worked extensively out of Europe. During the eighties he had close ties with Saddam Hussein and spent a lot of time designing and building high-tech arms for Iraq. His most famous “creation” was the design for what he called a “supergun.” He called it the “Babylon.” It was supposed to be a giant cannon-like weapon that could fire a payload an incredibly long distance. Alternatively, with the aid of boosters, a payload could be launched into space without the need of rockets. Bull never finished the project, but he did build a small prototype called the “Baby Babylon.” It was dismantled and destroyed during the Gulf War. Bull was assassinated in 1990—in Brussels, to be exact. It is widely believed that the Mossad was responsible for the killing.
“So what’s that all about?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Lambert replies. “Belgian intelligence confirmed that Verbaken had recently added material to the file because he believed that someone previously associated with Bull was continuing the physicist’s work for terrorists in the Middle East. Unfortunately, Verbaken hadn’t completed his investigation and had not filed any detailed reports. He died without leaving anyone a clue as to where his notes are. They were probably
“Except for the one page recovered from the OPSAT.”
“Right.”
“Did the killers take the file?”
“We assume so. I wonder if they were after the file to begin with, or were the targets either Verbaken or Benton and the file was just gravy?”
“Or after both guys
“There’s that possibility, too.”
We’re quiet for a moment as we let these thoughts sink in. I finish my pizza and ask, “You heard the news about London?”
Lambert nods grimly. “That’s another thing I wanted to talk with you about. As you can imagine, we’re all very concerned about it.”
“The news report was very vague. What happened?”
“I was in my car when it happened,” Lambert says. “I got on to the Pentagon immediately, and what they could gather in the few minutes after it occurred was that some suicide bombers were masquerading as actors or something. It happened by the National Theatre. A big truck packed with explosives blew up. Part of Waterloo Bridge crumbled. It’s a big mess.”
“Anyone claiming responsibility?”
“Not yet,” Lambert answers. “But the modus operandi suggests the Shadows, don’t you think?”
The Shadows. They’re a bunch of shady characters who’ve grabbed some headlines lately. A relatively new barrel of terrorists, the Shadows operate all over the world but are believed to be headquartered somewhere in the Middle East. (Where else?) I can’t remember who coined the name, but it wasn’t them. I think it was a newspaper from the region — maybe Turkey — that referred to them as the Shadows and it stuck. From then on messages from the group were signed “the Shadows.” I think they were flattered.
Third Echelon’s been trying its best to collect data on the Shadows. Because they’re so new it’s been pretty difficult. No one knows if they represent a particular country. They’re a lot like al Qaeda and other nomadic, independent terrorist factions. They’ve probably got a sugar daddy somewhere who provides all the cash. What we do know is that they’ve claimed responsibility for a rash of bombings over the last year. There was a really bad one in Nice, France, just a couple of weeks ago. Same kind of thing — a truck pulls up in some public place and blows up. Goddamned bastards. It’s a shitty, evil thing to do.
“It’s too early, isn’t it?” I ask. “For them to issue a claim of responsibility, I mean?”
“Yeah. It’ll be tomorrow. But I’ll give you ten to one it’s them.”
I nod. “You’re probably right.”
“The interesting thing about all this is that there’s a connection.”
“How so?”
“That sheet of paper from the Gerard Bull file — the one from the copier?”
“Yeah?”
“It also mentions the Shadows.”
“Really.”
“The implication in the wording is that they’re the Shop’s biggest customers right now and possibly the group behind whatever it was that Benton was chasing in Belgium.”
I sit back in my chair. “If we could establish a connection between the two groups — and identify the major players in each—”
Lambert smiles. “You catch on quick.”
“So you want me to go to Belgium?”
“No. I want you to go to Iraq.”
Lambert continues. “I want you to pick up Benton’s trail there. Find out what he was investigating. He was sure suspicious about something, and damn it, he died before he could tell us what it was. You’ll be drop-shipped to Baghdad.” Lambert reaches into a briefcase and pulls out a manila envelope. He slides it across the table to me. “Everything you need to know is in there. Be ready to leave by army transport tonight at twenty-two hundred hours from Dulles. That should give you enough time to get home, make your preparations, and be back at the airport by twenty-one hundred.”
Yeah, just barely enough time.
I nod and tap my fingers on the envelope without opening it. That can wait until I get back to Towson.
“Okay,” I say. I have nothing else on the calendar.
6
I never pack much when I’m going OCONUS on assignment. An important component of my uniform is a slim custom-made Osprey backpack that fulfills a zillion functions. I can fit two or three changes of clothing inside, plus an assortment of Third Echelon equipment that I can pull out at a moment’s notice. I have a medical kit that contains painkillers, bandages, antiseptic, and atropine injections to combat exposure to a chemical attack. I have a limited supply of flares — both chemical and emergency — for various uses. Chemical flares glow in the dark when you crack the inner containers. They’re useful for attracting and distracting enemies. Emergency flares are standard road flares that emit heat, which can distract sensors like the ones found on automated turrets. I also keep a few frag grenades handy. These 14-ounce M67 babies consist of 2.5-inch steel spheres surrounding 6.5 ounces of high explosive. When these things go off, you don’t want to be close, believe me. The high-velocity shrapnel will rip you to shreds. In addition to the grenades I usually carry at least one wall mine. This is a motion-sensitive explosive device that can be attached to almost any surface. I’m able to improvise in the field, too — I’ve found that I’m pretty good at deactivating enemy mines and adding them to my inventory if I need more.
Other tools of the trade include a standard set of lock picks, wrenches, and probes for bypassing basic cylinder locks. For more difficult enclosures, such as safes, I use what we call disposable picks that can be adjusted to different strengths, depending on what it is you want to open. They contain microexplosive charges that deliver a quick impact to any standard lock cylinder, shattering the pins. The downside of these things is that they’re sometimes a little noisy. I’ve also got a nifty little camera jammer that emits microwave pulses. This is useful for disrupting the characteristic signals used in the microcircuitry of surveillance cameras. The only problem with the jammer is that it operates off a capacitor that you have to recharge. Then there’s the optic cable — kind of like those things doctors use to stick up your ass to look around with when you’re a lucky colonoscopy patient. It’s very flexible and I can slip it under doors and through holes to see what’s on the other side. There’s even a night-vision enhancement.
My standard issue weapon is a Five-seveN tactical handgun with a single-action trigger. The twenty-round magazine comes equipped with a silencer and flash suppressor. I’ve already told you a little bit about the gun, but I don’t think I mentioned that it has a T.A.K. integrated inside it. The Tactical Audio Kit is a laser-operated microphone that enables me to read the vibration off certain surfaces, mainly glass windows. The laser mic provides
