“No! I told you what you wanted to know. If you kill me, you and Chutani will never get past my men alive.”
“You should have never agreed to let Chutani’s people take the east side of the runway, General. I’ve got five drones circling overhead and they’re going to rain hell down on your forces while the president’s men take cover behind the buildings. Then it’ll just be a matter of cleaning up the mess.”
The story was only partially true. The drones were there, but Rapp had no idea if the wrecked buildings would hold up to the firestorm they were capable of unleashing.
“There is an alternative,” Rapp said.
“What?”
“You take me to those nukes and resign.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t be stupid, General. You have what? A hundred and twenty million dollars squirreled away in accounts all over the world? Take your family and your mistresses to London. Buy a mansion and live the good life. Or die here. Now. In this shithole.”
Shirani looked at the president. “Are you sure about this? Are you sure that your position is strong enough to survive the retaliation of the army?”
Chutani shook his head. “I’m not sure, Umar. But you’ve lost control of our nuclear arsenal and put weapons-grade plutonium in the hands of fanatics. One way or another, this must end. Our country and our arsenal must come under responsible civilian control. If we both die here in an effort to achieve that, so be it.”
CHAPTER 28
PRESIDENT Chutani had returned to Islamabad, leaving Rapp with a contingent of his top men. The string of armored vehicles containing them stretched out in front of and behind the one he was sharing with General Shirani. The road was well maintained but the sand from the empty plain had blown across it in places, occasionally bogging down the convoy.
Now, though, their destination was finally in view. A half mile away, Rapp saw a massive building shimmering in the heat. It was unremarkable in every way-a squat rectangle built from local materials and ringed by a generic chain-link fence. According to Irene Kennedy, the American intelligence community had no knowledge of the facility’s clandestine purpose and identified it as a legitimate textile manufacturing plant.
The motorcade eased to a stop and Rapp watched through the windshield as Shirani’s chief of staff leaned out of the lead car to bark orders at a guard in civilian clothing. A moment later, the convoy was progressing into the courtyard.
Shirani was sweating profusely next to him, causing stains to spread down the sides of his uniform. Rapp had straightened the soldier’s broken fingers, but he was still in a fair amount of pain.
Or was it more than that? The motorcade consisted of thirty of Saad Chutani’s elite guard, but Shirani would have at least that many loyal army regulars inside. Was he thinking about abandoning his promise to quietly resign in favor of taking his chances in an all-out firefight?
They pulled up in front of a peeling door and stepped out into the heat. Along the line of vehicles, Chutani’s men did the same, keeping their weapons out of sight. Rapp followed Shirani into a tiny office that stank of the chemicals used on the factory floor. The man standing behind the only desk was wearing the collared shirt and bland tie of a factory manager, but neither was effective in disguising his military background. He gave a crisp salute and pressed a button beneath the desk, unlocking a door at the back.
The shop floor probably would have looked pretty authentic if it weren’t for the warheads lying in various states of disassembly. Further, Rapp’s eye immediately picked out a series of seams in the concrete floor that undoubtedly hid operational nukes. If he had to guess, probably installed on Shaheen 1A ballistic missiles.
The engineers working on the warheads stopped and turned, a few attempting awkward salutes. A man whose uniform designated him an army major hurried toward them, stopping short a few feet away and firing off a somewhat crisper salute than the academics under his command.
“Welcome to Bhakkar, sir.”
“Where do we stand with the investigation into the missing fissile material, Major?”
“We have confirmation that these are the only five,” he said, glancing at Rapp but not daring to ask questions. “The remainder of the arsenal has been examined, with the exception of the one in the Americans’ possession.”
Shirani nodded. “It’s in a vehicle outside. Send a detail to retrieve it.”
“Right away, sir. What else can I do for you? We weren’t given your agenda. Are you here to see the American prisoner?”
Rapp’s eyebrows rose slightly, while the general’s expression darkened. He hadn’t mentioned anything about a prisoner and apparently hadn’t expected his subordinate to bring up the subject. It was one of the problems that accompanied a reputation for volatility and brutality. Having everyone falling over themselves to anticipate your next demand could backfire.
“Of course we’re here to see the prisoner, you idiot!” Shirani said, trying to cover. “Now, where is he?”
The major hurried toward the back of the building with Rapp and the general following. They stopped in front of a steel door and Rapp stood quietly as the increasingly anxious soldier tried to get the latch unstuck.
“We’re in the process of interrogating him,” he said, finally freeing the rusted handle. “But so far he’s said very little. We know he’s American from his accent and he’s identified himself as a member of ISIS.
“That will be all, Major.”
“Yes, sir. Let me know if I or any of my men can be of assistance.”
Rapp watched him go before turning his gaze on Shirani.
“I forgot to mention him,” the general blurted, anxious to avert further wrath from the CIA man. “Under the circumstances, I think-”
“Shut up,” Rapp said. “All I want to hear from you is where you captured this man.”
“An ISIS group tried to hijack a truck containing one of our warheads on the road between Naal and Khuzdar. We had an army unit training nearby and they managed to capture this man as he was trying to escape.”
“The others got away?”
“Two were killed, but otherwise, yes.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Rapp saw Joe Maslick come around the corner and head their way.
“Get back to your engineers and tell them we’re going to be expecting a full report on their findings. And this time I suggest you don’t leave anything out.”
“It was a mistake!” Shirani insisted.
“Get out of my sight.”
Maslick skirted the wall as the general hurried past him.
“Give me a sitrep,” Rapp said when his man was within earshot.
“We’re solid. Everyone working in this place is regular army but their security procedures are shit. They’ve got four armed guys patrolling the fence line but everyone else is working under their cover as factory workers. Their weapons are all secured in an armory under the building. I’ve spread Chutani’s men around the facility and on the perimeter. Sidearms only but that’ll be plenty to take the place. If it has to go down, it’ll probably take less than two minutes and we could conceivably get out of it with no casualties.”
“Good,” Rapp said and then pointed through the partially open door. “Now there’s someone I think we need to meet.”
They went inside and Maslick shut the door behind them before taking a position behind a lone man shackled to a chair.
“Looks like you’ve had better days,” Rapp said.
The man raised his head, revealing a pulverized face partially hidden by a beard similar to the one Rapp wore.
“You’re… You’re American?” he said, saliva and blood rolling from his swollen lips as he spoke.
“Yeah.”
“Are you from the embassy?”
“Not exactly.”
“You’re here to take me home?”
“I don’t know. Who are you?”
He didn’t answer, but Rapp had a pretty good idea. The accent was middle-America but he had black hair and a dark complexion. A second-generation immigrant from somewhere in the Middle East.