them.
"That was wonderful, Clarence, thank you."
"These dinners are fun, aren't they?" Hood said. "I'd almost forgotten what a good meal and pleasant conversation can do to restore a little balance in one's life."
"So had I."
The waiter reappeared with a cart bearing the coffee service, snifters and a bottle of Louis XIII cognac. He poured the coffee and drinks, placed a silver plated coffeepot and the bottle of cognac on the table, and left the room.
Hood added cream to his coffee.
"Do you mind if we talk about work for a bit?"
Elizabeth laughed. "No, not at all. You've been itching to talk to me about something all night."
"Am I that transparent?"
"Perhaps not to others. You're less guarded around me. I take it as a compliment."
"I find it easy to relax around you. And it helps that we both have the same security clearance."
"Why Clarence, how romantic of you. "
"I didn't mean... "
"I'm just teasing. What is it you want to talk about?"
"We've picked up a rumor about ISIS."
"There are always plenty of those."
"This one is different. They may have obtained a nuclear device."
The words vibrated in her body. "A bomb?"
"A nuclear warhead, an old one, but with enough material to make a low yield bomb."
"When you say low yield, what do you mean?"
"One or two kilotons. Enough to do a lot of damage. Especially if it were set off in a major city."
"How reliable is this rumor?"
"Very reliable. That's the problem. This particular source has always been accurate in the past. He's embedded in Raqqa and close enough to ISIS leadership to pick up things. They're close guarded but they lack discipline in some areas. People talk about things they've seen. They speculate. And speculation now is that Allah is soon going to strike the enemy with the fire of heaven."
"How poetic," Elizabeth said. "It could just be religious wishful thinking."
"It could, except we know that a black market Russian warhead was being shopped around in Turkey. We lost track of it. It could have ended up in Syria and Raqqa is right on the Euphrates. It would be simple enough to bring it down the river once you got across the border."
"If it's true, we have to find and destroy it." Elizabeth picked up her cognac. "I think I need this."
"We have an idea where it is," Hood said. "I need to confirm it before anything can be done. You're right, of course, we have to destroy it. But this is the kind of mission that can get complicated if it goes through the Pentagon."
Elizabeth poured more cognac in her glass. "I can see where you're going with this."
"What's the status of your team? I know about what happened in Sweden."
"They're in Greece, following up on that fourth century tile."
"Do you think the Grail exists?"
"Unless they find something to tell us where it is, I don't see how we'll ever know."
"Judging from what happened in Sweden, ISIS is taking the possibility seriously. Things are bad enough in the Middle East without having something like that turn up. All we need is more fuel on the religious fire. Hell, finding the Grail could start a new crusade, twenty-first century style."
"It would be bad news if they got their hands on it," Elizabeth said.
Hood drained his glass. "Then let's hope your team can put this to rest, one way or another."
"What about that warhead?"
"I need more information before we can pinpoint the location with accuracy. When I have that, I'd like you to consider using your team to go after it. You're the best choice if we want to keep everything out of the press. The media gets wind of it, we'll be accused of making up an excuse to start a new war."
"Echoes of Iraq," Elizabeth said.
"Yes."
Elizabeth looked at her watch. "I hate to end this, Clarence, but it's a long day tomorrow."
"Would you like to get together this weekend? I have a cottage on Chesapeake Bay and there aren't many people around at this time of year. The view is wonderful and we'll have privacy. What do you say?"
Elizabeth smiled at him. "I'll think about it."
CHAPTER 26
Elizabeth had just settled down at her desk with her first cup of coffee when Nick called. She hadn't slept well and she had a headache.
Probably that cognac I had. Or maybe it's thinking about ISIS getting a bomb.
"Good morning, Nick."
"We ran into a problem."
"Please don't tell me you had to shoot up the church," Elizabeth said.
She listened while Nick briefed her on what they'd discovered in the church. Then he told her about the three men who'd confronted them.
"You killed them?"
"They didn't give us any choice. We found French passports but they had to be ISIS."
"Tell me about the tile you found."
"It was in the church safe. Ronnie's got quite a career ahead of him once he stops working for the government."
"The tile, Nick." Elizabeth's voice was strained.
"It's the same size as the other one, only more beat up. It has to be a mate, but it's different. The figure on the tile looks like a monk, not a priest. Selena is sending you a picture right now."
In Virginia, Elizabeth waited as the picture of the tile appeared on her phone and on the wall monitor. Stephanie sat next to her.
"He's right," Steph said. "It has to be a mate to the other one."
Nick's voice came over the speaker. "Selena says that the Latin means 'as below, so above.'"
"That's just the opposite of how it's usually written," Stephanie said. "It's a metaphysical saying: 'As above, so below.'"
"Where are you now?" Elizabeth asked.
"On the road, headed for Bulgaria. It's not far to the border. From there we'll drive north to Sophia and get a flight. It will take the Greek cops a little while to ask themselves why we left town in the middle of the night. By the time they do, we'll be in the air."
"All right. Go to Milan and pay a visit to Count Mercurio. Steph will send you directions to his villa outside the city and the intel we've got about him and his religious group."
"Did the Swedes follow up on this? If they know Mercurio was trying to buy the tile, they've got him on a criminal charge."
"It's a little more complicated than that, Nick. Mercurio is one of the richest men in Italy and he has a lot of friends. The chances of him getting busted because he was trying to buy an illegal artifact are so slim, they're nonexistent."
"Then why should he tell us anything? We can't interrogate him."
"I want you to show him that second tile. You did take it with you when you left the church, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"Use it to get his attention and gain his cooperation. He's after the same thing we are, if for a different reason. Everything Steph has found out about him indicates that he's one of the good guys."
"It won't take long for the Greeks to suspect we were involved in what happened to those three terrorists. They may not know that we were in the church. We left everything as it was, except for taking the tile. If we're lucky, no one will miss it for a while."
"Don't worry about the Greeks, I'll handle it."
"We'll be in Bulgaria soon," Nick said. "Anything else, Director?"
"No. Go talk to Mercurio."
Nick disconnected and put the phone back in his pocket.
"What's the word?" Ronnie asked.
"We're going to Milan."
"Pizza," Lamont said.
CHAPTER 27
Abdul Haddad sat in the backseat of a tan colored, armored Land Rover that had once belonged to the Iraqi army. He watched the Syrian desert speeding past. The sun was a golden ball of fire, the sky a gray-blue dome that stretched to the horizon. Air blowing through the open windows smelled of dry sand and heated rock.
Sitting next to Haddad was a pinched little man wearing thick glasses with heavy black frames, reading a technical abstract dealing with the finer points of nuclear fission. The paper was written in French. The principles of creating a nuclear explosion were the same in any language.
Rashid Jaffari had been educated in the West, taking an advanced degree at MIT. He'd been working on building a bomb for Saddam Hussein before the invasion but had run out of time before it could be completed. He'd gone to ground in the lawless mountains of Pakistan before the Americans could capture him. Now he'd been given a second chance to finish his work. This time, he would not be interrupted before he was done.
It was of little consequence to Rashid if success meant the deaths of many thousands of people. Rashid didn't think of nonbelievers as people. He thought of them as less than human, doomed by their refusal to see the truth of the Messenger's teachings. When the Day of Retribution came and they died and found themselves in hell, they would have only themselves to blame. If true believers also died, Allah would welcome them with open arms.
There were few of those in the city where ISIS planned to detonate the bomb.
The Land Rover turned off the desert road onto a rough track leading toward a row of rugged hills a few miles away. The driver stopped, got out of the car and attached a drag behind the vehicle to obscure the tire marks. He got back in and they proceeded at a crawl, driving slowly to avoid raising a dust trail that might capture the attention of a passing drone or satellite. After twenty minutes the track descended into a broad wadi running between the hills. During the rainy season, a shallow river ran through the ravine, bringing life to the desert. The rains were late this year. The valley was dry and brown, marked by outcroppings of rock as black as the hearts of the men sitting in the car.
"We're almost there," Haddad said.
Rashid looked up from his paper.
"Good." He tapped the paper in his lap. "This has given me the final piece of information I was seeking. Have the rest of the materials arrived?"
"Yes. Everything we recovered from Iraq. It will all be familiar to you. Everything will be brought down to you tomorrow."
"You found the sealed containers?"
"Yes. Your directions were very good. The Americans passed the site without ever noticing what was there. The camouflage was perfect."
"We'd been warned," Rashid said. "We knew they were coming. It gave us enough time. The Russian warhead you provided was in poor shape but useful for my design. By incorporating the material that was stored in the containers, the effect of the warhead will be amplified considerably. The yield should be in the neighborhood of five kilotons, about half the size of the bombs which destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki."
"Excellent, excellent. It is a great thing we do, my brother. God will be pleased."
Rashid placed his hand over his heart. "We are but His servants."
The car slowed as it came to several large boulders strewn across the riverbed. It looked natural to a casual observer, but the boulders forced anyone coming down the riverbed to drive between them. Camouflage netting stretched overhead. As they passed the first boulder three men appeared as if from nowhere, armed with AKs. One of them held up his hand. The driver stopped the car. The guard looked inside, saw Haddad and Rashid, and waved them through.
They passed a second boulder and found themselves in front of a cave in the side of the ravine. The entrance was invisible from above, broad and high enough to let a good-sized truck pass through. Once inside, the cave widened to forty or fifty yards across. The car came to a halt. Rashid and Haddad climbed out.
Haddad stretched his arms and yawned. "I am going back as soon as I see what you have done. Al-Baghdadi wants a report on our progress."
"Tell him we are nearing completion."
"When will the work be finished?"
"If all goes well, less than a week. The bomb is already partially assembled."
"Be careful, Rashid. This is not the time for you to walk the martyr's path. You are too valuable to lose."
"I survived the incompetence of Saddam's sons and the missiles of the Americans," Rashid said. "I can survive this. Don't worry, my brother. I have no desire for paradise just yet. Come, let me show you what I have accomplished."
The cave extended back into the hill for almost a hundred yards. The floor had been smoothed over and rooms dug out of the sides. Supplies and sleeping arrangements for the guards took up the first half of the cave. There were always at least a dozen men awake and on duty while the others slept. They cooked only at night, inside the cave, so heat from the fire would not register on the satellites passing overhead.
The rest of the cave was sealed off by plastic sheeting hung from the ceiling. A heavy table mounted on a four wheeled platform was visible through the plastic. Rashid's bomb sat on top of it.
Rashid took out a dosimeter and placed it on Haddad's shirt. He took out another for himself and pinned it on. He held the plastic aside for Haddad to enter the room.
"Is it safe?"
"Quite safe," Rashid said. "The dosimeter is a routine precaution. The plutonium is stored in that container by the wall. The enriched uranium is on the other side. As long as everything remains sealed in its container, there is no danger. Everything will be prepared before hand for the final assembly. I will be wearing a radiation suit to protect me."
"Is there any chance of an accidental explosion?"
"As long as the trigger is not detonated, no. This is a very basic design, a gun-type weapon. We do not have the equipment for something more sophisticated, but it is of little importance."
"How does it work?"
"A charge of Semtex is detonated to begin the process. The explosion shoots a quantity of enriched uranium at high velocity into another compact mass of enriched uranium. That provides the critical mass needed to set off the chain reaction. It's very inefficient but highly effective. I will pack plutonium around it. The plutonium will not detonate but it will create a lethal cloud of dust. This will be a very dirty bomb. The ground will be poisoned for thousands of years, for miles around."
Jaffari had built his bomb inside a metal chest the size of a footlocker, the kind of container that could be found on any construction site or oil rig. The lid was open. Wires ran from a digital panel and counter on the inside of the lid, the down into the interior.
"As you can see," Rashid said, "I have not yet added the final components. Once everything is in place, the panel is ready for programming. The bomb can easily be moved in a van or truck. It is a true accomplishment to make this from what was available."
Rashid's voice resonated with pride.
"Is it dangerous to transport?"
"Until it has been programmed to fire it is safe, but there will be some radiation leakage. Those who deliver the weapon to the target must be prepared for martyrdom."
"There will be no shortage of volunteers," Haddad said. "This is a mission that will bring great honor to them."
"Sometimes I wonder what use honor is to someone who has died to gain it," Rashid said.
Haddad looked at him in surprise. "You had better not let others hear you say that. It might be taken the wrong way."
"I know, I know," Rashid said. "You are my oldest friend, Abdul. If I cannot trust you then I am lost."
Haddad embraced him. "You are not lost, my brother. Take your doubts to Allah in prayer. Now I must return."
The two men walked back to the entrance of the cave.
"Drive slowly," Rashid said. "The American satellites are very good at paying attention to dust trails."