Steve Martini - The Rule of Nine

“What kind of delivery system would be required, say, for the item crated up in Thailand to reach and destroy its target?” asked Thorpe. “And please tell me it’s a heavy-lift airplane, something we can track on radar and shoot down before it reaches its target.”

“Aerial delivery might be optimal but not necessarily the only method,” said Winget. “In the proper setting a truck will do just as well. Unlike nuclear, you’re not looking for an air burst to obtain maximum effect. We used B-52s at Tora Bora with earth-penetrating ordnance because it was the safest and most efficient way to reach the target. You can use fuel-air bombs on the open battlefield, but that’s not the most optimum deployment. Maximum destruction and lethality would be obtained in a large enclosed structure. Thermobaric devices are perfect for underground bunkers, caves, tunnels, and they can be used to flatten large buildings. It’s most effective to get them inside the structure before detonation. Then again, McVeigh didn’t drive the truck into the federal building in Oklahoma City. He parked it at the curb in front. And we all remember the level of damage and loss of life there. So there are no hard-and-fast rules.”

“Let’s go back to the two men on the phone,” said Thorpe. “Any idea where that plane was going to deliver this thing, if it hadn’t gotten waylaid in Thailand?”

“Best bet’s Cuba,” said Sanchez. “They have airfields capable of landing and could provide cover for the device.”

“You think the Cuban government would allow an air attack on the U.S. from the island?” said Winget. “I don’t think so.”

“I didn’t say that,” said Sanchez. “But once it’s on the ground these guys could always transport the device by ship, move it from one vessel to another, and sooner or later it arrives in a U.S. port boxed as industrial tools and they could haul it by truck. You said so yourself.”

“Possibly,” said Winget.

“In other words, we don’t have a clue,” said Thorpe. “Mr. Sanchez, when your agency alerted the Thai government that there were arms on board that plane, I take it NSA had no idea that this device was there?”

“Correct,” said Sanchez.

“How did you know about the small arms?” said Thorpe.

“Communications intercepts and, from what I understand, some satellite surveillance.”

“What other agencies are already in the loop?” asked Thorpe.

“CIA and military intelligence branches have already been informed,” said Sanchez.

“What about Homeland Security?” asked Thorpe.

“I don’t know,” said Sanchez.

“We notify Homeland Security, the White House, U.S. Customs, especially at the ports. Tell them what to look for. Send them photographs if you can.”

Zink was taking notes. “We’ll need to tell the State Department.”

“Why?” said Thorpe.

“Just in case we’re not the target. Somebody’s gonna have to decide whether to inform foreign governments, and if so, which ones. What if the target’s in Europe, or the UK?”

“It’s not likely,” said Thorpe. “But okay, alert them, but ask them to keep it low-key and on a need-to-know basis only. I don’t want to be seeing it on CNN in the morning.”

“Homeland Security is going to want to know what the threat assessment should be. What do I tell them?” said Zink.

“Tell them what we know, the telephone intercepts and the nature of the device in Thailand. They’ll have to make a judgment call,” said Thorpe. He turned back to Sanchez. “If NSA can give us even a hint as to the identity of the two men on the phone, we need it yesterday.”

“Understood,” said Sanchez. “We did get voiceprints. We’ve got the computers checking for matches on overseas and domestic calls. If we get a match, we’ll try to nail down a location and turn it over to your people or the CIA to run it down, depending on where it is. Preliminary voice analysis indicates that the voice in Pyongyang displayed indications of a Slavic accent, possibly Russian. It was impossible to be certain since the entire conversation was in English. The other man appeared to be a native English speaker, possibly from Australia or New Zealand. He was very cagey. He kept trying to slip into a South African English Boer accent, but our analyst didn’t buy it.”

“Stay on it,” said Thorpe. He turned to Winget. “We will need all the satellite surveillance we can get over North Korea until this thing’s over.”

“We’re on it already,” said Winget.

“Any hint of these devices being moved or transported we need to know about it immediately,” said Thorpe.

“Chances are any shipment will already be crated before it comes out into the sunlight,” said the air force officer.

“Then get the dimensions on the box from Thailand, and anything that matches it we want tracked,” said Thorpe.

“Will do.” Winget made a note.

“We’ll end up chasing a lot of false leads, but right now we don’t have a choice. I’ll have to tell the director over dinner,” said Thorpe. “See if I can get him off alone for a minute and unload on him. We meet tomorrow. What’s my calendar look like?”

“You’ve got an opening at four o’clock,” said Zink.

“Afternoon or early morning?” said Thorpe.

Zink, who was still taking notes, held up his left hand, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, as if to play the smallest violin in the world.

“Yeah, well, if I can’t get any respect, I certainly want a little pity. Four o’clock it is. Can you make it?”

Sanchez nodded. “I’ll be here,” said Winget.

“Bring any and all information you can find. Anybody who can help, drag them along. We’ll meet daily until we get some kind of a handle on this thing.”

Snyder…?”

The name doesn’t click in my brain until he says: “My son was murdered in Washington a few weeks ago.”

“Ah…”

“I’m afraid I followed your partner over here. I’d like to talk to you,” he says.

“Sure, drag up a chair.”

“It might be best if we could talk where we have a little more privacy,” he says.

“Listen, I can go,” says Joselyn. She’s trapped in the curved booth between Harry and me.

I put my hand on her arm as she starts to slide toward me to get out. “We haven’t had lunch yet,” I tell her. “Have you had lunch, Mr. Snyder?”

“No.”

“Then please pull up a chair and join us. You already know my partner. I keep no secrets from him. And this is Joselyn Cole, our resident mystic psychic for whom my head is a glass display case. She knows all my most intimate thoughts.”

He gives Joselyn a cautious once-over. “How do you do?”

“He’s joking,” she says and gives him a simpering smile.

“You want to talk here, it’s fine with me,” says Snyder. He drops a leather portfolio on the corner of the table next to Harry and grabs a chair. He slides it over and finishes up the foursome, sitting at the outside edge of the booth.

I flash the waiter to bring us menus. We take a couple of minutes and we order lunch. As soon as the waitress leaves, I turn and look at Snyder. “So what can I do for you?”

“I may as well cut to the chase. Why waste time?” he says. “I am told that my son discussed certain legal matters with you prior to his death. I want to know what these matters regarded, what the two of you talked about.”

“Who told you this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, because the information you’ve been given isn’t accurate. The fact is, I never met your son, never talked to him, never communicated with him in any way.”

“Listen, if you’re worried about violating privileged communications we can go to your office and talk. It won’t take five minutes. Besides, any privilege died with my son. I too am a lawyer,” he says. “And even if the privilege didn’t die, I’m the executor of my son’s estate. I stand in his shoes. So what you could say to him you can now say to me.”