“Taiwan,” McBurney observed.
“Of course. And that we deploy on the American continent only to the extent such defenses are effective against a ‘rogue’ or accidental missile launch. With respect to their strategic interests, they want to restore the ABM Treaty, status quo ante, or something like it. I guess Denis expects that to be his legacy-crowning accomplishment.”
“I’m afraid to ask, but exactly who in Beijing?”
Burns grinned. “Wouldn’t make sense to negotiate with people you didn’t expect to be in power, would it?”
McBurney closed his eyes. “Rong’s people.”
“The vice premier himself, actually. Remember his visit here in the spring?”
“Quanxi with Rong... No doubt that’s part of Rong’s political calculus to capture power.”
“Neither of these men are dummies.”
McBurney reflected on the opinion of Rotger, their Beijing ‘deputy ambassador,’ that Rong Peng was front-runner for succession. “I presume that Rotger has had a hand in these negotiations?”
Director Burns regarded him for a moment, puffing his cigar. “You might recall President Denis being intrigued with your revelation of our having a deep asset over there. I later found out his chief of staff contacted Rotger and asked that we employ SIREN for getting an inside track on Rong’s negotiating posture.”
“SIREN was already dead, or soon to be.”
“In any event, the whole negotiation appears to be falling apart. You see, President Denis’s goal all along has been to restore some semblance of a revving U.S. economy by getting OPEC to turn their tankers westward again. He was keeping his talks secret, of course, so as not to alienate his powerful environmental constituents. I think you briefing them on China’s ‘entrenched hoarding of oil,’ or however it was Herman put it, must have really shaken ’em up into thinking that Rong is stringing them along. I mean, how else could Denis interpret China’s huge spending on refinery and storage, other than they are hunkering down? Then last week—” Burns shook his head and chuckled. “With only a couple of weeks to go, Congress sends out mixed signals on its commitment to our national missile defense.”
“But the President is opposed to it.”
“He opposes it, all right. But NMD is his whole damn bargaining chip with Rong. He needs it alive in order to kill it.”
McBurney struggled to not verbally assault the man who’d appointed Lester Burns to head the CIA. “The Japanese might not like that. They’ve helped us develop it.”
Burns puffed his cigar.
“Who’s to say cold feet on the Hill isn’t just the President asserting his influence, holding up his end of the deal with Rong?”
“You can bet Beijing will piece the story together,” Burns said. Everyone understood that China was able to navigate Washington politics as well as anyone. “If they conclude President Denis had nothing to do with Congress waffling, they certainly won’t bother cutting a deal, especially with someone whose re-election bid is far from secure. Anyway, you can begin to see why you took it on the chin the other day in the Cabinet Room. With the implications of China being involved in this fuel-efficient aircraft sabotage, you ought to know what might have motivated them. I don’t need to remind you the classification of all this.”
McBurney knew that the Chinese would be implacable negotiators with so much at stake. As stipulated in a treaty ratified by both Washington and Taipei, the United States was legally bound to be drawn into any conflict between Taiwan and the mainland—with potentially rapid escalation to nuclear stand-off. “I didn’t think the President and NSA were exactly the picture of confidence. When was their agreement with Beijing supposed to be consummated?”
“Well, that final SBIRS deployment is scheduled to launch in a matter of weeks—pending final appropriation, that is. And the arrival of oil? I suppose in time to pump life into the economy before the election.” Burns paused to draw life into the flame of his cigar. “But it ain’t gonna’ happen, not if Congress unwittingly plucks the President’s bargaining chip.
“And I’d suggest not breathing a word of this aircraft sabotage to the White House until we can back it up. The President may well decide to hold it over their heads. Until we can advise him how he should interpret it, there’s no telling how he would interpret it.”
54
Thursday, June 11
“THANKS FOR AGREEING TO STOP by this morning, Mr. Stuart,” the FBI agent announced with a slight southern drawl. His amicable smile was matched by that of the younger woman seated to his left.
Stuart lifted his hands slightly from his knees. “I really don’t know what more I can add. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name...?”
“Special Agent Ed Hildebrandt.”
“As I told Miss Carter last time, I’d like to help apprehend Sean Thompson’s murderer however I can.”
Hildebrandt referred to the notes in his spiral-bound notebook, which he kept tilted in his lap so that Stuart couldn’t see them. A series of telephone calls several days earlier between Langley and the FBI’s Washington Metro, Cleveland, and Richmond offices led to the grudging admission that despite continuous surveillance, a court-ordered wiretap, inquiries into the subject’s personal and professional background including those of his acquaintances and past dating partners, his travel history, hobbies, vices, medical records, expenditures, debts, tax returns, video and literary preferences, the very clean file on Robert Stuart remained very clean. At CIA’s urging, the decision was made to turn up the heat.
“Mr. Stuart, how would you describe your relationship with Paul Devinn?” Hildebrandt lifted his eyes after turning a page and, along with his partner, looked closely for Stuart’s response.
Stuart arched his eyebrows.
“You do know him, don’t you?”
“I’ve known him since college, we both attended Georgia Tech. Paul was a fraternity guy, while I was not, but the student community was fairly close knit. I had heard that he’s missing. You think Devinn had something to do with Thompson’s murder?”
“May I ask how you happened to know of his disappearance? The Canadian authorities haven’t publicly announced it.”
Stuart wondered why a missing person’s bulletin of some sort would not have been issued. “I heard through a phone call with his secretary at Thanatech.”
“You initiated the call?”
Stuart frowned. “Actually, I think she called to see if I might have heard from Paul myself.”
Hildebrandt scribbled a notation in his notebook.
“Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”
Agent Carter responded, “I regret to inform you that the Royal Mounted Police presume Paul Devinn to be dead. His overturned fishing boat was found washed ashore after a storm. His cabin and other belongings apparently indicated that he’d intended to return.”
Stuart slowly shook his head. “I had the impression that Paul was a fairly capable outdoorsman.”
“You knew him that well, then?”
“No, not really.”
“We understand that the storm was very severe,” Carter explained. “The Canadians investigating his disappearance are convinced that he drowned. They also have evidence suggesting alcohol may have been a contributing factor. They’ve called off the search for his body.”
“There are some things about him that we hope you can help us to understand,” Hildebrandt added.
“I’ll certainly try.”
“You mentioned attending college together. Had you stayed in touch over the years?”
“No.”
“Not even occasionally? Maybe you’d heard of his whereabouts through the friend of a friend, that sort of thing?”
Stuart considered the question. “I might’ve heard or read in alumni mailings that he’d gone on to law school. He and I caught up on a few such things after he arrived at Thanatech.”
“It was University of Wisconsin Law.”
“If you say so. That would
have been almost twenty years ago.”
“Had you heard of any of his extracurricular activities there?”
“None that I recall. Like what?”
“Does the name Frank Sweeney mean anything to you?”
Stuart thought a moment before answering. “I don’t think so. Should it?”
“You hadn’t heard that Mr. Devinn became active in a Marxist extremist organization?”
“Paul, a Marxist? That’s ridiculous.”
“Why so?”
“Well, for one thing, I thought the guy grew up surrounded by money. Doesn’t strike me as the background of somebody who’d go off in a direction like that.”
“In this business, Mr. Stuart, we learn things about people you’d never have thought,” Hildebrandt said. “It so happens that in the years following law school, Mr. Devinn spent a fair amount of time living in Asia. Records indicate that you made numerous trips there as well.”
It was apparent after a moment that the agents expected him to expound. Stuart explained that his business had required him to frequently travel overseas in order to market his company’s products.
“What type of products?”
“Medical devices, lasers for conducting ophthalmologic exams and surgery. Later we developed opto-electronic switches for the telecom industry.” Stuart explained that their company marketed as well as contract manufactured in China, which is a source of highly pure erbium deposits used in the manufacture of optical fiber.
“This was for the company you founded?”
“I co-founded CLI, that’s correct.”
“Your trips took you to China, Malaysia, Singapore, Thailand, Japan, Taiwan?”
“What’s my travel history got to do—”
“Did you ever meet Mr. Devinn on any of these trips?”
Stuart realized the FBI was indulging in theories other than who might have killed Thompson. Or were they? “I never made contact with him when I was traveling. I thought I already told you. Paul and I fell out of touch.”
“And yet you hired Mr. Devinn when you were working at Thanatech?”
“Well, I guess that’s true. I was asked to interview Paul because he had told our recruiter that we were acquaintances.”
“Can you describe what you discussed during the interview?” Agent Carter asked.
Stuart realized they were really trolling now, in open-ended fashion, as anyone who’d ever properly interviewed a job candidate would recognize. “I don’t recall—no, that’s not entirely true. I remember asking why he wasn’t practicing law. He said that he had for a while but simply didn’t like it.”
Carter smiled pleasantly. “You recommended that Thanatech hire him?”
“I thought that he had a reasonable resume, and he’d worked in similar industries at similar companies. I’m sure you have all that. It was a human resources posting.”
Vacant stares.
“I guess my first impressions of the guy back in college were of somebody uncertain of what he was about—he might’ve changed majors or something, I don’t recall. We took some of the same classes, frequented some of the same parties. Years later he shows up with a law degree and a respectable looking resume. That’s about all there is to it.”
Hildebrandt leaned forward. “Why did you hire Emily Chang to come work for you at CLI?”
Stuart allowed the question to hang for a moment. Could they truly suspect Emily? “I thought this was a query into the death of Sean Thompson.”
“Mr. Thompson worked for Emily Chang at the time of his murder. And now, well...CLI is your company. I suppose you can hire whoever you choose, isn’t that right?”
“I don’t think I have to answer that.”
“You don’t. Let me rephrase it. You hire—”
“I hired Miss Chang at CLI because her professional qualifications are uniquely tailored to the challenge we face. Having worked with her at Thanatech, I knew her to be extremely intelligent, diligent, and thorough. She earns the respect of her associates and staff, and is able to push them hard because of it. My hiring her had nothing to do with any sort of quota. Nor was it because we’re romantically involved, which we are not, as I explained to Miss Carter during our first conversation. Does that answer your question?”
Special Agent Hildebrandt flipped another page of his notes. “I think that about covers it. We see there’s a lawsuit pending against you for negligent manslaughter.”
“What’s that got to do with—”
“Sean Thompson’s murder? Perhaps you’re right. I guess it’s more likely relevant to the cause of the airplane crash in Mojave.” Hildebrandt focused his eyes on Stuart.
Stuart returned the stare. Is that what this is about? He suddenly felt awash in irony. Emily and I sit on the incriminating evidence, and it comes full circle to incriminate us. Hadn’t Thanatech announced their determination of the cause...?
“Something funny, Mr. Stuart?”
“I’m wondering if I should have a lawyer present.”
“That’s certainly your prerogative. I’ll reiterate that you are not currently considered a suspect.”
“For what, specifically?”
“And your visit this morning is strictly voluntary, although anything you say may be held against you in the future should our investigation require it.” Hildebrandt paused, his expression poker-faced. “You’re not trying to suggest that that is going to be necessary, are you?”
Stuart looked back and forth between his inquisitors. “I’d like to ask you a question.”
Hildebrandt sat back in his chair. “Fire away.”
Stuart felt a trickle of perspiration wend its way from under his arm down to his waist. “What or who was it that drew the FBI into investigating the Thanatech crash?”
“The airplane crash? It was our understanding that the investigation was closed. In any case, generally speaking, we don’t divulge such information. I’m sure you understand.” Hildebrandt seemed on the verge of more directly answering his question. But the moment passed, and the man only shrugged. “You seem to have a good bit at stake in the outcome, financially speaking. You’d tell us if you knew something pertinent to the crash investigation, wouldn’t you?”
Stuart thought for a moment before smiling. “It occurs to me how my agreeing to that would suggest the FBI should be told about it. Maybe you know something about the crash that I don’t?”
Hildebrandt rose from his chair. “I don’t believe we do. But thanks again for coming by.”
55
AT 2:47 ON THURSDAY AFTERNOON, completing its ninety minute drive from the Capitol, a black Lincoln Towne Car belonging to the senate carpool arrived at the main of lobby of Coherent Light, Incorporated. The limousine driver opened the left rear door for Senator Milner, who emerged squinting into the bright afternoon sunlight, stretching his arms as he surveyed the office buildings and parking lot. Kenneth Hobbs, his assistant campaign director and senior aide, joined his boss as they entered CLI’s lobby and the antiseptic reception awaiting them.
During the years spent hammering the company into a thriving operation, and his subsequent sojourn at Thanatechnology, Stuart had always consigned the job of political hobnobbing to somebody else. Perhaps that was why, from the instant Norman Milner entered the building, the overweight Maryland senator was not the man Stuart would have envisioned for an elected national figure. Milner wore his hair in some sort of pompadour. The narrow gray tuft of hair, along with the diamond studs Milner sported in his ears, seemed undignified for an elected official. Stuart also thought it incongruent that Milner arrived for a visit with hardscrabble engineers wearing an expensive Saville Row pin-stripe suit, his light-gray handkerchief peaked above the breast pocket, a white starch-collared shirt and an aquamarine silk tie with tiny black dots, the latter punctuated over his belly with a gold STOP HATE bar tack. On the other hand, the senator’s way of greeting him while pumping his hand, and flashing his blue eyes and wide confident smile, made Stuart feel as
though he were the focus of Milner’s undivided attention. Kenneth Hobbs looked to be in his thirties and as Perry had tried to explain, already he was something of a campaign strategist extraordinaire. Stuart found the exceptionally good looking Hobbs thoroughly deadpan. The political hack, if that was the term, seemed bored from the moment Stuart gripped the weak handshake.
Perry had arranged for a talented engineer in the Detector Module group, Sylvia Rodriguez, to present the senator and his aide with a brief technical overview of the Project. The deputy assistant secretary from the Department of Energy’s Office of Transportation Technologies finally arrived, and Stuart got to introduce the trio to representatives of the Swiss and French engineering contingents—he had hoped to find this interesting but following a brief exchange, nobody seemed to have anything to say. They then walked through some office areas and the supercomputer facility, every few feet stopping to allow the senator time to stump with employees. An hour after Milner’s arrival, Stuart led the entourage toward the well in order to witness the test, its preparation already in progress.
Stuart walked beside Kenneth Hobbs while Perry and the senator discussed the importance of satisfying the economy’s energy needs without despoiling the environment. Stuart noted Perry’s adoption of the sexier sounding ‘satellite transport system’ instead of ‘tele-transportation device’ that seemed to glaze over the senator’s eyes.
Milner released the hand of a passing employee. “I like the prospect for clean, sustainable transport,” he told Perry, “but should this contraption ever really be sent into orbit—beg pardon, I don’t mean to sound pessimistic.”
Razing Beijing: A Thriller Page 34