Читать книгу Aim And Fire - Cliff Ryder - Страница 9

Kate Cochran, the director of Room 59, stared straight into the muzzle of a sleek SIG Sauer P-229 9 mm pistol.

“Just stay cool and do as they say. He’s bluffing, trying to rattle you.” She sucked in a breath and waited, unable to do anything else. “Keep it together and stick to the plan.”

The man she was speaking to—who couldn’t hear her at all—was in a small building in the town of Panamik, on the Nubra River in Kashmir. He kept his hands raised as he said in perfect Pakistani, “I am unarmed—I am just a college professor. I was hoping this kind of treatment wouldn’t be necessary.”

The man holding the pistol nodded to two other men, who grabbed the speaker’s arms and spun him around, smacking his hands against the wall of the abandoned building where they all stood. One of the men patted him down for weapons. The other reached for the briefcase at his feet. He then shoved the professor away, whirling him to face the pistol-wielding man, who shoved his weapon right into the Pakistani’s face.

“That is not for you! Not until you show me what I have come for!” the professor said.

Half a world away in New York City, Kate held her breath, hoping that her floater hadn’t just bluffed himself into a bullet in his brain. Although she could see and hear everything, she couldn’t lift a finger to help him. There were two other men who were supposed to be working with him, but they also had pistols pointed at their heads and couldn’t come to his aid without getting shot. The entire deal now hinged on a stare-down with a ruthless Russian arms merchant who had already proved he would kill if he suspected even the slightest hint of a double cross.

For a long moment, no one moved. The Russian shifted his grip on the pistol, his eyes emotionless. “I should kill you where you stand for such an insult. But you also show courage to stand up to an armed man with nothing but your conviction to protect you. I can respect that.” He lowered his pistol, and both the Pakistani and Kate breathed a sigh of relief.

Room 59 had spent six months subverting elements of the Pakistani terrorist group Lashkar-e-Omar, which had coalesced out of at least three smaller terrorist groups in 2002. Since then, the organization had been linked to several bombings, including a hotel and the U.S. Embassy in Kashmir. The terrorists also had ties to the men involved in the abduction and murder of the journalist Daniel Pearl. Now they were planning to up the stakes of their game considerably.

The group, which was battling for control of the disputed region of Kashmir with several other factions, had been negotiating to acquire a nuclear weapon on the black market for several months. Room 59 had placed an operative close to a nuclear scientist, Professor Osman Shirazi, a zealous patriot who wanted Kashmir brought into Pakistan’s fold by any means necessary. Through a carefully arranged series of meetings, the Room 59 operative had finally learned the master plan to acquire a nuclear weapon and set it off while planting evidence that the Indian government was responsible for the attack. The goal was to begin serious talks with pro-Pakistani elements in the Kashmiri government to unite against India.

Professor Shirazi thought he was purchasing the weapon on behalf of Lashkar-e-Omar, but in reality he was being played by the operative in hopes he would lead him to senior members of the group. The terrorist group’s ultimate plan was to absorb Kashmir into Pakistan, but if Kate and her people had their way, the weapon they planned on using to set that in motion was about to disappear.

The ultrasecret nongovernmental agency Room 59, charged with keeping peace throughout the world through just about whatever means possible, always had an interest in removing nuclear bombs from the world stage. The easiest way to do this was to simply purchase them from whoever was selling, and dispose of the weapons at a top-secret facility designed for just such a purpose. If they could strike blows against both the terrorist groups looking to buy or sell these weapons, as well as the arms dealers who trafficked in them, then it was three birds down with one well-placed stone. However, that assumed that the floater didn’t get himself killed, as Shirazi almost had a few seconds ago. But as on several previous occasions in the past months, the uptight professor’s strange knack for wriggling out of mortal danger had saved him again.

“It is good that you see reason. Tell your associates that there is no need to hold my friends hostage. I am here for a simple business transaction, that is all,” the professor said.

“This man still might talk himself into a shallow grave before this is over,” Kate said. Her gold-green eyes glanced at another window, where a lean, fox-faced Chinese man was also observing. Pai Kun, Room 59’s director of Asian operations, had been instrumental in helping insert their operative, who was waiting to take delivery of the nuclear device as soon as the transaction was completed. It was the epitome of a Room 59 operation—using local resources who didn’t even know they were being used to complete the mission, which had been going smoothly, except for the momentary unpleasantness just then.

“Shirazi’s psych profile indicated he would react to a threat by not backing down, but he also wouldn’t turn completely belligerent, either. If he had caved, they would walk all over him. Hard as it is to believe, he’s doing exactly what we need right now,” she said to Kun. Although when this is over, someone should talk to him about his negotiating tactics, Kate thought, sweeping a lock of platinum-blond hair out of her eyes. She watched the situation through Shirazi’s glasses, which had been replaced by their operative and contained a miniature camera that recorded everyone the professor looked at. The signal was transmitted back to Room 59 analysts so they could match the faces with known terrorists and arms dealers.

Kate was particularly interested in this seller. Alexei Kryukov, a former Spetsnaz commander, had found the black market much more lucrative than working for his government. He’d made tens of millions buying and selling weapons. He had already fought his way out of one bust set up by Room 59, leaving an operative in the hospital, and had relocated to Southeast Asia, playing the local sides against each other and profiting every time.

The heavy-set Russian’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded at his men, who lowered their pistols and stepped away from Shirazi’s companions. Everyone in the room visibly relaxed, and the professor picked up the briefcase and walked over to the Russian.

“So, where is it?”

Kryukov shook his head. “You will need to open that case and show me the diamonds first. Your purchase is nearby—that I guarantee.”

“All right, Shirazi, give them a taste,” Kate said. Her breath caught as she steeled herself for another outburst from the Pakistani, but he nodded and gave the case to one of his associates to hold while he spun the combinations and opened the catches, revealing a half-dozen velvet bags, all nestled in cutouts in a block of foam padding. Selecting the one on the lower right, he opened it and poured out a dozen glittering, clear gems in his palm, holding it out to the arms dealer.

“Examine any one you wish,” he said.

Kryukov had already taken a jeweler’s loupe from his pocket and placed it over his right eye. He plucked a small stone out of the other man’s hand and held it up to the broken window, letting the sun’s weak rays shine through the diamond. He turned it one way, then another, examining every facet. He did this with two more, then lowered his hand and nodded. “They are acceptable. Come with me into the next room so you can verify your merchandise.”

Kate and Pai Kun watched as Shirazi trailed the Russian into a smaller, windowless room containing a wooden table and a metal-framed, aluminum-sided case about fifteen inches long, a foot wide and six inches high. There was no indication that it held something that could destroy a medium-size city or lay waste to twenty blocks of a major metropolitan area.

“The case is lead lined, so we are perfectly safe. I have left it unlocked so that you may examine it to be sure it is what we had agreed upon,” Kryukov said.

The nuclear scientist flipped open the catches, his eyes never leaving Kryukov’s face as he opened the top. “Part of the arsenal created in the 1980s, yes?” he asked. After the other man’s nod, he continued, “The power source is still viable?” He took a small Geiger counter from his inside jacket pocket and ran it over the top of the case, apparently satisfied with the reading.

Kate stared at the open case in detached fascination. The interior was framed in about two inches of metal all around, and contained a tube about two inches in diameter that rested diagonally in the case. She knew exactly how it operated—the discus-shaped plutonium core was surrounded by a cylinder of high explosive, that, when detonated, would create an implosion that compressed the plutonium on all sides, making it a perfect sphere, and causing it to reach supercritical mass, with a mushroom cloud to follow.

“The battery system has been maintained on an annual basis, the explosives have been verified, as well, and the transmitter that would normally alert my former employers of low or failing power has been disabled—no sense in having them track this down before you are ready to use it, da?”

“And the yield?” Shirazi asked.

“Ten kilotons, suitable for any purpose from urban terrorism to the destruction of infrastructure or other targets of opportunity. But of course, that is none of my business,” the Russian replied.

“True. It is perfect, and is certainly acceptable.” Shirazi closed the case and snapped shut the latches, then held out the briefcase full of diamonds. “I will have my men take this out immediately. Thank you very much.”

“It has been my pleasure.” Kryukov hefted the case, which, along with the four million dollars in diamonds, also contained a transmitter that would enable Room 59 to track his location at all times. Kate expected him to get rid of the case as soon as was practical, but she hoped he would take it to one of his hideouts in the area, enabling them to set up surveillance there.

Although they had considered using their operative to make the buy, the ex-Spetsnaz’s legendary ability to smell a setup, coupled with his earlier escape in Russia, had convinced Kate to use a committed floater who had no idea of the true nature of his mission. The buyer had to believe his own story down to the last detail, and Shirazi’s fanaticism had shone through every second.

“All right, now get out of there before the Russians—or you—decide to pull something stupid,” she muttered. Kate leaned forward as if she could force the professor out of the building by sheer willpower alone.

Pai Kun sipped from a china cup before replying. “That is hardly likely. It wouldn’t help Kryukov’s reputation if his clients ended up dead.”

“No, but if he was already gone when his backup team terminated Shirazi and his boys, he’d get his nuke back to resell and could blame the deaths on the Indians. That’s the problem with this business, Pai—you just can’t trust anyone.” Kate knew what she spoke of all too well. She’d seen many good operatives lost in the line of duty. Although they all accepted the risks of the job, it was always a blow to Kate. No matter what, they couldn’t afford to lose Shirazi until after he had delivered the nuke to her operative.

She watched as Shirazi brought his two men in to carry the case to a waiting car and told them to stow the weapon in the trunk. “Notify Alpha they’re on their way. ETA ten minutes,” she said. Once he had the weapon and was away, they could either burn the professor, leaving him to be killed by the Lashkar-e-Omar members once he failed to deliver the device, or attempt to openly recruit him by providing protection or even exfiltrating him out of the country if necessary in exchange for information on other terrorist members and future plans.

The Room 59 comm operative signaled for Kate’s attention. “Alpha has received and confirmed delivery time of package. Primary, you may want to hear this—the men in the car are talking.”

Kate enhanced the audio as she watched one of the men in the backseat draw a pistol and pull back the slide. “You’re sure he is a traitor?” Shirazi asked.

“I spoke to our contact in al-Rashid, who assured me that this Muhammad Alavi is not a member of the Islamabad cell as he had claimed. We are to capture him and find out whom he is really working for, then dispose of him.”

Kate and Pai Kun exchanged glances. “Our cover package was supposed to be airtight,” Kate said.

“Unfortunately, it seems that wasn’t the case,” Kun replied, sounding alarmed.

Kate raised her communications suite. “Notify Alpha that his package handlers are hostile—repeat, the handlers are hostile. He is to terminate all of them upon delivery and proceed with secondary departure plan. Pai, your men are in place?”

“Of course. All Alpha will have to do is head north to the Chinese border. My men will handle the rest. We’ll be able to get him and the package safely off the continent.”

“Good. Has the message been transmitted?” Kate asked.

The young woman in Australia who was serving as Room 59’s communications suite operator replied, “I have transmitted the message, but have not received the acknowledgment yet.”

“Why not? Is he off air?” Kate asked.

“It appears that the satellite we were routing through has malfunctioned somehow. Am moving to backup communications system.”

“I do not want to see our operative killed or this loose nuke slip through our fingers. Keep trying until you raise him. Pai, can you establish contact on your end?” Kate could only watch as Shirazi led the two other men in prayer, asking for strength as they prepared to capture the infidel plotting against them. Her stomach twisted as she watched the three men pervert the essentially peaceful message of Islam to suit their own twisted ends.

“My people are working on it now. Although the area is remote, we shouldn’t be having this much trouble.”

The seconds stretched out into longer silence as Kate and her counterpart in China waited for word that their operative had been warned, all the while keeping their eyes glued to the rough mountain road the professor’s car traveled along on its way to capture their man.

“Primary, this is comm. I’ve established contact with Alpha and have received confirmation that he has received the message. Repeat, he has received the message.”

“Comm, acknowledged. Let him know that the two men in the rear seats are armed, and the one on the left should be considered the primary threat.” Kate sat back in her chair and opened a split screen on her touch-interactive monitor. It allowed her to keep tabs on the professor, her operative, Kryukov’s location and the route her man would follow out of Kashmir, via satellite feeds all on one screen in real time.

The car turned onto a small dirt road that led into the surrounding mountains. White-capped peaks were visible in the distance. They continued up the road for another few minutes, then pulled into what barely qualified as a clearing in the road, more of a wide spot where the steep walls receded slightly.

Standing near the wall was Room 59’s operative, a man whose real name was Robert Lashti. He huddled in a hooded parka, hands in his pockets, shifting from one foot to the other to keep warm. His car, a four-wheel-drive Range Rover, was parked on the other side of the space. The sun was setting as the three men got out of their car, and Professor Shirazi hailed him with the traditional greeting.

He reached out to shake Lashti’s hand, most likely to distract him from the other two men, who would then subdue him, Kate thought. She watched as Lashti extended his right hand to clasp Shirazi’s, and as he gripped it, Kate saw a puff of down feathers erupt from the left-hand pocket of his coat as he shot the Pakistani professor in the abdomen. Shirazi stumbled away and collapsed as his two henchmen, their eyes wide with shock, struggled to draw their own weapons. Firing from the hip, the Room 59 operative dispatched the man on the left with two shots to his chest, leaving the third man to sprint to the still-running car. Diving into the driver’s seat, he gunned it and aimed straight for Robert, who had taken his pistol from his pocket and sighted down the barrel at the driver.

“Somebody tell me that man isn’t playing chicken with a live suitcase nuke in the trunk of his car.” Kate gritted her teeth in anticipation of her operative getting mowed down by the wildly plunging vehicle, but the real-time satellite feed showed a different story.

Lashti fired one shot as the car hurtled toward him. The bullet punched through the windshield and into the driver’s skull, causing him to slump over the steering wheel. Immediately the car began slowing, and Lashti stepped aside to let it pass. Gravity and lack of acceleration completed his job as the car crunched into the wall of the pass at about fifteen meters per hour, then stalled.

Exhaling a white plume of breath into the night air, Lashti checked the two men on the ground, ensuring that both were dead and snatching the glasses off Shirazi’s nose as he did. He walked to the car, opened the trunk and lifted out the metal case, carrying it to his Range Rover. Opening the back, he set the case down inside, then slid open a hidden compartment in the side wall of the SUV’s cargo area. He withdrew a device resembling a large, smooth steel can set on its side. It had a handle on top, with two smaller cylinders sticking out of its back, and rested on four short legs. Flipping a power switch, he waited for it to warm up and flipped open the catches on the case. After checking a small display screen, he picked up the device and played the large end over the entire case. Frowning, he did so again, then a third time.

“This does not look good.” Pai Kun’s normally calm features shared a furrow of unease with their operative, who had flipped open his encrypted sat phone.

“This is Primary. Go, Alpha,” Kate said.

“Primary, this is Alpha at Mountainview. The handlers are dead. However, the package is a fake. I repeat, the package is a fake. This is U-235—my guess is from spent fuel rods. I’ll bet the detonation material is also fake, as well. We’ve been scammed.”

“Alpha, say again—are you sure?”

“I’ve scanned this three times, and I get the same exact reading. That suitcase nuke is still out there somewhere. Either Kryukov was running a double cross or he thought he had the real thing and didn’t, but if that was the case, it was good enough to fool him, as well.”

Pai Kun stroked his chin. “If the case and workings are the real thing, and it gave off radiation, why would he have any reason to believe that this was not an operational weapon?”

“True—assuming he wasn’t pulling the double cross in the first place. Alpha?” Kate said.

“I’m here. What are your instructions?” the operative replied.

“Sanitize the area, then head back to Panamik. We’ll put you on Kryukov’s trail as soon as possible. Good work.”

“Thanks, but not good enough. Will await further instructions in Panamik. Alpha out.”

Kate killed the connection, her mind racing with possibilities. Did Kryukov double-cross the terrorists? Why, other than the obvious reasons? If he did or didn’t was almost irrelevant. Who has it now?

She sent a quick message to all of the Room 59 analysts scattered around the globe. “Keep alert for any mention of loose nukes originating either from Russia or Pakistan, no matter how tenuous or far-fetched. Alert me priority with any information you come across.”