were looking at the Russian ABM system. They’re calling it a bomb, but that’s a nuke. I remember the assembly at the rear.”
“Are you sure?”
“I just punched the image over to the weapons people, so we’ll get something definitive, but yeah. I’m sure of it.”
“In Peru?”
“This is a pre-broadcast feed. They’re just uploading it. It’ll go over the air in a second. I haven’t had time to pin down the location, but it’s up in the north, west of Iquitos. This is a BBC affiliate. The reporter’s an English guy.”
Telach leaned over and hit a preset that took the feed back to the image thirty seconds before, freezing it so she could look at the bomb.
“It’s a warhead, but it doesn’t go on a Gorgon,” she said, referring to the Russian ABM system. “There would be a set of blisters on the right there.”
“I swear I’ve seen it,” said Rockman.
“I’ll alert Mr. Rubens. How’s Lia?”
“She decided to go ahead and make the switch herself,” said Rockman, sitting back upright at his station. “Hang on. She’s almost done.”
Rubens grabbed the dedicated phone to the Art Room as soon as it began to ring.
“Rubens.”
“Mr. Rubens, there’s a report in Peru that the military has found a nuclear weapon in the northern jungles, apparently belonging to the rebels,” said Marie Telach.
Rubens prided himself on remaining calm under any circumstance, but even he had to take a moment before he could respond.
“Get me the details,” he told Telach. “I’m putting in a call to the White House right now.”
51
“What are you doing?” Fernandez asked Lia. He had found another set of work lamps similar to those strung along the ceiling.
“I figured I could get going, get done, and get out of here,” she said. She reached down and took the authentic envelope from under the replacement, slitting it open with her fingernail.
“Don’t you want something to sit on?” he asked.
“That would be nice,” said Lia.
“There are some chairs in the trucks. Do you have enough power in your battery?”
Lia remembered the excuse she had given him at the bank.
“For one or two tests, I can get away with it,” she told him. “But if not, I think I can reach the overhead cords. That’s OK, right?”
“Sure.” He glanced to her right, looking at the box of cards. Then he went to get the chair.
Once he was gone, Lia finished switching the envelopes. After the original was sealed inside the briefcase, she took another envelope from the middle of the pile and slit it open to “test” the cards. The diagnostics were just starting when Fernandez returned.
Besides the chair, he had a bottle of water and two green leaves in his fingers.
“Chew these. They’re coca leaves. The natives around here use them for energy. They carry them in little bags. I got a couple from one of the workers.”
Dubious, Lia took one of the leaves and nibbled at the corner.
Fernandez laughed. “It won’t make you a drug addict; don’t worry.”
“Maybe I’ll try it later,” she said, taking a sip of water.
52
Dean picked up the binoculars and scanned the road back toward La Oroya. A large four-door pickup was heading down the road in their direction; the rear bed was empty and it was likely that the truck was heading toward one of the mining operations farther south.
“The army?” asked Karr, settling down behind him.
“Nah. Just a truck.”
“They go to all that trouble in the city, and here anybody could walk in and take the cards, take the machines, take everything,” said Karr.
“Maybe the people are too honest to steal the election,” said Dean.
Dean rubbed his hands together. The thin air was crisp; it was at least ten degrees cooler than it had been in the city.
“Lia’s done. Switch is made,” said Rockman over the communications system. “No trouble. She’s coming out.”
“Man, she has all the fun,” said Karr.
“I told her you guys could handle it,” said Rockman.
“Tommy’s only kidding,” said Dean.
He rose, turning his glasses in the direction of the building. He could see Lia walking out with Fernandez. The UN escort put his hand on her shoulder and Dean felt a pang of jealousy.
“Hey, that pickup’s going up the road,” said Karr. “Going over to the UN people.”
Dean raised his glasses, watching. The lone policeman at the site spotted the truck and walked over to meet it.
Dean pulled up the A2 assault gun he’d slung over his shoulder. Specially designed for Desk Three, the A2 fired caseless bullets with almost no kick and with extreme accuracy, a sniper’s dream. But the gun was meant for relatively short ranges; six hundred yards was nothing for a Remington, but it was at the tail end of the A2’s reach.
Dean zeroed in on the policeman who was walking over. They’d looked him over thoroughly earlier; he was armed with an ancient revolver and had been drinking most of the morning.
One shot, he’d be dead. Lia would be on her own.
He’d put a string of bullets across the windshield of the truck. That would give Lia enough time to find cover.
“There’s a truck,” he heard Karr telling Rockman in the background. “We’re not sure what’s going on. Tell Lia to watch it. Charlie’s got ’em.”
Did he?
Absolutely.
The door to the cab opened. Dean felt his heart leap. But the man who got out didn’t have a weapon; he walked to the back of the truck and relieved himself while the other man spoke to the cop.
Karr started hee-hawing.
Dean kept his weapon aimed at the truck. The Land Rover with Lia made a U-turn and drove away. Dean waited until they were back on the highway to put his weapon down.
“Lia’s done. They’re going back to the village to get some dinner,” said Rockman.
“About time,” said Karr. “I want a beer.”
“No time for that. See if you can get over to the airfield.”
“I thought we weren’t leaving until tomorrow morning,” said Karr.
“There’s been a change in plans. We’ll give you a full brief when you get to the airfield.”
“What about backing up Lia?” said Dean.
