Clive Merton, the Chief of Staff came up with a suggestion. “Why don’t we arrange an accident? A collision at sea. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”
The admiral reminded him of something he seemed to have forgotten. “If he has those nukes on board, we could be in serious trouble. God knows what would happen in a collision. After all, an accident like that would not be precise science. No telling if he’s got them wired for such an eventuality. He could be planning to steam into port and detonate the bastards. We’ve got to be so careful. And if it got in to the public domain that there were nukes involved in the collision we’d staged, the Press would have a field day and some heavyweight Senators would be waving impeachment papers around. It’s far too risky.”
“Mister President?” Francesini lifted a hand. The President nodded. Francesini had the floor. “I think we should board the Taliba and carry out a complete search. We can take the political flak at that level, and it would all blow over anyway. The point is, if he has those nukes on board, he would refuse us permission to board. That would immediately put our tails up and we could sit on his arse and watch every move he makes. We could even put it that a refusal is tantamount to an admission of guilt. A man of his standing wouldn’t like that.”
The President looked over at the Admiral Gutteridge. “Dan?”
“Not a problem, Mister President. You authorise it, the Coast Guard will execute it.”
The President looked back at Francesini. “What is your gut feeling then, Remo?”
This made Francesini a little nervous. Almost like starting a war on a hunch.
“If I’ve made a mistake I will be hugely embarrassed and Admiral Starling will sack me. But we know two nukes are missing and we also know a third one has now been officially declared missing. If that third nuke is on it way to the Caribbean, to the Taliba, we want to be around when they try to deliver it. But first we have to make sure we’re not running up blind alleyways. The Taliba could be a red herring of our own making. Of my making,” he corrected himself. “But I sure as hell would want to know,” he added. “One way or the other.”
Chapter 7
James Starling was satisfied with the outcome of the meeting with the President and his advisers. But although he appeared relaxed as he sat in the back of the big Ford sedan as it swept away from the Whitehouse, he was far from it. Sitting beside him in the relative peace and quiet of the car, Francesini appeared thoughtful; the memory of his meeting with the President burning fresh in his mind as though he was still in the Oval Office. Perhaps he should have felt nervous and apprehensive because he had staked his entire future career and personal credibility on a hunch; and there was no bigger person to gamble that hunch with than the President himself.
What Francesini had persuaded the President to agree to, meant that he had committed the American Government to an act of what could only be conceived as piracy, without having much more than a credible argument. The famous scientist, Albert Einstein once said that if the theory doesn’t fit the facts, change the facts. Well in this case, Francesini’s theory was based on facts that he was unable to change, and if his theory got into the hands of the American Press and hence the public domain there would be more at stake than Francesini’s reputation and career. And if he was right, the lives of thousands of Americans could be forfeit if the President failed to act on it.
Through the blackened, one way glass of the car windows he watched the buildings of Capitol Hill flashing past. People hurried along the sidewalks, their lives and destiny probably under their own control, but without giving a thought to people like him and Starling; unconsciously relying on them to let the President know of any threat, real or imagined, that might devastate their very normal, controlled lives.
Mr. and Mrs. average American. Do they really have two point four children? Who cared anyway whether they had a whole football team; their lives were not there to be played ball with by politicians and security agents who could not do their jobs properly.
The phone rang. Starling picked it up, grunted and handed the phone to Francesini, listening carefully to his subordinate’s responses.
“Anything? Nothing? Nothing at all?” He looked up and cursed softly.
Starling watched Francesini pause for a moment, obviously thinking through to the next decision he was going to make. He put the phone back to his ear.
“I’ll be over. Set up a meeting with Inspector Bain; he’s head of the Bahamian C.I.D. Tomorrow, first thing.”
He handed the phone back to Starling who put it back in its resting place beside him, and waited for Francesini to tell him what it was all about.
“I had two of my guys search Greg Walsh’s home at Freeport; see if they could find anything relating to Walsh’s commission with Khan. Marsh’s place too. They found nothing.”
The car stopped for a red light. Starling watched the pedestrians crossing, some running, some with their heads down, others deep in conversation with whoever was beside them. It was so normal. It was a beautiful day out there and he would have given anything to be sitting with his wife in their garden, relaxing and their only concern would be what they would be having for their evening meal.
“So why am I not surprised?” the admiral asked as Francesini put the thought away.
Francesini looked at him briefly, and then studied the closely shaved head of the driver in front of him.
“Because you think this is a wild goose chase?” he asked.
Starling chuckled. “If only.” The car moved off, accelerating quickly. “If only this was a dream and we could wake up. You forget, Remo, I know you and your hunches; that’s one of the reasons I employ you. Whatever Walsh had, if he thought it was important, really important, he would have kept it in the bank or some secure safe somewhere else. And remember, Marsh promised to see if he could find anything in his partner’s belongings that could help us. ”
It was Francesini’s turn to chuckle. “Sir, have you ever put something away for safe keeping and when you wanted it, you just couldn’t remember where you’d put it? And no amount of searching would turn it up?”
“If I had to admit to that under oath Remo, I would,” he joked.
“Well, I figured that no amount of searching from an amateur like Marsh would unearth it. That’s why I decided to get my men to do it.”
“And they found nothing.”
Francesini nodded lamely. “That’s why I’m going over there.”
Marsh phoned Helen and told her that his place had been searched as well, but he didn’t think anything had been taken. There was little else for him to do there so he drove back to Helen’s place. She took Marsh into town and dropped him off near his bank. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and Marsh agreed to phone her the following day. He watched the pick-up truck disappear and walked into the bank.
About two hours later, Marsh was back at his house when there was a knock on the door. He had almost finished a meal and wondered if it might have been Helen, but it was more wishful thinking than anything else. He opened the door and his heart dropped when he saw Julio Batista standing there. Beside him was one of the biggest men Marsh had ever seen in his life.