Final Target

CHAPTER 78

Alex Z was sitting cross-legged on the landing in front of Gage’s office building when Gage walked up the stairs the next morning.

“You listen to the news on your drive in?” Alex Z said, standing up.

“No. Your new tracks. It was the first chance I had since Jack got shot. They’re brilliant, even to the ears of an old guy. I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks.”

Alex Z swung open the door and held it for Gage.

“Why the special treatment?” Gage asked.

“You’ll see.”

Alex Z led Gage into the conference room, where he found Professor Blanchard sitting, his bleary eyes fixed on a corner television that displayed CNN coverage of an election-eve opposition demonstration in Kiev.

“Hey, Professor, what’re you doing here?”

Blanchard glanced toward Gage, then back at the television. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d catch up on Ukrainian politics.”

“Since last night.” Alex Z smiled and pointed at a cot in the corner. “He snores.”

“Your wife finally send you packing for insubordination?”

Blanchard jumped up, pointing at the television. “Here it is!”

“Explosions in Crimea” burst onto the screen, overlaying unfocused, jerky videophone images of a reporter standing against the earth-toned, minareted backdrop of Istanbul.

A shudder of relief passed through Gage as he dropped into a chair.

Then a voiceover: Turkish authorities reported that NATO satellites over the Black Sea indicate that three explosions occurred at the Ukrainian Crimean missile testing site approximately four hours ago.

Gage looked over at Blanchard, in awe of the old man with the power to reach into Central Europe and derail an arms-trafficking scheme from his little workshop in the Berkeley hills.

Since the accidental shooting down of a Russian airliner a few years ago, NATO monitors all Ukrainian missile tests. Seventy-eight passengers and crew members died in that incident. As in the case of the airplane disaster, Ukrainian authorities are denying the NATO claim. NATO is expected to release satellite images of the explosions later this evening.

“How’d you do it?” Gage asked.

Blanchard glanced over. “You wanted a Trojan horse, you got one. I made the missiles think they arrived at their targets before they left the ground.” He grinned. “And I disguised the flaw by planting a program that invaded their server. When they tested the guidance software, the results screen always displayed SatTek’s most successful performance data.”

Gage imagined the devastation on the launch pads, concerned not about Gravilov and Hadeon Alexandervich, but about the Ukrainian hourly workers who made their living pushing brooms around the missile site. “You think anybody was hurt?”

“Not unless they were riding it. They’re all supposed to be in bunkers.”

“Can they fix the other devices?”

“No. Given how close this is to the shipment date, that wasn’t a test, but a demonstration. Making these missiles was just a cookie-cutter job. And once the software is embedded in the hardware, that’s it. Finito. Burned in is burned in.”

Gage smiled. “Hadeon Alexandervich must be pissed.”

“Who?” Blanchard asked.

“The president’s son. This was his deal. His and Gravilov’s.” Gage paused, thinking about what the Middle Eastern buyers would do next. “I should’ve said their customer-probably Iran-will be pissed. Hadeon Alexandervich is about to wet his pants. It’s a big mistake to annoy the Iranian Ministry of Intelligence.” The rest of the future snapped into focus. “My guess is that they’ll go after Hadeon Alexandervich, and Hadeon Alexandervich’s father will send State Security after Gravilov.”

“I thought Gravilov was the president’s roof,” Alex Z said.

“Looks like the roof just fell in.”

“What about Matson, can’t he buy his way out?” Alex Z asked.

Gage looked at his watch. The banking day in Geneva was over and the KTMG account was empty. “Nope.”