"There has to be another entrance," Ronnie said.
"The other side of the building faces on the canal."
"All these buildings seem to be connected," Selena said. "Maybe there's a way to move between them."
"If there is, I don't see how we're going to find it."
She pulled the car to the side and let it idle. Nick waved his hand at the row of warehouses lining the street.
"We can't just walk in and ask someone how to get into the next building."
"There have to be plans, architectural drawings," Selena said. "They'll be on file somewhere, probably at the town hall or whatever passes for it. Stephanie could access them. If there's a passage between these buildings, the plans would show it."
Ronnie spoke up. "Yeah, maybe, but what good does it do us? Even if we get in I don't think Schmidt is going to sit down and have a nice talk with us."
"Let's go back to the hotel," Nick said. "We need to think about this. At least we know where he lives and where he works."
"That sounds like a plan," Ronnie said.
"I guess it's better than no plan at all," Nick said.
There was no traffic on the street. Selena pulled out, backed up and turned around. She started down the street. They were passing Schmidt's warehouse when the building disintegrated in a deafening roar. The blast lifted the heavy car into the air, flipped it onto the side and slammed it into a brick wall. The airbags deployed and pinned them in their seats. Bricks and chunks of concrete rained down on the car.
The airbags deflated. Thick, black smoke folded out over the street and engulfed them. Selena hung sideways in her seat, unconscious. Nick coughed and choked.
"Jesus," Lamont said.
Nick struggled with his seatbelt. Lamont swore as he tried to get free. Ronnie took out a pocket knife and cut his belt, then reached over and freed Lamont.
"Ronnie, help me with Selena," Nick said.
Ronnie climbed from the car and wrenched open the driver's side door. Nick freed Selena's belt and boosted her up while Ronnie lifted her out. He laid her down on the street. A large, red lump swelled on her forehead. Nick climbed out of the car, followed by Lamont.
Selena opened her eyes. "What…"
"Take it easy. You took a hit on your head."
She sat up, braced herself. "Dizzy. What happened?"
"Schmidt's building. There was an explosion."
He looked back at the warehouse.
"Guess we're not going to get a chance to talk with Herr Schmidt."
The building was in ruins. The front and back walls were gone. The interior was open to the sky, collapsed in on itself. A broken gas main sent a column of flame fifty feet into the air with a sound like a giant blowtorch. Flames licked over the remains of the building. A thick column of noxious smoke coiled into the air.
Selena stood up and steadied herself by holding Nick's arm.
"Gas explosion?" she asked.
"I don't think so," Nick said. "Someone would've smelled gas long before enough accumulated to make an explosion like that. It's not like this is the middle of the night with nobody around."
"Someone wanted Schmidt dead," Ronnie said.
"Looks that way. Someone with serious explosives who knew how to use them."
The sound of sirens echoed in the distance. People were coming out of buildings along the street and staring at the destruction. The street was littered with bricks, shattered timbers, bits of paper, smoldering piles of debris.
The lump on Selena's head had grown larger. An ugly purple bruise was spreading around it.
"Helluva knock you took," Lamont said.
Selena reached up and felt the bump and winced. "It's a good thing I have a hard head." She looked at the wreckage of their car. "I think we're going to need another Mercedes."
Nick pulled out his phone. "I'd better call Harker."
CHAPTER 33
Stephanie's husband was at his desk on the seventh floor of the old headquarters building at Langley, mulling over the latest communication from RED EAGLE. RED EAGLE was Langley's star Russian asset, a ranking officer on the staff of General Golovkin.
When RED EAGLE first approached the Agency in Moscow it had seemed too good to be true. Suspicion about his motivation and truthfulness had run high, but time had changed that. The information he passed along had proved accurate. Lucas had come to trust his reports, which was why this particular report was disturbing. It presented a serious problem.
RED EAGLE claimed that for some time large sums of foreign money had been transferred to Orlov's control through Russia's central bank, using Golovkin as a go-between. The money had financed Orlov's rise to power and was being used to pay for weapons. The sums were staggering, amounting to billions of euros.
Billions, Lucas thought. Who the hell has that kind of money and why funnel it to Orlov? Why would Golovkin be involved?
Another question came to mind. How can someone move that much money into Russia without us knowing about it? It has to be through a private bank.
This was something that needed Hood's attention. Enough money had found its way to Russia to give a huge boost to the production of key weapons like the SU-35 fighter and the T-14 Armata tank. The report would send shockwaves through the Pentagon. It meant that estimates of Russia's military capability and readiness would have to be revised upward.
Lucas picked up the folder with RED EAGLE's report and walked down the hall to Hood's office. The DCI's secretary was at her post outside his door.
"I need to see the big guy," Lucas said. "Is he free?"
"You're in luck. He just got off the phone. I'll let him know you're here."
She spoke into her intercom. "Sir, the DNCS is here and wants to see you."
She looked at him. Lucas was tapping his fingers on the file folder.
"He seems a little anxious."
Hood's light southern drawl sounded over the intercom. "Send him in."
Lucas went into the office. Hood looked at the folder Lucas carried.
"Something in there we need to talk about?"
"Director. There is. I don't think you're going to like it."
"I wish I had a dollar for every time I saw a folder like that and didn't like what was inside. Maybe you ought to sit down and tell me about it."
Lucas summarized the contents. When he was done he waited for Hood's response. Time enough to present his own analysis.
"May I see that?"
Lucas handed him the thin folder. Hood opened it and quickly scanned the two typewritten sheets inside.
"You believe this is accurate," Hood said.
"RED EAGLE is our prime asset in the Federation. He's never been wrong before."
"The Pentagon isn't going to like this. Or the president."
"No, I don't believe they will."
"We're going to have to upgrade our assessment of their capability."
"That was my conclusion also," Lucas said.
"Where's the money coming from?"
"We have to find out. What bothers me is that Golovkin is right in the middle of this. He's a rabid hawk and he has too much influence on Orlov."
"We always thought the oligarchs got Orlov elected." He held up the folder. "This paints a different picture."
"Someone wanted to be sure Orlov became Prime Minister," Lucas said. "Then Gorovsky has a convenient heart attack and Orlov is in control."
"With Golovkin whispering in his ear," Hood said. "It smells a lot like a conspiracy to put Orlov in charge."
"Whoever is providing the money has to have a hell of a lot of clout. The question is what do they want in return?"
"Sometimes a touch of bourbon helps stimulate my thinking," Hood said. "Join me?"
"I don't mind if I do."
Hood went over to an antique sideboard by the wall and poured bourbon from a crystal decanter into a pair of cut crystal glasses.