Stephen Coonts - Combat

I used the audio function, first citing the date and location. As I placed each item back in the big bag I described it, and asked if Norm could translate the label on the pill bottle.

He couldn’t, but Meltzer could. While I spelled out “methacarbamol,” he said, “Muscle relaxant,” practically running his words together.

I announced for the audio that this was my complete audit of Park Soon’s effects left aboard ship. I added, in traditional P.I. third-person reportage, “The investigator found nothing more to suggest the subject’s itinerary ashore, or whether he intended to return. In the investigator’s opinion, the value of the bag’s contents would not exceed a hundred dollars.” By the time I’d latched the bag and placed it back on the bunk, the combined silences of Norm and Meltzer hung like smoke in the little room. They were being nice, but clearly they wanted me the hell out of there.

And just as badly, I wanted to stick around. I hadn’t found anything suspicious to use the analyzer on, and in any case these guys were right at my elbow. Norm stepped into the corridor and waited expectantly.

“Just one more thing,” I said, following him into the corridor. “I wonder if the captain would let me see Park’s workstation. You never know what he might’ve left lying around.”

Meltzer exhaled heavily as we retraced our steps. Norm shot me a pained smile. “I’ll ask. In case you’re wondering, they just got their clearance this morning, so they’re hoping to get under way today. I’d like to see them do it, Harve.”

“Message received,” I said. “I guess that’s why Mike Kaplan isn’t with us.”

“He’s doing three men’s work in the office this morning,” said Norm.

And as I tried to read Norm’s expression, Meltzer saw my glance and chimed in, “It’s always like this at the last minute. He isn’t even taking calls.”

So he lies and you swear to it , I thought. Aloud I said, “I promise to keep out of the way. I just need to cover all the bases.” And one base is the discovery that my new friend may not be that good a friend.

We found our way back on deck. A faint, musky odor lay on the breeze, reminding me of rancid soy protein. The rushing thrum in the ship’s innards was more pronounced as we neared the bridge. It seemed to be coming from those big cargo tank domes that protruded from the forward deck plates. “Wait here,” said Norm.

Meltzer stopped when I did. He pulled out a cigarette and, as he lit it, I could see that his hands trembled. It wasn’t fear, I decided; not a chill, either, because of the way he was smiling to himself.

It was suppressed excitement.

And when the phone in my pocket gave a blurt, Ira Meltzer jumped as if I’d goosed him. “It’s probably Quent,” I said. “Let me take it over here.” By now I was virtually certain he knew Quentin Kim would not be making any more phone calls. But maybe he didn’t know that I knew.

I walked back far enough for privacy, unfolding my phone, casually holding my StudyWench at my side so that its video recorded Meltzer. “Rackham,” I said. I didn’t want to pull the Loc-8 out until I could make it look like a response to this call. I’d lugged the damn thing aboard to no purpose.

“Your location is known,” said Dana Martin. Sweatman had evidently done me a favor. “Are we clean?” Meaning, ‘is our conversation secure?’

Meltzer was watching my face. “More or less. Our Mr. Park didn’t leave anything aboard that might tell us—” I said.

Until her interruption I had never heard her speak with a note of controlled panic. “Get out of there aysap. A.T.F. liaison tells us that ether compound can be converted in the tank to a component of a ternary agent. Do you understand?”

I smiled for Meltzer. “Not exactly. Where are you?”

“Sunnyvale. We have to arrive in force, and that could take an hour. Listen to me! Binary nerve gas isn’t deadly ’til two components are mixed. A ternary agent takes three. A relatively small proportion of an ether derivative is one. Our other asset just confirmed that the second component is already aboard. No telling how much is there, but to be effective, it’s needed in far greater amounts than the ether derivative.”

The rushing noise aboard the Ras Ormara and the deep vibrations abruptly resolved themselves in my mind into a humongous pump, dumping something into those newly cleaned cargo tanks. A hell of a lot of something. “Does it stink like bad tofu?”

“Wait one.”

“Make it quick,” I muttered with a smile for Meltzer, seeing Norm as he walked back toward me, a sad little smile on his face.

I was still waiting when Norm showed me a big shrug and headshake. “I’m sorry. Park didn’t even have a particular workstation anyway,” he said.

On the heels of this came Dana’s breathless, “That’s what you’re smelling, Rackham. Judging from the order form for ether, and assuming they intend to convert it to another compound, we predict an amount of ternary agent that is — my God, it staggers the imagination. Component three is a tiny amount of catalyst, easy to hide. If they have it, you’re on a floating doomsday machine.”

Norm Goldman now stood beside me. “Copy that,” I said, with a comradely pat on Norm’s shoulder to show him there were no hard feelings. “Hell of a secretary you are if you don’t even know where Quent is. Look, I expect I’ll be having lunch with a friend. I’ll call in later.” With that, I folded my phone away.

Norm took my arm, but very gently. “Part of my job is knowing when not to bug the troops, Harve. Sorry.” We moved toward the gangway ramp.

Somewhere in the distance, the double-tone beeps of police vehicles dopplered off to inaudibility. I hoped the audio track of my StudyBroad was picking up the sound of whatever it was that surged into those huge tanks, and then I released the button and pocketed my gadget. If the ether component was still being loaded for transfer, or if its conversion was complicated, there might be some way to slow them down. “About lunch,” I began, as Meltzer followed us down to the wharf.

“Hey, listen, I’ll have to take a rain check on that,” said Norm, as if answering my prayer. “Mike will need help in the office. Before the clearance came through I even had a lunch reservation for a nice place where I run a tab, up in San Rafael. Promise me you’ll do lunch there today anyway. My treat. Just give ’em this,” he said, fishing a business card from his wallet, scribbling a Mission Avenue address in San Rafael on the back of the card. “Have a few drinks on me. Promise me you’ll do that.”

“It’s a promise,” I said, as we walked toward our vehicles. Hey, if he had lied to me I could lie to him ….

Because San Rafael lay to the northwest, I gave a cheery wave and drove off as if keeping my promise, tugging on my driving gloves. Then I reached over and retrieved my Glock as I doubled back toward the place where I’d seen Mike Kaplan loading up. Minutes later, while I redlined the Toyota along the boulevard, I managed to call Dana. “I’m circling around to where they’re loading ether into a big rig,” I said over the caterwaul of my pickup. “Why not call the Richmond force and get them to meet me there until you show up? Someone should’ve already thought of that.”

“They have casualty situations in both high schools at the other end of town, called in almost simultaneously ten minutes ago. Perps are adults with automatic weapons. It’s already on the news and traffic is wall-to-wall there. And we’re having trouble getting compliance with metro liaison staff.”

That was weasel-talk for getting stonewalled by city cops who have had their noses rubbed in their inferiority by Fed elitists too many times and who might not believe how serious the Mayday was. I didn’t take time to say, “what goes around comes around.” Of course that sort of rivalry was stupid. It was also predictable.