Heydrich stood in the back of the compartment sipping silently on coffee. Steeckt turned to him. 'What do you say?' he asked respectfully.
'If any of you can run this boat in Kolnikov's place, say so now.'
Several of them glanced at Rothberg.
'He's a simulator man,' Heydrich said dryly. 'This is the first time he's ever been to sea. Turchak?'
'Not me. I trust his judgment, not mine.'
Heydrich drained the coffee cup. 'It seems our only alternative is to do it Kolnikov's way.' Without waiting for a reply, Heydrich went down the ladder to the mess deck.
Technicians working around the clock had gotten the SuperAegis liaison office in a Crystal City office building back in business. Emergency generators had been brought in and connected to the building's main circuit breaker panel. All the circuit breakers had been replaced, as well as most of the light switches in the building. Every portable electrical device in the building had been carried away to be disposed of, and new computers had been carried in. New telephones had been installed, new typewriters, copy machines, electric staplers, new card readers for the building's security system, new switches to operate the door locks, new security cameras and smoke detectors. The liaison staff — with their small office suite — certainly didn't rate the priority, but the building was full of other major military commands, which did. The small army of technicians who had accomplished the impossible were now gone, moved on to another government building.
Jake Grafton found Toad Tarkington opening new packages of software and installing them on the new computers. After he had greeted his boss and reported all that had been done, Toad remarked, 'We're almost ready for another Flashlight. If they pop another one over Washington, I thought I might take a month's leave while you folks go through this drill one more time.'
'Promises, promises,' Jake said. He picked up a new telephone and held it to his ear.
'The telephone system is still dead, sir.'
'I knew that,' Jake said with disgust as he tossed the instrument back onto its cradle. He sat on the edge of a desk and watched Toad for a moment. 'They won't shoot another one at Washington,' he said after a moment's thought. 'New York probably, maybe Boston or Philly. A long shot would be the National Security Agency at Fort Meade.'
'No pun intended.'
'Umpf.'
'So what are the pirates accomplishing, sir?'
'They're wrecking the American economy. Intentionally or unintentionally. The bottom has fallen out of the market, every missile causes billions of dollars in damage, the prestige and sovereignty of America are diminished with each passing day, with each warhead that explodes. And they've fired only three missiles. There are nine more on that damn boat.'
'The lawyers can argue about intent,' Toad said. 'As far as I'm concerned, that isn't a question. It's obvious that they intend the warheads to cause damage.'
'The only thing that is obvious is that the missiles were aimed and fired intentionally,' Jake Grafton replied. 'Each warhead that explodes sets off a chain of events, some of which are predictable, some of which aren't. Once an avalanche starts down a mountain, where it goes and what it hits are events beyond anyone's control.'
'They must intend to hammer the economy,' Toad insisted. 'That's what's happening.'
'And a great many things will flow from that,' Jake said. 'Fortunes will be made and lost, careers ruined, careers built… tens of millions of lives will be affected, which will cause profound reactions to these events in the years to come. My point is simply that once a missile is launched, no one can predict or control the consequences.'
'Where does that train of thought take you, Admiral?'
'Damned if I know,' Jake Grafton said and threw a pencil at a photo of a submarine hanging on the wall of a cubicle eight feet away.
He was staring at the submarine when Krautkramer walked in. 'Since the telephones are out of whack, thought I should drop by and let you know how we're doing.'
'Uh-huh.' Jake threw another pencil at the sub. The point of this one went into the soft soundproof cover of the cubicle panel and stuck.
They talked about the state of affairs in Washington for a few minutes, relating stories about life without electricity. Toad and Krautkramer did most of the talking, with Jake listening. Every so often he selected a pencil from a coffee cup on the desk and threw it at the submarine on the cubicle wall. The first one that stuck in the wall was apparently a fluke. The others struck at the wrong angle and fell to the carpet.
'We've identified the unknown man, the last one, we think,' Krautkramer said finally, when the rehash of the missile attack had run its course. He opened a cheap attache case and extracted a file, which he passed to Jake. The photo in the file was of the unknown man boarding the submarine, glancing up. That look straight into the videocamera had been blown up on regular film. Jake glanced at it, then consulted the other documents the file contained.
'He's an underwater salvage expert,' Krautkramer explained. 'Name of Heydrich. Works for the European aerospace consortium, EuroSpace. In the past he's reported to a vice president named Willi Schlegel. In addition to his salvage abilities, we think he does general smoothing work.'
'Smoothing.'
'Uh-huh. Whenever there is a problem he is brought in to smooth things out.'
'How does he do his smoothing?' Toad asked.
'Any way at all.'
'Amazing that you can identify people from pictures,' Jake said as he looked at Heydrich's photo.
'The computer age is truly here. Everyone is wired up together. Sharing databases was one of the antiterrorism initiatives.'
'I remember when the privacy people jumped up and down about it.'
'That's why it gets zero publicity. The idea of government databases scares some people silly. But there's no way to stop it. The information is there, it's on computers, no one wants airliners or trade centers or government buildings bombed by wild-eyed maniacs with a righteous cause. Ergo, government agencies share databases.'
Jake glanced at the other items in the folder, then handed it back to the FBI agent. He went to the window, stood staring out. The view here was to the north. He could see a corner of Reagan National Airport and most of the Pentagon. In the distance the Jefferson Memorial and the Washington Monument were prominent. The sky was empty.
'The Europeans,' Toad mused. 'Underwater salvage. They must know where the SuperAegis satellite wound up.'
'We're trying to find a link between the European aerospace consortium and someone on the SuperAegis launch crew. So far we've had no luck.'
'Are you checking bank accounts?' Toad asked.
'Can't do any of that foolishness until we get a warrant.'
'Hmm.'
'Strictly by the book.'
Jake Grafton turned from the window. 'I need some help on a project,' he said. 'Won't lead to a prosecution, so nobody will have to testify about it.'
'Sounds like something immoral, unethical, and illegal,' Krautkramer said with enthusiasm. 'Ought to be right down my alley.'
'Is there any other way?' Toad asked and sniffed self-righteously.
Twenty minutes later Jake was standing by the window looking down into the street when he saw Janos Ilin get out of a limo. At least it appeared to be Ilin — from eight stories up it was difficult to tell.
'Could the Russians have gotten another limo from someplace?'
'Probably. More than likely their UN mission drove a few down for the embassy staff to use. The French and Brits did that, I heard. Maybe they rented one from one of the services out in the suburbs.'
Ilin crossed the sidewalk toward the entrance. It looked like him anyway, the way he walked.
'Is the car that picked me up this morning still downstairs?'
'Yes, sir. Driver should be there.'
