Alex Lukeman - The Cup

Haddad stretched his arms and yawned. "I am going back as soon as I see what you have done. Al-Baghdadi wants a report on our progress."

"Tell him we are nearing completion."

"When will the work be finished?"

"If all goes well, less than a week. The bomb is already partially assembled."

"Be careful, Rashid. This is not the time for you to walk the martyr's path. You are too valuable to lose."

"I survived the incompetence of Saddam's sons and the missiles of the Americans," Rashid said. "I can survive this. Don't worry, my brother. I have no desire for paradise just yet. Come, let me show you what I have accomplished."

The cave extended back into the hill for almost a hundred yards. The floor had been smoothed over and rooms dug out of the sides. Supplies and sleeping arrangements for the guards took up the first half of the cave. There were always at least a dozen men awake and on duty while the others slept. They cooked only at night, inside the cave, so heat from the fire would not register on the satellites passing overhead.

The rest of the cave was sealed off by plastic sheeting hung from the ceiling. A heavy table mounted on a four wheeled platform was visible through the plastic. Rashid's bomb sat on top of it.

Rashid took out a dosimeter and placed it on Haddad's shirt. He took out another for himself and pinned it on. He held the plastic aside for Haddad to enter the room.

"Is it safe?"

"Quite safe," Rashid said. "The dosimeter is a routine precaution. The plutonium is stored in that container by the wall. The enriched uranium is on the other side. As long as everything remains sealed in its container, there is no danger. Everything will be prepared before hand for the final assembly. I will be wearing a radiation suit to protect me."

"Is there any chance of an accidental explosion?"

"As long as the trigger is not detonated, no. This is a very basic design, a gun-type weapon. We do not have the equipment for something more sophisticated, but it is of little importance."

"How does it work?"

"A charge of Semtex is detonated to begin the process. The explosion shoots a quantity of enriched uranium at high velocity into another compact mass of enriched uranium. That provides the critical mass needed to set off the chain reaction. It's very inefficient but highly effective. I will pack plutonium around it. The plutonium will not detonate but it will create a lethal cloud of dust. This will be a very dirty bomb. The ground will be poisoned for thousands of years, for miles around."

Jaffari had built his bomb inside a metal chest the size of a footlocker, the kind of container that could be found on any construction site or oil rig. The lid was open. Wires ran from a digital panel and counter on the inside of the lid, the down into the interior.

"As you can see," Rashid said, "I have not yet added the final components. Once everything is in place, the panel is ready for programming. The bomb can easily be moved in a van or truck. It is a true accomplishment to make this from what was available."

Rashid's voice resonated with pride.

"Is it dangerous to transport?"

"Until it has been programmed to fire it is safe, but there will be some radiation leakage. Those who deliver the weapon to the target must be prepared for martyrdom."

"There will be no shortage of volunteers," Haddad said. "This is a mission that will bring great honor to them."

"Sometimes I wonder what use honor is to someone who has died to gain it," Rashid said.

Haddad looked at him in surprise. "You had better not let others hear you say that. It might be taken the wrong way."

"I know, I know," Rashid said. "You are my oldest friend, Abdul. If I cannot trust you then I am lost."

Haddad embraced him. "You are not lost, my brother. Take your doubts to Allah in prayer. Now I must return."

The two men walked back to the entrance of the cave.

"Drive slowly," Rashid said. "The American satellites are very good at paying attention to dust trails."

It was late afternoon when their flight arrived in Milan. Nick rented a red Alfa Romeo, a brand-new Giulia. Two hundred and seventy six Italian horses that could hit a hundred and fifty on a good day. Selena smiled when she saw the car. She got behind the wheel and plugged the location into her GPS. They headed out of the airport and the city toward Mercurio's Villa in the foothills of the mountains.

"Nice country," Nick said.

Lamont leaned over the front seat and pointed at a range of snowcapped mountains not far away.

"Those the Italian Alps?"

Selena nodded. "Hannibal crossed them during the Second Punic War to take on the Romans. It was quite a feat, one of the great military accomplishments in ancient times."

"He the guy with the elephants?" Ronnie asked.

"Yes. If you were a Roman soldier, it must've been a terrifying sight when Hannibal came down out of the mountains with them. In the end, it didn't make any difference. The Romans won."

"Man, I'll take a doped up jihadi with an AK any day over a pissed off elephant trying to stomp on me," Lamont said.

The approach to Mercurio's Villa was along a country road bordered by hedges and tall trees. They started passing a high stone wall on the right. Selena was watching her GPS.

"Were getting close. The entrance should be up here on the right."

"This wall must border his property," Nick said.

They came to a pair of closed, black wrought iron gates. In the center of the gates, the iron had been worked into an elaborate crest. A call box was mounted on one of the stone columns supporting the gates. Nick lowered his window and pressed the call button.

"Chi è, per favore?"

The voice from the speaker belonged to a woman.

"What did she say?" Nick asked.

"She asked who it was," Selena said. She leaned across the seat and spoke into the speaker.

"Vogliamo parlare con il conte."

"Conte Mercurio non riceve visitatori."

"Digli Anastasio ci ha inviato".

The speaker was silent.

"What was all that about?" Ronnie asked.

"I told her we wanted to speak with the count. She said he wasn't receiving. I told her to tell him Anastasius sent us."

"Good one," Lamont said.

There was a loud click. The lock on the gates released and they swung open. Nick put the car in gear.

The drive to the villa was paved with white gravel that crunched under their tires. It was immaculate, not a weed in sight, bordered on either side by a long row of Italian cypress trees. Each tree was planted exactly the same distance from the next. The manicured, green grass bordering the drive would have done justice to a world-class golf course.

They came around a curve and saw the villa, a three-story, yellow building with a red tile roof. It sat at the foot of a steep slope where the mountains began. A wide, shaded veranda on the second floor faced the drive. On the right, the ground sloped sharply away from the drive, down to a flat area and a long, rectangular swimming pool surrounded by trees and flowers. The water in the pool was still and dark.

"Nice digs," Lamont said. "What does this guy do again?"

"He produces olive oil," Nick said. "A lot of it."

"Like the Godfather?"

"Harker says he's one of the good guys."

"Everyone's a good guy to somebody," Lamont said.

An unsmiling, middle-aged woman in a blue dress that reached down to a pair of black, sturdy shoes waited for them by the entrance to the villa. A colonnaded portico extended out over the entry. Nick parked the car under it and turned to Ronnie and Lamont in the back seat.

"I don't want to spook him. It might be better if the two of you stayed in the car while Selena and I go in."