Nuclear Surprise

by Rob Carnell

  * * *

  "COME ON Matt, where are we going?" asked Natasha.

  "I told you it was a surprise dinner. We are going to my favorite restaurant. But the cuisine is a secret."

  About twenty minutes later Matt pulled into a small car park next to Shanghai Nights restaurant.

  "I am told that this is the best Chinese food this side of Beijing. Many of the diplomats and trade delegates come here to eat" said Matt.

  "I bet there is nothing like this in Russia. Don’t worry, I am sure I can get a spoon for you!"

  They were met at the door by the owner who opened the door for Natasha.

  "Ni hao. Lao ban sheng-yi hao ma?" Said Natasha. This was the equivalent of Hello boss, how is business?

  Matt’s jaw dropped as Natasha had a fluent conversation in Chinese with the owner.

  "So I guess you don’t need a spoon" said Matt as soon as they were seated.

  "I guess not."

  "Ok, I apologize for assuming you don’t use chopsticks. Where did you learn to speak Chinese?"

  "It was my sub-major at University. Don’t forget that Russia and China share a four thousand kilometer border."

  After dinner Matt leaned in close "now that was really something. I would never have dared to order any of that stuff. Is there anything else you need?"

  "Actually darrrrrling, I would love some ice cream."

  "Mmm, me too. Lets grab the check and grab some take-out on the way home."

  Chapter 99

  Convenience Store

  Washington D.C.

  * * *

  MATT DECIDED that it was best just to drive home and then walk to the local store.

  Matt did a dive straight for the ice cream, but old habits were hard to break for Natasha. She stationed herself mid-store so she could look at the security mirrors.

  They had walked half way home when Natasha spotted two men walking towards them. One was glancing around, the other just kept looking at his friend.

  Matt was eating ice-cream and did not notice the guys at all.

  Part of Russian GRU training was in psychology. Natasha had aced the course, but she did not need it to know that these guys were trouble.

  She wished that Matt had not insisted on them locking their guns in his safe before they went out for dinner.

  As they got close, the younger guy walked straight into Matt who dropped his ice-cream. He was about to yell at the guy to be careful when he felt a knife under his chin. The other guy held back, so Natasha figured he was armed.

  "Give me your money quick!" said the knife guy.

  "Gentlemen, this is a mistake go home before you get hurt" said Natasha is a quiet controlled voice.

  "What are you going to do, beat me to death with an ice-cream spoon?" laughed the guy with the knife.

  Natasha had the ceramic knife out of the sheath under her handbag and stabbed the guy right in the bicep. He dropped his knife with a howl and doubled up in pain.

  The other guy had just managed to remove the small automatic out of his pocket. He noticed Natasha throw something at him and felt a loss of breath and looked down at his chest in surprise. Natasha’s knife was buried deep in his chest cavity and he was sucking air through the open wound.

  Almost immediately a police squad car appeared out of nowhere. They saw all the blood and called for an ambulance before they got out of the squad car. One guy was sitting in the gutter holding his arm. The other was prone on the ground.

  The two police split up.

  "Miss, please come with me" said the younger officer. He took Natasha out of earshot to interview her.

  "Sir, please stand up and move away from the man on the ground. Put your hands on your head" said the senior officer. When he saw the knife poking out of the body on the ground, he pulled his gun.

  "I am with the CIA. Can I get my ID out of my pocket?" asked Matt.

  "Slowly please, with your left hand."

  Matt very slowly grabbed his wallet from his jeans pocket and passed it over to the policeman who studied it carefully.

  "You can put your hands down Mister Peterson. What went down here" said the officer as he holstered his weapon.

  "These morons tried to mug me and my partner. Unfortunately, we left our sidearms in my safe at home."

  "The girl is your partner? Why can’t I get a partner with tits like that?"

  "I was eating an ice-cream when the little guy over there stuck a knife under my throat. My partner grabbed a knife from her bag and hit the guy in the arm. The other guy grabbed for his gun and Natasha threw the knife at him. I think he is dead."

  "They sure picked the wrong targets tonight" said the officer shaking his head "but she should not have been carrying a knife."

  "I know officer, but she is KGB, she doesn’t even go to the bathroom unarmed."

  "KGB! Are you kidding me?"

  Matt shook his head.

  The officer called to his partner "Hey Dillon, bring the girl over here."

  "Look Matt" said the officer after checking the name again "I don’t need the paperwork from this. It will be a nightmare. If the girl can convince me she is what you claim, you can get out of here before the medicos arrive."

  "Miss, what happened here?"

  Natasha explained, but the officer was skeptical.

  "She doesn’t sound Russian to me" announced the young officer.

  Natasha let fly with a string of swear words in Russian.

  The senior officer held up his hand "that’s enough lady. My grandmother was Russian and she used to use some of those words on me when I was a kid."

  The policeman moved close to Matt and quietly said "I will tell the injured guy that if he keeps quiet I won’t charge him. The other guy was the victim of a mugging. Get going before the ambulance arrives."

  Chapter 100

  Boston Police Department

  Boston, Massachusetts

  * * *

  LIEUTENANT O’BRIEN expected to spend most of the day on a wild goose chase for his ten year old personal notebook.

  When he first made detective, the station house was at Berkeley Street. It had moved on to One Schroeder Plaza in 1997.

  O’Brien checked his computer screen and selected the case file to find the exact date. It was in late 1987, so there was a chance his notebook would still be downstairs in the storage room.

  He picked up the phone and called records.

  "Records. Sergeant Hatherley."

  "Hi Bill. It’s Greg O’Brien in Homicide."

  "Hi Greg, how’s it hanging?"

  "Fine thanks Bill. What’s happening downstairs with the rats?"

  "It’s not too bad down here actually. It’s great in winter, warmest place to be! What can I do for you buddy?"

  "I need a favor. I know this is a stretch, but I need to get hold of my personal notebook from late 1987. There is something there that a guy from CIA wants to know about. It sounds really important. Can you dig around a bit?"

  "No sweat, it will be here somewhere. Come on down and you can help me find it."

  "Thanks Bill, I’m on my way."

  Before heading downstairs, he went out into the Plaza and bought two large cups of coffee from Starbucks. Then he headed down to records.

  "Here you go Bill, some police bribery" said O’Brien as he passed over the coffee.

  "Thanks Greg, appreciate it."

  The records sergeant opened the security door to admit the detective, and led the way through a maze of shelves. As they wandered along, Bill kept checking numbers on the cardboard boxes stacked to the ceiling.

  It took about thirty minutes before they started getting close.

  Bill grabbed a ladder and brought it over.

  "Hold this, I don’t want to fall again, I am getting too old for this shit."

  "I got you" said Greg, as Bill shinnied up the ladder.

  "Hold this" said Bill as he passed down a heavy box to the detective.

  "It this the one we need?"
/>   "No, it’s the one underneath. Put that on the floor and catch this one?"

  When they had it on the floor Bill removed the security tape and started digging around.

  "Are they in order" asked O’Brien.

  "They are supposed to be, but that never happens. Help me unpack them until we find the one you want."

  The box contained maybe a hundred official notebooks, all handwritten on the job by the officers. They worked slowly but carefully until O’Brien found it.

  "Son of a gun! Here is the slippery little sucker" announced O’Brien proudly "I will bring it back in a couple of hours."

  "Not so fast, you need to sign it out" explained the records man.

  When the paperwork was done, Greg O’Brien thanked his fellow officer and hurried upstairs.

  Before even looking in the book, he called the CIA switchboard again, the number was written on a piece of paper from his last call.

  "Central Intelligence Agency, Pat speaking."

  "Matt Peterson please."

  "One moment Sir."

  A few moments later Matt picked up on the first ring.

  Chapter 101

  White House, Situation Room

  Washington D.C.

  * * *

  THE LARGE table was surrounded with people when the President arrived and the gathering leapt to their feet in unison.

  "Please be seated" said President Connolly as he sat heavily in the end chair.

  The President turned to his right to face Adam Scott the CIA Director "Adam, what is so important, and who are our guests?"

  "Sir, I think you know Bill Simpson, my head of Intelligence."

  "Yes, I have seen Bill do a briefing on Lebanon. It was excellent work."

  "Thank you Sir" replied Bill proudly.

  "Mr. President may I present Natasha Orlov, she is with Russian intelligence."

  "I am pleased to meet you Miss Orlov. I have no idea why you are here, but I assume I am going to find out very soon. Congratulations on being the first Russian national to ever enter this room."

  "Thank you Mr. President. I am honored to be here" said a visibly blushing Natasha.

  "Our last guest is Matt Peterson. He is an analyst and works for Bill in intelligence" explained Adam Scott.

  The others around the table needed no introduction. There was of course the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Admiral "Horatio" Nelson. There was the National Security Adviser Robert Brett, as well as a number of other military people covered in gold braid.

  "Thanks Adam. I had to cancel a trip to Camp David, so I guess this is important."

  "Yes sir." Adam stood, took a couple of deep breaths and then began.

  "We have reason to believe that there is another nuclear weapon in the hands of a terrorist group. We also believe that you are a potential target Sir. Bill, can you please handle the details." Scott sat down.

  It was Bill Simpson’s turn in the limelight. He sprang to his feet and began his briefing.

  "Sir, you will remember the aircraft that was shot down by the Port Royal and the fact that it was carrying nuclear cargo . . ."

  The President interrupted, "Bill, let’s call a spade a spade. It was a damn bomb, not cargo. Don’t dress this up, give it to me straight."

  "Yes sir, I’m sorry. We traced the radioactive material back to Russia. With the assistance of the Russian government, Miss Orlov and Mr. Peterson, we have determined that there are two other weapons in the hands of the terrorists."

  "So far we only have a lead on one, but of course we are looking for both."

  "We have credible intelligence that one of the weapons is concealed in a small sailing vessel and that it is currently on route to, or already here in U.S. waters."

  "Not good," said President Connolly, "What else do you have."

  "Perhaps Matt Peterson should take it from here." Bill sat back down relieved.

  "I guessed that was why he was here" said President Connolly impatiently.

  Matt stood slowly. His left arm was still in a sling and quite painful. He cleared his throat and was about to begin.

  "What happened to your arm?" asked the President with concern.

  "Mister President, I was shot last week in Riyadh while I was working on this case" said Matt with embarrassment.

  "Thank you, son. I really appreciate what you are doing. I read the reports. I know some of what you guys do and usually all by yourselves" said a President Connolly with pride "you are a credit to your country."

  Matt’s eyes began to mist over, so he got into his prepared speech immediately.

  "Sir, together with Miss Orlov we tracked the weapon to a shipyard in Minsk Russia. We were given a lead there and then we were able to follow a financial trail back to a billionaire Saudi Arabian Sheikh called Kamal Pashwari."

  "Pashwari has gone missing and we believe he is the skipper of the boat that Bill mentioned earlier."

  "This guy spent a number of years in the U.S. He studied at M.I.T. and has visited numerous times since then on business. He controls a business empire that spans the world including state of the art electronics operations."

  "Why would a guy like that be involved in something like this?" asked President Connolly.

  "Sir, we believe it was his son that was at the controls of the light aircraft that was shot down by the Port Royal."

  "Oh shit" said a now worried President Connolly.

  Matt was going to continue when his cell phone chirped. He took a quick look and saw it was from Boston.

  "Excuse me Mr. President, this is a policeman from Boston calling about Pashwari, do you mind if I take the call?"

  "Later Matt" suggested Adam Scott.

  "Sure thing, let’s all hear it" suggested President Connolly.

  Matt pressed a button to activate the speaker.

  "Peterson" said Matt.

  "Greg O’Brien here, I found my notebook."

  "Fantastic. I have you on speaker here. Quite a few other people are listening. What does it say?"

  "Ok, I will try not to cuss too much if others are listening! They might be important people! What was the name of the guy again?"

  "P A S H W A R I" Matt spelled it out.

  Matt could hear O’Brien thumbing through the book.

  "Ok, I found the case, let me read on a bit."

  A minute or two later Greg O’Brien started to remember the case as he read his notes.

  "We thought Pashwari was maybe the girl’s boyfriend, but we couldn’t prove it. None of the girl’s friends ever met her guy, but she sometimes went missing overnight. There was somebody banging her, we just could not find out who it was. We found her car, but no girl."

  That brought a chuckle from President Connolly.

  "What pointed to Pashwari?" queried Matt.

  "Well, we asked around and it turned out that the girl used to go sailing with the Arab guy" announced the officer.

  Matt went silent and rubbed his temples.

  "Oh my God, strike three" whispered Matt to himself.

  "Hello?"

  "Sorry, thanks detective, that’s all we need. We were looking for a link to a sailing boat and you just confirmed it."

  "Really?"

  "Yep, that hit the spot."

  "No problem, always happy to help the spooks" said O’Brien.

  "Do you think you would recognize this guy if you saw him again?" asked the President.

  "Excuse me but your voice sounds familiar, have we met?" asked Detective O’Brien.

  "I’m not sure. Have you ever been to the White House?" asked the President.

  "Oh my God" said O’Brien.

  "Detective, we are in the situation room at the White House. The President, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the Director of the CIA and lots of others like me are all here working on this" said Matt.

  "Let me ask again, we got sidetracked before. Do you think you would recognize this guy if you saw him again?"

  "Yes Mr. President, I believe I would."


  "Lieutenant, get to Washington immediately. I will clear it with your office. We need all the help we can get. This is as important as it gets."

  "Adam, you know we cannot have CIA conducting operations on U.S. soil. Clear it with Homeland Security to get Matt and Natasha temporarily assigned to them but still reporting to you."

  Chapter 102

  Liberty Island Ferry

  New York Harbor

  * * *

  THE STATUE of Liberty Enlightening the World stands on Liberty Island in Upper New York Bay. It was a gift from the people of France and was dedicated in 1886. The statue faces her identical but smaller sister who presides over the Seine River in Paris.

  In years gone by, it was actually possible to take a tour of the statue and climb right up to the top. This is no longer possible due to increased security concerns.

  Visitors are now only permitted to visit the museum gallery and pedestal observation levels. Those wishing to gain entry need to undergo a secondary security screening process.

  The ferry trip from either the Jersey side via Ellis Island or New York side via Battery Park is a short one.

  Kamal was aware of the increased security, but believed this universal symbol of freedom was a worthy target. He had a sleeper agent ready and activated him with a call from his satellite telephone.

  Jonah Jordan was responsible for lassoing the bollard with his rope and making fast the ferry alongside the pier when it docked. He was a mountain of a man, and was a former marine before he was injured in a training exercise and discharged from the forces. While recuperating in a rehab centre Jonah met some American serviceman with Middle Eastern heritage also doing rehab. They were a close knit group and Jonah learned that they were Muslims.

  The military was the ideal order in Jonah’s life. However, he saw it as becoming increasingly empty now that he knew his time in the service was coming to an end. He asked lots of questions of his new friends, and before long he had made the decision to convert to Islam.