to trigger Wild Fire.”
Madox seemed uneasy with that information, and asked, “Is that how and why I got to make your acquaintance?”
Landsdale did not answer directly but said, “It’s how and why I got posted to the White House.” He added, “Your little conspiracy here has triggered a similar conspiracy among certain individuals in the CIA and also the Pentagon… and maybe in the White House itself. In other words, there are others in Washington, aside from your Executive Board, who are helping. I’m sure you understand that. And understand, also, that if you didn’t exist, then the people in government who want to trigger Wild Fire would need to plant their own nukes in American cities.” He forced a smile and said, “But we like to encourage private, faith-based initiative.”
“What’s your point, Scott?”
“The point, Bain, is that whoever sent Harry Muller here wants to bring this to a quick conclusion. If it was the FBI, then you’re about to be busted. If it was the CIA, then they’re telling you to move fast.” He added, “I have no doubt that both organizations know what the other is up to, and it’s become a race to see whose idea of safeguarding American security is going to win out.”
Madox stared silently, then said, “All I need is about forty-eight hours.”
“I hope you have that much time.” Landsdale added, “I have a contact in the Anti-Terrorist Task Force where Muller works, and my guy tells me that Muller is a Mideast guy, and he doesn’t work in the Domestic Terrorist Section, so it’s unusual that he’d be picked for this job. But he further tells me that a guy named John Corey, former NYPD like Muller, and also in the Mideast Section, was the one originally picked to do this surveillance. Specifically picked. Why? That’s the question. What difference would it make who was sent here as the sacrificial lamb?” He lit a cigarette and continued, “Then, I recalled that the CIA guy who originally told me about Wild Fire was once attached to the ATTF, and while there, he’d gotten into a major pissing match with this guy Corey. Actually, worse than a pissing match-they really wanted to kill each other.”
Madox glanced at his watch.
Landsdale continued, “One of their many problems with each other seemed to be Corey’s present wife, an FBI agent assigned to the Task Force.” He smiled and said, “There’s always a woman involved.”
Madox, too, smiled and said, “Sexual jealousy is the wild card of history. Empires have been destroyed because Jack was fucking Jill, and Jill was also fucking Jim.” He asked, “But what’s your point?”
“Just that I see more than a coincidence here that Corey was supposed to be sitting where Muller is now sitting, waiting to die.”
Madox observed, “Sometimes, Scott, coincidence is just coincidence. And what difference does it make?”
Landsdale hesitated, then responded, “But if it’s
Madox pointed out, “People are either dead, or they’re not.”
“This guy is the ultimate spook. Dead when he needs to be, alive when he needs to come back. The point is, if it’s this guy who’s behind Muller’s being here, then I feel much better about our chances of getting Project Green going in the next forty-eight hours, and much better about the government initiating Wild Fire as the response.”
Madox stared at Landsdale and said, “If that makes you feel better, Scott, then I’m happy for you. But the bottom line, Mr. Landsdale, is not what’s going on in Washington, but what’s going on
“Not if they shut you down in the next day or two.” Landsdale said, “Be grateful that you have friends in Washington, and be very grateful if my former mentor in Black Ops is alive and looking after you.”
“Well, if you say so… maybe, when this is over, I can meet this man, if he’s among the living, and shake his hand.” Madox asked, “What’s his name?”
“I couldn’t tell you his name, even if he was actually dead.”
“Well, if you ever see him-alive-and if he was my guardian angel on this project, then thank him for me.”
“I will.”
Madox indicated the door. “Let’s continue the meeting.”
As Landsdale walked toward the door, Madox nodded, happy in the knowledge that this mystery man was so well thought of. In fact, the man in question had not died on September 11, as Madox knew, but was actually on his way to the Custer Hill Club. In fact, Mr. Ted Nash, an old friend of Bain Madox’s, had called right before the meeting of the Executive Board to see if John Corey was in Madox’s custody. When Madox said they had a Mr. Harry Muller in the net instead, Nash seemed disappointed and said, “Wrong fish,” but he was optimistic, adding, “I’ll see what I can do to get Corey to the Custer Hill Club… You’d like him, Bain. He’s an egotistical prick, and nearly as smart as we are.”
Bain Madox followed Landsdale into the room, walked to the head of the table, and began, “The meeting will come to order.” He pointed to the black suitcase in the middle of the floor and said, “That thing, which you are seeing for the first time, is a Soviet-made RA-155, weight about seventy-five pounds, containing about twenty-five pounds of very high-grade plutonium, plus a detonating device.”
Harry stared at the suitcase. When he’d worked with NEST, they’d never told him what to look for-small atomic devices came in different shapes and sizes, and as the instructor had said, “There won’t be an atomic symbol on the device, or a skull and crossbones, or anything. Just rely on your gamma-ray and neutron detectors.”
Madox continued, “That little thing will yield about five kilotons, about half the explosive power of the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. Because these devices are old, and need constant maintenance, the explosion could be smaller. But that’s not a lot of consolation if you happen to be sitting next to one.” He chuckled.
Landsdale pointed out, “Actually, we
Madox ignored him. “For your information, gentlemen, that little thing would level Midtown Manhattan and cause about half a million instant deaths, followed by as many as another half million in the aftermath.”
Madox walked over to the big suitcase and put his hand on it. “Incredible technology. You have to wonder what God was thinking when He created atoms that could be split or fused by mortal men to release such supernatural energy.”
Harry Muller, with great difficulty, took his eyes off the nuclear bomb. He seemed to notice the bottled water in front of him for the first time, and with an unsteady hand, he drank from it.
Madox said to him, “You’re not looking well.”
“None of you are looking too good yourselves, and where the hell did you get that bomb?”
“Actually, that was the easy part. It was just a matter of money, like everything else in life, plus my private jets to fly these here from one of the former Soviet republics. I paid-out of my own pocket-ten million dollars, if you’re interested. That was for all four bombs-not each. You can imagine how many suitcase bombs people like bin Laden have already bought.”
Harry finished his water, then took Landsdale’s bottle along with Landsdale’s ballpoint pen, which he put in his pocket. No one noticed as Madox continued speaking.
Madox turned to Harry and said, “We’re not monsters, Mr. Muller. We’re decent men who are going to save Western Civilization, save our families, our nation, and our God.”
Harry, against his better judgment, asked, “By killing millions of Americans?”
“The Islamic terrorists are going to kill them anyway, Harry. It’s just a matter of time. It’s better if we do it sooner. And
“Are you all out of your fucking minds?”
Madox snapped, “Hold on, Harry! A little while ago you had no problem with the idea of wiping out the world of Islam-men, women, children, plus Western tourists and businesspeople, and who knows who else is in the Mideast next week-”
“Yes. And as I said, you can thank yourself and your organization for that. Today, it was just you snooping around. Tomorrow or the next day, it will be Federal agents and perhaps troops from Fort Drum swarming all over this place, looking for you… and finding
