Tom Clancy - Locked On

She then opened a couple of cupboards in his kitchen by the freezer. Ace bandages, anti-inflammatories, Band-Aids, antibiotic ointment.

She remarked on this when he came back to the room.

“Any more bumps and bruises on the slopes?” “What? No. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering. I saw the emergency aid station you have set up.” Jack’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve been snooping?” “Just a little. It’s a girl thing.” “Right. Actually I was taking a mixed martial arts class in Baltimore. It was great, but when I started traveling a lot for work I had to quit.” Ryan looked around the room. “What do you think of my place?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful. It lacks a woman’s touch, but I suppose if it had a woman’s touch, I’d have to wonder about that.” “That’s true.”

“Still. This place is so nice. It makes me wonder what you think about that little dump I’ve been making you stay over at.” “I like your place. It suits you.” Melanie cocked her head. “Because it’s cheap?” “No. That’s not what I mean. I just mean, it’s feminine and it still is full of books on terrorism and CIA manuals. It’s kick-ass. Like you.” Melanie had adopted a defensive posture. But she relaxed. “I’m really sorry. I’m just feeling a bit overwhelmed by your money and your family ties, basically because I come from the other side of the tracks, I guess. My family never had any money. Four kids didn’t leave much of my dad’s military pay left over for nice things.” “I understand,” Jack said.

“You probably don’t. But that’s my problem, not yours.” Ryan walked over to Melanie and put his arms around her. “That’s in your past.” She shook her head and pulled away. “No. It’s not.” “Student loans?” Ryan asked, and then immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. I just—” Melanie smiled a little. “It’s okay. Just no fun to talk about. Just be thankful for your family.” Now Jack was the one to go on the defensive. “Look, I understand that I was born into money, but my dad made me work. I’m not riding the family name to the bank.” “Of course you aren’t. I totally respect that about you. I’m not talking about money.” She thought that over for a second. “Maybe for the first time I’m not talking about money. I’m talking about your family. I see how you talk about them. How you respect them.” Jack had learned to not press her about her own upbringing. Each time he had tried she had withdrawn from the conversation or changed the subject. For a moment he thought she would finally go into her family life on her own. But she did not.

“So,” she said, and he could tell that the subject had just been changed. “Does this place have a bathroom?” At that moment her mobile phone chirped in her purse on Jack’s kitchen counter. She reached for it and looked at the number.

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“Maybe you are getting a raise,” Jack joked, and Melanie laughed.

“Hi, Mary Pat.” Melanie’s smile faded from her face. “Okay. Okay. Oh… shit.” When Melanie turned away from him, Jack sensed trouble. But he sensed more trouble ten seconds later when his own mobile rang in his pocket. “Ryan.” “It’s Granger. How quick can you be at the office?” Jack turned away and walked into his bedroom. “What’s up? Is it Clark?” “No. It’s trouble. I need everyone in immediately.” “Okay.”

He hung up the phone and found Melanie in his room behind him. “I’m so sorry, Jack, but I have to go in to the office.” “What’s going on?”

“You know I can’t answer that. I hate that you’ll have to drive me all the way to McLean, but it is an emergency.” Shit. Think, Jack. “Tell you what. That was my office that just called. They want me to come in for a bit, somebody’s worried about how we’re positioned for the Asian markets opening on Monday. Can I have you drop me at work and then you just take my truck?” Ryan saw it in her eyes instantly. She knew he was lying. She covered; she did not press. It was likely she was more worried about whatever bad news Jack had yet to learn than she was that her boyfriend was a lying bastard.

“Sure. That will work.”

A minute later, they headed for the door.

They drove mostly in silence to Hendley Associates.

After Melanie dropped Jack off at his offices, she drove off into the night, and Ryan stepped in the back door.

Dom Caruso was already there, downstairs in the lobby, talking to the security men on staff.

Ryan walked up to him. “What’s going on?” Dom walked up to his cousin and leaned into his ear. “Worst-case scenario, cuz.” Ryan’s eyes widened. He knew what that meant. “Islamic bomb?” Caruso nodded. “Internal CIA traffic says a Pakistani armaments train got hit last night local time. Two twenty-kiloton nukes got lifted, and are now in the hands of an unknown force.” “Oh my God.”

The two twenty-kiloton nuclear bombs stolen from the Pakistani Air Force found themselves, just days later, in the skies over Pakistan. Rehan and his men had the bombs packed and crated into twelve-by-five-by-five-foot containers that were labeled “Textile Manufacturing, Ltd.” They were then placed on an Antonov An-26 cargo plane operated by Vision Air, a Pakistani charter airline.

Their intermediate destination was Dushanbe, the capital of Tajikistan.

As much as General Rehan would like to send the Dagestanis on their way, to get them out of his country and somewhere where they could publicize what they had done and threaten the world with their bombs and their missiles, h e knew Georgi Safronov was smarter than all the other cell members and insurgency leaders and even any of the government operatives he had worked with in his career. Georgi knew as much about nuclear weapons as Rehan did, and the general knew he needed to put one hundred percent of his efforts behind an authentic preparation of Safronov’s operation.

To do that he would need two things: a private and secure place, outside Pakistan, to arm the bombs and fit the bombs into the Dnepr-1 payload containers, and someone with the technical know-how to do this.

Bilateral trade had increased precipitously between Tajikistan and Pakistan in the past four years, so travel from Pakistan to Dushanbe was commonplace. Dushanbe was also almost directly between Pakistan and the ultimate destination of the weapons, the Baikonur Cosmodrome.

The An-26 flew out of Lahore with its two cargo crates and its twelve passengers: Rehan, Safronov, Khan, seven of Rehan’s personal security, and two Pakistani nuclear munitions experts. The Jamaat Shariat forces traveled out of the country via a second Vision Air charter that would take them to Dushanbe, as well.

Rehan’s JIM Directorate had already spread bribes around Tajik customs and airport officials; there would be no impediments to either aircraft’s offloading its cargo and crew once on the ground. A Tajik with the Dushanbe city government who had a long history as a paid informant and foreign agent of the ISI would be waiting on touchdown with trucks and drivers and more crated cargo that had recently arrived from Moscow.

The Campus worked twenty-four/seven looking for the nuclear bombs. The CIA had picked up ISI chatter within hours of the hijacking, and Langley and the National Counterterrorism Center at Liberty Crossing spent the intervening days looking into ISI involvement.

NCTC had more information on Riaz Rehan, some of it courtesy of The Campus and much of it thanks to the work of Melanie Kraft, so Jack Ryan and his fellow analysts found themselves virtually looking over the shoulder of Kraft for much of the time. It made Ryan feel creepy, but if there was anything actionable that Melanie found in her research, The Campus was in a position to act immediately.