Rubens called the Art Room from inside the White House.
“We’re go on the project,” he told Telach.
“Yes.”
Her voice sounded distant but no longer shaky. Progress, he thought.
“Where else are we?”
“We’ve downloaded data from the Syrians. Lia and Dean are just getting out of there; we’re setting up to debrief them and run back the mission.”
“Have you analyzed the bacteria from the school?”
“We haven’t gotten it physically to the mobile lab yet,” said Telach.
“We’re positive the Swiss don’t have the bacteria?”
“If you want to talk to Johnny Bib about it, I’ll be happy to put him on.”
“Not necessary, Marie. What about Karr?”
“Tommy’s ready in Bangkok. We’ve tracked the detonator.”
“Very good. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I have it under control.”
He considered this. Marie had been out of sorts the other day but now seemed back on her game — the sharp come-back earlier and the bristle over his hurrying back were exhibits A and B.
“You seem more yourself this morning, Marie,” he told her.
“I always feel better after a sleepless night,” she told him. “Excuse me, but I have a job to do.”
“Very good,” he said, hitting END.
89
Karr glanced up at the ceiling of the Bangkok Star Imperial, trying to catch a glimpse of himself in the gold leaf. But the shine was more luster than reflection.
“Now that’s a surprise,” he said, spinning around as he continued to stare upward. As he did, he bumped into one of Bai’s security people.
It was a fairly hard bump. The man — who, though six-three, was still about four inches shorter than the American — fell to his knees, suddenly out of breath. Karr leaned over to help, applying a very special first-aid resuscitation technique — which resulted in the guard’s Beretta pistol flying up out of his hand into the air.
Karr snatched it when it reached eye level. He stuck it into his waistband as he walked toward the office Bai used as his headquarters. Two large Asian men — they looked Chinese, but that may have been a function of the tattoos on their necks — pushed their chests out in his direction.
Their drawn pistols were somewhat more impressive than their muscles.
“Hey, guys. Remember me?” said Karr cheerfully. “I have some business with the boss.”
The sentry on the right replied with a long sentence that, when translated from Thai, might be considered a travel suggestion.
“Nah, he definitely wants to talk to me here rather than there,” said Karr. “Although I suppose he can catch me
As the two men pressed closer to him, the door at the end of the hall opened. Bai said something to the men, who stood aside.
“Thanks,” said Karr, walking inside.
“Why are you here?”
“The obvious reasons,” said Karr.
He sat down in the seat near the desk, then opened his jacket. Bai immediately flashed his pistol.
“Relax. I want you to look at these pieces of paper, then decide whether you want to cooperate or not. Your call.”
The NSA op pulled the documents out of his coat pocket and unfolded them. The top two were copies of electronic transfers that had been made to Bai’s personal account from Hong Kong banks occasionally used by the Chinese Communist government as a conduit for external operations. One collected transactions from Bai’s accounts overseas, showing that the money had indeed gone to him and his family. The next two were authorization memos connecting the transfers to arms shipments to guerrillas in Myanmar. Last but not least was the transcript of a conversation between Bai and a member of the guerrilla group known as the Crescent Tigers.
“The translation on that last one may not be that good,” Karr said as Bai stared at the intercept. “They did it by computer and they had to use English because the character set was a serious pain in the ass to transmit. I mean, you know, technology’s great, but it does have its limits.”
Bai sat back in the seat. “What do you want?”
“Kegan. I need him now.”
“I owe him too much to betray him.”
“He saved your sister’s life, yes,” said Karr. “But that was a long time ago.”
“I can’t.”
“You think he’s worth these papers showing up in the defense minister’s office? Considering all you’ve done for him already?”
Bai shook his head, but Karr could tell he was wavering.
“He’s going to die anyway, Mr. Bai. You know that as well as I do. The other people looking for him won’t be as considerate if they find him before I do. And you know they’re looking for him. They followed me out of here last time I came by.”
90
Malachi checked the course indicator on the lead bird, then rolled through the instrument screens, making sure the aircraft was in good shape. Train had split the team in half, giving Malachi and Whacker the two F-47s inbound for Moscow while he and Riddler mopped up over Syria and took the flight home. The commander and the other weapons officer would join them just before they were ready to hit the target area; in the meantime, this was a piece of cake. Malachi had his aircraft at 72,000 feet; their stealthy profiles were invisible to Russian radar, which was surprisingly sparse once you got beyond the border areas.
“Civilian aircraft coming out of the west toward us,” said Whacker. He ran down the particulars; the airplane, a Boeing 767, was flying around thirty-two thousand feet and would come within three miles of them if they didn’t change course. Technically, that was probably far enough away for them to be missed, but given the fact that they were over Russia, Malachi brought his throttles up to full, accelerating briefly to get past the passenger jet.
“Looking good,” said Riddler. “Getting tired?”
“Hey, no way,” said Malachi. “You want some strawberry drink?”
“What’s it spiked with? Caffeine or amphetamines?”
“Just sugar. Can’t beat a glucose high.”
“You been listening to thrash rock too long.”
“Alternative music.”
“I listen to alternative music. You listen to trash crap.”
“Thrash. And Barry Manilow is alternative?”
“That was Frank Sinatra I was listening to the other day. A world of difference.”
Malachi was about to argue the relative merits of crooners he knew nothing about when Telach interrupted from the Art Room.
“Malachi, we have a change in plans. How quickly can you be on target?”
