Lee CHILD - Better off Dead

“Then explain it to me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. You mean you won’t. So I guess you don’t want my help.” I took a step toward the door.

“Wait. All right. Look, Michael’s made a few prototypes. Sure. But he’s only building one final device. He’s using adapted signal shells. They emit smoke. That’s all. A few people might get sore eyes but nothing worse than that.”

“He’s aiding Dendoncker’s smuggling ring. And helping to sell illegal weapons. Just so he can plant a single smoke bomb? I don’t buy it.”

Sonia sighed and slumped back into her chair. “Dendoncker is a bad man. I give you that. I wasn’t happy when Michael went to work for him. Far from it. But Michael was in a dark place then. Look, if Michael wasn’t helping him, Dendoncker would find someone else. And it’s a small price to pay in the greater scheme of things.”

“To pay for what?”

“Success. For Operation Clarion. That’s what Michael named it.” Sonia leaned forward. “Picture this. It’s Veterans Day. There are services and ceremonies all across the country. And at one of the biggest venues, at eleven minutes past eleven, the whole place fills with smoke. Beautiful red, white, and blue smoke. It’ll be a sensation. Everyone who sees it in person will ask, why? Everyone who sees it on TV will ask also. It’ll be all over the Internet. And Michael will be there to answer. I’ll be by his side. The Pentagon won’t be able to ignore us anymore. And the government won’t be able to lie anymore.”

“Lie about what?”

“Chemical weapons. Everywhere we fight. But in Iraq in particular. The Pentagon put together a report when the war was declared over. They sent a stuffed shirt to the Senate to answer questions about it. The official line was that only a very small quantity of chemical rounds were found and the risk they posed to our troops was minor. Which is bullshit. And we know it’s bullshit not only because we were the ones getting poisoned and burned and sick. But because at the same time the data for the report was getting cooked, the army issued new instructions. For treating troops exposed to chemical agents. Detailed instructions. Which stated there was a continuing and significant risk to our deployed forces.”

“So they knew?”

“Damn right they knew. But they lied. And why? Because of the shell cases. You need special ones. M110s are the most common. They look just like conventional M107s. More so when they’re corroded or deliberately mislabeled. But inside they have two chambers. They hold two separate compounds. Each inert on its own. But lethal when they mix. And where did the Iraqis get the shells from? The United States and our allies. Powerful corporations. The government turned a blind eye to it. A classified report Michael saw said hundreds of thousands were sold. The politicians were in danger of getting embarrassed. So they threw us soldiers under the bus to save their own asses. And we’re not going to stand for it. Not anymore.”

“This kind of shell. Michael’s using it for the smoke bomb?”

“Correct. Appropriate, don’t you think? Kind of poetic?”

“Are you sure we’re only talking about a smoke bomb? If the shells look the same, is there any way he could be making regular explosive ones on the sly?”

Sonia leaned farther forward. “I should slap you for that. Or shoot you. Yes, I’m sure. You think I’m an idiot? The shells look similar to a layperson. But not to me. Michael’s done three separate tests. Out in the desert. In different wind conditions. I witnessed all of them. Do you think I’d be here talking to you if I’d been ten feet from an artillery shell when it went up?”

“I guess not. So when you do it for real, how will he set off the bomb?”

“The primary will be a timer. The secondary will be cellular.”

“So Michael will be at the venue?”

“Correct. He’ll drive out. I’ll join him there.”

“Where?”

“That was a secret. Even from me.”

“When was Michael planning to leave?”

“Tomorrow. Which makes it even stranger that Michael’s dropped off the radar now.”

“Where does Dendoncker keep the equipment Michael was using? The raw materials?”

“I have no idea. Why are you so obsessed with this? Dendoncker isn’t holding Michael. That would make no sense.”

“You said Michael has a room here. Do you know the number?”

Sonia nodded to the wall behind me. “It’s next door.”

“We should take a look.”

“There’s no need. I already did.”

“When?”

“A couple of days ago.” Sonia looked at the floor. “I wasn’t snooping. I’m not a bunny boiler. Michael didn’t call me when he said he would. I was worried.”

“What did you find?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. His bed was made. His toiletries were in the bathroom. His clothes were hanging in the wardrobe. His duffel was there. So was his go-bag. Nothing was missing. Not as far as I could tell.”

“Does Michael have a car?”

“He has two. A personal vehicle. And an old Jeep issued by Dendoncker. They’re both still outside. Both as clean as whistles.”

I said nothing.

“Now do you see why I’m worried? If Michael left under his own steam he must have felt some major heat coming down not to take any of his stuff or his car. In which case why wouldn’t he call me? Let me know he’s OK? Or warn me if I was in danger, too?”

“We should take another look in his room.”

“Why? I told you what’s there.”

“A fresh pair of eyes never hurts. And we’re not going to find Michael by sticking around here talking.”

Sonia sighed and rolled her eyes. She scooped up her purse from the floor and tucked the gun inside. “Fine. Come on.”

She locked the door to her own room with a big solid key. It was on a heavy brass fob that was shaped like a teardrop. She dropped it into her purse, started down the corridor, and took out another key. This one was made of thin shiny metal, and it was on a flimsy plastic fob stamped with the name of a local drugstore. She used it to unlock the next door we came to. She pushed the door all the way open, took one step inside, and stopped in her tracks. She clamped her hand over her mouth, but she didn’t make a sound. I moved up alongside her and stopped still, too. The room was a mirror image of hers. It was an efficient use of space. The bathrooms were half depth, so they fitted neatly next to each other, and kept the plumbing sounds away from the beds. But while Sonia’s room was immaculate, this one looked like a tornado had ripped through it. The bed was on its side. The mattress was torn open in a dozen places and clumps of gray fibrous material were hanging out. The wardrobe was facedown on the floor. Shredded clothes were heaped up next to it. The chair was on its side. Its cushion was ripped. The curtain pole had been wrenched off the wall. The curtains had been sliced and left in ribbons on the floor.

Sonia said, “Who did this? What were they looking for? I don’t understand.”

“Does Renée have a room here?” I asked.

“Yes. At the other end of the corridor. You don’t think…?”

“I don’t know. But we should find out.”

Sonia closed Michael’s door and led the way to room 201. She tried the handle and shook her head.

She said, “It’s locked. Wait here. I’ll go down to reception. Borrow a passkey.”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want to involve anyone else. Have you got a knife in your bag? Or tweezers?”

Sonia rummaged in her purse and pulled out a little knurled black case. She opened it and revealed a whole array of small shiny tools. I guessed they had something to do with nails, but I had no idea what most of them did. She held out the set. “Take your pick.”