Fisher narrowed his gaze on her. “Did you ask him if he had any suspicions about this man Chern?”
“I did. And he wouldn’t talk about that. He’s says the oligarchs on our list must’ve been tipped off and fled, but all the intel assets in Asia and Europe have been alerted. When I informed him about the neutron generator and Natanz, he flatly denied that any Russian citizens would be involved. I told him that for a veteran politician he was acting rather naïve.”
“I agree,” said Grim.
“Honestly, though, he’s not my biggest problem right now. Israel’s Knesset is debating a preemptive air strike on the Natanz facility, and the country’s air force has already slipped into our equivalent of DEFCON One. Now this whole thing could turn into a Middle East powder keg.”
“Sounds like we’re going to Iran,” said Fisher.
Caldwell sighed in frustration, then finally nodded. “If I recall, you know your way around there, at least Quds Force headquarters, anyway. You’ll have my help.”
Grim was at the SMI table. “If we fly into Baghdad, we’re still looking at an eleven-hour road trip.”
“HALO jump?” Fisher asked.
Grim shook her head. “They’ve got some serious antiaircraft guns. There’s just no good way to get there. It’s smack in the middle of the desert.”
“We’ll work it out,” Fisher assured the president.
But they were wasting their time—
Because not six hours later, as they cruised over the Atlantic, Grim heard back from one of the Mossad ground agents assigned to be their eyes and ears on Natanz.
He breathlessly reported that one of his colleagues had been in a struggle with a perimeter guard and that both men had died. Just before his death, the agent had photographed traffic coming in and out of the facility — government cars, military vehicles, and various delivery trucks.
Even more importantly, he’d moved in close to a loading dock and had captured something large and draped in tarpaulins being transferred into a tractor trailer. The agent died before he could transmit those images, which were found stored on his camera.
“That has to be it,” Grim said. “They couldn’t attach the neutron generator in the field.”
“So they’ve built their bomb,” said Fisher.
Grim nodded. “And now it’s gone.”
31
Fisher balled his hands into fists as he scanned the data passing across the SMI’s display.
“I’m doing everything I can,” Grim said, clutching the edge of the table. “It’s just the photos weren’t very clear. We got no markings off the trailer. I talked to NCS, and they’re willing to send in a drone, but it might be too late. Satellite was out of range but it’s back up now. We’re still backtracking everything that came out of Natanz. We’ve got eyes on all shipping out of Iranian ports, we’ve alerted field ops on the ground there to provide HUMINT. I’ve just queried the SMI for primary targets, calling up those sites that’ve already used neutron generators—”
“Which is pretty much every oil well in the entire Middle East,” Fisher said.
“Not all of them,” said Grim. “But it’s a long list. The SMI predicts that they’re transporting the weapon south, toward Kuwait and Saudi Arabia.”
“All right, let’s go with what Charlie said — biggest bang for the buck. What oil well target would have the most repercussions on the American economy — because that’s what this is about, right? The oligarchs are trying to weaken us through a virus, a dirty bomb attack, and by taking out an oil target to jack up the price of their own crude and destabilize the entire market.”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Charlie said. “But we’ve finally received permission to land in Dubai. That should put us within range of potential targets. I’ve notified the flight deck.”
“What’s our ETA?”
“About twelve hours.”
“Damn, it’ll take them barely five hours to reach the coast,” said Fisher.
“And we’re not sure exactly when the tractor left Natanz, so it could be there already,” said Grim. “One among hundreds of tractor trailers moving in and out.”
“Flight deck,” Fisher called. “I need you to fly so fast the wings melt off. Do you read me?”
“Roger that, Sam. Best possible speed until the wings melt off.”
Fisher nodded and glanced to Grim. “Be right back.”
He headed to the infirmary, where he pulled Kasperov aside and spoke in Russian. “We were going to drop you off at Dulles, but time’s against us. We’re making a detour.”
“That’s all right. I assume I’m very safe here.”
“I guarantee that.”
“So it’s good we remain — but not for much longer. I do want to see my daughter. For now let me know if I can help with anything else.”
“I will.”
“Mr. Fisher, I’m sorry it’s come to this. The oligarchs do not represent the Russian people, only a tiny minority, like your so-called one percent.”
“I know. And the irony is, you and the rest of them, you got your money after the Soviet Union collapsed, so you were free to pursue greed at any cost.”
“Just like America?” Kasperov asked. “As if to say your Congress isn’t controlled by big businessmen?”
Fisher hesitated. “They’d never resort to this.”
“You don’t know that. Some men will do anything.”
“But not us, right? Not you. You did the right thing — and in my line of work, I don’t run into many people who have a conscience.”
Eleven hours and fifty-eight minutes later they landed at Dubai International Airport.
Fisher had barely slept, and Grim had refused to leave the SMI table, even as dark circles had formed under her eyes and a pot of coffee had slowly emptied behind her.
More tractor trailers had been followed, shipments examined. Three different helicopters that had left Natanz had also been tracked. Keyhole satellites, drones, and ground assets had come up empty. Fisher decided he had nothing to lose by calling on Kobin.
“Hey, asshole.”
Kobin snorted. “I thought we loved each other now.”
“I filed for divorce.”
“Nice.”
Fisher lifted his chin. “I need information.”
“What else is new?”
“Your guy find out anything on the Snow Maiden yet?”
“Still waiting on him.”
“Follow up. Right now we got a shipment out of Natanz we need to find.”
“Don’t be coy, Fisher. I know what you’re looking for. I eavesdrop on everything.”
“Then you already got something for me.”
“What the fuck? You think I got a guy in every city? A guy in Iran for God’s sake?”
“Why not? You sold weapons to the Blacklist Engineers. You didn’t care about that.” Fisher scowled.
Kobin took a step back, thought it over, opened his mouth, hesitated, then finally stammered and said, “Look, I got one guy down in Bandar Abbas, but that port’s pretty far south. Not sure why they’d send the container all the way down there. I’ll give him a call, but listen, I don’t think I have shit on this one. Wish I did.”
“Make the call.”
“Okay. And hey, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”
Fisher almost smiled. “You actually have brain cells left?”
“Seriously, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Fisher frowned.
“You know. For everything. The past is the past. I think we make a great team.”
Fisher took a step toward Kobin, staring him down. “You know what I think? I think it’s all about you. You’re not sorry. You’re just saving your ass here. What you’ve done for us is good. You helped us find Kasperov. Thank you. But let’s agree to just use each other and keep the apologies and this fantasy you have about joining our team out of the equation. Right now you’re a consultant — and that seems to work. Okay?”