I want to examine everything. Make sure you move everything out.”
“Yes, sir,” the colonel said. “And the sample?”
Four hours later, they were in Dimona, the Israeli nuclear “research” facility, where there was another gamma-ray spectrometer. While technicians ran the test, Lowell went over the plans again, shaking his head. To Ryan, the drawings looked like the diagram of a computer chip or something similarly incomprehensible.
“It's big, clunky. Ours are less than a quarter this size… but you know how long it took us to build something of this size and yield?” Lowell looked up. “Ten years. They did it in a cave in five months. How's that for progress, Dr. Ryan?”
“I didn't know. We always figured a terrorist's device — but what went wrong?”
“Probably something with the tritium. We had two fizzles back in the fifties, helium contamination. Not too many people know about that. That's my best guess. The design needs some further looking at — we'll computer- model it — but on gross examination, it looks like a fairly competent — oh, thank you.” Lowell took the spectrometry print-out from the Israeli technician. He shook his head and spoke very softly:
“ Savannah River, K Reactor, 1968—it was a very good year.”
“This is the one? You're sure?”
“Yeah, this is the one. The Israelis told me the type of weapon they lost, the mass of plutonium — except for the scraps, it's all here.” Lowell tapped the design sheets. “That's it, that's all of it,” he said.
“Until the next time,” Lowell added.
Always a student of the law and its administration, Deputy Assistant Director Daniel E. Murray observed the proceedings with interest. Rather odd that they used priests instead of lawyers, of course, but damn if it didn't work. The trial took just a day. It was scrupulously fair and admirably swift. The sentence didn't bother Murray, either.
They flew to Riyadh aboard Prince Ali's aircraft, leaving the USAF transport at Beersheba. There would be no indecent haste in the administration of sentence. There had to be time for prayer and reconciliation, and no one wanted to treat this any differently from a more pedestrian case. It also gave time for people to sit and reflect, and in Ryan's case to meet with another surprise. Prince Ali brought him in to Ryan's accommodations.
“I am Mahmoud Haji Daryaei,” the man said, unnecessarily. Jack knew his face well enough from the CIA file. He also knew that the last time Daryaei had spoken with an American, the ruler of Iran had been Mohammed Reza Pahlavi.
“What can I do for you?” Ryan asked. Ali handled the translation for both of them.
“Is it true? What I have been told, I wish to know that it is true.”
“Yes, sir, it is true.”
“Why should I believe you?” The man was approaching seventy years of age, with a deeply-lined face and black, angry eyes.
“Then why did you ask the question?”
“Insolence does not please me.”
“Attacks against American citizens do not please me,” Ryan answered.
“I had nothing to do with this, you know that.”
“I do now, yes. Will you answer a question? If they had asked for your help, would you have given it?”
“No,” Daryaei said.
“Why should I believe that?”
“To slaughter so many people, even unbelievers, is a crime before God.”
“Besides,” Ryan added, “you know how we would react to such a thing.”
“You accuse me of the ability to do such a thing?”
“You accuse us of such things regularly. But in this case, you were mistaken.”
“You hate me.”
“I have no love for you,” Jack admitted readily. “You are the enemy of my country. You have supported those who kill my fellow citizens. You have taken pleasure in the deaths of people whom you have never met.”
“And yet you refused to allow your President to kill me.”
“That is incorrect. I refused to allow my President to destroy the city.”
“Why?”
“If you truly think yourself a man of God, how can you ask such a question?”
“You are an unbeliever!”
“Wrong. I believe, just as you do, but in a different way. Are we so different? Prince Ali doesn't think so. Does peace between us frighten you so much as that? Or do you fear gratitude more than hate? In any case, you asked why, and I will answer. I was asked to assist in the deaths of innocent people. I could not live with that on my conscience. It was as simple as that. Even the deaths of those I should perhaps consider unbelievers. Is that so hard for you to understand?”
Prince Ali said something that he didn't bother to translate, perhaps a quote from the Koran. It sounded stylized and poetic. Whatever it was, Daryaei nodded and spoke one last time to Ryan.
“I will consider this. Goodbye.”
Durling settled into the chair for the first time. Arnold van Damm sat across the room.
“You handled matters well.”
“Was there anything else we could have done?”
“I suppose not. It's today, then?”
“Right.”
“Ryan's handling it?” Durling asked, looking through the summary sheets.
“Yes, it seemed the best thing to do.”
“I want to see him when he gets back.”
“Bidn't you know? He resigned. As of today, he's out,” van Damm said.
“The hell you say!”
“He's out,” Arnie reiterated.
Durling shook his finger at the man. “Before you leave, you tell him that I want him in my office.”
“Yes, Mr. President.”
The executions were at noon on Saturday, six days after the bomb exploded. The people gathered, Ghosn and Qati were led out into the market square. They were given time to pray. It was a first for Jack, being a spectator at something like this. Murray just stood, his face set. Clark and Chavez, along with a gaggle of security personnel, were mainly watching the crowd.
“It just seems so inconsequential,” Ryan said as the event got underway.
“It is not! The world will learn from this,” Prince Ali said solemnly. “Many will learn. This is justice happening. That is the lesson.”
“Some lesson.” Ryan turned to look at his companions atop the building. He'd had time to reflect, and all he saw was — what? Ryan didn't know. He'd done his job, but what had it all meant? “The deaths of sixty thousand people who never should have died put an end to wars that need never have been? Is that how history is made, Ali?”
“All men die, Jack. Insh-Allah, never again in numbers so great. You stopped it, you prevented something worse. What you did, my friend… the blessings of God go with you.”
“I would have confirmed the launch order,” Avi said, his voice uncomfortable in its frankness. “And then? I would have blown my brains out, perhaps? Who can say? Of this I am certain: I would not have had the courage to say no.”
“Nor I,” Golovko said.
Ryan said nothing as he looked back down at the square. He'd missed the first one, but that was all right.
Even though Qati knew it was coming, it didn't matter. As with so many things in life, it was all controlled by
