Russian terrorist, had attacked their own operation. The Iranians would dispute that, of course, and tensions would rise even higher. The United States would suspect that the Russians and Iranians were working together to seize the Caspian oil wells. There would be no way to avoid what was coming. The Harpooner got in the repainted van and drove it from the harbor. There were no police there. Not yet. At this hour, the Baku police force was involved primarily in traffic management and accident investigation. Besides, there was no indication that a boat had attacked the rig or that it had come to Baku. That would come later, when they found the Russian and the Americans had sent over satellite photographs of the region. The Harpooner headed toward the Old City. There, he drove up Inshaatchilar Prospekti toward the hotels on Bakihanov Kuchasi. Two days before, he had taken a hotel room under an assumed name. Here he was Ivan Ganiev, a telecommunications consultant. It was a name and profession he had chosen with care. If he were ever stopped by customs agents or police, he could explain why he was traveling with high-tech equipment. And being Russian had another advantage, especially here. One that would help him get out of the country when the time came. He had left clothing, gear, and cash in the room and a do not disturb sign on the door. He would clean himself up, dye his hair, and then take a long nap. When he woke, he would apply a fake mustache, slip colored contact lenses into his eyes, and call a cab to take him to the train station. A cabdriver was always a good hostage in case he was discovered and surrounded. He would use his fake passport to leave the city. He parked the van in an alley near the hospital. Then he pulled a packet of dental floss from his pocket. He rubbed it deeply between two teeth until his mouth filled with blood. Then he spat on the floor, dashboard, and seat cushion. It was the fastest way to draw blood. It also left no scars, in case anyone decided to stop him and check for wounds. He did not need a lot of blood. Just traces for the forensics people to find. When he was finished with that, he slipped a plastic mircochip in the gas tank. Then he replaced the cap. When he was finished dressing the van, the Harpooner took the backpack containing the Zed-4 phone and left. When the authorities found the vehicle, they would also find evidence inside tying it to the Iranians in the boat. That would include their fingerprints on the wheel, glove compartment, and handles. They would assume that one or more of the men got away. The blood would suggest that he was injured. The police would waste time looking through hospital records for a possible perpetrator. The Harpooner would return to Moscow. Then he would leave Russia and permit himself a rest. Possibly a vacation in some country where he had never committed terrorism. Some place where they would not be looking out for him. Some place where he could sit back and read the newspapers. Enjoy once again the impact his art had had on the world.
Washington, D.C. Monday, 11:11 p.m.
Paul Hood was concerned, confused, and tired. Bob Herbert had just spoken with Stephen Viens of the National Reconnaissance Office. Viens was working late to catch up on paperwork that had collected during his absence. While Viens was there, an NRO satellite had recorded an explosion in the Caspian Sea. He had called Herbert, who wanted to know if anything unusual had happened in the region. Then Herbert called Paul Hood.
'According to our files, the coordinates of the explosion match those of Iran's Majidi-2 oil rig,' Herbert said.
'Could it have been an accident?' Hood asked.
'We're checking that now,' Herbert said.
'We've got some faint radio signals coming from the rig, which means there may be survivors.'
'May be?'
'A lot of those rigs have automatic beacons to signal rescue craft in the area,' Herbert said.
'That may be what we're hearing. The audio keeps breaking up, so we can't tell if it's a recording.'
'Understood,' Hood said.
'Bob, I've got a bad feeling about this. Fenwick goes to the Iranian mission, and then an Iranian rig is attacked.'
'I know,' Herbert said.
'I tried to call him, but there was no answer. I'm wondering if the NSA knew about this attack, and Fenwick took intelligence to the mission in New York.'
'If Fenwick had intel, wouldn't Iran have tried to prevent the attack?' Hood asked.
'Not necessarily,' Herbert told Hood.
'Teheran has been itching for a reason to establish a stronger military presence in the Caspian Sea. An attack by Azerbaijan could give them that reason. It's no different than historians who say that Franklin Roosevelt allowed Pearl Harbor to be attacked so we'd have a reason to get into World War Two.'
'But then why all the deception with the president?' Hood asked.
'Plausible deniability?' Herbert replied.
'The president has been getting misinformation.'
'Yes, but Jack Fenwick would not undertake something of this magnitude on his own,' Hood said.
'Why not?' Herbert asked.
'Oilie North ran an uberoperation during Iran-Contra--'
'A military officer might have the balls for that but not Jack Fenwick,' Hood said.
'I had a look at his dossier. The guy is Mr. Support Systems. He's instituted backup systems for backup systems at the NSA. Got congress to jack up the budget fifteen percent for next year. The CIA only got an eight percent bump and we got six.'
'Impressive.'
'Yeah,' Hood said.
'And he just doesn't strike me as the kind of guy to take this kind of chance. Not without backup.'
'So?' Herbert said.
'Maybe he's got it.' Shit, Hood thought. Maybe he does.
'Think about it,' Herbert went on.
