“We were loading the last barrels when the chopper appeared. We were ready for it but somehow the stupid raghead missed. It was a MI-8, for Christ’s sake, as big as a barn, and the damn fool only managed a glancing shot with an RPG. From the amount of fire we got after it crashed, I estimated most of the soldiers survived, so rather than get into a pitched battle I ordered us out.”
“But you decided not to go with the train?” Popov asked slyly.
Poli remained grim. “As was my plan all along, just in case something happened to the train. I wanted to make sure I got some of the plutonium here. I heard the train wreck as I drove out of the valley, and saw the fire. Even if I went back, there’s no way we’re going to recover those barrels.”
“How many did you manage to bring with you?”
“Two.”
Popov nodded. “More than enough for their current operation.”
“Good, because I am done with this operation,” Feines remarked.
“You’re not going after the alembic?”
“This operation has been a lot more than I anticipated,” Poli admitted. “I thought I’d find what I needed in Africa, only to learn your army beat me to it by a half century. Then I thought I had it from the samples the American recovered and shipped home on the Wetherby. I have the pictures I took of the stele, which might reveal the alembic’s location, but your information about the old depot led me to complete the project. I’m out of it now.”
“I don’t blame you,” Popov said. “I’m glad my only part in this thing was giving you information about the cache in Samarsskaya.”
“You mean selling me that information.”
Popov shot him an oily smile. “We’ve known each other for a lot of years, Poli, but business is business and helping you smuggle nuclear matériel out of Russia, well let’s just say my conscience needed a little help accepting it. In truth I wouldn’t have given that information to anyone but you, because I know you couldn’t let these crazy bastards do anything to us.”
It sounded like a question to Poli. In truth he had just a vague notion of what the people paying him were going to do with the plutonium, and given the amount of money he’d receive, he really didn’t care. He doubted the little village in Bulgaria he planned to return to was a terrorist target, so nothing they did would affect him personally. Let them nuke the States and then face her wrath. It wasn’t his problem anymore. “What about Mercer and the other survivors at the mine?” he asked.
“Federov reports directly to me. I am supposed to be there tomorrow when the real train arrives. I will tell the engineer and his crew that Federov needs more time. They’ll be isolated for a few days at least.”
“Good.” Feines considered driving back up there with a sniper rifle and at least killing Philip Mercer, but he didn’t want to rush his hunt. He would make certain he and Mercer met soon enough.
Popov motioned for the other man to join them. “I don’t believe you two have actually been introduced formally. Poli Feines, may I present the deputy oil minister of Saudi Arabia, currently stationed at the United Nations overseeing charitable contributions from the cartel, Mohammad bin Al-Salibi, your employer.”
Al-Salibi shook Feines’s hand but there was a cold reserve behind his handsome face. “I understand that you ran into a setback.” He spoke with a slight British accent from having prepped and gone to university in England.
“Philip Mercer.”
“Not the Janissaries this time.”
“No, it was Mercer.”
“Resourceful man.”
“A man on borrowed time.”
“He’s not a priority to me,” the Saudi ambassador said.
“This is personal,” Poli snarled.
“Let’s go into the office,” Popov suggested. “A little coffee is in order, I think.”
The fish processing plant’s office was as unkempt as the plant itself. It stank of fish oil, and the furniture in the reception area was stained from years of supporting the backsides of dirty fishermen. Popov got the coffee machine brewing and poured when it was ready.
“How much ore do you have?” Al-Salibi asked.
“There are two barrels in the back of the UAZ. I estimate about a thousand pounds’ worth.”
“For curiosity’s sake how much was at the mine depot?”
“Tons of it. We loaded sixty-eight barrels onto the train before Mercer showed.”
A wistful look crossed the ambassador’s face as he considered what could be done with such a deadly cache.
Even for a stone killer like Poli Feines the look was disquieting. “That fishing boat out there,” he said just to cut the eerie silence, “is that the one they are going to use?”
“Yes. It was stolen a week ago in Albania. Her name’s been changed of course so she’s completely untraceable.”
“And your crew?”
“Are ready to travel to Turkey and are most eager to martyr themselves.”
After the fire had died down some Mercer and Cali checked the wreckage for survivors, first tying strips of cloth over their noses and mouths in case any of the barrels had ruptured. Neither was surprised that no one had survived the crash and subsequent explosion, but both were relieved that the barrels they could see in the twisted pile of railcars remained intact.
They set out for the long walk up the tracks back to the mine, Mercer using a stout branch as a crutch. At dusk they built a fire and slept in its rosy glow, Cali cradled in Mercer’s arm, her silky hair caressing his face. They reached the mine two hours after sunrise. The Russians were camped near the remains of the helicopter. Ludmilla, the heavyset scientist, was cooking rations scavenged from the chopper, while the other scientist and the pilot, who’d run from the gunfight because he had no weapons, tended an injured man. When they got close they could see it was Sasha Federov.
Mercer hobbled up and knelt next to the soldier, grinning. “I was certain that RPG had your number on it.”
“Bah,” Federov dismissed with a pained smile. “Nothing more than a little shrapnel in my shoulder and one hell of a headache. Did you stop the train?”
“Derailed it about twenty miles down the valley. No one got off at their last stop.”
“I’m afraid someone didn’t get on it at this one.”
Mercer’s relief that Federov had survived turned to instant concern. “What are you saying?”
“Yesterday I sent Yuri, the pilot, down to the tracks. One of the UAZs was there, its engine destroyed by gunfire, so we couldn’t use it. The other was gone.”
“Son of a bitch,” Mercer shouted and got to his feet. “Fucking Poli. He took off in the truck knowing I was going after the train.”
“Do you think he had any of the barrels?”
“Yes, goddamn it. There wasn’t enough time to load the last two. I had assumed Poli would have cut his losses and left them behind.”
“What are we going to do?” Cali asked.
“Sasha, how long before your superiors send someone out here when they don’t hear from us?”
“Do not worry, my friend. The real train should arrive sometime today.”
“Thank God.”
“That still gives him a day’s head start,” Cali pointed out. “Those barrels could be anywhere in the world by then.”
Her remark soured Mercer’s mood even further. She was right and he began to understand the stress of her job. Being right ninety-nine percent of the time when dealing with nuclear materials wasn’t good enough. He’d stopped Poli from carrying off tons of the plutonium ore but failed to prevent a couple of barrels from slipping away. How many people would die because he screwed up? In theory that was enough plutonium to irradiate dozens of square miles or the water supply of an entire city.