The men finished their drinks, got up, and left. Robie could have followed them, but saw no real need to. It was far better for him to sit here and try to think this through. He sipped his drink and stared at the wall opposite.
The attack described in Roy West’s apocalypse paper had the G8 leadership as its target. Robie and Reel had assumed that people working inside the United States had assisted enemies of the G8 with planning an attack at this conference, wiping out the G8 leadership and causing a global panic. That made sense. But what the Muslim men had been talking about made him rethink this.
A conference in Canada of leaders from numerous Muslim countries.
Then his thoughts turned to the hit that Jessica Reel had never made.
Ahmadi. In Syria. Blue Man had said they wanted to derail Ahmadi’s coming to power and they had a more palatable choice in the wings, waiting to take over.
Robie put his beer down. As the liquid cleared his throat and settled into his stomach, his thoughts crystallized.
That’s where he and Reel had gotten it wrong. They had assumed that whoever was behind this was following West’s doomsday scenario to the letter. But that was just speculation, not fact. There was going to be an attack, only not on the G8; the security nut was too hard to crack.
But all those leaders clustered together in a small town outside of Montreal? They were fish in a barrel. Eliminating them in a single stroke would result in complete pandemonium in one of the already most chaotic regions on earth. Regime after regime falling. Power vacuums. Elements fighting to take control. But maybe there were folks waiting to take power. And maybe they’d have help. And maybe whoever was behind this thought a better future would look a whole lot like the past.
And perhaps Roy West’s apocalypse paper would be played out in force, only not in the way its author, with all his paranoia, ever imagined.
Robie rose and walked back to his hotel.
The answer was not in Dublin. It was three thousand miles away.
CHAPTER
73
IN TWO HOURS, Robie and Reel were packed, gone from the hotel, and at the airport outside Dublin.
“Are you sure about this, Robie?” Reel asked for the fifth time.
“If you want a guarantee I can’t give it. But otherwise I’m pretty damn sure.”
Reel looked out the window of the terminal. “If you’re wrong? If we leave here and something happens?”
“Then it happens,” he said flatly. “I’ll take full responsibility.”
“I’m not worried about who takes responsibility.”
“Neither am I. I’m just looking to stop it.”
She said, “So instead of killing the G8 leadership they’re planning to knock out the Middle Eastern heads of state? That’s quite a leap.”
“I didn’t plan it, so I can’t really account for the logic.”
“It’s still a terrible risk.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Even if everything goes according to plan we’re still talking about a catastrophic scenario.”
“The West used to pick their puppet and put him in power. The puppet kept everyone in line and the area was peaceful. Look at the shah of Iran. And Saddam was our friend until he stopped being our friend. I’m sure the people they want in power have been carefully selected. Remember Ahmadi? That was one guy and one country. Just hitting singles. They’re going for homers now by inserting puppets all at one time.”
“But there’ll be security in Canada too.”
“Not like in Dublin. And it’ll be a different sort of security.”
“But it still comes down to how do just the two of us stop it?”
“We have a plane ride to come up with a plan,” said Robie.
“You really think we can map this out in seven hours?”
“No.”
“What, then?” persisted Reel.
“We have eight. I checked the flight time. There’s a stiff headwind.”
“Robie, cut the crap!”
“An extra hour is an extra hour. But all I know is we have to try. Because if we don’t try it will happen.”
They boarded their flight. Thirty minutes later the private wings took off heading due west.
From the Internet Robie had assembled all the information he could on the event to which they were heading. After reviewing it, Reel finally sat back and said, “We don’t have enough intel to pull this off, Robie.”
“Well, Janet DiCarlo said something that could help us. Missing personnel. Missions that never should have been. So we might see some old friends on this one.”
“We might,” Reel said doubtfully.
He stretched out his tight shoulders. “We won’t have much time when we hit the ground. It starts tomorrow in the morning.”
“If they hit today, while people are still just arriving, we won’t even get a shot.”
“They won’t. They have to make it look like the real thing. Otherwise people will get suspicious. Terrorists always go for the symbolic blow. The summit will have to be up and running before they hit it.”
“So the opening ceremony?”
He nodded. “That’s what I think.”
He rose and poured two cups of coffee from the small bar set up against a bulkhead. He set one down for her and retook his seat.
“I have a question for you,” said Robie. “And it has nothing to do with what’s coming up.”
Reel sat back and stared at him. “What?”
“You saved my butt at DiCarlo’s, right?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t have to do that. It was a big risk, in fact.”
“Everything we do has big risks.”
“That’s not an answer, Jessica.”
She took a sip of coffee. “I figured I got you into this mess, it was my responsibility to look after you.”
“Like you did on the Eastern Shore?”
“Nothing is absolute, Will. That was early on. I just wanted to survive to finish this. Later, my thinking changed.”
“Changed about me?”
“It would have given me no pleasure to see you die.” She looked away for a few moments. Robie saw her hand tremble.
When she turned back her features were calm. “Are we done with that? Good to go now?”
“Good to go,” said Robie.
For the rest of the flight they did nothing but troubleshoot what they had to do, looking for any weakness, any advantage. As they neared landing in Canada, Reel sat back, rubbed her eyes, and looked at Robie.
“So let’s assume we actually survive this,” she said. “What’s next for you?”
He shrugged. “Have you been thinking about your future?”
“I’m just tired, Robie.”
He nodded. “I can see that.”
Reel studied him. “Do you miss her? The woman who hurt you?”
“No,” he said, but his tone was unconvincing.
Reel sat back. “Okay.”
“I blame myself.”
“What, for being human?”
“For not doing my job.”
She settled her gaze on him. “Which requires you to not be human.”
“A job is a job.”
“And a life is a life. You only have one of those.”
He shook his head. “So call it quits?”
“How many out there have lasted as long as we have?”
“Not that many, I guess.”
“You must have thought about life after.”