‘Better than I’d feel if something happened to my kids.’ O’Halloran took his hands out of his pockets. ‘And better than you’d feel if the Indonesians dropped napalm on your girlfriend in Sumatra.’
‘It’s not going to happen. If you don’t want to help me stop it, I’ll stop it by myself.’
‘Good luck trying. Are you going to spend all day standing on that rock?’
‘No.’ Coburn stepped back on to the drier pebbles. ‘Do one more thing for me.’
‘Depends what it is.’
‘Tell me why this won’t work. Imagine that somehow or other I get the commander of the Sandpiper to look at the stuff on your computer. Sure, he won’t know how genuine it is, and he won’t know whether to believe it, but what it will do is make him real careful.’
‘OK.’ O’Halloran started to say something else, but changed his mind.
‘Now imagine it’s the night of August 9th,’ Coburn said. ‘The commander’s already jumpy when he sees what he’s pretty damn sure is a North Korean patrol boat on his radar, and a minute later he receives a radio message telling him to change course.’
‘Which puts him between a rock and a hard place.’
‘Right. He’s not on the wrong side of the Demarkation Line, and the Koreans haven’t fired any warning shots, so what are his choices? Change course and hope like hell nothing happens? Or does he preempt an attack he’s half expecting and blow the patrol boat out of the water? According to the data sheet, Osprey minehunters are armed with two 12.7 millimetre machine-guns. A couple of five-second bursts from those and the patrol boat’s going to be matchwood, and no one’ll be left alive on board to launch the missiles.’
O’Halloran was frowning. ‘I can’t see a US Navy Commander opening fire without some kind of direct provocation,’ he said. ‘It depends on his rules of engagement, but he’d have to think hard about using his guns when his only justification is a draft press release that’s been given to him by somebody he doesn’t know.’
‘That’s what I thought too.’ Coburn picked up a stone and skipped it out across the shallows. ‘So how about this? A couple of seconds after the captain of the patrol boat has used his radio, he runs into trouble. Somewhere below his waterline, explosions rip through his hull so he can’t launch his missiles, and before he knows it, he’s on fire and sinking. Maybe he’s been unlucky and rubbed up against one of those mines the Sandpiper was looking for. How does that sound?’
‘It sounds like a load of crap. Collect up every mine you can find floating in the Yellow Sea and have the Sandpiper drop them off, and you’d still have about as much chance of the patrol boat hitting one at the right time as you or I do of growing wings.’
‘I didn’t say it has to be a mine,’ Coburn said. ‘It could be anything. What if one of the missiles malfunctioned while the crew were arming it?’
By now, O’Halloran should have been looking more interested, but he wasn’t. ‘Are you telling me you can arrange for an accident to happen?’ he said.
‘If I can, it screws Shriver and the FAL for good, doesn’t it? The commander of the Sandpiper gets Brownie points for rescuing the crew of a sinking boat, and he catches Yegorov trying to pass himself off as a North Korean naval captain. If Yegorov can’t explain why he was doing that, or if he won’t talk, you can bet your life the men he’s paid to help him will.’
‘Neat idea.’ O’Halloran remained indifferent. ‘Needs work, though, wouldn’t you say?’
Coburn ignored the sarcasm. ‘I’m asking your opinion,’ he said.
‘I don’t have one. If you’re crazy enough to go all the way to Korea to see if you can get Commander Ritchie on side and set up your clever accident, that’s your business.’
‘Don’t you want to know what the set up is?’
‘Probably better if I don’t. Tell me when you get back. If you don’t get back, I’ll read about it in my morning paper.’
‘So you’re not interested in going with me?’
‘Why would I be? I don’t have the time or the money. I’ve already been away from the office for five days. If I don’t show up there soon, people will start asking questions.’
In case the issue of money was real, rather than a convenient excuse, Coburn made one last effort.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m not trying to twist your arm, but you work for the US Government, I don’t. Ritchie is going to take more notice of you than he ever is of me. If cash is a problem I can cover it.’
‘Backhanders from selling ships’ manifests to that guy who runs the village?’
‘Sort of. Why don’t you call your office and tell them you’re taking more time off, then you can phone your ex-wife, or whoever she is and tell her she needs to take your kids out of town for a while? If you do that, will you think about what I’ve said?’
‘I already have.’ O’Halloran started walking back to the car. ‘And I’ve already told you what I think.’
Having spent half the afternoon and the evening by himself, Coburn had stopped trying to rationalize a decision that seemed less and less sensible the longer he thought about it.
Earlier, while he’d been standing on the rock in the river outlining his intentions to O’Halloran, he’d attempted to sound positive. But with each hour that had passed since then, an increasing number of doubts had crept into his mind, undermining his confidence in an idea that he knew would never work without the involvement of other people.
Where O’Halloran had disappeared to was a mystery. Within half an hour of them arriving back at the motel, the American had said he was going for a drive and had yet to return from wherever it was he’d gone.
As long as he hadn’t gone to confront Shriver alone, Coburn thought. Was it possible he could be that stupid — believing that some kind of fresh initiative would change anything? Or because of the threat to his family, had he pulled out altogether?
To hell with him, Coburn decided. When the only practical way of destroying the FAL was to play Shriver at his own game, and when the one chance of doing that was only eleven days away, it was time he stopped worrying about O’Halloran and started worrying about Hari and the village.
For the last hour he’d been putting off telephoning Heather, knowing she’d expect him to explain everything, and preferring not to imagine what Hari’s reaction to his proposal was likely to be.
When he finally decided to make the call, it was Indiri who answered, sounding embarrassed until Heather took the phone from her and said hello.
‘Chasing porcupines again?’ Coburn said.
‘No.’ She laughed. ‘I was putting a bandage on Hari’s finger. He cut it while he was sharpening a bamboo spear — you know, the kind that are used to catch those funny-looking fish that come round the jetty at night when the moon and tide are right. His finger didn’t need bandaging, but I didn’t say so.’
‘Is he still there? If he is I need to talk to him. That’s why I’m calling.’
‘Oh. I thought you’d want to talk to me.’
‘I do,’ Coburn said. ‘It’s just that I need to ask him a favour.’
‘Tell me what it is and I’ll ask him for you.’
‘It’s too complicated and I don’t want to explain it twice. I’ll make him promise to tell you afterwards. Is that OK?’
‘No it’s not. I want to know where you are and why you’re there. Or are you still worried about satellite phones not being secure enough?’