Death Wave

Wrath of God is designed to cripple the U.S. economically somehow, I can see how the Saudis would be concerned.”

“No more solid silver Rolls-Royces.”

“And another bad stretch for the global economy,” Rubens pointed out. “We’re just climbing out of one economic crisis. Something on the scale these guys are talking about might put the whole world into a financial tailspin. Again, we’re still carrying out the investigation, but we think that Feng was the money man. Best guess? He provided the money for JeM to buy twelve stolen suitcase nukes from the Russian mafiya.”

Douglas pursed his lips. “Ouch. What do you want from me?”

Rubens looked at Noelle. This was his department.

“When Desk Three gets this sorted out,” Noelle said, “we’re almost certainly going to need military action. Fast. Our people are tracking the nukes at Karachi now.” He looked at Rubens. “A freighter?”

“Russian freighter,” Rubens agreed. “The Yakutsk. Maltese flagged. Destination Tel Aviv.”

“The Yakutsk. We may need to put a VBSS team on board her.”

VBSS was the naval acronym for “visit, board, search, and seizure.” It meant a SEAL team taking down a Russian ship and grabbing the nukes on board.

Douglas made a face. “That is not going to fly well with the Oval Office.”

“No, sir. And that’s why the request is going to have to come from your office.”

“We can enlist Johnny James,” Noelle added. “He’s sympathetic to us.”

“We’ll need to brief him.” Douglas arched an eyebrow in Rubens’ direction.

“I can handle that, sir. This afternoon, if I can get an appointment.”

“Use my priority code for the request.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“It occurs to me that we have some people here we might want to talk to. It sounds like al-Khuwaytir may be in on this scheme, whatever it is. And your sources in Spain — Feng, Shah, and this French guy, Chatel.”

“Already on that, sir. Al-Khuwaytir may be someone for State to look at. But my people in south Asia are checking on both the ship and on other forms of transport out of Karachi.”

“Good. Anything to stop us from picking up the three in Spain immediately?”

“Just one thing,” Rubens told him. “Al-Wawi, apparently, is the guy running Operation Wrath of God. Right now he’s on the island of La Palma, Canary Islands. He’s the one we really want, and we don’t want him tipped off ahead of time. If he disappears, he might take the suitcase nukes with him, and we’ll have to start all over from scratch.”

“Any ideas?”

“Yes, sir. One of my best Desk Three operators is with Feng now, in Spain. I’m sending her to La Palma this afternoon.”

“To save Carlylse?”

Rubens hesitated. “If possible. But Carlylse might lead us to the Jackal. That’s our first priority.”

“Bait,” Douglas said.

“Hate to say it, but yes. I don’t know how else to flush al-Wawi into the open without spooking him.”

“Well, I’ll leave that in your hands, Bill. Keep me up to date. Let me know if anything changes. And I’ll let you know what the President says. He may insist on deniability.”

“That might not be possible, sir. It is imperative that we recover those nukes.”

“I agree. But in this business, imperatives aren’t always possible.”

“I know that, sir. All too well.”

HOTEL ALMIRANTE

ALICANTE, SPAIN

THURSDAY, 1725 HOURS LOCAL TIME

Lia DeFrancesca walked into the luxurious, light-filled lobby of the Almirante, holding Feng’s arm. She was wearing a brightly colored beach wrap now — she didn’t mind going three-quarters naked in public, but only where such exposure would be natural and unremarkable, like on the beach. She wasn’t about to emulate the couple she’d seen a few years before in Madrid.

“You know, Ms. Lau,” Feng told her as they waited for the elevator to arrive on the lobby floor, “you could share my room.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Feng,” she replied. “It is tempting … but what kind of a message would that send to your business associates?”

“How would they know? Besides, they would merely think of me as very fortunate indeed.”

“I don’t think so.” She shook her head. “Mr. Shah has the traditional Muslim scorn for women who expose themselves in public. I’m sure he thinks of me as a ‘fallen woman.’ If he learned you were sleeping with me, he would be convinced that you are as decadent and degraded as I am.”

He looked at her sharply. “How do you know he called you a fallen woman? Do you speak Arabic?”

“No, but I know what bintilkha-ta means. And associating with such a person would taint you as well. Unless you’re trying to scandalize the poor boy?”

He smiled and patted her arm. “I do like … how is it you Americans put it? To yank on his rope?”

“His chain. You like to yank his chain.”

“Just so.”

The elevator arrived; the door slid open. They stepped inside and she pressed the button for her floor, then for his.

“Mr. Feng, I’m delighted that you appreciate my skills and my experience enough to hire me. But I submit that you need to decide just what it is you are hiring me for. As a consultant knowledgeable in foreign cultures? Or as a playmate in bed? The one gets in the way of the other.”

“And what would you say if I told you I wanted you for my bed?”

“I would say no, Mr. Feng. I would tell you that I was flattered … but no.” The elevator stopped at her floor, and she walked out. “Until later, Mr. Feng.”

“Very smooth, Lia,” Rockman told her over her implant. “I’m not sure how you keep him at arm’s length with all the drool on the floor, though.”

“He wants me for eye candy,” she murmured. “I think the job is just an excuse to show off a pretty woman hanging on his arm.”

“Are you okay with that?” Bill Rubens asked.

“Oh, sure. He’s putty in my hands.”

“You’re going to want to wash your hands, then,” Rubens told her. “I’m pulling you out.”

“Why?” She was genuinely startled. Surprise was followed immediately by a flush of anger. “Mr. Rubens. I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know you can, Lia, but we need you in La Palma. The sooner, the better.”

“La Palma? Why?”

“Because that’s where al-Wawi is. It’s also where a writer named Vince Carlylse is about to be murdered by al-Wawi’s people. When you went off to get those drinks this afternoon, they were discussing it.”

“They’re killing writers? Why?”

“We don’t know yet, but it’s wrapped up with a terrorist op, and it’s big.”

“Feng wants me to fly with him back to Germany. Shah and Chatel are going to La Palma.” She had a new thought. “Shah and Chatel. They’re involved with the terrorist op?”

“That’s part of what we want you to learn, Lia.”

“Feng will be suspicious if I quit now and fly off to the Canary Islands with those two instead.”

“We’ll take care of your legend, Lia. We want to preserve your relationship with Feng in case we need to penetrate his COSCO operations later. But right now, we can have you on Grand Canary in six hours … and it’ll be closer to twenty-four if I send someone out from the States.”

“You got it.”