Peter Kirsanow - Target Omega

“Not the high-end ICBM laser intercept defenses that Manchester and Bauer are involved in. That’s strictly US missile defense. Again, the Iranians are not in a position to test our defenses. So what’s their interest in Manchester and Bauer?”

Olivia shrugged. “Being interested in US missile defenses doesn’t necessarily mean that Iran’s not going to hit Israel.”

“True, maybe they’re going to hit Israel. Maybe not. But having photos of America’s top missile defense guys on the laptop of an Ansar Corps officer who just happens to be trying to access a nuclear facility sure isn’t the product of casual interest.”

Garin rose suddenly. Nervous energy in the middle of the night. Olivia wondered idly if the man ever needed more than a couple of hours of sleep a night.

“If that’s not enough,” Garin continued, “now it appears that the guy running the Iranians is none other than Taras Bor. A joint Russian-Iranian operation run by the Russian president’s pet dragon.”

“We don’t yet know for sure it’s Bor.”

“It’s him,” Garin countered. “We always underestimate the bad guys and refuse to believe they intend to do us harm.”

“I don’t disagree with you, Michael. Just playing a little devil’s advocate to crystallize what we know.” Olivia stood. “The Russians and Iranians are doing their best at the UN to provoke a war in the Middle East. Now they’ve teamed up to destroy America’s counter-WMD team. Is it possible that the Middle East crisis is just a distraction?”

“Olivia.” Garin shrugged, palms up. “You’re the geopolitical expert. What do you think?”

“No, it’s not just a distraction. It’s too big for that. But I’m beginning to be persuaded that may not be the only, or ultimate, target.”

Garin strode the length of the room again, immersed in thought.

“I don’t know what to make of the EMP guy,” Garin said. “The Iranians don’t have deliverable nukes yet. Their missiles can’t hit us. They don’t have the ability to hit us with an EMP. So why the interest in EMPs?”

“The Russians, on the other hand, have nukes. Their missiles can hit us. They can hit us with an EMP. But…”

“They’d never hit us with any of those in a million years,” finished Garin, still pacing slowly.

“Not in a billion years. The Russians can do it, but won’t. Deterred by the prospect of mutual assured destruction. The Iranians, on the other hand, wouldn’t mind doing it, but can’t.”

“I’m pretty certain of one thing,” Garin said, stopping in front of Olivia. “The Iranians — guided by Bor — killed my team because of what was on that laptop in the tunnel. They don’t want the contents of that laptop revealed under any circumstances.”

“But how would the Russians and Iranians even know you’d seen the laptop? And even if you had seen it, that you could read Farsi?”

“They wouldn’t. But that itself is significant, isn’t it? It means that the contents of that file were so sensitive that they couldn’t afford to take even the slightest risk that anyone had seen any portion of it. So they needed to eliminate all of us — and anyone we may have possibly talked to about it.”

“That’s why they tried to kill Clint Laws. They thought you might have spoken to him.”

“Right,” Garin confirmed. “Clint isn’t exactly unknown in these circles. Given his past and our relationship, they probably thought there was a chance that I might talk to him about it — even if he’s not cleared for it.”

“And that’s also why they were poking around at Dan Dwyer’s. They can’t take the chance — given his position and relationship to you — that you told him about the laptop.” Olivia’s eyes narrowed in thought. Garin knew what she was thinking and what her next question would be. “But then why haven’t they come after me yet? If they were watching Dwyer, they’d surely have seen me with him. They’d have to surmise that you told him about the laptop, and then he told me.”

“Killing you would be too high profile, Olivia. They wouldn’t do it unless they absolutely had to, unless they were absolutely sure you had been told.”

“Me?” Olivia scoffed. “High profile? I’m just an aide to the national security advisor. I’m not even a deputy.”

“You,” Garin said, pointing his finger for emphasis, “are the right hand of James Brandt. You’re more important than a deputy. They shoot you, especially in the context of everything else that’s going on, and every agency but the National Park Service will have people looking for them.”

“But, Michael, you just said that they wouldn’t kill me unless they were absolutely sure I had been told about the laptop. The fact that no attempt has been made on my life would indicate that they believe I haven’t been told. How would they know for sure I haven’t been told?”

“They wouldn’t. Not unless they have someone in place inside. Someone who would know, for example, that you’ve told James Brandt that a laptop with incriminating information was discovered during a raid on a nuclear facility.”

Garin and Olivia stared at each other in silence for several seconds. Whatever the Russians and Iranians were planning, all signs pointed to it being something of significant magnitude.

Olivia broke the silence. “Do you think they’ve been watching me?” she asked softly.

“Up until a short time ago I thought it was possible but unlikely. The more we talk this through, the more I think the answer is, clearly, yes.”

“Then they know I’m here…” Olivia’s voice trailed off.

“They do. And that means they know I’m here. So now they have to presume I’ve told you about the laptop. The risk involved in killing you is now outweighed by the risk that you know and will inform James Brandt and the president about our conversation.”

“When will they come for me?” Olivia’s voice remained calm, but Garin could see the apprehension in her eyes.

“As soon as they can.”

“Here?”

“Maybe.”

“They would kill me here?”

“They’re not going to kill you anywhere.” Garin’s voice was low but firm.

“They killed an entire squad of elite soldiers.” Olivia looked down at the desktop. “I’m just a policy person.”

Garin touched her arm. She looked up. Intensity in a relaxed body. “They couldn’t kill me. They will not kill you.”

“What do we do now?”

“First, in a minute, I’m going to take a quick look around while you call Dan Dwyer. I’ll give you the number to use. Tell him to send all the tac teams he has available. He’ll know what to do.”

“Why not the police or FBI?”

“Because Dwyer’s men can get here faster, heavier, and they don’t play by the rules. Besides”—Garin smiled—“the FBI might shoot me.”

“Then what?”

“Then you’re going to call James Brandt and tell him you’ve got to see him right away.”

“And when I see him I suppose there’s something in particular you want me to tell him?”

“There is,” Garin said, motioning toward the chair. “Have a seat and I’ll tell you a story about Russian winters and warehouses.…”

CASPIAN SEA, EAST OF AZERBAIJAN

JULY 17 9:00 A.M. AZT

Mansur had one more thing to do before he fell off the face of the earth.

The flight from Heydar Aliyev International Airport in Baku, Azerbaijan, to Vancouver would take several hours with multiple connections. Once there, he would take care of business and then disappear forever. He had planned for this for years. The arrangements were made. Provided he remained disciplined over the next few hours, Iranian intelligence would never find him.