Chamran chuckled.
“I don’t trust you.”
Graham laughed out loud. “I don’t trust anyone. But for the moment I require your assistance and your loyalty.” He leaned forward for emphasis. “If I can’t count you, I will kill you.”
“You might find that difficult,” al-Abbas shot back, despite the warning glance from Ziyax.
“It would be much easier for me than you could possibly imagine,” Graham said casually.
The wardroom fell silent for a beat.
“Assuming we make it past Norfolk without detection, and into the York River, what then?” Ziyax asked.
Graham didn’t answer at first, his eyes locked on al-Abbas. Finally the Libyan officer blinked and looked away.
“We found the physics packages for two nuclear weapons in the battery room,” Graham said. “We’re going to mate them with the two cruise missiles and fire them on Washington.”
Ziyax turned ashen. He shook his head. “I won’t be a party to this insanity. Colonel Quaddafi would never have authorized the transfer of this boat if he’d known your purpose.”
“I said that we found the nuclear weapons. We didn’t bring them with us, they were already aboard for us to find.”
Ziyax was struck dumb.
“It will be up to you to keep your crew in line,” Graham warned. “If need be we’ll kill them all, and operate the boat ourselves. It would be difficult, but not impossible for us to reach the Chesapeake and launch the missiles.”
“What about afterwards?” a subdued Ziyax asked. “Even in the confusion there’ll be a more than keen interest by the Americans to find out who launched against them.”
“We’ll lock out through the escape trunk. A shrimper will be waiting on the surface to pick us up, and take us out to sea where we’ll rendezvous with a Syrian freighter.” Graham shrugged. “Then it’s a very slow boat back to Tripoli where you will be home and I will take my leave.”
Ziyax passed a hand across his forehead as if he were trying to ease a headache. “You’re living in a world of fantasy,” he said tiredly. “We’ll all die, and I don’t know if I can convince my crew to do this thing. Perhaps they would rather die here fighting you than later in some American river.”
“Together we’ll convince the crew,” al-Hari said, speaking for the first time.
Ziyax turned to him. “How?”
“We’ve brought a message from Osama bin Laden,” al-Hari said.
“They may not care—”
“And from Colonel Quaddafi.”
No one said anything for a moment, especially the Libyans, who were struck dumb by the enormity of what they were facing.
“I would like you to pick two volunteers from among your men to mate the nuclear packages to the pair of cruise missiles, and load them into tubes one and two,” Graham said. “After all, they are Iraqi weapons, and until recently your Colonel Quaddafi professed an admiration for Saddam Hussein.”
No one had warned Kathleen that her husband was back. When he walked in the front door of the CIA safe house she came to the head of the stairs, a pistol in her hand, her eyes wide.
“My God,” she said, swallowing her words. “Kirk.” She was in blue jeans and a T-shirt, her feet bare, no makeup yet, her hair not done.
She looked beautiful to McGarvey. He wanted to leave with her right now this morning and return to their new life in Sarasota without ever looking back, never having to look over his shoulder for fear that someone out of his past was gaining on them. Some monster intent on doing them harm, as had happened so many times in the past. He and the people who loved him had endured their own personal tragedies as devastating as 9/11 had been for all Americans. He wanted it to finally end, even though he knew with every fiber of his being that it could never be over for him.
“Hi, Katy, I’m home,” he said, and smiled.
She laid the gun on the hall table and raced down the stairs to him, flying into his arms. “Are you all right? Are you all right?”
“Just a little tired. We didn’t get much sleep on the flight back. Where’d you get the gun?”
“Elizabeth got it for me, and showed me how to use it.” She parted and looked closely at him. “Did you do it?” she asked, her voice soft.
“No.”
She digested his answer for a moment then nodded. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat something,” McGarvey said, content for now to let her lead the discussion. But sooner or later they would get around to his next move.
He took off his jacket, hung it on the coat tree, and followed her into the pleasant kitchen where he sat down at the center island. The safe house that the CIA had provided them was not as large as their old house here, or the one in Casey Key, but it was well laid out and furnished. The Company used it to house VIP visitors whom they wanted to keep away from the opposition or out of the public eye. Sometimes a live-in staff was provided, but whenever anyone was in residence, like now, a security detail watched from a second-floor apartment across the street. The house was wired with sophisticated monitoring equipment.
“Where are your things?” Katy asked, pouring him a cup of coffee.
“I had to leave most of it behind,” he said. “We were in a hurry.”
“We?” Katy asked, setting his cup down in front of him.
“Gloria Ibenez came over to backstop me. Wasn’t for her I might have been in some trouble.”
Katy arched her left eyebrow. “Handy woman to have around in a pinch. I’ll have to thank her.” She smiled. “Bacon and eggs?”
“Sounds good,” McGarvey told her. His wife had never been much of a cook, but since they had gotten remarried after a long separation she had improved, although she tended to overcook everything. But he wasn’t complaining.
She busied herself with the food from the fridge and the pans and dishes, her back to her husband. “How much time do we have until you go back to finish the job?” she asked brightly. She turned to him and smiled. “Or would you have to kill me if you told me?”
“Only if you burned my eggs,” he said. “Anyway I won’t be going far for the next week or so. Maybe we’ll do something with the kids over the weekend. We could rent a boat and take Audrey for her first sailing lesson on the river.”
Katy started the bacon, and got out the bread for toast. “You have a timetable, which usually means something nasty is coming our way. Elizabeth refuses to tell me anything.”
“We’re working on it, Katy.”
“And I’ve never been able to get anything out of Todd,” Katy continued. Todd Van Buren was their son-in-law. “Of course Otto’s been in his own world lately and Louise claims she doesn’t know what’s going on.” Louise Horn was Rencke’s wife. She was working these days for the National Security Agency as director of its Satellite Photo Interpretation shop.
“They can’t tell you anything, mostly because, except for Otto, they’re not on the list,” McGarvey said.
Katy was suddenly brittle. She took a second frying pan out of the cupboard and slammed it on the stove. “I’m in the dark here, darling, and I goddamn well don’t like it!” She turned to him. “Toni Talarico’s husband came back to her in a body bag. Sorry sweetie, but your hubby died a hero, serving his country. Then they tried to kill her and the children at the funeral. Now what kind of shit is that?” Katy was practically screeching now.
McGarvey got up and went around to her, taking her in his arms. “Bob did die serving his country, and nobody was trying to kill Toni and the kids at Arlington.”