Blindfold Game

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Blindfold Game Page 14

by Dana Stabenow


  “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Thinking out loud.”

  The coffee finished brewing and Kyle poured two mugs full, not neglecting creamer and a huge hit of sugar for Hugh. “Terrible Trio,” Hugh said, raising his mug in the traditional toast.

  Kyle smiled. “Terrible Trio,” he said and clinked mugs with Hugh. He sat down behind his desk.

  Hugh drank. Strong enough to melt the bowl off a spoon and sweet enough to send him into a diabetic coma, the coffee had a reviving effect. “Is Lilah as beautiful as ever?”

  “You know she is, you just saw her in October.”

  “Kids good?”

  “As good as the little monsters ever are,” replied their loving father. “Come on, Hugh. You look like hell. What’s going on? Are you sure Sara is okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Hugh said. “So far as I know.”

  “Oh. Ah. Well. What’s going on, then? These aren’t my usual office hours. It’s gotta be good to get me in here this early. Or a friend,” he added pointedly.

  “The FBI still regard Alaska as one of four states on a short list where the threat of domestic terrorism is regarded as real?”

  Kyle stared at him, puzzled. “Are you awake yet? You know we do, along with Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho. It’s why our manpower’s been so beefed up here over the last five years.”

  Hugh had had a long flight during which he had marshaled his arguments and worked out a way to phrase them that would make his case without tempting Kyle to have him committed. “Have you considered the possibility of an attack from an international source?”

  Kyle set his mug down with a thud. “What the hell’s going on, Hugh?” His eyes narrowed. “Does the CIA have information to that effect? And if it does, why haven’t we been notified?”

  “Let me talk it through,” Hugh said.

  Kyle looked at him for a long moment. Hugh Rincon was tall and blond and brown-eyed without being in the least bit pretty. His ease of manner belied his intellect, both of which were obvious without being offensive. He was, in short, the kind of man other men liked and all women loved. He always had been, Kyle thought ruefully. Kyle was lucky he’d seen Lilah first. Not that Hugh had ever given anyone but Sara a second look.

  Across the desk Hugh shook off his fatigue and turned a mental switch. He spoke as if he were giving this briefing for the first time, a little tentatively, as if Kyle was the first focus group for this particular presentation. His speech was deliberate without being pedantic, but even if he had turned into the world’s worst teacher his subject would have guaranteed Kyle’s interest. “Given Alaska’s strategic location on the Pacific Rim, and given the great circle route reality of international commerce, I don’t think it’s unrealistic that intelligence agencies in Alaska hold a watching brief for terrorist traffic coming in the opposite direction from Asia.”

  Kyle thought. “What would be the target if, as you suggest, we did have terrorist traffic coming at us from Asia?”

  “In Alaska, the first target we think of is, of course, the terminal in Valdez,” Hugh said. “Fourteen percent of the nation’s annual supply of oil travels through that port in very large crude carriers.”

  “Given the regularity and efficiency of USAF patrols-”

  “Understood. I consider that threat remote. However, speaking of the air force, there are two large military bases in the state with nuclear weapons on site. They’re attractive targets, and they have the added advantage of being perceived as too far off the national radar to worry about.”

  “Location, location, location,” Kyle said, expecting at least a smile. He didn’t get one.

  “As for targets beyond Alaska, try every shipping port, oil refinery, and military base on the West Coast of the U.S. All they’d have to do is put a bomb on a VLCC and sail it into any harbor with a refinery from Bremerton to San Diego. Very big boom.”

  Kyle relaxed a little. “Is that realistic?”

  “You tell me, Kyle,” Hugh said, his voice hard. “Was Oklahoma City realistic? Was 9/11 realistic? No, they won’t try that exact MO again, but who knows what else they’ve got up their sleeves? We have information that Bin Ladin has his own personal fleet of oceangoing vessels. Some sources number it at as high as twenty vessels total. Where are they? Where are they going? Who, and, even more importantly, what are they bringing with them? You know the story of Container Bob, right?”

  Kyle shook his head.

  “The Italians stumbled across an Egyptian-born Canadian named Amid Farid Rizk inside a container en route from Port Said to Rotterdam, changing ships in Gioia Tauro. He never would have been caught if he hadn’t decided to drill more holes for air and the Italian police hadn’t heard him. The container came equipped with all the modern conveniences, including a heater, a toilet, and a bed. Not to mention the satellite phone, the laptop, and the Canadian A &P certificate.”

  “Jesus,” Kyle said, shaken in spite of himself. “He was an airplane mechanic?”

  “You bet. We checked. He did the work. The certificate was valid.”

  “So it was a test run?”

  Hugh shrugged. “We don’t know. The container’s final destination was listed as Halifax, Nova Scotia.”

  “What did this Rizk say?”

  “He didn’t say anything. He got himself a smart lawyer who got him bail. He was in the wind by November.”

  “What was his lawyer’s name?” Kyle said. “Just in case I ever decide to rob a bank in Italy.”

  “That’s not the point, Kyle.”

  “What is the point then, Hugh?” Kyle said, mimicking his tone.

  “My point is, they’ve been practicing traveling in container ships,” Hugh said.

  “Okay,” Kyle said, putting his mug down and placing both hands flat on his desk. “What the hell’s this about, Hugh? You hitch a ride from Tokyo on a cargo jet, you get me out of bed to come down here, and so far all I’m getting is a lecture on terrorism. A lecture I’ve already heard.”

  Hugh held up a hand. “Bear with me, okay, Kyle? Please?”

  Kyle took a deep breath, exhaled. “All right. Go ahead.”

  “I don’t know about you, and I admit, maybe it has something to do with where I was born and where a lot of people I love still live, but I’ve never been as concerned over terrorists in the Middle East as I have been terrorists in Asia.”

  “Like North Korea,” Kyle said. “It’s why you took your master’s in Asian studies. I know all this, Hugh.”

  “What do you know about North Korea?”

  Hugh hadn’t meant it to sound like a challenge, but Kyle responded as if it were. “Since the end of World War II, the Korean peninsula has been split into two, with the north under Chinese domination and the south under Western, uh, influence. South Korea has a stable government, a booming economy, and a well-armed and well-trained military. North Korea? North Korea is starving to death, mostly because instead of figuring out how to feed their people they’ve concentrated fifty years of gross national product on the development of long-range missiles and research into weapons, including chemical, biological, and, yes, nuclear.”

  “Not bad,” Hugh said, complimentary, and Kyle gave a curt nod. “They know how to do it well enough that they’ve been exporting their expertise overseas, most recently to Iran. I’ve been to the Korean DMZ, Kyle, and it’s not a pretty sight. Every now and then North and South shoot at each other across the DMZ, air to air, ship to ship, whatever’s handy. The North has missiles in place targeting the South’s nuclear power plants. Instant dirty bomb.”

  “Didn’t our going into Iraq tone down their rhetoric a little?”

  Hugh’s short laugh was without humor. “They figure the only way to keep us from doing the same to them is to keep building bigger and better and more weapons. And they’ve been force-fed hatred of Americans with their mother’s milk for going on sixty years now.”

  “I’ve read the reports, Hugh. I am the agent in charge of the Joint Terrorism Task
Force in Alaska.”

  “Yeah, well, I just read a news release from the Korean Central News Agency which said, in part, and I’m quoting verbatim here, that ‘the U.S. is restless with its ambition to conquer the world.”“

  Kyle had to smile. “Funny. I don’t feel all that ambitious.”

  Hugh shook his head. “Not so funny. That peninsula is a pile of kindling just waiting for a spark, and the first people who are going to have to respond to the fire are right now sitting up over there on Government Hill, warming up their F-15s.”

  “Okay,” Kyle said, “they’re pissed and they’re motivated. What does that have to do with terrorism? Is Kim Jong II sponsoring state terrorism? What are we looking at here, another Lockerbie? Another Cole?. Another 9/11?”

  Hugh drank the rest of his now tepid coffee and set the cup carefully on Kyle’s desk. “I think the men responsible for the Pattaya Beach bombing in October are planning to launch a Scud missile with a cesium-137 payload at a target somewhere on the western coast of North America. Do you know what cesium-137 is?”

  Kyle’s voice failed him. He shook his head.

  Hugh told him.

  “Jesus Christ,” Kyle said, stunned. “Hugh, are you sure?”

  He met Kyle’s eyes and said firmly, “I’m sure, Kyle.”

  “Then I don’t get it.” He aimed an exaggerated look over Hugh’s shoulder. “Where are the marines? Why aren’t you out at Elmendorf briefing the pilots so they can take these guys out? Why come to me?”

  “Do you know anyone at Kulis?”

  “The Air National Guard base? Sure. Why?”

  “Do you know where Sara’s ship is?”

  Kyle’s expression changed. “Hugh.”

  “I know she’s on the Sojourner Truth. I know the Sojourner Truth’s on patrol in the Bering Sea.”

  “It was,” Kyle said.

  Hugh looked at him.

  “The Sojourner Truth interdicted a Russian processor fishing on our side of the Maritime Boundary Line. The Coasties boarded them, arrested the crew, confiscated the vessel, and are now on their way with it into Dutch Harbor to turn it over to the authorities.”

  “You sound like you’re reading a press release.”

  “I am. Actually”-Kyle looked at the clock on the wall-“they’ve probably been and gone by now. I read all about it on District 17’s Web site yesterday. Wanna see?”

  “No time.” But for the first time that morning Hugh couldn’t stop a grin. “That’s my Sara.”

  “Ride ‘em, cowgirl,” Kyle said, and sobered. “Seriously, Hugh, what are you going to do now?”

  “I can’t get my boss off the dime,” Hugh said, his smile fading, too. “I’ve got to find that damn freighter before I take another run at him. When I do-”

  “If you do. There’s the hell of a lot of water to look in, Hugh, and boats don’t exactly leave tracks.”

  “It was scheduled to leave Petropavlovsk on the seventh-what day is it again?”

  “The ninth. Was your source on the departure date reliable?”

  Hugh thought of Noortman curled into a fetal position on his living room floor, his knee swollen up to the size of a basketball. “I don’t know. He would have said anything to make us stop.”

  “Stop what? Hugh?”

  “Can you check to see if Sara’s ship is in Dutch Harbor yet, and if not, where it is?”

  Kyle gave Hugh a long look. “Sure. I can do that.”

  “And then could you call your buddy at Kulis, see if they’ve got anything going in that direction, and ask if I can bum a ride?”

  Kyle shook his head and reached for the phone. “Sure. I can do that, too.” He began to punch in a number and paused. “You know, Hugh, when I suggested you figure out a way to spend more time with Sara, I wasn’t suggesting professional suicide as a means of making that happen.”

  Hugh looked back without smiling. “Where are Lilah and the kids?”

  “At home. Lilah’ll just be getting them ready for-” Kyle stopped. “Yeah. I see what you mean.”

  He hunched over the phone with a will. Hugh slid down to rest his head against the back of his chair and enjoyed the first slackening of tension in what felt like days.

  JANUARY

  ANCHORAGE

  KYLE WAITED UNTIL THE Hercules C-130 was in the air before he drove back to his office. He hung up his parka and stewed around a while before calling his wife.

  “Where’s Hugh?” she said when she heard his voice.

  “Back on the road,” Kyle said. “Listen, Lilah, I want you to take Eli and Gloria down to Seldovia for the weekend.”

  There was a brief silence. “Kyle. It’s Monday.”

  “Oh. Yeah. Of course. Well, then take the week.”

  “I’ve got work, Kyle, as you well know.”

  Lilah worked for the FBI, too. “Take some leave,” he said. “If I have to I’ll pull strings.”

  “The kids have school.”

  “I’ll call their teachers and tell them they’ll be back in a bit.”

  Another silence. “Kyle. What’s going on?”

  “I want you to take the kids to Seldovia, Lilah. Stay with the folks. You know they’d love to have them.”

  “Kyle. We were there for a week over Christmas, if you recall, and I got the distinct impression that that was about six days too long for your father. Why this sudden urge to get me out of town? You got a girlfriend or something?” She paused. “Has this got anything to do with Hugh showing up in the middle of the night?”

  “No,” he said, “nothing at all. Where on earth did you get that idea?”

  “That response is so totally feeble I’m not even going to comment on it.

  “Lilah.” Kyle rested his forehead in the palm of his hand. “Just take the kids to Seldovia. Rent a bed-and-breakfast, I don’t care. Just go. Today.”

  When she spoke again her voice was softer. “You’re scaring me, Kyle.”

  “Good,” he said.

  The seconds ticked off while she made up her mind. “I’ll take them to Seward,” she said finally. “Is that far enough away?”

  Seward was a hundred miles down the road, with the Kenai Mountains between it and Anchorage. “Yes. That should be far enough.”

  “I’ll call the Edgewater. At this time of year we could probably rent the whole hotel for fifty bucks a night.”

  “That sounds good,” he said, trying not to show his relief.

  “Kyle?”

  “What?”

  “Come with us.”

  “I’ve got something I’ve got to do here first.”

  He hung up and swiveled to look out the window. It was a pity he wasn’t really seeing anything, because the window had a spectacular view of Denali and Foraker on the northern horizon. The day was clear and cold and icily bright for the measly five or so hours the sun was willing to poke its head up over the horizon. They’d actually had snow this year before December and it was piled in four-foot berms between which traffic negotiated streets that had gone overnight from four lanes to two. If the weather didn’t suffer a meltdown in the interim, there ought to be plenty of snow for the dogsled races.

  He loved this time of year, that fleeting time before the tourists came back and you could get a table at Simon’s without an hour’s wait. He was happy to be back in Alaska, too, a duty assignment he’d been hoping for since he’d joined the Bureau. Unlike the traitorous Hugh and Sara, Kyle had stuck loyally to the West Coast, graduating from the University of Washington with a degree in criminal justice and then going to work for the Internal Revenue Service. Truth to tell, in spite of the grief he received from pretty much everyone when he admitted to his employer’s identity, he’d gotten kind of a bang out of the work. He loved catching righteous citizens-and they were always righteous-who insisted indignantly that the law didn’t apply to them. In his own small way, he felt he was contributing to the reduction of the deficit, although the current administration in Washington was doing its enthusia
stic best to keep that goal well out of his or anybody else’s reach.

  He’d signed up to take Russian at a community college, because by then the Wall was long down and he’d been headed for home from the moment he graduated from college. The borders were opening up between Alaska and Siberia and there was a future there for a Russian-speaking FBI agent.

  In Russian 101 he met Lilah, fresh out of school with a degree in accounting-large, dark eyes, hair a downpour of heavy black, a body by Venus. He was sunk at first glance. After class he followed her into the parking lot and wouldn’t let her leave until she gave him her phone number. When he walked her to her door at the end of their first date he knew she had a brain and a sense of humor to go with the looks. By Russian 201 they were engaged, and by Russian 301 they were married, and before starting on children they applied together to the FBI. Both had been accepted immediately. The Russian had helped, and it had also helped when they both requested assignment to Anchorage, as Kyle had known it would. Lilah was from Snoqualmie in Washington State and no stranger to snow and ice, although she didn’t much care for the four and a half hours of daylight Anchorage was reduced to in winter. But then who did?

  Her picture smiled up at him from his desk, with Eli in her lap and Gloria leaning against her shoulder. Yes, he had one beautiful family.

  His thoughts turned naturally to Hugh and Sara, also part of his family. Not, at present, quite so beautiful. Odd, he thought now, how they’d all wound up in law enforcement. But perhaps not so odd, when he remembered the first time an Alaska state trooper had come to Seldovia, a tall man with a deep voice and an unshakable sense of authority. There had been a stabbing death in a community where if you weren’t related by blood you were related by marriage to everyone there. The town had been in a turmoil, which might very well have escalated into a lynching if the trooper hadn’t flown in from Ninilchik to investigate. It took his calming presence half a day to bring people to their senses, and at the end of it he removed the perpetrator to Homer to be bound over for trial. There was chaos, and then the trooper came, and there was order. It had been a powerful example to three awestruck little ten-year-olds.

 

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