The Ragnarok Conspiracy (29 page)

Savas looked across the faces sitting around the table. In part, it was a painful exercise. So many faces he was used to seeing at such meetings were not there. Everyone else had been assigned separately to safe houses under FBI protection under orders from Andrew Bryant, the acting head of Kanter's division, until further notice. Things had become confusing—superiors from both the FBI and the CIA were present. Organization, especially at the FBI, had been disrupted, and the hierarchy was clearly in flux, all parties uncomfortable and unsure how to proceed. But most significantly, the presence of high-ranking officers from the air force gave a certain gravity and sense of expectation to the meeting. Something was happening, beyond the mess of the last few weeks. Savas waited and observed.

“We want to thank our colleagues from the CIA and the air force for being here today,” began Bryant. “As you will soon find out, they have some pretty serious things to tell us about.”

Bryant cleared his throat and gazed around the room. He hardly knew these people. He knew he was not ready to deliver this news. “I won't try to sugarcoat anything for you. We've been through fire since this entire investigation began. We've watched some damn good agents die, and we've worked our asses off to get to the core of this case that is part of something so big it's shaking up the world. What I'm here to tell you now, what these representatives from the air force are here to tell you now, is that it's all about to get a good bit worse.” He gestured toward the military men. “Gentlemen?”

The two officers sat together at one end of the table. They were in full uniform,
dress uniform
, Savas noted. They had a set of folders in
front of them but spoke without consulting the papers within them. One of the men began to speak, and what he said chilled Savas to the bone.

“Thank you, Agent Bryant. We haven't had time to get to know all your staff, but what we have to say must be said quickly, and we are needed back at our headquarters to continue our end of the investigation. We will be available to any of you at any time to work together on this.” The man looked over his audience and continued. “In August of last year, a highly irregular event took place at an air force base in North Dakota. Several cruise missiles were loaded on a plane scheduled to fly to Louisiana. That is a common event, transferring weapons between air force bases. On this day, however, several critical protocols were not followed, and airmen unintentionally loaded cruise missiles with nuclear payload.”

Several murmurs broke out around the table as FBI and CIA agents glanced at each other and back toward the officers. “Please,” interjected the air force man, “let me continue. I will answer questions afterward.” He exhaled slowly. “For a period of thirty-six hours, these missiles were not reported as missing and were not secured, as is customary for nuclear weapons. Some of you may remember a press conference last year about the incident.”

“Sure,” said Savas. “Fumbling with nukes makes me pay attention. But they said that the weapons had been accounted for, never left the hands of US airmen.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. The soldier continued tensely. “That statement was not factual.”

Frank Miller sat forward suddenly. He had made a significant recovery since the shooting, but the damage to his shoulder had left him with a reduced range of motion, as well as a residual pain that was constantly with him. Miller in a gruff mood was not a pleasant thing. “Not
factual
? You mean a lie? Don't tell me that these missiles took a walk.”

The air force man looked Miller directly in the eye. “That's exactly what I'm here to tell you.”

Miller exhaled. “
Jesus.
”

“A decision was made to keep this information top secret, and, until recently, even our team investigating the incident was kept ignorant of this fact.” The soldier glared around the room, revealing a poorly concealed anger concerning the events described. “The operative term is
missile
, in point of fact. Singular. One cruise missile was unaccounted for.”

Savas felt nauseous. “And let me guess, or you wouldn't be here: those devils at Mjolnir have it?”

The military man glanced uncomfortably around the table. “Yes, it appears that is indeed the case. Major Rivers, would you like to take it from here?”

Miller practically exploded. “Hold on a minute! Let me get this straight. Whoever was ghosting this scandal, it never occurred to them over the last six months since Mjolnir began blowing things up that,
just maybe
, last year's fuck-up was their snatch?”

Major Rivers pursed his lips. “There were months of chaos and confusion over those bombings. The organization did not reveal itself until very recently, perhaps for this purpose, to prevent such speculation.”

Miller continued. “Don't make excuses for them! Come on—even if these guys are not the sharpest tools in the shed, somebody must have thought about the unthinkable.”

“I don't know,” said Rivers. “
Honestly.
I simply don't know what was going on above.”

Bryant waved his hands and spoke over a growing din. “Look, let's stay focused. We
need
this information, people. Major Rivers, please, the connection to Mjolnir?”

Rivers nodded. “Recently, we received a tip from a former US Army soldier. He contacted an army psychiatrist claiming to have photographs of the missile. He forwarded these images to him.”

Savas couldn't help himself. “How in the hell did he get those?”

Major Rivers continued. “This soldier had joined Mjolnir and recently has had second thoughts.”

“An attack of conscience?” said Miller sarcastically.

“Apparently so,” said Rivers. “The serial numbers were verified with the air force, and we know that it's our weapon. That is where we stand right now.”

Miller leaned forward. “Surely you have tracked this man, know where the weapon is?”

The major shook his head. “There has been no further contact with the source. We have sent e-mail messages, but he has not replied.”

“
E-mail?
” asked Rideout incredulously.

“OK, let's back off, folks,” offered Bryant. “They are here to work with us on this.”

Rideout ignored him. “We have a loose nuke in the hands of the most vicious terrorist group in history, and these chumps are trying to find it by
e-mailing
someone? In case these fine gentlemen from the air force haven't been briefed, Mjolnir has killed half of our division here at the FBI! Do you realize that for these guys to have taken a nuke, we will have an event like we've never seen in world terrorist activity? In the midst of the chaos spreading already?
E-mail?
”

Major Rivers shot back. “That is all the information we have! We have top men working on this problem as we speak. We will find this man, and he will lead us to Mjolnir and the bomb. We hope that you can aid in this search. We are turning to your agency to help find him. His name is Inherp. Michael R. Inherp. In these folders, we have his bio and contact information.” He looked over at Rideout, who just shook his head. “These are serious times. We all need to work together.”

Top men?
Savas hung his head. He had been ready for something bad, but this was worse than his worst nightmare. The horror of the possibilities shook him. He missed Cohen more than ever at that moment. He cursed the new security protocols that the FBI had forced on them. Randomized schedules for arrivals and departures. Restrictions on traveling together.
To prevent multiple hits.
If the worst happened, he'd rather be with her and share her fate. Savas blocked such thoughts from his mind. He couldn't wait to see her again.

Savas returned to the Operations Room and sat alone in front of a computer screen. He wasn't sure where to go now with this investigation, one that had grown so large, so deadly, so
insane
that he wondered how it could ever move forward now. At least the air force had provided them with fairly complete information.
Or so it seemed.
Savas had to check himself and remember that this was the group that had kept a missing nuke a secret from the entire country. He stared at the e-mail from Michael Inherp, looked over the images again and again.
What am I missing?

Nothing in the photo seemed to give any indication where the missile might be located. No hint in the e-mail. Why would this kid send this information and not explain how to get there and stop these madmen? Was he taking them on a false lead? The serial numbers checked out. The missile was real. He wouldn't have revealed that unless he was serious.
Perhaps he can't send any more messages because he's been caught.
That last thought worried Savas the most. If Inherp were discovered, he would be dead, and so would be their only link to Mjolnir.

Savas rubbed his eyes and stretched. A sound from behind him made him turn around, just in time to see the approaching form of Frank Miller. The former marine looked unusually haggard.

“Hell of a day, Frank,” he said, smiling. His smile faded as he read the expression on Miller's face.

“John, Rebecca never showed at the safe house. Her car was found on Madison and Sixty-Eighth.” Savas felt a numbing cold creeping over his body as his stomach tightened. “A bomb. The blast was enormous, killing over forty people in the immediate vicinity. We don't believe that there could be any survivors in the car.”

It was as if a blade sliced mercilessly from his neck to his belly, and he felt his intestines spill out over the ground in front of him. He couldn't breathe. His vision began to cloud.

“John!” Miller caught him as he sank to his knees. “John, God, I'm sorry. I understand. We all knew, John. About Rebecca. We all were happy for you two. God, John, I'm so sorry.”

The large marine held him in a bear hug, then sat him on the desk. Savas began to feel himself dissociate from his body.
This is not real. Nothing is real.
At that moment, he knew only that he wished to be no more.

The phone on the desk rang. Frank Miller looked from the phone to Savas, unsure what to do. Deciding that he didn't know what to do with Savas anyway, he reached over and picked up the phone. “FBI. Miller speaking.”

Miller's face turned white. “John, it's for you. They say they have Rebecca.”

Savas felt like a sailor tossed about on a ship in a storm. His stomach was sick as his emotions spun another one hundred and eighty degrees. A surge of adrenaline rushed through him, and he grabbed the phone from Miller.

“John Savas,” he spoke hoarsely into the line.

“Agent Savas, Rebecca Cohen's life rests in our hands. You will not trace this call. You will stop pursuing your investigation of Mjolnir. If you wish to spare her a most horrible and degrading death, you will walk out of your office tonight and not return. Do these things, Agent Savas, and you will see her intact once again. She will be under the eye of one who is bringing a new order to the world, and you have his promise. We are watching.”

The phone line went dead.

“
You bastards!
” he cried out and threw the phone and receiver across the room. First they let him think he had lost all that was left in life of love and companionship. Now they were forcing him to choose between his heart's commitment to his son, to every life stolen by terrorism, and the life of the woman he had surrendered his heart to. Choose his commitment to justice or the woman he loved. He felt torn into two pieces, each horn of the dilemma impaling him in agony.

A phone rang on a nearby desk. Miller stared at it and at Savas, who leapt forward and grabbed the receiver off the handset. “Don't you hurt her! Or I swear I'll spend the rest of my life hunting you down until I drive you into the flames of
hell
!”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, a deep voice spoke.

“John? This is Husaam. Please, you must listen to me.”

Savas's mind morphed from crazed anger to confusion. Slowly he sat down and stared forward blankly. “Husaam?”

Miller raced over to another desk and picked up the phone. “Agent Jordan? This is Frank Miller with the FBI. John Savas is also on the line.”

“Is John OK?”

“We've had a shock. Rebecca Cohen has been kidnapped, her car found incinerated by a bomb. There has been no contact with her or her bodyguards.”

Savas interrupted, his mind raw but focusing. Hearing the Muslim's voice had brought him back. “Husaam, Mjolnir contacted us by phone—they say they have Rebecca. I haven't spoken to her to…confirm, but I believe them. They have her, and they want to shut me and my investigation down. If I don't, they will kill her.”

Jordan rumbled on the other end. “You can't do that.”

“I'm in a pretty tough place right now, Husaam. I can't let them kill her.”

“John, I have to tell you something,” Jordan began.

“Wait,” interrupted Savas. “It can wait. You need to hear this. Things are far worse than we ever feared.” He sat up straight in the chair. There was no way to explain the insanity. He would just say it. “Tonight we learned from the air force representatives that Mjolnir has acquired a nuclear weapon.”

The silence lasted nearly ten seconds. “Husaam?”

“How did they get this? How does the air force know?”

Savas nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all. “It's one of
ours
. One
of our own damned weapons. Somehow the air force screwed up and didn't secure some cruise missiles.”

“Cruise missiles?”

“Yes, only one was lost in the end but with a payload of ten times the bomb that hit Hiroshima. I suppose that's enough,” Savas continued. “They've buried this from everyone, if you can believe it.”

Jordan practically growled. “I can. How did they find it?”

“They didn't. Some kid, a former US Army soldier, sent in photos with the serial number. He joined Mjolnir several years ago, but I guess this caper was more than he could stomach. But he hasn't returned any attempts at contact. We know the missile is out there, that it's ours, that it's real. We know Mjolnir has it. But we have no idea where or what they are planning and when.”

Jordan grunted. “Well, I can't answer the last two, but I know where they are, John. That's why I'm calling. Check your e-mail. You'll find the location. Bit south of the border.”

Savas checked e-mail on his cell. “Tampico, Mexico? What the hell is there?”

“Humid summers, petroleum, and General Francisco Javier Mina International Airport, or, more relevantly, some of the subsidiary airfields for cargo planes. Most importantly, that is where William Gunn is right now.”

Savas looked over at Frank Miller and shook his head, perplexed. “Husaam, how do you know this?”

The Muslim laughed deeply. “Broke into his office, John. Copied his hard drive. Gunn left that security hole, although I can't blame him for missing it.” His voice turned serious. “From what you've told me, something terrible is being planned there. We have to act, and act soon.”

“I can sound the alarm and bring in the Feds. Now we know where they are. They wouldn't act on Gunn before, but with the lost nuke, you can be sure as hell they will now.”

“Not fast enough. If I had waited for the bureaucracy to function, I wouldn't have the information I have now. And I'm not waiting
anymore. I board a flight to Tampico tonight. I'm heading to that airfield.”

Miller cut in. “Husaam, if you are right and Mjolnir is there, that is suicide. And you're likely to be thrown in jail for this if you survive it.”

“Too much is riding on this, my friends. I can't stay put, waiting until the signal is given. Besides, as you tell me, the call you got said Rebecca is on her way to Gunn.”

“That's what I understood,” said Savas, the pain returning in full force.

“What do you think will be done once the location of the nuke is made known to the military?”

Savas was silent a moment. “What do you mean?”

Jordan sighed. “Once they finally get the machine moving, it's a potent one. They won't risk that bird getting loose. They're going to rain fire down on the whole area. Massively, even before they send in troops to make sure they recover the missile. No one will survive that assault, John. No one.”