Coburn was uneasy. For someone from the US Counter-Proliferation Centre, O’Halloran was being too open and too matter-of-fact, seemingly as unconcerned about the missing crate as he was about the fate of the crew and by the events of yesterday.
Heather too had some misgivings. She’d left the table and was leaning against the wall while she exercised her injured leg. ‘Do you know who told the Bangladeshi Army that something was going on at the beach?’ she asked.
‘According to a commander at one of the barracks, someone phoned to say that men with guns were driving a truck down the access road to shipyard four. He said he wasn’t sure who’d made the call, but thought it probably came from one of the shipyard owners.’ The American switched off his computer and looked directly at Coburn. ‘Which brings me to the call my office made to the head of your department at IMB — to a guy called Rick Armstrong, I think it was.’
Now that the build-up was over, Coburn waited for the crunch, wondering what it was going to be.
‘You see,’ O’Halloran said, ‘Washington’s kind of worried. They want to find out if this is an isolated case, or whether there’s a whole lot of nuclear material going in to North Korea from places that we know nothing about.’
‘What’s that got to do with the IMB?’
‘You know what. That’s why you were sent here, isn’t it? An international organization like the International Marine Bureau can’t afford to have ships travelling all over the world delivering illegal nuclear material to whoever wants it. They want to find out what’s going on as much as we do.’ O’Halloran paused. ‘That’s why your Mr Armstrong has volunteered your services, and why I was asked to come and see you this morning.’
To prevent Coburn from saying anything, the American held up his hand. ‘Before we go any further I need an assurance from Miss Cameron.’ He turned to face her. ‘I assume you know nothing about Mr Coburn’s job.’
‘Why should I?’ She remained leaning against the wall. ‘I didn’t ask him, and he didn’t tell me.’
‘In that case, unless you’d prefer to leave us for a minute, you should understand that for the remainder of this discussion, anything you hear must be kept strictly to yourself.’
She was amused, raising her eyebrows but making no attempt to provide O’Halloran with the assurance he was asking for.
Her response had been the one Coburn had expected, a predictable message to remind the American that he wasn’t in America, and that it might be an idea if he was to pull his head in.
She really was unlike anyone else, Coburn thought, not just because of her attitude, or the way she spoke or even how she looked, but because of something he couldn’t put his finger on.
Today she was wearing a sleeveless blouse, jeans and open-toed shoes — ordinary everyday clothes she’d brought with her from the beach, but clothes that on her looked anything but ordinary. No taller than five foot three, and with her hair tied back in a pony-tail, she had a good figure and rather small pointed breasts that were brushing against the fabric of her blouse each time she flexed her leg.
But it wasn’t her hair or her figure that made him want to keep looking at her, he decided, nor was it the shape of her mouth or the curious flecks in her eyes. It was more because she was unconscious of herself, or maybe because of some kind of underlying sensuality of which he was aware but of which she was not.
‘What’s the matter?’ She’d noticed him staring. ‘Don’t you want me to hear what you do for a living?’
He smiled. ‘It’s not that big a secret. I don’t think my cover’s going to be blown by somebody who lives in a shipping container on a beach in Bangladesh.’
O’Halloran had started glancing at his watch. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘If you’re happy for Miss Cameron to sit in, I’ll get right to it. All I know is that you’re on loan to the Singapore Government, and that by working undercover you’ve infiltrated what’s rumoured to be one of the largest pirate groups operating in the Strait of Malacca. Have I got that right?’
‘Yep.’ Coburn nodded. ‘So what?’
‘So your job’s just got harder. If North Korea’s sourcing uranium or plutonium from Pakistan as well as Russia — and we’re pretty sure they are — the IMB says you’re the guy we need to keep an eye on suspect ships passing through the Strait.’
‘I’m not the guy you want,’ Coburn said. ‘Trust me.’
The American carried on as though he hadn’t heard. ‘Starting next week, the CIA and the National Counter-Proliferation Centre will be supplying intelligence to your people at the IMB, who’ll pass it on to you together with ships’ manifests in the same way they do now. To help you persuade your pirate friends to target vessels that could be carrying illegal nuclear material, we’ll make sure these ships and these manifests include attractive cargo that’s easily off-loadable and easily traded on the international black market. That way you’ll have an excuse to go on board and have a look around.’ O’Halloran placed his hands palms down on the table. ‘Later today you’ll receive a call from London confirming what I’ve just said. In the meantime, are there any questions you’d like to ask me?’
Coburn could think of several. ‘You’re full of shit,’ he said, ‘so is Armstrong and so are the IMB. Have you any idea what it’s like boarding a freighter at night in bad weather, when you don’t know whether you’re going to be running into a battery of anti-piracy acoustic guns, water cannons or a nine-thousand volt electrified deck fence? And if I get through all that and don’t get shot by some crazy captain who’s been taking brave pills, I’m supposed to walk around on deck in the dark holding a fucking Geiger counter, am I?’
‘I’m not going to answer that.’ O’Halloran’s expression remained the same. ‘Nobody expects you to measure radioactivity with the kind of equipment you’re talking about. And you’re not being asked to go searching for weapon-grade pits of hot plutonium. All we need to know is whether or not stuff is being smuggled, and whether North Korea are acting alone or in conjunction with someone else.’
‘Someone else like who?’
O’Halloran shrugged. ‘That’s what you’re going to find out. It could be the Pakistani Government making some money on the side — although Pakistan’s pretending to be as worried as we are about Pyongyang’s nuclear ambitions. If the Koreans aren’t organizing things themselves, it’ll more likely be a terrorist group like the Movement for Islamic Unification who are busy supplying arms to anyone who has a grudge against America, or maybe it’s the owner of one of these shipyards here in Chittagong. It’ll be interesting to see, won’t it?’
Who it would be interesting for, Coburn wasn’t sure. Nor was he about to waste his breath telling O’Halloran to get lost. It was Armstrong who needed to understand what a stupid fucking idea this was, and Armstrong who would have to tell the Americans what they could do with it.
‘Well.’ O’Halloran stood up. ‘I guess we’re done. I want to have a look at those guns on the Rybinsk, so I’ll drive Miss Cameron back to the beach for you.’
‘You’ll get that nice suit of yours messed up,’ Coburn said. ‘And you’ll be wasting your time. The guns won’t be there. If you want to know why, ask Miss Cameron.’
She frowned. ‘How much are rifles like those worth?’ she asked.
‘Depends,’ Coburn said. ‘On the black market in Bangladesh, probably around a couple of hundred dollars each.’