Payback

115

The Mexican port of Manzanillo had admirably modem facilities — which made it easy for the Art Room to obtain information about the location of the container. According to the computer, it was still parked in Lot 5A — and in fact, Rubens and the rest of the people in the Art Room could see it on the infrared feed from a U-2S that had been specially detailed to the strike team.

“Lia and Tommy are landing now,” said Rockman. “The CIA team is moving in.”

Of course, thought Rubens. They want to get the credit.

Three large black SUVs appeared in the frame at the right. Rockman toggled the controls for the viewer, zeroing in on the target. A dozen men jumped from the SUVs and surrounded the container, their M4 carbines and grenade launchers clearly visible.

Then the image blurred. The screen dissolved in whiteness.

“Technical glitch,” said Rockman. “Something in the air force system. Theirs, not ours.”

Rubens stared at the screen, waiting for information. They were just a resource here — helpers, rather than the lead agents. He’d have much preferred it if his people were the ones going into the truck.

Desk Three wasn’t set up to conduct an operation on such a massive scale as the search for the weapon in Peru; even when it took the lead on a mission, it had to draw on many other agencies for support.

Its capabilities should be expanded and extended to include others. The CIA and the military special operations should have Desk Three’s capabilities as well — in fact, they should work together seamlessly, as the original plan had called for.

His original plan.

If he had taken the job as national security adviser, he would have made doing so a priority.

Telach cursed as the image came back on the screen.

“It’s the wrong container,” she said. “The boxes are too small. Listen.”

An audio report came over the speakers, an account from one of the CIA people back to Langley. The boxes he was describing were about three feet by two feet by two feet.

“The radioactive kernel could be inside one,” said Rockman. “The bomb pit itself weighs only a few pounds.”

Rubens watched the screen, trying to remain optimistic though he agreed with Telach. The image from the scene showed the team beginning to remove the contents. The chatter began taking on a pessimistic tone.

“Maybe it’s further back,” said Rockman.

“No, I believe we’ve missed something,” said Rubens. “They’ll be going to Plan B next.” He turned toward the back of the room, where Johnny Bib was waving his hands furiously behind a bench of analysts.

“Working, working, working!” Johnny yelled before Rubens could say anything.