by Mark Greaney
Legend.
The way to combat this unknown was to build the bomb as large and as precise as he could reasonably make it.
He thought about what the base would have. Instantly he decided he would construct the weapon out of artillery shells. As far as Zarif knew, every modern military had a 105-millimeter howitzer in its arsenal. Their shells made incredibly effective IEDs; he’d used them hundreds of times in Iraq, Afghanistan, Lebanon, and Syria.
One high-explosive or armor-piercing shell, if exploded into the side of the presidential limousine, would surely destroy it and all inside.
But there were other considerations. The President always traveled with two limousines that drove one in front of the other. This way, if there was any problem with one car, the President could be slipped into the other. Two shells would be necessary to target both vehicles, because he wouldn’t know which limo the President would be in at the moment they reached the target zone.
Zarif thought for a moment more. He was somewhat concerned about overkill. A bunch of dead civilians might anger his Mexican associates, but he was more concerned about failure. If he did not kill Jack Ryan the North Koreans would not fulfill their end of the bargain. He fought the urge to request four high-explosive howitzer shells, settled for three, and then handed over another list of items that he had already written down, all of which could be purchased at a hardware store and an electronics hobbyist shop.
Emilio looked it all over without comment, then with a nod he said, “The 105s will come from Guerrero, as I said. And I will have the rest of the pieces purchased far from here, so they will not cause any suspicion.”
Zarif said, “Very good. How long?”
“Twenty-four hours, and then you can begin your work.”
42
On his third day at Valley Floor, Jack Ryan, Jr., knew he had to make something happen. The day before he had spent virtually every moment in meetings that he had to attend in order to solidify his cover, and all day today he’d tried and failed to bump into Élise Legrande again, even making two visits to the Hydrometallurgy Quality Control department. It seemed she’d been spending time in the IT area, so he’d finagled a reason to drop in on Ralph Baggett, only to find out the IT director had to run to an important meeting somewhere else at the facility.
Jack started back toward his temporary office, but on the way there he decided to head to the cafeteria to grab a late lunch and to think over his next step. While he walked he considered his predicament. He’d managed to piece together very little of what Élise Legrande was up to, other than the fact she was ostensibly running diagnostics on some hydroseparation equipment that was used to pull the minerals out of the ore. More important, she was also clearly trying to get close to the IT director of the facility, and she seemed to be succeeding in this mission.
In the cafeteria Ryan ran into a couple of execs he’d met the day before, and he sat with them and chatted over lunch. After a few minutes the execs stood to head off to yet another meeting, and just as they did so, the woman posing as Élise Legrande entered together with Ralph Baggett. Jack stayed behind, dawdling over his turkey sandwich.
A few minutes later Jack was alone at his table, and Ralph and Élise were sitting a few tables away. Jack had hoped Ralph would, on his own, make the introductions, but apparently Ralph didn’t want to share his tablemate’s attention with anyone else. Watching him eat his lunch with the beautiful blonde, Ryan determined the frumpy IT director was happy to keep the woman all to himself.
But even though Baggett and Legrande had not paid any attention to him, another person in the cafeteria, a middle-aged woman wearing a lab coat and a badge that identified her as an R&D research technician, had been openly staring at Jack. He used to get a lot more of this treatment before he’d grown a beard, and even though it was exceedingly rare he was recognized now, he still knew exactly what was going on.
Jack did his best to ignore the R&D lady, and he tried to think of a casual way to introduce himself to Élise, but while he was mulling it over, Baggett’s secretary paged him on the overhead intercom. The IT director apologized to Élise and stood to return to his office. As Baggett walked off, Jack noticed the man run his hand across Legrande’s back, an awkwardly affectionate touch that looked like something Jack might have tried out once or twice in sixth grade.
Élise showed no outward acknowledgment of the gesture.
Jack was just about to get up and make his way over to her table when he saw that the lady from R&D was now standing at his table with a smile on her face.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch.”
Jack stood himself. “No, not at all.”
“I just want to say I’m a strong supporter of your father.”
Jack smiled. “That’s great. I know he appreciates it.”
The woman gushed for another minute, then she ripped a sheet of paper out of a notebook and asked Ryan to sign it for her. When he had done so, she thanked him, and left the cafeteria seconds later.
Jack knew the beautiful blonde sitting across the room would not have been able to hear any of the conversation, but she had certainly seen the entire exchange. He glanced over in her direction and saw her staring intently back at him. He gave her a tiny smile, but she did not return it, nor did she shy away from his eyes.
Jack decided this was as good an opportunity as any to make an introduction. But just when he was about to start walking over to her, she stood and headed in his direction.
Okay, he thought. I can work with this.
“Hello,” he said with a friendly smile.
She did not smile back. Instead, she looked at him with unabashed curiosity. “I asked Ralph who you were. He said you were an accountant with an investment company.”
“Sort of, yes,” Jack replied. He found himself taken in by her strong but feminine voice.
“Then obviously I must ask the question. What accountant gives autographs to swooning women?”
Ryan had prepped for a lot of different ways to bump the French agent, though discussing his own notoriety hadn’t made his list.
But he came up with something quickly. “Your accent. French, I take it?”
“French-Canadian.”
Bullshit, Ryan thought, but did not say. “Very nice. What department do you work in?”
“I’m with an outside vendor.” He felt like her smoky eyes were burrowing into him. He knew what it felt like to be running an op and then find yourself curious about another person’s presence. She must have been wondering if this was some sort of a play, although she had been the one to initiate the conversation.
Jack reached out and shook her hand. “Jack,” he said.
“Élise,” she replied, but while she spoke she eyed his visitor’s badge. Jack was in large letters, but below it were smaller letters. She read them aloud.
“Ryan.”
She looked up quizzically, and then she rolled her eyes. “Oh, I see. That woman thinks you are the President of the United States.”
“Actually, she thinks I’m one of his kids.”
Another eye roll. And then the woman’s eyes widened as she caught up with what he was saying. “Oh . . . Is she correct?”
“At your service, Miss Legrande. Or Mrs.?”
—
Veronika Martel did not answer the question; she was still working this through in her head. She remembered hearing about President Ryan’s family. He had a daughter who was close to Veronika’s age, and he had two young kids. She knew something about another son, but she couldn’t remember many details about him. She had only a vague recollection of seeing the entire family in a magazine spread many years ago.
She asked, “Are you the one they used to call ‘Junior’?”
“That’s right. I’m surprised anyone in Canada has ever heard of me.”
Élise just nodded s
lowly. “I am vaguely aware, yes.”
—
Ryan saw the mistrust and concern in the woman’s eyes. Spies learn quickly to be suspicious of chance encounters. This must have looked like a coincidental meeting, and she had to have been deeply confused about how it could have been anything else. She also must have been mulling over how a relative of the American chief executive could possibly threaten her or her mission.
“How fascinating,” she said now.
A minute later Jack realized he and Élise were sitting down. She asked him what he was doing here at Valley Floor.
“I’m a financial analyst. Not really an accountant. My company is buying into the mine. Or at least we are considering it. I am here looking things over, meeting with the CFO and others. If the numbers crunch the way we want them to, I’m sure we will purchase an interest.”
The woman seemed to be taking it all in. Jack actually enjoyed watching her think about what this all meant to her operation.
He asked, “How about you? What brings you here to California?”
She said, “I’ve been in the mining industry for some time. In Canada.”
It wasn’t an answer, but it was supposed to have been enough. Jack assumed she was going to try to deflect the conversation back on him, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. He just nodded and said, “Go on.”
“Oh, yes. Well, we’ve developed some exciting new techniques for solvent extraction processes, and NewCorp has adapted their machinery to the new changes we’ve come up with. I’m simply watching how the new ideas are executed in a real-world setting.”
Ryan nodded appreciatively. She was good. No, she was great. She almost had him buying it. He decided he needed to play his part, so he asked her a few questions about the research, he even took some notes about the study she referred to, ostensibly so he could research it as part of his due diligence into the investment opportunity here.
“This is terrific,” he said finally. “I wonder if I could see some of the work in practice.”
She nodded. “You should contact Hydrometallurgy Quality Control. I’m sure they could show you the chemical dissolution equipment.”
“I’ll do that. Will you be there?”
Élise hesitated. Jack felt sure she was still sizing up the situation, trying to determine if she was in any danger with him being here. It was so utterly random and odd that he knew there was no way she wouldn’t be very confused and even wary.
She said, “If you come tomorrow I’ll be there all day. After that, no. I head home the day after tomorrow.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
The two of them headed out of the cafeteria and down the hall to the elevator bank. He’d wanted to ask her out to dinner, but he fought the urge for two reasons. For one, he didn’t want to overload her brain’s synapses trying to determine if this was some sort of a play. If he worked it too hard it would tip her off there was nothing coincidental about his being here. Only by backing away from her now could he possibly convince her their meeting was happenstance.
And the second reason he would disengage now: he knew Chavez and Clark would be apoplectic. From an operational standpoint, Ryan getting even closer to the woman made no sense and only subjected the President’s son to compromise.
At the elevators Jack pushed the up arrow to return to his office, and Élise the down arrow to head downstairs and then back to her building. They shook hands and went their separate ways.
Just as the door to Jack’s elevator started to close, he heard someone running up the hall.
“Can you hold it, please?” a man shouted.
Jack held open the door, a little annoyed because it was a long drive back to the hotel and he knew he had to talk to Clark and Ding about Élise Legrande before they could break for dinner.
A young, fit Asian man in jeans and a polo shirt stepped quickly into the elevator. He held a backpack over his shoulder, and at first he faced away from Ryan.
“Appreciate it,” he said as he turned and looked forward.
Jack let the door go, pushed the button for his floor, then glanced up. “Not a prob—”
Jack cocked his head. The one other person on the elevator did the same.
“Yao?”
“Ryan?”
They shook hands, both men keeping the confused looks on their faces. Ryan said, “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Uh, yeah. Likewise.”
“Can I ask what brings you to Valley Floor?” Ryan asked.
Yao replied, “Only if I can.”
Neither man spoke for the rest of the ride up to Ryan’s floor. They just faced each other, each man trying to simultaneously figure out the relevance of seeing the other here.
Finally, shortly before the elevator doors closed on the two silent men, Jack said, “You want to grab a beer?”
Adam reached out and held the doors open. “I’ve got to go by Personnel, then I’m free. Meet in the lobby in twenty?”
Ryan nodded. “Looking forward to it.”
—
The closest bar to the NewCorp complex was just over the border in Nevada on Interstate 15. Several low-end but enterprising casinos had sprung up within sight of California, hoping to catch the first Angelenos heading east to gamble in Nevada. It was another thirty miles or so to Vegas, but this desert oasis of hotels, strip malls, gambling halls, and fast-food joints served as a way station for those without the time, gas, or inclination to drive all the way to the Strip.
Jack Ryan and Adam Yao sat at a table in the back of an utterly nondescript bar at Whiskey Pete’s Hotel & Casino. Both men had beers in front of them—a Sam Adams for Ryan and a Shiner Bock for Yao.
There was little talk those first few minutes beyond idle conversation about the casino and the drive. Each man was sizing the other up. They weren’t unfriendly; these guys had a history together and they liked and respected each other. But that was then, this was now, and they were each curious about what the other was up to.
“You look different,” Yao said.
“The beard?”
“Yeah. That, and you’ve put on some muscle.”
“Got tired of being recognized.”
“I guess so. Can’t be too helpful in your occupation.”
“What occupation?” Ryan asked.
“Never mind,” Adam said over the rim of his glass before taking a sip. “I ran into a friend of yours.”
“Really? Who’s that?”
“Mary Pat Foley.”
“Great lady. Where did you see her?”
A pause. “You know. Just a work function.”
“Right.”
“So . . . who was the girl?” Yao asked.
“Élise Legrande? She’s with an outside vendor. Here at NewCorp for a couple of weeks. Down from Canada, she says.”
“Nice.”
“Yeah.”
Another long pause.
This conversation was going nowhere.
“Look,” Yao said, “it’s good to see you, but I guess neither of us has much to talk about.”
Ryan replied, “The beer is okay.”
Yao chuckled, surprised by the comment. “It is, isn’t it? I guess we could play craps or something, but you know I can’t talk, and I doubt you will talk.”
Jack Ryan shook his head now. He’d been thinking it over, and even though he didn’t know what Yao was up to, he decided the guy could probably use a little intel. “Not true. I need to tell you something. Hope you’ll take the info as a favor and not ask a lot of questions.”
“I’ve done good so far, haven’t I?”
Jack said, “The blonde?”
“Yeah? What about her?”
“She’s a spook.”
Yao made no outward reaction, but he lifted his beer and took a long dr
ink. When he put it back down he just said, “You don’t say.”
“She’s not here for you. I mean . . . I don’t think so. She is supposed to be Canadian, but I think she might be French. Ex-DGSE would be my guess. Now she’s working for a private company. NYC-based.”
“How do you know this?”
“I’m with some guys looking into her outfit.”
“Some guys?”
“Yep.”
Adam shrugged. He let it go. “You know what she’s doing here?”
“Our guess is that she’s here to steal intel for a company working with North Korea on a rare earth mineral mine they are developing.”
Ryan stared at Yao’s face, searching for a reaction.
But Adam didn’t blink.
—
Adam Yao was a pro. Although he and Ryan had worked together in China, Ryan wasn’t read in on Acrid Herald, or at least Yao hadn’t been told Ryan had been read in on it. Things were getting weirder by the day on this op, however, so the CIA officer couldn’t be sure. But he wasn’t about to start offering up intel, even to the son of the President of the United States.
That would be even weirder.
“Interesting,” Yao said. “Unrelated to me, but interesting. If you’d like, I could make a call and have her checked out by the authorities.”
Ryan knew Yao was pulling his chain. He was here on the job, and it had to be related to the North Korean mine.
“Not necessary. Just letting you know in case her being here compromises you in some way.”
“Not at all,” he said. “But I appreciate your concern.” He glanced at the waitress as she passed. “I’ll take a check.”
The two men walked out into the windblown parking lot. Ryan said, “Good seeing you, Adam. Take care of yourself.”
“You do the same, Ryan. Thanks again.”
They parted with a handshake, each man climbing back into his car and taking off for Vegas.