“Shit.” Kealey shook his head in disbelief. “That’s military ordnance. I think I know what it is, John.”
Harper froze and looked up from the cover sheet. “Well?”
CHAPTER 44
WASHINGTON, D.C.
“It’s called a BLU-82,” Kealey said ten minutes later. He had used the office computer to download several high-resolution images of the bomb, and Kharmai and Harper were both examining printouts. They had also faxed some of the images back to Montreal and were waiting for confirmation from Liman, the owner of the storage facility.
“It stands for Bomb Live Unit,” Kealey continued, “but it’s more commonly known as a ‘daisy cutter,’ owing to the distinctive pattern it leaves after detonation. Until recently, it was the largest conventional explosive in the U.S. arsenal, and as you can see, it’s very large, with a total weight of about fifteen thousand pounds. It’s also extremely simple… nothing more than GSX slurry in a big metal container. The container itself doesn’t weigh much; nearly all the weight comes from the explosives. Twelve thousand six hundred pounds of ammonium nitrate and aluminum powder.”
Harper looked up. “It says here it was used primarily for clearing helicopter landing zones in Vietnam. That makes it a pretty old design.”
“But still very effective,” Kealey assured him. “We used them in Afghanistan and Iraq, mostly for psychological purposes. Let me give you an idea of what I’m talking about. Back in the first gulf war, a C-130 dropped a daisy cutter on an Iraqi position just outside Kuwait City. Five minutes later, a Special Air Service recon patrol called in and asked if someone had dropped a tactical nuke in the area. At the time, the patrol was a hundred and ten miles away from the site of the bombing. What they saw was the signature mushroom cloud… They mistook the daisy cutter for a nuke. That’s how powerful it is.”
Naomi looked up from the paper in her hands, an expression of mixed confusion and concern on her face. “What does that mean for an urban area? What will this thing do?”
He looked at his hands, trying to think of the best way to explain it. “Think about Oklahoma City,” he finally said. “The bomb that took out the Alfred P. Murrah Building was about a third the size of this one. If Vanderveen actually has one of these and sets it off in New York City, it will destroy every structure within one thousand feet, and the pressure wave will shatter windows for miles. Depending on where he detonates it, casualties will probably be in the thousands.”
“Jesus,” Harper breathed. His face had turned white.
The room was completely silent for half a minute. Then Naomi said, “It was our weapon originally, right? Ruhmann must have gotten it from Al Qaqaa. If we can find someone who will say it was there, we can put everything together and bring it to the president. He’ll have to cancel the meeting at the UN. I mean, it’s not just the United Iraqi Alliance that’s scheduled to attend. The secretary of state will be there as well, not to mention the entire General Assembly. If we give him something tangible, he’ll have to call it off.”
“We don’t have time for that,” Harper pointed out. “The meeting is set for tomorrow afternoon. The Iraqi delegates arrived in New York this morning. Even if I could get an audience with Brenneman in time, he’d want a lot more proof than what we have. Remember, I’m persona non grata with him at the moment, and you two are out of the loop completely.”
“Well, we have to try,” Kealey argued. “I assume we investigated the incident at Al Qaqaa. Let’s see if we can get a list of all the agencies involved in the investigation, the individual people if possible. Maybe we’ll find a friendly face, someone willing to give us a full account of what was being stored at the facility.”
“I can get that by morning,” Harper said. “There’ll be a lid in place, of course, but I’ll work around it.”
“The main thing,” Naomi said, “is getting access to Hakim Rudaki. If anyone knows what’s coming next, it’s him.”
“Or Samantha Crane,” Kealey muttered.
“Ryan, I agree it looks bad,” Harper said, “but the evidence against Crane is purely circumstantial. We have to keep that on the back burner for as long as possible. Let’s see if we can get to Rudaki first.”
Before anyone could say anything more, the phone rang again. Harper answered it, said a few words, and replaced the receiver. Turning toward them, he said, “Liman just verified it. The item stored in Ruhmann’s unit was definitely a BLU-82. He gave our people permission to go in and check it out. The unit was empty.”
“Damn it,” Naomi said bitterly. “We must have missed him by hours.”
“Any chance we’ll get it at the border?” Kealey asked.
“I don’t think so,” Harper said slowly. “It sounds like Vanderveen timed this well. I don’t think he’ll show up without the necessary paperwork, and if it’s all in order, he’ll be waved right through.”
“Can we at least get the word to customs?”
“I can’t do it myself. That has to go through Homeland Security. The wheels are already in motion, but now I need a statement from Liman in Montreal. Once it arrives, I can get it out to the right people. Chances are, he’s already crossed the border, anyway.”
“So what does that leave us with?” Naomi wondered.
“Rudaki,” Kealey said, repeating her earlier words. “We have to get to him, John. Immediately.”
Harper hesitated. “The last few days haven’t exactly done wonders for my credibility. I’m all out of favors. I don’t think the director will pull any strings for me based on what we’ve managed to dig up so far.”
“He has to. There’s too much resting on this. I don’t care how you make it happen, but I need to talk to him. Face-to-face, first thing in the morning.”
“I can still get you an Agency plane,” Harper said. “I’ll call the director first and see if I can get him to work it out with the assistant director in charge in New York.” The DDO felt the need to point something out. “If it happens, Ryan, and it probably won’t, you’ll be surrounded by FBI agents. I hope you realize that. And if Rudaki is hiding something, a friendly discussion isn’t going to get it out of him.”
“I’ll worry about that when I’m on the ground,” Kealey said. “Just get me the meeting, John.”
“I’ll do my best.” He reached for the phone, checking his watch in the process. “This will take a while. Why don’t you two get some rest?”
“Actually, I-”
“Get some sleep,” Harper ordered, his voice taking on an authoritative tone. “You should take a look in the mirror… You’re dead on your feet. If I manage to get you in there, it’ll be first thing in the morning. You need to be ready.”
Reluctantly, Kealey nodded and stood, followed by Kharmai. They left the room as Harper started to dial.
CHAPTER 45
WASHINGTON, D.C.,FORT ERIE, CANADA
Much later, Ryan Kealey lay still on a bed in one of the second-floor guest rooms. He had stripped off his sweatshirt but was still in his jeans. The room was draped in shadow, the far wall rippling with light from the streetlamps beyond the double-hung windows. He had tried to sleep, knowing he needed to get some rest, but his mind was far too active. After leaving Harper’s office, he had gone downstairs with Naomi. They had talked with Julie Harper for a while, the two women sharing half a bottle of wine. Kealey had settled on beer, but he limited himself to two, as he wanted to be sharp for the morning.
After an hour of this, Harper had called them up to the office. The news was not what they had hoped for, though it wasn’t entirely bad, either. Director Andrews had bought into the theory, mainly because Harper had done his best to leave Kealey’s name out of it. The DCI had then called the FBI director at home and explained the situation. Twenty minutes after the initial call, Harper had the ADIC of the New York field office on the phone. Arrangements were made for Naomi Kharmai to sit in on an interview with Hakim Rudaki at 11:00 AM the following
