“Yes. No movement so far.”
“Okay.” Kealey leaned back in his seat and tried to set aside his anger. He had no idea why Samantha Crane would betray her agency and her country, especially given her background, but he couldn’t think about it now. Instead, he focused on Thomas Rühmann. Above all else, he was wondering what the Austrian arms broker had placed in the Lake Forest storage facility.
“John, how did we know about Rühmann in the first place? I mean, how did he come to Langley’s attention?”
“Because of Al Qaqaa,” Naomi said, beating Harper to the punch. “Remember? He was suspected of arranging the theft of explosives back in 2003.”
“That’s right,” Kealey mumbled. “What was taken again?”
“Three hundred eighty tons of HMX and RDX.” Naomi shrugged. “Conventional explosives. Nothing special, really, except for the quantity. There was a lot of speculation in the press, of course. People thought that something else might have been stored in the buildings, but if there was, it never came out.”
Kealey pondered her words as the fax machine started up on Harper’s desk. The DDO collected two sheets of paper and examined them quickly.
“It doesn’t mean much to me,” he said, handing over the second sheet. “Do you recognize this?”
Kealey looked at the drawing, aware that Naomi had gotten out of her chair and was leaning over his shoulder. The picture was relatively crude, but it looked like a large cylinder with a conical protrusion on one end. It seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.
Harper was reading through the cover sheet. “According to the owner of the storage facility, this thing was about”—he paused to convert from metric to standard—“eleven feet long and four feet high.”
Kealey suddenly felt sick to his stomach. “What color was it?”
Harper scanned the text quickly. “Dark green.”
“Shit.” Kealey shook his head in disbelief. “That’s military ordnance. I think I know what it is, John.”
Harper froze and looked up from the cover sheet. “Well?”
CHAPTER 44
WASHINGTON, D.C.
“It’s called a BLU-82,” Kealey said ten minutes later. He had used the office computer to download several high-resolution images of the bomb, and Kharmai and Harper were both examining printouts. They had also faxed some of the images back to Montreal and were waiting for confirmation from Liman, the owner of the storage facility.
“It stands for Bomb Live Unit,” Kealey continued, “but it’s more commonly known as a ‘daisy cutter,’ owing to the distinctive pattern it leaves after detonation. Until recently, it was the largest conventional explosive in the U.S. arsenal, and as you can see, it’s very large, with a total weight of about fifteen thousand pounds. It’s also extremely simple…nothing more than GSX slurry in a big metal container. The container itself doesn’t weigh much; nearly all the weight comes from the explosives. Twelve thousand six hundred pounds of ammonium nitrate and aluminum powder.”
Harper looked up. “It says here it was used primarily for clearing helicopter landing zones in Vietnam. That makes it a pretty old design.”
“But still very effective,” Kealey assured him. “We used them in Afghanistan and Iraq, mostly for psychological purposes. Let me give you an idea of what I’m talking about. Back in the first gulf war, a C-130 dropped a daisy cutter on an Iraqi position just outside Kuwait City. Five minutes later, a Special Air Service recon patrol called in and asked if someone had dropped a tactical nuke in the area. At the time, the patrol was a hundred and ten miles away from the site of the bombing. What they saw was the signature mushroom cloud…They mistook the daisy cutter for a nuke. That’s how powerful it is.”
Naomi looked up from the paper in her hands, an expression of mixed confusion and concern on her face. “What does that mean for an urban area? What will this thing do?”
He looked at his hands, trying to think of the best way to explain it. “Think about Oklahoma City,” he finally said. “The bomb that took out the Alfred P. Murrah Building was about a third the size of this one. If Vanderveen actually has one of these and sets it off in New York City, it will destroy every structure within one thousand feet, and the pressure wave will shatter windows for miles. Depending on where he detonates it, casualties will probably be in the thousands.”
“Jesus,” Harper breathed. His face had turned white.
The room was completely silent for half a minute. Then Naomi said, “It was our weapon originally, right? Rühmann must have gotten it from Al Qaqaa. If we can find someone who will say it was there, we can put everything together and bring it to the president. He’ll have to cancel the meeting at the UN. I mean, it’s not just the United Iraqi Alliance that’s scheduled to attend. The secretary of state will be there as well, not to mention the entire General Assembly. If we give him something tangible, he’ll have to call it off.”
“We don’t have time for that,” Harper pointed out. “The meeting is set for tomorrow afternoon. The Iraqi delegates arrived in New York this morning. Even if I could get an audience with Brenneman in time, he’d want a lot more proof than what we have. Remember, I’m persona non grata with him at the moment, and you two are out of the loop completely.”
“Well, we have to try,” Kealey argued. “I assume we investigated the incident at Al Qaqaa. Let’s see if we can get a list of all the agencies involved in the investigation, the individual people if possible. Maybe we’ll find a friendly face, someone willing to give us a full account of what was being stored at the facility.”
“I can get that by morning,” Harper said. “There’ll be a lid in place, of course, but I’ll work around it.”
“The main thing,” Naomi said, “is getting access to Hakim Rudaki. If anyone knows what’s coming next, it’s him.”
“Or Samantha Crane,” Kealey muttered.
“Ryan, I agree it looks bad,” Harper said, “but the evidence against Crane is purely circumstantial. We have to keep that on the back burner for as long as possible. Let’s see if we can get to Rudaki first.”
Before anyone could say anything more, the phone rang again. Harper answered it, said a few words, and replaced the receiver. Turning toward them, he said, “Liman just verified it. The item stored in Rühmann’s unit was definitely a BLU-82. He gave our people permission to go in and check it out. The unit was empty.”
“Damn it,” Naomi said bitterly. “We must have missed him by hours.”
“Any chance we’ll get it at the border?” Kealey asked.
“I don’t think so,” Harper said slowly. “It sounds like Vanderveen timed this well. I don’t think he’ll show up without the necessary paperwork, and if it’s all in order, he’ll be waved right through.”
“Can we at least get the word to customs?”
“I can’t do it myself. That has to go through Homeland Security. The wheels are already in motion, but now I need a statement from Liman in Montreal. Once it arrives, I can get it out to the right people. Chances are, he’s already crossed the border, anyway.”
“So what does that leave us with?” Naomi wondered.
“Rudaki,” Kealey said, repeating her earlier words. “We have to get to him, John. Immediately.”
Harper hesitated. “The last few days haven’t exactly done wonders for my credibility. I’m all out of favors. I don’t think the director will pull any strings for me based on what we’ve managed to dig up so far.”
“He has to. There’s too much resting on this. I don’t care how you make it happen, but I need to talk to him. Face-to-face, first thing in the morning.”
“I can still get you an Agency plane,” Harper said. “I’ll call the director first and see if I can get him to work it out with the assistant director in charge in New York.” The DDO felt the need to point something out. “If it happens, Ryan, and it probably won’t, you’ll be surrounded by FBI agents. I hope you realize that. And if Rudaki is hiding something, a friendly discussion isn’
t going to get it out of him.”
“I’ll worry about that when I’m on the ground,” Kealey said. “Just get me the meeting, John.”
“I’ll do my best.” He reached for the phone, checking his watch in the process. “This will take a while. Why don’t you two get some rest?”
“Actually, I—”
“Get some sleep,” Harper ordered, his voice taking on an authoritative tone. “You should take a look in the mirror…You’re dead on your feet. If I manage to get you in there, it’ll be first thing in the morning. You need to be ready.”
Reluctantly, Kealey nodded and stood, followed by Kharmai. They left the room as Harper started to dial.
CHAPTER 45
WASHINGTON, D.C. • FORT ERIE, CANADA
Much later, Ryan Kealey lay still on a bed in one of the second-floor guest rooms. He had stripped off his sweatshirt but was still in his jeans. The room was draped in shadow, the far wall rippling with light from the streetlamps beyond the double-hung windows. He had tried to sleep, knowing he needed to get some rest, but his mind was far too active. After leaving Harper’s office, he had gone downstairs with Naomi. They had talked with Julie Harper for a while, the two women sharing half a bottle of wine. Kealey had settled on beer, but he limited himself to two, as he wanted to be sharp for the morning.
After an hour of this, Harper had called them up to the office. The news was not what they had hoped for, though it wasn’t entirely bad, either. Director Andrews had bought into the theory, mainly because Harper had done his best to leave Kealey’s name out of it. The DCI had then called the FBI director at home and explained the situation. Twenty minutes after the initial call, Harper had the ADIC of the New York field office on the phone. Arrangements were made for Naomi Kharmai to sit in on an interview with Hakim Rudaki at 11:00 AM the following morning. The meeting was to take place at 26 Federal Plaza in Manhattan. It was the best Harper could do; Andrews wasn’t about to allow Kealey anywhere near the Iranian informant, especially in a federal building. He had made an exception for Kharmai, whose sins—at least in his eyes—were less egregious than Kealey’s.
Kealey was glad that one of them had the chance to confront Rudaki, but he knew that it was a long shot. Naomi didn’t have much of a chance at penetrating the Iranian’s defenses. After all, the man had managed to convince the senior FBI leadership that his information was genuine, probably with Samantha Crane’s help. And that was the other thing: Crane would never allow Kharmai to see Rudaki unless she was present.
Despite Harper’s restraining words, Kealey was certain that Crane was working with Vanderveen. The idea that the former U.S. soldier was now heading for New York City with a device capable of killing thousands made Kealey feel sick. He didn’t know how it had gotten this far, but there was no doubt in his mind that Vanderveen intended to use the bomb the following day, and if he succeeded, the death toll would rival that of 9/11. It simply could not be allowed to happen.
He thought it through for as long as possible, but eventually exhaustion set in, and everything started to blur. Kealey closed his eyes, listening to the whisper of rain against the windows, the occasional rumble of a passing car in the damp street. The house was almost completely quiet. For some reason, he wanted noise and sound, anything to distract him from the memories that encroached in the dark. He held them at bay for as long as he could, but he couldn’t stop the inevitable.
He wasn’t surprised that the past should get to him here. He hadn’t visited the Harper home in nearly a year, and the last time he had stepped foot through the door, Katie had been at his side. He could remember that night with startling clarity, and for good reason: it was the night he had asked her to marry him. After they left for the hotel, he’d surprised her with a moonlight visit to Rock Creek Park. They had walked in the snow, and on a bridge over a frozen stream, he had shown her the ring. Against all odds, she had said yes, and in doing so, she had made his life complete.
Kealey pushed the memory away, but it was no good. For a moment he wished he was back in Iraq, where he could go on pretending that nothing had ever happened, that she was still alive and well. He would give anything, everything he had to go back to the house on Cape Elizabeth and find her waiting, arms open, eyes shining, a pretty, precocious smile on her face. The thought caused a stinging pain to build on the bridge of his nose, but just as the image threatened to overwhelm him, he heard a slight tap at the door, and a shaft of light slipped into the room.
Kealey sat up to see Naomi at the door, her figure bathed in the warm light of the hall. She was wearing a loose-fitting T-shirt and cotton drawstring pants, her feet bare. She took a few hesitant steps in, as though second-guessing her decision, but then she came to the edge of the bed and sat down. Ryan eased back and waited, but she clearly didn’t know what to say. After a minute, he broke the silence.
“How’s your arm?”
He saw her smile in the half-light of the room. “You know, that’s the first time you’ve asked me about it.”
He realized she was right. “I’m sorry, Naomi. I’ve just been caught up in everything.”
“Me, too,” she said. “Anyway, it’s fine. Julie changed the bandages for me after you came up. She used to be a nurse, you know.”
“I could have done that for you.”
She nodded once, but didn’t respond. He realized she was distracted, lost in thought. “Ryan, what’s going to happen tomorrow? What am I supposed to say to Rudaki?”
“I don’t know,” he replied truthfully. “This is not how I pictured things working out.”
“Why would he talk to me? What could I possibly say to make him give up the truth?”
“I have no idea. I’ve been thinking about it for hours, but we’ll just have to see how it plays out. Honestly, I’m too tired to think anymore.”
“I feel the same way.”
She moved up next to him and leaned against the headboard. They stayed that way for a few minutes, neither finding anything to say. Eventually, he heard her voice in the dark. “I stayed downstairs when you came up.” She hesitated. “You know, talking to Julie.”
Kealey instantly went on guard, but he didn’t speak.
“She told me about the last time you were here. With Katie, I mean.”
She waited for a reaction, but it didn’t come. “Did you ever—”
“Naomi, what do you want from me?”
She froze at the bitter, angry tone of his voice. His mood had changed without warning, like the flip of a switch. As the shock wore off, she realized she had made a huge mistake. She swung her feet to the floor, intent on getting out of the room, hoping she could make it to the door without embarrassing herself further. Before she could take the first step, though, she felt his hand reach out to lightly grip her arm.
“Wait…I’m sorry.” He was instantly repentant. “I didn’t mean that. Don’t go.”
She paused, unsure of her next move. Finally, she retook her place at his side, her mind racing, body trembling. Something told her it would be better to stay quiet, so she sat back and struggled to restrain her many questions.
“I’ve never talked about it,” he said. “Not with anyone. I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay,” she assured him softly. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
“No, I want to tell you.” He hesitated, then said, “I need to tell you.”
She waited for what seemed like an eternity, staring at her hands, too nervous to look at his face. Finally, she heard his voice in the dark. From his distant tone, she could tell he was no longer there by her side, but instead reliving that terrible night on the coast of Maine.
“It was late when I got back. There was a hell of a storm, and the roads were…”
He trailed off inexplicably. “After everything that happened, all I could think about was seeing her. I mean, it was finally over. I knew Vanderveen wasn’t dead. We all knew that, but we stopped him in Washington, and that seemed to be
good enough at the time. I thought we’d get a second chance, you know? That he’d show up in Africa or Europe and we’d go after him and finish it. But then I walked in that very same night and saw him standing there, with the knife to her throat, and I just…I just couldn’t believe it.”
He fell silent, and after another lengthy pause, he said, “I’ve never seen her grave, Naomi. I killed her, and I’ve never even seen her grave.”
She finally looked up, aware of the bottomless pain in his voice. She knew he couldn’t say anything more. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his face damp. Seeing this, she felt a sudden ache in her chest, and she couldn’t stop herself. She gently wiped away his tears with the back of her hand and wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t try to stop her, but he didn’t respond, either.
They stayed that way for a very long time. Naomi couldn’t be sure of what she was seeing; she didn’t know how much was grief and how much was guilt. As far as she was concerned, it didn’t really matter. The important thing was that he was finally letting it go. His shoulders were shaking, the tears running free. She felt a strange sense of pride that he had chosen her, that he was willing to show her the things he had buried inside for nearly a year. Eventually, though, he lifted his head and looked away, as though embarrassed by his show of emotion. She desperately tried to think of something to say, anything to fill the silence. She didn’t want him to feel ashamed of the tears he had shed. They were a long time in coming.
“It’s not your fault, Ryan. You didn’t kill her, and you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
“I couldn’t protect her,” he mumbled. “I failed her when she needed me most. The look in her eyes at the end was just…”
Naomi was shaken by his words, but she tried not to show it. She released him and pulled away, resting a light hand on his arm. “Ryan, look at me.” He kept his head down for a long time, obviously struggling with some inner turmoil. Finally, he looked up, and their eyes met.
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