Sea of Fire o-10

by Tom Clancy

  Loh and Leyland got out of the Humvee. The captain pulled Herbert's wheelchair from the back and opened it. He stood beside Loh while the intelligence chief swung into the leather seat.

  "My sick koala's got more life than this pie-eater," Leyland said as the man approached them.

  "I was just thinking that," Loh said.

  "He's being watched," Herbert said quietly.

  "By whom?" Leyland asked.

  "I'm not sure," Herbert replied. He moved between the other two and nodded toward the top of one of the columns. "A small security camera is moving right along with him."

  "I can't believe the big man himself would be doing that," Leyland whispered back.

  "I can, if he's hiding something," Herbert replied.

  The trio fell silent as the man neared. They could see him clearly in the clean white glow of spotlights clustered two at either end of the facade. He was a tallish, round-faced, dark-skinned man. In soft, overenunciated tones he introduced himself as Andrew Graham. He said he would show the others to the back, though he made an unhappy face as he looked down at Herbert.

  "With respect, sir, it is all grass back there," he said to Herbert. "It might be difficult for you to navigate. Would you care to wait inside?"

  Herbert looked at Loh. "What do you think? Can you handle Little Maluka without me?"

  "I handled an orphaned Komodo dragon in Bandung," she said. "I think I can manage."

  Herbert smiled. "If you need help, beep me."

  Loh said the same, but with a look.

  Andrew contacted the groundskeeper via cell phone. The burly young man arrived several moments later in a golf cart. While he drove Leyland and Loh around the side of the estate, Andrew helped Herbert up the short flight of steps into the mansion.

  Loh was a veteran naval officer. Her bearings were surest when she was on the sea and, perhaps more important, when she was part of a unit.

  Her feeling of uneasiness increased dramatically as their key player went into the house alone.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Cairns, Australia Saturday, 11:12 P.M.

  The first thing Herbert did as he entered the long, marble-rich foyer was to look for security devices. There were motion detectors in the corners and a keypad beside the door. Obviously, they were not on now. There were no cameras here, only outside. That was good. If he were left alone, chances were good he could move about without being spied upon. Andrew released the chair as soon as they were inside. He extended a hand toward the living room. Both men began moving in that direction. Herbert felt as though he were entering a museum. It was absolutely quiet, save for the squeak of his wheels and the secretary's shoes. Large paintings and statues were barely visible in the vast room ahead. Herbert could barely make out other rooms in the dim light beyond.

  "May I get you a beverage?" Andrew asked. "Sparkling water or something a bit more potent?"

  "Thank you, no," Herbert replied.

  "A snack, then?"

  "Nothing, thanks," Herbert said. "I was wondering, though, if I might impose on you. Is there a phone line I can use? I'd like to send an E-mail to my office in Washington. I've been out on this search all night and need to get some information over to them."

  "Of course," Andrew said. "That is not a problem."

  "I'll charge the call to my personal account. It won't cost Mr. Darling anything."

  "I'm certain it would be all right if you called your office directly," Andrew said.

  "That's very kind," Herbert replied.

  They entered the living room, and Andrew led the way to a study on the left. There were shelves filled with books and tools such as magnifying glasses, whisk brooms, and computer diskettes. The secretary gestured toward a large mahogany desk. There was a phone tucked among dozens of shoe boxes, cigar boxes, and plastic bags.

  "Mr. Darling uses that unit for his laptop," Andrew said. "You can plug into the data port in back."

  "Thank you very much," Herbert said.

  "Not at all."

  Herbert glanced around. "It looks to me like Mr. Darling does a little scientific work."

  "He studies and collects fossils," Andrew said.

  "Fascinating," Herbert replied. "I also thought I saw the dome of an observatory driving up."

  "Perhaps you did," Andrew said.

  "Is Mr. Darling also a stargazer?"

  "Mr. Darling has many interests," Andrew replied as he turned toward the door.

  The intelligence chief already knew that there was an observatory from the dossier on Darling. He was simply curious how forthcoming Andrew would be. The answer was: not very.

  "Well, thank Mr. Darling for me," Herbert said.

  "I shall," Andrew said as he left the room. He did not shut the door.

  Herbert booted his computer as he moved himself to the near side of the desk. His back was to the door as he raised the armrest on the left side of his chair and unwound the cable tucked inside. He plugged that into the back of his computer and into the data port on Darling's telephone. If the magnate did hobby-related research in here, chances were good he took business calls here as well.

  Herbert jacked in the six-foot cord and keyed the number Matt Stoll had given him. The link was established quickly through the small, slender antenna on the top right of the wheelchair. The antenna was attached to a booster on the back of the chair. Unlike standard cell phones, it could process high-speed transmissions. Herbert watched on his computer as it began searching Darling's telephone for the number log.

  "That is quite a machine," said a voice from behind.

  The voice was big and carried a mild Australian accent. Herbert did not have to see the speaker to know who it was. The intelligence agent smiled.

  "It's a pretty standard Dell laptop," Herbert replied.

  Darling smiled. "I was not referring to the computer."

  "I know," Herbert replied. "Good evening, Mr. Darling."

  "Good evening." Darling walked briskly toward Herbert. He was wearing a gray sweat suit that said Cairns Yacht Club across the chest. His eyes remained fixed on the chair. "Obviously custom made."

  "Yes," Herbert said. "Designed by me and built by the same people who made FDR his chair."

  The men shook hands. "And you would be whom?"

  "R. Clayton Herbert," Herbert replied with a smile. Inside, though, he was anxious. He was also annoyed at himself. He did not want to give his full name if he did not have to. Darling could find out whom he worked for. But he also did not want Loh or Leyland calling him Bob after telling Darling that he was someone else. He should have given them a heads-up. It was one of those details you occasionally forgot when working with outsiders.

  "Andrew said you wanted to send some E-mails," Darling said. "I don't want to keep you from that."

  "It can wait," Herbert assured him.

  The computer was still downloading as they spoke. Stoll had told him that once the file was found, it would take only a few seconds to snare the numbers. First, however, it had to make its way through whatever phone software might be piled in front of the log. Speed-dialing, voice-mail programs, call-forwarding, all of that. The search could take anywhere from a few seconds to several minutes. Stoll also said the computer would chime twice when it found what it was looking for. He would explain that to Darling as a reminder of some kind.

  "In that case, I'd love to hear about your work with wildlife," Darling said. "You're a volunteer, I presume?"

  "Yes," Herbert replied. "Actually, I'm here on a holiday. I was called into this search by my friend Monica. She's involved with IWEC in Singapore."

  "I see. You're American, I gather," Darling said.

  "Mississippi born," Herbert replied. "I live outside of Washington, D.C., now."

  "Are you in government?"

  "Personal security," Herbert said.

  "Fascinating field," Darling said. "What do you think of the security we have at this estate?"

  "From the little bit I've seen, it's prett
y impressive," Herbert said. "You've got sentries and surveillance outside, motion detectors inside. It's a difficult combination to beat."

  "Touch wood, no one has," Darling replied. He leaned forward slightly, squinting. "You appear to have everything you need for personal security and comfort. Your chair has a cell phone, a computer, what appears to be a satellite uplink, a joystick steering mechanism, and even cruise control, if I'm reading the joystick base correctly?"

  "Yes," Herbert smiled. "I can do five miles per hour on the open sidewalk. They disconnect that function when I participate in marathons."

  "Do they really?" Darling laughed.

  "They do," Herbert said. The insincerity of this conversation was killing him. He wished Darling would get a phone call or something.

  "Fascinating. You wouldn't think five miles an hour would be a threat to anyone."

  "It isn't about the speed," Herbert said. "It's the idea of an assist. A marathon is supposed to be about physical endurance."

  "Have you ever won one, Mr. Herbert?"

  "I've never lost," Herbert replied.

  Darling grinned. "I like that."

  Where the hell is that chime? Herbert wondered.

  Darling walked back behind the chair. "I'm curious, Mr. Herbert. That's a Ku-band uplink on the back of your chair."

  "That's right," Herbert said. Alarms began ringing inside his head. This was not good.

  "Why do you need an antenna to send E-mail?"

  "I don't," Herbert replied.

  Darling bent slightly to get a better look at the box. "But I notice the light on the power box is lit."

  "Is it?"

  "You didn't know?"

  "That must have been from earlier, at the fire outpost," Herbert said. "I was downloading data."

  "No, that couldn't be," Darling said. "It was not on when you arrived."

  The outside security camera, Herbert realized with a jolt. He was watching their arrival.

  "I must have turned it on by accident," Herbert said, smiling again. His soul ached as he reached behind the wheelchair and shut the antenna off. That cut the link to Op-Center. He unplugged the cable from Darling's telephone. He shut the computer, which would erase Matt Stoll's program. There would be no evidence it had ever existed.

  Unfortunately, the computer still had not pinged. That meant none of the data had been downloaded from the telephone. This whole enterprise had been a freaking waste of time. Or worse, it could hurt them if Darling suspected that they were here for something other than a stray koala. Herbert had had a choice to make. He had made it.

  Darling came back around the front of the wheelchair. He folded his arms again and paced back and forth. Jervis Darling suddenly looked as impatient as Bob Herbert felt.

  "You know, R. Clayton Herbert," Darling said, "when people show up at odd hours for unusual reasons, it is typically a reporter hoping to get a story or a business rival trying to collect information. What is your reason, Mr. Herbert?"

  "Actually, Mr. Darling, my reason is much more serious than nailing a story about you," Herbert said.

  "Ah." Darling stopped pacing. He regarded Herbert. "You have the floor. And my attention."

  Herbert hesitated. He was about to put himself, FNO Loh, and Captain Leyland in jeopardy. Their careers, possibly their lives could be ruined. He had the right to do that to himself but not to the others. And what would he gain? Darling would not give him information. If Darling were guilty, talking might cause him to send his operatives deep underground. Or it might cause him to get angry and expose himself. Or it might cause him to have the lot of them shot for trespassing. There was no way of knowing.

  Screw it, Herbert thought. He had come here to do a job. That job was to collect information and by so doing, save lives. The primary method had failed. Herbert was obligated to try another. Besides, when pressed, Darling might inadvertently answer one critical question: whether or not he was guilty.

  "Mr. Darling, I honestly don't know jack-shit about animals," Herbert said. "I don't even like them much. Though there are some creatures I like even less. I do work in security, however. I won't tell you who employs me or how I know this. But here's the bottom line. Nuclear materials are missing from a radioactive waste site, and one leg of the trail leads here."

  Darling did not react. Which, in a way, was a reaction. He did not ask what that statement had to do with him.

  "No comment?" Herbert asked.

  "Were you jacking into my telephone system in an effort to spy on me?" Darling asked.

  "I was," Herbert admitted.

  Darling looked down slowly. His expression was blank. He walked over to the phone and removed the unit from the desk. His slippered feet rubbed the hardwood floors of the study as he made his way to the door.

  "Please show yourself out," Darling said over a very rigid shoulder. "Immediately."

  "You're not calling the police?" Herbert asked.

  Darling stopped in the doorway and turned. "Why bother? I don't know what data you hoped to glean from this telephone, but it is simply an estate intercom."

  Herbert said nothing. That explained why his laptop did not ping. The phone had no numbers in memory.

  "Do we have any other business?" Darling asked.

  "Yeah," Herbert said. "I've got a suggestion for you. I know more than I just told you. So do the people I work with. We're going to get you and everyone you work with. My suggestion is that you cooperate with us."

  "It's time for you to leave, Mr. Herbert," Darling said. "You are a man rich with suspicion, not knowledge."

  "And you're a man with zero conscience," Herbert said angrily. "You and your associate Mahathir bin Dahman."

  That was it. Bob Herbert had just played the only name he knew, the only other information he possessed. He hoped it was enough to rattle Darling into doing something careless or impulsive, such as attacking him so the fire chief could have him arrested. Or spitting out additional information in a rage. Or even better, cooperating.

  It did not.

  "Mr. bin Dahman is indeed an associate," Darling replied affably. "I'm lucky to have a partner of his local and international standing. And you are a sad, flailing fellow, R. Clayton Herbert." That was the last thing Darling said before he left the room.

  Herbert wanted to punch something. Hard. Jervis Darling was guilty as Judas F. Iscariot. By not calling the police he had proved that to Herbert. But the impromptu interrogation had backfired. Herbert had gambled and lost, because now Darling was on guard. He could send his people into hiding, leaving Herbert without the two things Op-Center needed.

  One was proof.

  The other was the missing radioactive materials.

  Chapter Fifty

  Cairns, Australia Saturday, 11:27 P.M.

  Jervis Darling returned to his bedroom on the second floor. He encountered Andrew on the way and told him to make certain Mr. Herbert left the house and that the others left the grounds as soon as they found their koala. Darling did not doubt the animal was there. They would have made certain of that before coming to the door.

  Darling quietly shut the door and went to the back, to a large dressing room. He was numb and furious at the same time. The silence weighed thick and heavy in his ears. Darling sat at the restored Louis XVI desk and rang his nephew. He pulled over the only telephone in the mansion that had the number of the Hosannah in memory. He punched in his personal code, 525, to obtain a dial tone. Obtained by bin Dahman from the Russian air force, the secure phone was named the konsulstvo, or the "consulate." It was the secure phone in use at Russian embassies around the world. The konsulstvo was a large, square unit with a computer-style keypad on the top and a receiver on the side. The keypad was for writing codes. Hawke had done that before sailing.

  "We rescued someone from the sampan."

  Nothing the American had said after that really registered. Darling's answers had come from some independent, automatic-functioning part of his brain. Kannaday and Hawke had done more
than suffer a setback in the Celebes Sea. They had permitted a security breach that led an investigator here. More than one, probably. Darling suspected that the woman who had come with them was with the Singaporean navy. Now that he thought about it, she had that stiff-necked, feet-wide-apart posture of a seaman.

  An American and a Singaporean. With Australian officials probably hanging to the rear because they did not want to tangle with Jervis Darling. Not until they had evidence. It made sense. Fortunately for Darling, whatever Mr. Herbert was doing at the study telephone would have netted him nothing. Not R. Clayton Herbert nor the people he worked for, whoever they were. That did not even matter. Any group ferreting around in Darling business was unwelcome. He would find out who they were, and they would be stopped. First, however, Darling had to make sure there was nothing to find. Starting with the Hosannah.

  As Darling input the yacht's number, he burned inside. He wanted to strike out in all directions simultaneously. He was angry at Kannaday and Hawke. Their ineffective-ness caused this security breach. He would deal with Kannaday now, Hawke later. He also wanted to punish Herbert for invading his home. Darling would find a way to punch a hole in his life. And he would end the career of the fire captain who had assisted Herbert. They had not paid their dues on the world stage. Darling would not allow these wage slaves to question or delay him, let alone stop him. He would take this hit and move on.