The Einstein Papers

CHAPTER 41

Taft parked the NIA sedan just outside the newly constructed monitoring station near the town of Potomac Beach, Maryland. He looked over at his partner. "What's the purpose of scheduling the test after sunset?"

"To demonstrate the 'above-surface night capability'" Martinez said, reading from the report.

"Splendid," Taft said as he climbed out of the car.

Martinez closed the folder and joined Taft alongside the sedan. Walking toward the construction trailer, Taft and Martinez noticed new landscaping that had been installed since their last visit. The freshly planted trees and shrubs hid the site from the road. Martinez was about to knock on the door of the trailer when a voice boomed from inside: "Come on in."

The sensors we placed underneath the road picked up your car and activated a remote camera," the contractor said proudly. "I watched you drive into the compound." He reached for a pair of hard hats and handed them to the pair. "You are Agents Taft and Martinez, if I remember correctly."

"That's correct. You have a good memory," Martinez said, smiling. The contractor motioned to the door of the trailer. "Our technicians are already starting the system for the test. We can go and watch."

The three men walked across the dirt parking lot and stopped at the monitoring station. The contractor punched in a code on a key pad to release the door, then swung it open.

The inside of the building was dimly lit and the smell of fresh concrete still hung in the air. To the side, mounted on the wall, one of the three floor-to-ceiling, highresolution screens was already lit. The screen was displaying a green-colored threedimensional image of the Potomac River. The contractor walked over to a technician who was typing on a computer keyboard.

"How goes it?" he asked the technician.

"Not great," the man admitted. 'The software controlling screens two and three has a glitch. We're running a systems check now."

"These are the NIA inspectors," the contractor said, indicating Taft and Martinez.

"How long until we're operational and can demonstrate the system?"

"No idea," the technician said, returning to his work. The contractor smiled wanly at the two agents. "Would you care to wait in the trailer?

There's a television you could watch."

Taft looked at Martinez and nodded. Both men began to walk for the exit.

"I'll come and get you when we're operational," the contractor shouted as they exited the building.

It would be close to 9 p.m. before the system was working properly. At about the same time, at NIA headquarters, General Benson telephoned his wife to explain that he would be late and that she shouldn't wait up for him. Then he phoned down for a dinner from the NIA cafeteria. He was reading the latest reports from the Middle East when the orderly from the cafeteria delivered the meal. Benson signed the bill, tucking a five-dollar bill underneath for the orderly, then removed the stainless-steel cover from the largest plate.

A slab of chicken fried steak covered in a white sausage gravy took up over half the plate. The remaining area on the plate was piled with mashed potatoes ladled with more of the gravy. Removing the cover from another plate, Benson found green beans. The last plate held a slice of pecan pie for dessert. A container of iced tea rounded out the order. After liberally covering the meat and potatoes with salt and pepper, Benson began to eat.

His meal was interrupted with several telephone calls.

The NIA agents in position near the Carondelet began to phone in to Benson at fifteen-minute intervals. Their reports said the vessel remained anchored in the Potomac River with no sign of movement on deck. Dick Allbright telephoned from his office and explained to Benson the progress they were making in the Middle East. After completing his report, he asked Benson, "How late will you be working tonight?"

"Late," Benson replied. "How about you?"

"Late. I've got that weird feeling like something is going to break soon," Allbright noted.

"Me too," Benson said. "It's about time for something to happen." As he spoke those words Benson had no way of knowing that the Carondelet was the solution to their problems. The ship seemed but one small piece in a larger puzzle.

"If nothing happens by midnight," Benson said to Allbright, I'm ordering the Coast Guard to board and seize the ship."

"Do you think the papers are already on board?"

"Maybe, or they soon will be," Benson said. "And this time I want them recovered." The Chinese Kong mini-sub was powered by quiet electric motors that spun a shaft that ran to the stern. The motors made the submarine's operation almost silent, but they offered little in the way of power to the single propeller. Still fighting the river current, the submarine droned on toward its rendezvous. Inside the mini-sub the humidity was already rising, and droplets of moisture fell from the roof of the vessel like a gentle rain. The air inside the cigar-shaped vessel was turning stale, the smell of fear and uncertainty combined with sweat and body odors.

Behind the glass-enclosed bubble, Pilot Ho Pei struggled to keep the submarine on a compass heading. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He would be glad when this was over and he was safely back in China.

Tsing nervously scanned the Potomac River, then checked his flashlight to make sure it was still working. His extraction was scheduled for 10 p.m. He was glad tonight was the night — he had the nagging suspicion his good luck was running out. Twice already he had nearly been captured. It was time to leave the United States for good. The constant stress of hiding from his pursuers was taking its toll.

Glancing down at his left hand, he saw it was trembling slightly. Pouring the plastic cup of coffee onto the ground he tossed the thermos and cup into the bushes. Soon, once he was aboard the ship, he could sleep. He glanced at his watch again and stared downriver.

Minutes seemed like hours.

In the construction trailer near Potomac Beach, John Taft was rapidly growing bored.

"This show is just plain stupid," Taft said. "How do a coffee shop waitress and an unemployed chef manage to cover the rent on a high-rise apartment in New York?"

"Quit being pissy, it's just a sitcom," Martinez said.

"We should both be home right now," Taft said. "You with your wife, me with somebody warm and cuddly."

"What happened to the last lady you were dating?" Martinez asked.

"The one who looked like Teri Garr?"

"Yeah, that one," said Martinez.

"She got transferred to Salt Lake City." Just at that instant the perpetually optimistic contractor yanked open the door of the trailer. "The system's up and running," he said enthusiastically.

Taft and Martinez rose from the old couch in the trailer. Walking across the parking lot, the three men entered the building. All three of the screens were now lit. The contractor pointed to the screens and began his spiel.

"This screen on the left displays the river from the Capitol in D.C. one-third of the way downstream. The middle screen continues from there to about where we are. The last screen is the water from here to the border between Maryland and Virginia, out in the Chesapeake Bay."

"Can you operate both above and below water at the same time?" Martinez asked.

"Yes, we just reduce the image and split the screens in two." The contractor gestured to one of the technicians sitting at a keyboard, who punched in commands. The screen split.

Taft wanted to get the demonstration over as quickly as possible. He walked over to the middle screen and pointed to a blip. "What's this object?"

"That's the great thing about our system," the contractor noted. "It's programmed with the dimensions and characteristics of both man-made and natural marine objects. A storage file in the computer lists boats, whales, whatever. In fact, if there is a personal watercraft out there, for example, we could probably tell you the make and engine size by motor noise and dimensions." The contractor turned to the technician. "Zoom in on the target Agent Taft is pointing to."

The technician punched in the commands. Off to one side, a window opened and the make and engine characteristics of the object were displayed.

The three men stared at the screen. "That comes up as a Chinese Kong 16 minisubmarine, powered by electric motors," the contractor said in astonishment.

"Are you sure this thing is working?" Martinez asked.

"System report is normal," the technician said.

"Son of a bitch," Taft muttered. "That little bastard didn't get away after all." Taft and Martinez sprinted across the parking lot to their sedan. Taft started the engine, revved it up, and dropped it into gear. The tires broke loose from the asphalt as he raced from the parking lot. With his free hand Taft reached for his cellular phone. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard and decided to try General Benson at home.

"He's at the office," Mrs. Benson said to Taft.

Taft speed-dialed the number for Benson's office.

"Benson."

"This is John Taft, sir. Martinez and I are at the demonstration in Potomac Beach. Is there anything new to report on the Einstein papers?"

"We're observing a Chinese spy ship named Carondelet at the mouth of the Potomac. We believe the Einstein papers are on board, or soon will be. At midnight the Coast Guard will board the vessel and seize her. Why do you ask?'

"The Potomac River monitoring system in Potomac Beach just located a Chinesemade mini-sub steaming up the Potomac," Taft blurted out. Punching the gas pedal to the floor, Taft steered around an eighteen-wheeler. Martinez placed one hand on the dashboard as he clutched the passenger-assist strap on the door.

"They must have launched the submarine from the Carondelet when we weren't watching," Benson said quickly. "Can you and Martinez intercept it?"

"We're driving toward the sub right now. To receive the directions from the monitoring station in Potomac Beach we need to hang up on you and call them back."

"Which way are you headed?" Benson asked.

"The sub just passed under the bridge at Dahlgren, Virginia," Taft said.

"I'll send backup," Benson said as the phone went dead. Martinez grabbed the cellular phone from Taft and dialed the computer room at Potomac Beach. "Where's the sub now?" he asked.

"It just passed the bridge at Dahlgren and is angling north to a cove nearby," the contractor said.

Martinez repeated the information so there could be no mistake. Taft pushed the accelerator of the sedan to the floor. Their NIA sedan was doing ninety as they roared over the bridge at Dahlgren.

"Tell Potomac Beach to keep the screens split. I need to know when the sub breaks to the surface," Taft said.

Martinez relayed the instructions and waited. Taft watched the road ahead intently. Lines of trees on each side of the road made it seem the men were traveling through a tunnel. Ahead Taft noticed lights. They were entering the town of Bel Alton.

"The sub is turning toward shore. The location is almost directly across from the town of Bel Alton," the contractor noted.

Taft slammed on the brakes in the center of Bel Alton, then swung the car in a highspeed 180-degree turn. "I saw a road back there leading to the water," he shouted to Martinez.

Pulling off the pavement, Taft steered down a dirt road. The road was tree-lined and fallen leaves littered the packed earth. In the rearview mirror, lit by the car's taillights, Taft could see a cloud of leaves being blown in the air.

He reached to the dash and killed his headlights, then continued on with only the parking lights for illumination. The sedan was a wraith in the night racing toward a clash with destiny brought about by dumb luck

"The sub is rising to the surface," the contractor said over the cellular phone. Rolling down his window, Taft sniffed at the air. "We're getting close to the water," he said to Martinez.

Taft was watching to the side of the sedan as they sped down the road. He noticed a path leading through the forest toward the water. He slammed on the brakes and brought the car to a sliding stop. Jamming the transmission into reverse, he drove ten yards backward and wrenched the vehicle into park.

Running to the rear of the car, Taft opened the trunk and rooted around inside. "Here's what I need," he said to Martinez as he pocketed a road flare. "Do you have an extra clip?"

"Yes," Martinez said as he removed his extra clip from a pouch on his belt and handed it to Taft.

"Stay here, Larry. This job is for someone trained in operations. I've got a feeling it might get wet. You made a pact with your wife you'd stay out of operations from now on, and I don't want you to break that. Call Benson and ask him to have the navy block the entrance to the cove. Let me handle the courier." Taft cocked his automatic with a single fluid motion. "Next, get some choppers with lights over the area. Also request some bloodhounds to be put on standby in case this guy somehow escapes and we need to track him. I'll try to capture him before he runs, but who knows."

"Okay, John, whatever you say," Martinez said. "But be careful, this guy's a crafty little shit."

"I know," Taft said as he stuffed his gun into the waistband of his pants and set out from the car.

Taft began running through the forest toward the water. Away from lights his eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness and his night vision began to improve. He listened to the woods and sniffed at the air.

He was a hunter and he knew his prey was nearby.

At the edge of the forest, near the water, Taft stopped and looked across the river. In the waning light of a quarter-moon he could make out the conning tower of the mini-sub as it broke the surface fifty yards downriver. Taft began to make his way silently along the tree line.

He watched carefully for the courier.

As soon as the submarine's conning tower was fully out of the water, Tsing flashed his light three times. He waited for a reply. Seeing the correct signal from shore the submarine's navigator poked from the hatch of the submarine and turned on a single blue light atop the tower.

Tsing's salvation was at hand.

As soon as Tsing saw the answering signal from the submarine he raced for the edge of the Potomac. His thoughts turned to home and family.

Taft was at the edge of the woods, watching the submarine while scanning the shoreline for sign of the courier. The instant Tsing ran from the woods, Taft struck the road flare against a rock and sparked the end.

It burst into flames with a red chemical glow.

Tossing the flare toward the edge of the river he ran from his hiding spot with his pistol drawn. "Stop where you are," he shouted at Tsing, who was clutching the package containing the Einstein papers tightly in his hand.

The thin line between a civilized man and a barbarian was exposed. Taft should have shot Tsing without a warning, because in the next few seconds everything went very wrong. Using the light from the burning flare as his beacon, the navigator in the conning tower of the mini-sub drew out a pistol.

The navigator took careful aim.

On shore, with the light of the moon glinting off the wet metal deck of the mini-sub. Taft saw the weapon come from the holster. With an instantaneous reaction, fused in his soul by years of training, Taft lined up his shot and fired two rounds in the direction of the submarine.

His would be the opening salvo.

Then, as if in slow motion, Taft watched as the man on the sub flinched as a slug tore into his left side. As if in reaction to his wound, the man thrust the right side of his body forward while at the same time pulling the trigger of the pistol he held in his hand. His aim was dead on.

The bullet slammed into Taft's shoulder near his heart. Flung on his back by the force of the bullet, Taft instinctively rolled onto his stomach and squeezed off several rounds at Tsing, then fired the remainder of the clip at the submarine.

Then, with an effort born of will, he began to crawl toward Tsing, who was now lying on the ground at the edge of the river. In the sand behind Taft, the trail of blood grew wider with each foot he traveled. Reaching the folder of papers Tsing had dropped, Taft drew them closer, then clutched them against his chest.

And then Taft felt nothing, nothing at all.

At the sound of the gunfire, Martinez immediately ignored his fears, his promise to his wife, as well as his instructions from Taft, and ran toward the water. Sweeping the beam of his flashlight along the ground, he searched for Taft.

Finding Taft lying next to Tsing in a crumpled heap near the water, Martinez reached under him and supported his head. Martinez could see blood bubbling out of the wound in Taft's shoulder. It looked like an artery had been nicked.

Kneeling next to Taft, Martinez glanced out on the river. A small V-shape plowed through the water heading downstream. The waters disruption was the only visual sign of the submarine making its escape.

From the back pocket of his pants Martinez removed a handkerchief and pressed it to the hole in Taft's shoulder. The handkerchief was almost immediately soaked through with blood. It was serious but Martinez didn't hesitate a second. Ripping strips off Taft's shirt, he made a compress bandage, then pressed some of his body weight against the wound to staunch the bleeding.

Placing his knee over the wound to continue the direct pressure, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellular phone. Hitting the speed dialer he was connected with the NIA operations center in seconds.

"This is Agent Martinez. My number is 04356. Listen carefully: my partner, Agent Taft, has been shot and the wound appears to be life-threatening. I need a medical evacuation helicopter immediately. Our location is approximately two miles west of Bel Alton, Maryland, on the bank of the Potomac River," Martinez said crisply.

"Affirmative on the helicopter, Agent Martinez, we'll dispatch a medevac immediately. What else do you have to report?"

"Tell Benson the submarine has gone underwater again and is headed downstream." Martinez glanced down at Taft's wound. Blood was spreading around the edge of the shirt.

"Understand, Agent Martinez," the dispatcher said, "we have the navy standing by to intercept the submarine."

Taft's wound is bleeding profusely," Martinez said. "It's soaking whatever I put on top of it."

"Keep direct pressure on the wound, just keep adding another layer of cloth as the one below becomes soaked," the dispatcher said. "Now take two fingers and place them on Agent Taft's neck next to the collarbone."

"Okay," Martinez said, "I'm touching his neck."

"Feel for a pulse," the dispatcher said.

Martinez moved his fingers around near Taft's collarbone until he detected a slow steady beating.

"Agent Martinez," the dispatcher said quickly, "I just received word that the medical chopper has lifted off. They estimate they can reach you in five minutes. Can you light the area so they can find you?"

"There's a red road flare that's already lit. It's burning on the ground," said Martinez.

"Did you find the pulse?" the dispatcher asked.

"Yes, it's slow but steady."

"Are the bandages thoroughly soaked?"

"Pretty much," Martinez said.

"Hold on. Let me see what else we can do," the dispatcher said. The dispatcher rolled from the switchboard and punched a series of commands into a computer terminal. She rolled back to the switchboard and keyed the microphone.

"We had a team of agents observing a ship on the Potomac River. They're headed toward you now as fast as they can travel. In case something happens to the helicopter, they have a first-aid kit in their car and will assist you." The operator paused for a second. "Agent Martinez, I want you to remove your shirt, fold it into a compress bandage, and add it to the top of the bandages already in place. Can you do that?"

"Sure," Martinez said as he shrugged off his jacket and ripped his shirt off.

"Remember, don't remove the bandages already in place. Just add your shirt on top and continue to apply pressure."

"Got it," Martinez said.

The dispatcher glanced at a message on her screen.

"The helicopter reports they can see the Potomac River," the dispatcher said quickly.

"I can hear the chopper now," Martinez said.

"They report they see the flare," the dispatcher said, scanning the screen. "Agent Martinez, you need to keep up the pressure on the wound. Do not take the pressure away until someone can take over. Now I need you to feel for a pulse again." Martinez placed his fingers on Taft's neck and felt around. It took him longer this time to detect a pulse.

"I've still got a pulse," Martinez, told the dispatcher, "but it's not as strong. The helicopter's landing now."

"Hang in there, Agent Martinez, we're going to pull Taft through this," the dispatcher said firmly.

The medevac helicopter touched down on the only open area nearby — a spit of sand some fifty yards downstream. Two attendants jumped from the chopper before the pilot had a chance to throttle back the engine. One carried a plastic box containing medical equipment while the other held a portable stretcher in his hands. Racing up to Martinez and Taft, the pair assessed the situation almost instantly. One of the attendants reached for the radio microphone clipped to his shoulder while the other took over compressing the wound from Martinez.

"Let us do our job now," one of the attendants said as he placed his hand on Martinez's shoulder.

It was only then that Martinez had a chance to look around.