‘What’s your point?’
‘Shriver won’t be living in his house alone. Unless we can get him out of it and get his men out with him, we’ll never make it past the front door.’
‘So?’ O’Halloran tipped more sugar into his coffee.
‘So there are two of us. It’s about the only edge we have. What if you’re waiting in the right place while I’m somewhere else, and I get everybody out of the house? Do you think you could find what we’re after?’
O’Halloran frowned. ‘Are you talking about setting off a fire alarm or something?’
‘No. I’m talking about blowing up that munitions store. If you want a diversion, I can give you a diversion that’ll scare the shit out of half the people in Canyon City.’
‘How are you going to do that? Didn’t you see the padlocks? There’s not a window in the place, and if you hadn’t noticed, it’s got a nice steel door. Without a truckload of dynamite you’d be better off trying to blow up Fort Knox.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Coburn said. ‘All we need is a propane cylinder, a length of hose and a couple of candles. I’ve seen it done before.’
‘Where?’
‘In Iraq. What do you know about gas explosions?’
‘Nothing.’
‘The ones you hear about are accidents, but you can set up your own accident. Pump propane into a room for long enough, and sooner or later the ratio of gas to air will reach what’s called the Lower Explosive Limit or the LEL. After that, fix up some kind of ignition source and you’re in business.’ Coburn paused. ‘It happens all the time on board boats and yachts when a cylinder in a galley springs an overnight leak, and some poor bastard gets up in the morning and lights a cigarette.’
O’Halloran hadn’t touched his coffee. ‘But we’re not dealing with a boat, are we?’ he said.
‘No, we’re not. We’re dealing with a concrete storeroom that should have enough high-explosive in it to blow out your eardrums and flatten everything inside a quarter of a mile.’ Coburn smiled. ‘What do you think?’
‘Why the hell wait until now to tell me?’
‘Because until now I figured one of us was going to come up with a better idea. I wouldn’t get too enthusiastic. If we give this a try, you’re the guy who’ll be taking all the risk.’
Coburn had intended the statement to be a warning, hoping it would persuade the American to consider an approach that would be less of a gamble. But, during the rest of their drive back to the motel and for much of the remainder of the day, instead of O’Halloran worrying about the risk, or being willing to explore alternatives, he appeared to be more interested in discussing the details of a proposal so sketchy that the longer Coburn thought about the possibility of it going wrong, the more foolhardy it seemed to be.
By late evening, all talked out and having eventually agreed that there was no reason why tomorrow night wouldn’t be as good a night as any to see whether the plan would work, Coburn left O’Halloran sitting by himself in the motel restaurant and went to his room to make his second call to Heather.
It had been three days and two nights since he’d spoken to her last. The days had been more or less OK, he thought. But the nights hadn’t — in part because he’d had trouble getting to sleep, but mostly because of his dreams; two of them triggered by his memories of her lying beside him on the bed in his Singapore apartment, and one in which he returned to the village to discover she’d never meant to wait for him and had left for an unknown destination as soon as she’d been able to.
When he’d phoned her from Maryland she’d answered right away. Tonight she didn’t, sounding pleased but out of breath when she eventually said hello.
‘Did you have to run from somewhere?’ Coburn asked.
‘I was outside, helping Indiri’s husband. He’s trying to chase a porcupine out of the drainage ditch behind the hut. I forgot to take the phone with me.’
‘I seem to remember you promising not to do that.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She pretended to sound apologetic. ‘Do you want me to promise again?’
‘You can make it up to me later. Anything interesting going on? What happened about the guy who was selling amphetamines?’
‘I don’t know. Nobody does. He just disappeared. Hari said to tell you that he’s thinking of organizing another raid. He’s heard about a shipment of Chinese DVD players that’s due through the Strait on Saturday. I can’t see him going ahead unless he can pre-sell them, though — you know, because they’re on a big ship that would be dangerous to board, and right now the black market’s oversupplied with pirated consumer goods, so the profit margin wouldn’t be that good.’
Coburn couldn’t help but be amused. ‘You want to be careful,’ he said. ‘Give yourself another couple of weeks and you’ll be walking around the village with a parrot on your shoulder.’
‘That’s not how long you’re going to be away, is it?’
‘No. With any luck by this time tomorrow we’ll have the hard part wrapped up, and O’Halloran can take things from there. He’s a pretty good guy once you get to know him.’
‘He’s not there with you now, is he?’
‘Not in the same room. Are you still OK?’
‘Of course I am. You asked me that last time.’ She hesitated. ‘I want you back here. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yeah I know that.’ Coburn wished he hadn’t mentioned tomorrow, knowing that if the mission were to fail it could be a while until he’d be able to see her again.
For a few more minutes he continued talking, more conscious of the distance between them the longer he did so, and feeling even further away after he’d said goodbye to her and hung up the receiver.
It was his own fault, he decided. He should have put off the call until tomorrow when he’d have a clearer idea of where he stood. But instead, he’d called her tonight with no real news, and as a consequence, had found himself repeating the promise he’d made her when she’d kissed him goodbye at the airport in Singapore.
At least things had progressed a bit since Singapore, he thought. He had twenty-four hours in which to figure out how to avoid any screwups, then, as long as there was none, for the first time he’d have a chance to secure a more certain future not just for himself, but for the young woman who, unlike the girl in his dream, seemed to have every intention of waiting for him at the village.
CHAPTER 14
Every so often, headlights from approaching vehicles were illuminating the interior of the car. In between times, because O’Halloran was black, and because of the dark-coloured jacket and jeans he was wearing, he was almost impossible to see.
He was sitting in the passenger seat with his laptop balanced on his knees, and for the last five or six miles had been staring at the screen while he punched at keys with a single finger.
‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ Coburn asked.
‘Checking.’
‘Checking what?’
‘That I can download files from Shriver’s computer in a hurry if I have to.’
‘Suppose he doesn’t have a computer.’
‘He has.’ The American folded down his screen. ‘All four of the FAL websites list his email address. Even if you wanted to run an outfit the size of the FAL without a computer, you couldn’t.’
‘So why bring a camera too?’
‘Quick and easy if there’s hard copy lying around.’
Despite O’Halloran sounding confident, Coburn knew he wasn’t. Since leaving their motel, when the American hadn’t been busy at his laptop he hadn’t said a great deal, and only now they were approaching the east-west highway crossing did he seem more willing to talk.
‘Have you ever had a go at anything like this before?’ Coburn asked.