It had become a gigantic job of collation. Each possible target vessel had to be studied carefully to make certain it was of the proper size.
But although the Tomahawk missile was heavy, it was only twenty-one feet long; it wouldn’t take a very large boat to handle it. Assuming the missile was going to be fired sometime tonight, and from a spot somewhere within the vicinity of the Syrian or Lebanese coasts, there was another limiting factor. If the missile had been transferred from the Indianapolis in the early morning hours (and there was still no proof of that), then it would take time to cross the nearly eight hundred miles of sea. With each target, once its speed was determined, they extrapolated backward, to see if the vessel could have been off the coast of Greece at the proper moment. “That is, if they’re going to fire the missile from that close” Ainslie said. McGarvey looked up from the situation table and rubbed his eyes. None of them had gotten any rest, and all of them were becoming edgy. Ainslie had been talking to Admiral Delugio, who looked and acted like a wounded bear on the verge of going on a rampage. ‘-What are you saying to me, Mal” the admiral growled.
“Just this, Admiral. We’ve got no guarantee that McGarvey is right. If I were this Kurshin, I would be getting rid of the missile at the first possible opportunity. They’ve been within firing range the whole time”
“They might have doubled back, is that it”
“Yes, sir. By now they could be anywhere. Anywhere at all. And once it gets dark we’re not going to have a chance in hell of finding them”
“What are you suggesting”
“Convince the president to go public” Ainslie said after a brief hesitation. “Gorbachev wouldn’t dare go ahead with it”
“it wouldn’t work” McGarvey said. They looked over at him. “Why not”
Delugio demanded. “Because Gorbachev and the Politburo know nothing about it, that’s why. This is a Baranov plot. It doesn’t go beyond him.
And you can bet he’s got his alibis. Whatever happens or doesn’t happen, his hands are going to be clean”
“Bullshit” Ainslie swore. “You’ve got this Baranov sonofabitch on the brain. The man is the head of the KGB, and a Politburo member.
Responsible men do not do these kinds of things” McGarvey laughed tiredly. “You don’t know what you’re talking about”
“It’s a goddamned vendetta. I’ve seen the report, McGarvey. You fucked up two years ago, and although you managed to stop the missile launch in Germany, you fucked up again by not stopping this Kurshin you’re so hot to go after. And less than two months ago you fucked up again, nearly getting yourself killed in the process”
“Besides, his target is Israel, not the States, is that it” McGarvey said tightly. He was beginning to lose his temper. “Get out of here, McGarvey. We don’t need your kind. You’re nothing but a hired gun, and from where I’m standing it doesn’t look like you’re even worth a damn at that”
Trotter, who had been talking on the phone across the room, put it down.
“Kirk” he called in warning. “Admiral, call Admiral O’Malley” Ainslie said. “He can take this to the president. Before it’s too late. And order this maniac out of here. This is a Navy matter. The CIA will just fuck it up”
McGarvey was around the big table in three steps. He grabbed a handful of Ainslie’s uniform blouse with his left hand, the big Graz Buyra he had taken from the Grosser Miiggelsee boathouse in his right, the barrel pressed into the soft flesh beneath the man’s chin. “Stand down, mister”
Delugio roared. “I’ve come up against this sonofabitch before, Ainslie, and you’re right, I did fuck up McGarvey said through clenched teeth.
“He wants to unseat Gorbachev and become party secretary himself. If Kurshin pulls this off for him, Baranov just may succeed, and then you and the Navy will definitely have a problem”
“Mister, that’s a direct order” Delugio was shouting, but McGarvey ignored him. “But he’s counting on assholes like you to help him do his work. Going public with this now will only delay our search, giving him plenty of time to do what he’s set out to do. Admiral Delugio had snatched a .45 automatic from one of the Marine guards and he jammed the barrel into the back of McGarvey’s head. “Lower your weapon now” he said.
McGarvey cocked the Graz Buyra’s hammer. “Let me get on with my job, Admiral”
“We’ll talk about it. First put down your weapon”
“He very nearly succeeded in Ramstein, and this time he managed to steal one of your submarines and kill her crew. He won’t stop”
“Kirk” Trotter shouted again from across the room McGarvey did not divert his stare from Ainslie’s bulgin eyes. “We’re not giving this up, John”
“Killing him won’t do any good” a familiar voice said. McGarvey glanced toward the door. Lev Potok and his number two, Abraham Liebowitz, both of them dressed in battle fatigues, stood there. “Who in hell let them in here”
Delugio bellowed. “I did” Trotter said. ““They’re Mossad”
“Kirk, I know where your missile is” Potok said. “Or at least I think I do. We’ve got a chance now to stop him”
“The U-2 flight”
“Yes. I’ve brought the photographs with me. But we need your information to make sure. And it will be dark very soon. We don’t have much time”
McGarvey slowly lowered his weapon, uncocked the hammer, and holstered it. “Stay the hell out of my way, Ainslie” he said. “And put that goddamned gun down, Admiral” Delugio lowered the .45 after a beat.
Ainslie had staggered backward, rubbing at his throat. “Arrest this man!
Now”
“Shut the fuck up” Admiral Delugio snapped. He turned to Potok and Liebowitz. “As you say, gentlemen, we don’t have much time. Let’s see what you’ve got” A space was cleared on the situation table. Potok unsnapped his briefcase and quickly laid out a batch of photographs that the U-2 had taken on her overflight of the coastlines of Syria and Lebanon. McGarvey picked up a magnifying glass and studied the images of a large boat with a white hull. A red cross had been painted on each side of her sleek hull. The foredeck Was littered with crates. In one photograph he could mak out the lettering. Lieutenant Newman had picked up another magnifyin glass and he too studied the photographs. When he looked up he shook his head. “Won’t wash” he said. “Why” Potok asked.
“This is the Motor Vessel Stephos, right” Potok nodded.
“That’s the Red Cross ship out of Athens that your people checked out, wasn’t it” Newman asked Ainslie. At first the man said nothing, but a look from Delugii got him started. “Yes. It’s a legitimate Red Cross vessel”
“Did you have a chance to find out where she was sailing to” Potok asked. o, Ainslie admitted. “She was a legitimate ship, an(there just wasn’t enough time to mess with it” “Besides” McGarvey said, “we discounted her because of the timing. At twenty knots or so she wouldn’t have been able to make it from the Greek coast, where we think the missile was transferred, this far east”