warhead on the ground already. They got to the plane and for some reason worried that there was another one. They followed the exact same procedure they would if an American plane had gone down with a bomb. But they never mention it in the report.”
“Because they didn’t find anything,” said Rubens.
“Probably. They might have seen something as simple as a flight plan suggesting another stop, or some document, or even an extra set of tiedowns and decided to investigate. They didn’t find Sholk, either.” Jackson pointed to one of the printouts. “You can see the report of the helicopter crew that took the bodies out — there are only two bodies, and they’re identified as the pilot and first officer of the airplane that crashed.”
“Perhaps his body was so incinerated they never found it.”
“Maybe. But there’s a long ground search near the plane and nothing is recorded as being found. They don’t mention that his corpse was identified. There’s no call for records that I can see.”
“The CIA officer in charge of the mission would have known him by sight.”
“Notice that he never specifically mentions in the report that the unnamed asset — Sholk — died.”
Rubens got up from his seat and began pacing around the room. How much of this did Collins know? Rubens wondered.
Probably everything.
“I don’t want to mislead you,” continued Jackson. “There are many references to two warheads in the material. Both of those were accounted for.”
“Three hours ago, a Peruvian army unit made a raid on a guerrilla hideout on the border of the Amazonian area of the country,” Rubens told Jackson. “Not terribly far from Ecuador. They found something they believe is a nuclear bomb. They also found a truck and maps for Lima, along with some other documents.”
“This bomb?”
“Obviously that’s the question we’ll have to try to answer. I have some people on the way there to make sure it is a nuclear warhead. It seems rather… interesting.”
“Yes,” said Jackson.
“I’d like to know the identity of the arms dealer, Sholk,” said Rubens. “Can you figure it out?”
“Maybe. But it won’t be easy,” said Jackson. “Wouldn’t it be much easier to ask the CIA?”
Rubens leaned against his bookcase without answering.
“You don’t think they’ll tell you,” said Jackson. “And you don’t trust them to tell you the truth.”
Rubens pressed his lips together. “There is that.”
“If he’s dead…”
“Ordinarily that would make no difference. In this case, we could follow the procedure to get his name. We will follow that procedure. But I’d like you to undertake it as well.”
Jackson nodded. In truth, the CIA did not appear to warrant any trust in this case.
“I’ll look into it right away,” he told Rubens. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Please.”
“I wouldn’t let that weapon stay in anyone’s hands. It’s too tempting.”
“I quite agree.”
As soon as Jackson had gone, Rubens picked up the phone to call Hadash. It was an ingrained reflex — he had always shared important intelligence, even hunches, with the national security adviser. If Jackson’s theory was correct — if this was a warhead involved in Iron Heart — the implications were immense.
But in the few brief seconds it took for the call to go-through and the national security adviser to come on the line, Rubens reconsidered. It wasn’t that he doubted the evidence Jackson had just shown him; on the contrary. But he was unsure now of Hadash’s standing in the government — and his attitude toward him. Maybe he couldn’t depend on his former teacher for advice. Maybe telling Hadash was the worst thing to do.
“Bill? What’s the latest on Peru?” asked Hadash when he came on the line.
“I have people en route to verify the find,” he told Hadash. “I understand the president and the secretary of state have been talking with the Peruvian government. They seem to have very little information. Otherwise, nothing has changed in the last hour since our conference call with the secretary of defense. I did see a note just a short while ago that the aircraft carrier Reagan and her escorts have been ordered to sail for Lima. They’re three days away.”
Hadash grunted.
“I’m drawing up a plan to take custody of the weapon, drawing on resources we have in the area for the existing mission,” continued Rubens. “It can be put into motion as soon as the president gives the word.”
“The president has not made that decision yet. It’s not a foregone conclusion that he will.”
“I understand.”
“We need to know definitively whether that is a warhead or not,” said Hadash. “We need precise data on it, an absolute location, information about the unit that found it—”
“We’ll have all the information within hours.”
Should he tell Hadash about the connection with Iron Heart? It was best to wait. Dean and Karr would be there soon; at that point, he’d know for sure.
“Did you read the draft of the president’s statement?” said Hadash.
“Yes.”
Marcke was due to go on national television at 9:00 p.m. eastern time, announcing the discovery and saying that he had asked Peru to turn the weapon over to the International Atomic Energy Agency for dismantling. He was also going to reiterate what had been American policy since John F. Kennedy confronted Khrushchev during the Cuban Missile Crisis: no nuclear weapons would be allowed in the Western Hemisphere.
What else he would say depended in large part on what the Peruvians said to him.
“Was there something else, Bill?” asked Hadash.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were thinking of resigning?” blurted Rubens.
Hadash didn’t answer. It had come out unbidden, but now that it had, Rubens told his old friend what he truly felt.
“I think, considering how long we’ve known each other, you might have mentioned it,” he told Hadash.
“I really can’t discuss it at the moment,” said Hadash. “I’m sure you understand.”
No, I don’t, thought Rubens. But instead of saying that, he simply hung up.
55
Dean and Karr were supposed to meet the airplane in a small field about five miles north of the city, but when they got there the field was empty. It bore only the vaguest resemblance to an airstrip, and if it hadn’t been for the GPS coordinates, Dean would have continued on. He turned the car off the road and immediately sank into the soft turf. Dubious, he shut off the engine and got out. Karr had already leapt from his seat and was wading into knee-deep grass.
“The field is mud,” said Dean. “How’s a plane going to land here?”
“Maybe he’s just going to slow down so we can jump aboard,” said Karr.
Dean went to the trunk and got their bags. He opened them and started rearranging things, making sure the most important items — like extra bullets — were in a single bag, just in case they had to leave extra weight behind. It reminded Dean of his early days on patrol. Many Marines had realized that luxuries like clean underwear weren’t worth displacing necessities like ammunition. He made those same choices now, unsure of what they were facing.
The A2 rifle was packed in a small box of its own. Both men carried two pistols, one under each arm in shoulder holster. Besides being easier to conceal under a bulky jacket, the shoulder holsters made it easier to retrieve the gun, especially when you were sitting in a car. Dean checked his pistots — both Glocks, solid and dependable 9mm handguns — then filled his pockets with as many extra magazines as he could stuff in.
“It’s only wet by the road, Charlie,” yelled Tommy. “There’s a macadam strip under this dust. Check it out.”
