“More likely it was one of Dpap’s men,” said Tarid. “Or one of yours.”
Colonel Zsar bristled. “Maybe the arms dealer was the culprit.”
“No.”
“No rebel would do this.”
“His men shot down two of the helicopters,” said Tarid. “He warned us. He has very good intelligence. He’s smarter than you think. Greedy, but smart.”
“The helicopters may have been a show,” said Colonel Zsar. He prided himself on never having retreated in the face of the Sudanese army. His ego had been stung by the reversal. “We could have taken them, all of them,” he added. “If I’d brought more men.”
“You can take them another time.”
The more Colonel Zsar brooded about his reputation, the more he realized that he couldn’t simply run. He had to do something—he had to defeat the army.
“Turn the truck around,” he told the driver. He took out his satellite phone.
“What are you doing?” asked Tarid.
“We’re going back.”
“You can’t go back—they’ve got you outgunned. They’re bringing more reinforcements.”
“So will I.”
Tarid argued, but it was a waste of breath. Colonel Zsar had decided his reputation demanded that he defeat the army soldiers who had attacked. Even if the victory was symbolic—a simple return to the battlefield would do—he would be able to restore his reputation.
“You’re letting your ego guide you,” said Tarid. “A dangerous thing.”
Zsar frowned.
“Then let me out,” said Tarid.
The door was locked. As he reached to pull up the lock, Colonel Zsar pointed his pistol at him. If he let Tarid go, the others might follow.
“No cowards,” he hissed.
Tarid let go of the door.
AS THEY WAITED FOR THE SUDANESE TROOP TRUCKS TO pass, Danny had the Voice give him periodic updates on the Iranian’s position.
He’d clearly escaped, cutting south.
Good, thought Danny.
He was stopping.
Why?
He was returning to the battlefield.
What?
“Are you sure?” Danny asked.
“Affirmative.”
“What’s the situation there?”
“Positioning Owl UAV,” reported the Voice. A few minutes later MY-PID delivered a sitrep; situation report. “Reinforcements still en route. Sudanese army capturing wounded rebels. Helicopters approaching from the west.”
Tarid was driving back into a trap. And Danny knew there was nothing he could do about it.
WHEN HE SAW THE FIRES IN THE DISTANCE, COLONEL ZSAR decided to wait on the road for his reinforcements to arrive. There was little harm in waiting, he realized; the longer he took to strike back, the more relaxed the regular soldiers would become, and the easier his victory.
He figured that it would take a little over thirty minutes for the rest of his army to arrive. Once they were there, he would sweep onto the battlefield, routing the regulars the way they had routed him.
He would pick only a small group, attack and flee. That would be enough for the symbolic victory he wanted.
The colonel was sketching his plan out in his head when he heard the helicopters approaching. He got out of the truck to look for them; when he did, he saw the dark shadows well over the horizon, heading in their direction.
“Out of the trucks!” he ordered. “Prepare for an attack.”
Tarid was livid. “You idiot!” he yelled at Zsar. “We have to get out of here!”
“Shut up and prepare to fight,” said Zsar, starting to turn away.
“You idiot! Where are your troops?”
The colonel stopped. “What did you call me?”
“An idiot!” said Tarid, taking two steps and screaming in Zsar’s face. “You were safe. You—”
Colonel Zsar delivered a roundhouse to Tarid’s head. The Iranian staggered back, then coiled his legs and arms to strike back. Before he could, Zsar’s driver smashed him across the back of the head with his AK-47. Tarid fell to the ground, unconscious and oblivious to the firefight starting around him.
32
Washington, D.C.
WITHIN HOURS OF NURI’S RETURN FROM BLEMMYES Village, his discovery and theory had been disseminated to a small coterie of analysts and officials in Washington, D.C. The news focused a great deal of intelligence for the analysts, giving them a framework to arrange a veritable warehouse worth of data.
It also alarmed Breanna, Reid, and everyone else who heard about it.
The machined aluminum was now identified as part of a tool holding a centrifuge assembly. To grossly oversimplify the process, the tool could be used to separate elements of different atomics weight from each other. Such a tool was needed in one step of the process of extracting “special” uranium from “regular” uranium. The special uranium—an isotope with a different atomic number—could then be used to create an atomic bomb.
Jasmine was now viewed as part of a much larger, more important project. It could also be seen as one of several similar operations around the world, directly related or not. At least three possibilities had already been identified.
But the data raised a large number of new questions. Assuming there were other processing plants, where were they? How did material get from one location to another? Was the intention to stockpile the material, or was bomb construction contemplated—or maybe even under way? Where did this occur?
Breanna contemplated all of these questions the next morning as she waited for Jonathon Reid’s car to pick her up at the Pentagon. She expected them to be raised at the hastily scheduled briefing she and Reid were going to give to the National Security Council. The council had already been scheduled to meet; they were added to the agenda when their information was added to the daily intelligence report.
The one question Breanna hadn’t contemplated was the one Reid asked as soon as she slipped into the back of car: “Do you think it’s time we turned this over to traditional channels?”
Surprise was obvious on her face.
“Whiplash is still experimental,” explained Reid, who’d been considering the matter even before Nuri reported in. “The unit is very small. Something of this magnitude is beyond its scope.”
“I wouldn’t call Whiplash experimental.”
“Whatever we call it, we didn’t anticipate this big a situation when we sent Nuri out,” said Reid. “Or Danny Freah and his people. We were looking at a bugging and surveillance operation, nothing more. The next step is more involved.”
“No, the next step is to gather more information.”
“We’ll have to destroy the plant.”
“They can do that as well. But we don’t want to do that yet, do we? We need to flesh out the entire network. We don’t know how big the operation is there, not to mention where else it’s operating.”
“A huge undertaking,” said Reid. “One for a very large, and experienced, task group.”
“Danny Freah can run this. He’s had experience. Especially with nuclear warheads.”
“I’m not questioning him or his ability,” said Reid. “The scope of the project is simply greater than what we foresaw. We need more people.”
Reid was also concerned about Nuri. The CIA officer had been selected as the program’s first operative primarily because of his comfort with the technology and his familiarity with Africa. He had barely three years of experience with the Agency, and before that was in college. While he’d done fine so far, at this point it made sense to bring a more experienced officer onto the scene.
“I can see more people,” said Breanna. “Obviously, these other leads have to be examined. But we have people in the field. They’re doing a good job. We can’t pull them off.”
“Who coordinates the mission? Who compiles the data?”