Payback

“Academy Award performance,” said Rockman as she drove away. “You’re smokin’ tonight.”

For some reason, she felt insulted, as if she’d been accused of lying.

34

Dean laid out the replacement envelopes on the floor as Karr located the bins containing them. The vault room was very dark; while they could see with their night-vision glasses, the numbers on the envelopes were printed in red and Dean had to resort to his small LED flashlight to make out the numbers.

“We’re running behind,” said Dean as he gave Karr the first envelope and took the original, stuffing it into the rucksack. “I’ll locate the boxes and pull them out. You get the envelopes.”

“Don’t let them fall,” said Karr. “We’ll be here all night shuffling them back into the right containers.”

Dean started to work his way across the stacked rows. He still had two more to find when Telach hissed a warning in their ears:

“Charlie, Tommy: the supervisor is coming up the street to the bank ahead of schedule. Pack up and get out of there now.”

35

By the time General Tucume arrived at the house under the Inca ruins, it was nearly midnight. He had stopped earlier at his divisional headquarters and was very tired from the long day. But the sight of Stephan Babin standing before the house filled Tucume with energy. The crippled Russian arms dealer looked like an Inca wraith emerging from the Spaniards’ mansion — the ghost of Tupac Amaru, just after he slaughtered the inhabitants in revenge.

“You return, General,” said Babin, crutching his way toward him. “Later than I expected, but good evening nonetheless.”

“And to you. Everything is ready?”

“Yes. The mock warhead is in the barn. Be careful who sees it. It may not fool a well-trained eye — or a sophisticated radiation meter. Three meters. Remember. And your devices must not be given up; anyone recalibrating them is very likely to realize they have been tampered with.”

“I intend to be most cautious.”

When Tucume had discovered the warhead along with Babin in the wreckage of the plane three years before, he had sensed it would allow him to fulfill his dream of taking his rightful place at the head of a restored Inca Empire. But within a few hours he realized something else — the bomb was as much of a liability as it was an asset. There was no possibility of using it as a weapon; his enemies lived too close to his own people, and in any event Tucume knew that no leader who destroyed his own country would be followed. The weapon could be used as a bargaining chip only, and even then the circumstances had to be just right.

Once the warhead was revealed, any number of things would happen. Questions would be asked about where it came from. The general staff would assert their authority to take control of it. The Americans, who according to Babin did not know it existed, would realize their mistake and try to recover it. So Tucume had to construct exactly the right scenario for its “discovery”—one where he would not be responsible for its past.

The plot he had arrived at, with Babin’s help, solved many problems. The weapon would be “discovered” in the rebels’ possession in a remote area. Its discovery right before the election would help Tucume’s candidate win. After the election, Aznar would appoint him to head the military — a natural appointment, given his record against Ecuador and the guerrillas — and any other complications could be smoothed out.

However, the plan put the warhead at risk. First because the area where it would be “discovered” had to be a dangerous area, and in order for the operation to appear authentic he could not send troops to guard the bomb ahead of time. And second, because there was bound to be at least some jealousy among the Spaniards who controlled the general staff, who would eventually order the warhead delivered to them.

It was Babin who had supplied the answer. He had crafted a dummy warhead, which to Tucume at least looked precisely like the real one. That would be the one discovered and transported. The genuine bomb would stay hidden in the barn where it had always been; at some point in the future when it was safe — and necessary — the warhead would be brought out from hiding.

“How is your election going?” asked Babin.

“We will win,” said Tucume. “Events are moving. The people will see the way they must vote.”

“You’re an optimist, General. Democracy is rule by the mob, the lowest of the low. I’d never trust them.”

“One uses what one can,” said Tucume. “Just as the Spanish made use of disease, I make use of democracy. A wise man finds weapons at his feet.”

“Is that one of your Inca proverbs?”

“It could be, couldn’t it?”

Tucume smiled at the Russian. Tucume did trust the people, the natives, his people — he trusted them because he trusted their spirit. He’d told Babin this before, but the Russian did not understand.

“I’m going to take a nap now, Stephan. The truck for the warhead will be here in a few hours. Good night to you.”

Tucume turned and walked toward the main house, aware that Babin’s eyes would follow him until he disappeared into the blackness.

36

Dean grabbed Karr’s arm as he reached for another of the plastic boxes. “Now, Tommy. They’re coming in.”

“I still have two more.”

“No. We’ll get them at the regional centers,” said Dean. “Come on.”

They grabbed their backpacks and hurried out of the vault room, but before they could close and reset the lock on the vault to the number where it had started, there were shouts at the far end of the lobby.

“Domir!” shouted one of the men who’d just come in. He followed this with a string of Spanish curses violent enough to boil paint off the walls. “Sleeping at your post? What in the name of the saints has gotten into you, you worthless scum?”

Dean crouched behind the security equipment at the base of the steps down to the vault. He could hear the guards being roused. One jumped to his feet and began babbling an apology.

“Silence!” said his supervisor. “Wake him up!”

“One of the guard supervisors brought an army officer in to show him the security arrangements,” Telach explained. “We switched the video signal back — it’s real time. There’s a lavatory down the hall. If you wait there, we’ll tell you when the supervisor has gone. We’ll interrupt the security feed again and you can get them with the blowpipe. No one will believe anything they say if they’re caught sleeping a second time.”

More likely, thought Dean, the guards would be replaced.

Karr had taken out the MP5 submachine gun he’d packed as a personal weapon. The weapon had a silencer on it, but silence was a relative concept for a submachine gun.

The second guard groaned, then protested that it was not time to get up. This was too much for the supervisor, who told them that they were both fired and must leave on the spot. The other guard began pleading for his job, saying that he had just dozed off for a moment. Even though the tape would have backed him up, the supervisor wanted no part of any excuses. Pleading that he needed the job, the man began to cry. But his boss wouldn’t give in. He herded the two guards toward the door.