Trojan Horse

50

Jeff opened his eyes and stretched in the driver’s seat. It had been cold overnight and the morning was still chilly. The sun had been up for nearly an hour but they were parked in shadows, holding the car in twilight. He’d been so worn out he’d nodded off when he should have been watching. No police had knocked on the window during the night, and in the dark the red Fiat had not attracted notice. Other cars were parked just off the busy road behind him.

He was at the broadened entrance to an old and narrow street, mostly dirt, though ancient cobblestone sections still existed, exhausted from centuries of use. The street was coming alive as workers emerged from their apartments and set out for their jobs. Traffic on the road was picking up.

He twisted and looked behind him. Daryl was sound asleep. She needed it. The Fiat might be small by American standards but the area behind the two front seats was open and flat, just right for a tight bed. He didn’t know how she’d managed the events of these last few days and maintained her sanity. By most standards she should be in a hospital right now. But except for the cut on her hand and the dark circles about her eyes, she seemed remarkably sound. He was surprised by the feeling of relief that overwhelmed him as he watched her, to the point that he felt a knot in his throat.

Jeff turned forward and looked back at the front door he’d been watching through the night. Saliha would likely be leaving soon, he thought. He could only guess how she planned to reach Iran. Driving was the most obvious but it was a long haul to the border and he had no idea of the condition of the highways. Someone might take her or she could go alone.

“Wake up,” he said gently. “Need you bright and alert.”

Daryl moaned, then rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. “You fell asleep, didn’t you?”

“Only a little. She’s still there. No harm done.”

“You say. Maybe she already left.”

“We’ll know pretty soon. You need to get ready.”

They’d agreed the approach was best made by Daryl, woman to woman. It had worked with the roommate. Perhaps if Saliha knew what she was taking she might be persuaded to give it up. She was a Turk. It seemed unlikely to them that she’d want neighboring Iran to have a nuclear bomb. Of course, she could be an Islamist at heart and might see it as a weapon for all Muslims, though given the history between Turkey and Iran Jeff couldn’t see it. And, frankly, she’d not seemed political to Jeff in the time he’d been with her, just a girlfriend doing a favor for some extra cash and a chance to visit her family.

And he knew that Saliha really didn’t want to make this trip. It occurred to Jeff they might just offer her money. If that was why she was doing it, perhaps they could just buy her off. But however it worked out, it was up to Daryl to make the pitch.

She opened the rear doors and climbed out, straightening her hair and clothing as she did. She rubbed her arms against the cold. She had a bottle of water she used to wash her face, then went to the mirror away from the street and worked on her hair for a long minute. She unwrapped a toothbrush and brushed her teeth, spitting afterward into the gutter. She looked at Jeff and smiled brightly. “All set.”

She climbed into the passenger seat, dug into the bag she’d bought in Prague, and handed over a candy bar and fresh bottle of water. “Breakfast.”

Jeff peeled off the wrapper and as he was taking his first bite, the door opened and out stepped a girl of about eleven. Another girl, perhaps a year older, came out holding the hand of a boy, around eight years old. Then there she was, standing in the doorway, talking to a woman dressed in black.

Saliha was outfitted for a trip, wearing denims and a light blue jacket, with a tan travel bag hanging from her shoulder. Her dark hair was held in place with a dark blue band. She and the older woman embraced, then Saliha leaned over and gave each child a long hug in turn.

She stepped away with a determined smile, gave them all a farewell wave, then set off down the street away from Jeff and Daryl. Jeff started the Fiat, then slipped the car into gear, remaining in first gear as he drove slowly over the bumpy road, more comfortable with the stick shift now though not yet proficient.

“Stop before you get to her,” Daryl cautioned. “I’ll get out and catch up with her on foot. Stay back or you might frighten her.”

The street was suddenly very busy as more workers joined by young uniformed students poured out of the apartments. The street narrowed. A man cursed Jeff, raising his fist.

“What’s that for?” he asked nervously. Was this a one-way street?

“Just a little closer, then stop.” Daryl was silent, then said, “I think this street’s closed to cars. Look around. This is the only one.”

Jeff glanced in the rearview mirror, then ahead. She was right. Theirs was the only car. He braked to a stop and Daryl leaped out without a word. Jeff stayed as she briskly walked after Saliha. An older man wearing a dirty watch cap pounded on the driver window, shouting at him in Turkish.

Jeff looked at him and grinned. “Sorry. I’ll only be a minute.” He held up a finger as he watched Daryl closely. The man pounded again. Jeff searched for a way off the street. The shouting man was gesturing for Jeff to back up and he could see no suitable side street forward. A crowd was gathering, curious for now but if it turned ugly he was concerned that the noise would draw Saliha’s attention and that it would block his view of events. He unrolled the window and killed the engine. “I don’t speak Turkish. I’m sorry. What’s wrong? Anyone speak English?”

“American?” the man shouted. “American?” Jeff nodded, uncertain what was going to happen next. The man turned and shouted to the gathered crowd. His face contorted as he looked back and shouted, “Go away! Go back! Go to America!” He pushed on the door. Others put their hands on the Fiat and began rocking it with increasing agitation.

Jeff started the engine, put the car in gear, and slowly began backing up, hoping he didn’t run over anyone, now unable to watch Daryl.

Saliha heard the noise behind her but didn’t turn around. Something was always happening on this street. She wished her family lived somewhere else but this had been the first house of her parents after their marriage and her mother refused to consider leaving.

She glanced at her watch. She’d get to the rental agency just after it opened. With a good day driving she’d cross the border by sunset. She’d never wanted something to be over before the way she wanted this trip to end.

“Saliha!” she heard and turned to see who was just behind her. It was a tall, very pretty woman with blond hair. There was a bandage on one hand. “Just a minute. We need to talk.”

“What do you want?” Saliha said, not stopping.

Daryl hurried to catch up and started walking beside her. “My name is Daryl. You helped my husband find me. He got there in time and rescued me. I want to thank you.”

Saliha stopped. “You? You are the wife?” She looked at her closely. “Did Ahmed truly kidnap you?”

“Yes, in Geneva, with two other men. When I fought with the man to get away, I was cut.” Daryl held up her hand. “We need to talk. It will only take a minute.”

Saliha stepped away quickly. She had no idea what to make of this. “I must go.” Daryl ran up beside her. “How did you get here?” Saliha demanded. “How did you find me?”

“Ahmed told us your name and gave us the information.”

“Ahmed? I don’t think he would do that.”

Daryl smiled. “I think my husband persuaded him.”

Saliha laughed harshly. “I can believe that. Did he kill him?”

“Of course not.”

Saliha looked at her with suspicion. “You are married to a very dangerous man, I think.” She looked at her good hand. “Why don’t you wear a wedding ring?”

“I… well, actually we live together. We’re like husband and wife.” Saliha looked at her skeptically. “You mustn’t make this trip,” Daryl persisted. “You’re putting a great many lives at risk.”

Saliha eyed Daryl suspiciously. “What do you know about a trip?”

“You told Jeff you were going on one, remember? I know you’re going to Iran. I know you’re taking something for Ahmed, something very bad.”

Saliha stopped herself from looking at her purse where the thumb drive was. “What are you talking about?”

How to explain it? Daryl thought. What words to use? “The thumb drive, it has code on it. It’s like a military weapon used against computers.”

“You mean it attacks computers? Like a virus or something?”

“Yes.” That wasn’t the truth but what was really happening was too complicated to explain on an increasingly busy street.

The noise down the street was suddenly very loud and a car honked. Saliha looked up. “Cars are not supposed to drive there,” she said. “Everyone knows that.” Daryl looked back with concern. “Your husband, he is in that car?” Saliha asked.

“Yes, we didn’t know about the street.” She looked back toward the crowd. “I think they’re mad at him.” Before she could say anything more Saliha was running from her, just as fast she could go. Daryl hesitated, torn between what was happening to Jeff and getting the thumb drive. She broke into a run herself, pursuing Saliha just as fast as she could.

Jeff had killed the engine twice. Backing up in such a small area with a crowd screaming at him and rocking the car, all the while trying to work the clutch and gas, keep the Fiat straight, and not hurt anyone was proving daunting. The reverse gear was higher than the first forward gear and it was giving him lots of trouble.

He kept moving backward, working at staying in the street, moving slow enough so as not to run over anyone. Fortunately the street began to widen. He backed beyond the apartment he’d been watching and as he neared the broad area beside the roadway he’d driven up on, the crowd came to a stop, including the man who’d pounded on his window and started it all. They were satisfied they’d driven him from their neighborhood.

Jeff reached the road, stopped, changed gears, then merged into busy morning traffic to put some distance between himself and the crowd. As soon as he could, he turned onto a quieter street and pulled over. He took out his phone and called Daryl.

The phone rang and rang, and finally rolled over to her new voice mail. “Call me,” he said, then disconnected.

Next, he checked Daryl’s location using their app. She should be with Saliha. He saw the location. He glanced around, then made a sharp U-turn and continued in the direction he’d been going. As soon as he found a major street turning right he’d go with it.

It was nearly six in the morning when Ahmed and Hamid landed in Ankara. The passengers were surly and in a rush, and the car rental agencies were either unmanned or overwhelmed. They’d finally rented a black Korean car, then driven toward the city.

“Are you certain she stays with her mother?” Hamid asked.

“She always stays with her mother.”

Hamid had given him a tight smile. “You mean, that’s what she tells you. For all you know, she has an old boyfriend here. You should not assume things, Ahmed. You were taught that, remember?”

Saliha? With a boyfriend? It was impossible. Of course, he’d had his afternoons with others but she wasn’t that kind of woman, he was certain.

As they reached the outskirts of Ankara, Hamid made a call, then directed Ahmed to drive to a small café. He told him to wait while he went inside. Two minutes later, he climbed back in the car carrying a small gray travel bag.

Ahmed was driving while Hamid gave him directions from the navigation system. Even then, the obscure street was difficult to locate. “What is that?” Ahmed asked as they finally approached it. There was a street disturbance just ahead. A red car was lurching onto the road, its driver having some difficulty before he joined the traffic and drove away.

“This is the street,” Hamid said. Ahmed turned, pulled to the side, and stopped. “It should be right here.” Hamid climbed out of the car. Ahmed joined him, careful to lock up. The men set off down the street, looking for the address.

Hamid was a legend in the VEVAK. He’d been in charge of European operations for more than a decade and had been responsible for turning it into one of the most professional organizations on the continent. He’d removed the fanatics, brought in cooler heads, and exercised considerable discretion in selection of operations. His preference, it seemed to Ahmed, was the gathering of information. Overt operations were quite restricted.

No one knew his base of operations or his cover. Ahmed had heard rumors that he was ruthless in suppressing opposition within the Iranian ex-patriot community in Europe. From Ahmed’s perspective, the most disturbing aspect of his tenure was his absolute ruthlessness when it came to failure. He was a field man, fortunately, so he was not without understanding, but if an agent truly made a mess of it, there was no homecoming.

Two things about his predicament concerned Ahmed. The first was that his latest operation had been a botch almost from the start. Though they’d successfully taken the couple, both of them had managed to escape. Karim was dead at the hands of a woman. Ali had successfully killed the UNOG official but it had cost him his life. That part of the operation, he suspected, was compelled by the man’s escape. No, this had been a mess from the beginning.

Karim’s body had surely been discovered by this time. The Prague police would be looking for witnesses and suspects. They’d certainly have the American couple’s description, and that of the two Chinese men. Worse, someone might remember Ahmed or, despite his specific instructions, there might be a link in Karim’s apartment to him.

No, he’d have to assume everyone in Prague was burned. He’d have to relocate, move the other two agents there. And all this would have to happen immediately. He might even be too hot to remain in Europe. He’d tried to think of a way to raise the subject with Hamid but it would only make matters worse. The man had not wanted to talk. He’d done his job with an absolute minimum of words.

Then there was the other part of this that more than troubled Ahmed; it terrified him. The fact that Hamid was here at all.

“This one,” Ahmed said, glancing at Hamid for approval.

When he hesitated, Hamid said, “Go ahead. We haven’t much time.”

Ahmed knocked and a moment later Saliha’s mother answered the door. “Evet?” Yes?

Ahmed smiled and spoke in English as he knew no Turkish. “I am Ahmed, from Prague. Is Saliha here?” He smiled.

Hamid didn’t wait for a reply. He simply walked into the apartment, and pressed the woman back with his hand, sudden fear in her eyes. “Close the door,” Hamid ordered, glancing over at the three children. “This won’t take long.”

The streets wandered in ways that Jeff found impossible. On the cell phone, the way from here to there seemed straightforward but there were any number of streets not on the screen and a great many of those turned out to be one-way. He was getting better with the clutch and gears but that was small consolation.

Then his phone rang. “Yes?”

“She ran. I lost her for a while but I finally found her. She’s at a car rental agency. I’m across the street watching her. Can you get to me? I’ll try and talk to her again when she comes out. You need to stay back, though. She’s scared to death of you. I think she suspects you killed Ahmed.”

“What?”

“Hurry.” Daryl disconnected.

Jeff checked her cell location again. She was close and if he could just find a street that connected he’d be there in a flash. The problem was that traffic was getting worse by the minute. The vehicles mostly crawled with short spurts of modest speed. Pedestrians treated the roadway as a parking lot, weaving through the intermittently stopped and moving cars with casual indifference.

Most surprising, drivers seemed to have no sense that they were not alone on the street. Cars abruptly stopped while the driver looked over his shoulder to wait for an opening so he could change lanes, backing traffic behind him. Horns blared constantly and fists were waved through open windows. Though there was surely some measure of order to it, the streets looked chaotic to Jeff.

He moved his way to the right, searching again for a significant street that headed toward Daryl’s location. The car behind him honked. There was a slight opening and Jeff moved toward it only to see the car off his right rear speed up to block him in. Jeff turned on the blinker, then steadily moved to the right. The other car could give way or they’d collide.

A moment later he felt the crunch.

They knew the pretty woman in the rental office. One of the young men was flirting with her and she flirted back briefly while indicating she was in a hurry. Daryl had been lucky to find Saliha after losing her in the busy streets. She’d worked systematically on the assumption she would continue in the same general direction. She’d spotted the rental agency and seen the dark-haired woman at the counter, glancing nervously over her shoulder every few seconds. Daryl had remained across the street, standing in the morning shadows.

Saliha emerged with the attentive young man, clutching papers. He smiled as he talked, leading her along the sidewalk. They turned up a driveway and though the rental cars weren’t apparent from her location, Daryl was certain they were parked back there. She looked left, then right, then left, then right. Finally, she stepped onto the street and started weaving through the busy traffic the way she’d seen other pedestrians do.

Just as she reached the other side of the road a midsized black car drove by her. It slowed, and something about it caused her to move to the side of the sidewalk and seek cover with a group leaning against a cement retaining wall.

The black car pulled up almost entirely onto the sidewalk, stopping just short of the rental agency. Two men climbed out. One was wearing a dark charcoal business suit without a tie. He had a short cropped beard and luxurious hair. He was small for a grown man. The other was… Ahmed.

Daryl caught her breath. Ahmed. Here! How was that possible? He was here, on this street, at this moment, with her. The men entered the rental office, only to emerge a moment later. They walked quickly in the same direction as Saliha had headed. When they reached the driveway, they abruptly turned and ran back to their car.

Just then a car honked at the curb. She ignored it and watched the men climb into their car, then saw Saliha pull out of the driveway in a blue compact. The young woman looked both directions, then turned to her right. Ahmed and the other man pulled into traffic and followed.

The car honked again. It was Jeff. Daryl ran to the Fiat, which had a new, large dent on the passenger side, and climbed in. “Follow the black car!” she snapped. “It’s Ahmed with another man and they’re after Saliha. Hurry, Jeff! Hurry!”

51

Wu eased the SportCruiser off the runway with a sense of relief. He lifted the nose and relaxed back in his seat as the plane gained altitude. At last, he was beginning to feel that his endless stream of problems were behind him.

Li sat beside him as impassive as ever but Wu was warming to the man, feeling almost a kinship with him. He’d long suspected Li had been sent to Turkey to spy on him but it turned out he was being punished for an incident he didn’t want to discuss.

Wu slowed the rate of climb to cut the engine noise and began his slow turn north. He was still exhausted despite his few hours’ sleep. The long flight from Prague had just about done him in. He’d never imagined night flying was so demanding or isolating. There’d been times when he felt as if he were floating in space. He’d clung to what his meager instruments told him, even when their readings defied his senses. And they’d always been right. The frightening night landing had been almost too much for him. Looking back on it, he realized it had been closer than he’d thought at the time.

After settling Li in, Wu had gone to bed though still tense. When he finally dropped off, his dreams were unsettled, evading his memory each time he was awakened. He’d risen early and stepped into the shower, scalding water beating on his skin as he struggled to relax. After shaving and dressing, he checked his phone. The message from Feng told him that they’d located credit card purchases in Prague and had new cell-phone numbers for the couple.

Wu knocked on the spare bedroom door and saw that Li was ready. The men went to the parking garage to claim his Buick, then had driven to a small eatery Wu often visited. Over strong Turkish coffee he checked his iPhone and the locations for the cell phones again. He was not familiar with the area since it was a poor working-class district.

Now, as he inched forward in rush-hour traffic, Wu reviewed again the situation. The Iranian agent Ahmed had claimed this couple were skilled CIA agents, then he’d added they were computer experts. Feng wanted the laptops so Wu was confident the last part was true. Ahmed also said the woman had killed his associate so she at least must be trained and ruthless.

It all seemed improbable to Wu. Computer experts and skilled killers? The two just didn’t go together.

Feng had forwarded to Wu a great deal of information overnight, so much that he’d read it this morning on his laptop during breakfast. Ahmed, it seemed, was the conduit for secret code being sent to Iran. Saliha was his mule. A vital patch had just been sent and she was carrying it into Iran. It was important she get through.

Wu thought about that. It wasn’t his job but when he and Li got the computers they’d make certain the American couple were stopped. They couldn’t be allowed to interfere.

Wu glanced at his watch. They’d moved perhaps ten meters in half an hour. There were all the signs of a serious blockage ahead. He checked the location again and cursed. Li looked at him. “They’re moving away from us, leaving the city, I think.”

“They are after the courier, then. They must have missed her.”

“Yes. She’ll be on her way to Iran. We’ve lost our chance to get them in the city.”

“Perhaps it will be easier in a less crowded place.”

“All right. We need a change of plans.” Though he hated it Wu could think of no alternative. He turned the wheels sharply left and when the oncoming traffic left the barest of openings, he punched the gas. He cringed as his Buick smashed into the low concrete divide, then up and over it, the bottom dragging across it and sounding as if the heart of his car was being torn out. The cars braked and honked. He wheeled the car around, then joined the faster traffic.

“We’ll stop at the safe house,” he said, “and get what we need. Then we’ll catch them from the air.”

52

Traffic was moderate on the E80 heading east, much heavier going the other direction. There were three lanes on this side of the divided highway.

Hamid could see the blue car ahead, a Ford it looked to him. “Don’t lose her,” he said. He didn’t like repeating the instructions so often but if they lost the woman he had no idea how they’d find her again. After a few minutes he looked back at the side mirror. “There’s a red Fiat following us. Do you see it?”

Ahmed, who was driving, did not. “No.”

“Just keep doing what you are. I will keep an eye on it.”

After a long pause Ahmed said, “Do you think the Americans have called in assistance?”

“Perhaps. The CIA has agents in Turkey but I don’t think this is the way they would help. But there is also no reason for the car to be following us.”

“Shall I test it?”

“Not yet. The border is far away and we have plenty of time. I could be mistaken. It could just be a coincidence.”

They’d arrived too late at Saliha’s mother’s apartment. By the time they’d finally located the obscure street Saliha was gone. There had been no need for threats. Her mother claimed they’d just missed her and told them where to find the car rental agency she always used.

And they’d just missed her there as well, but as they followed the blue car she’d rented it was apparent she had no idea she was being followed. For now, Hamid was content just to keep her in sight. After all, they knew where she was going.

Again he glanced at the boxy red Fiat behind them. Would the CIA actually use such a car? He shook his head in bewilderment at the idea.

Once Jeff and Daryl’s car reached the divided highway marked E80, they calmed down. In explaining the fresh dent, Jeff had told her that changing lanes in Ankara called for more finesse than he possessed and that if he had occasion to drive there again in the future he’d rent an SUV in someone else’s name.

Daryl expressed her frustration at not persuading Saliha. “This is a bigger job than I thought,” she said. The woman was very frightened and not only of Jeff, it seemed. From what her roommate had said, Saliha was more frightened of what Ahmed might do than anything.

From time to time on wide curves in the highway they could see the blue car. The black Hyundai with Ahmed and the other man was tailing her as well. Traffic was not especially heavy but there were many passenger cars, overloaded pickups, and heavy semis heading east.

“Careful Ahmed doesn’t see us,” Daryl cautioned.

“Right. But I don’t want to stay too far back,” Jeff said.

“I checked. This highway goes all the way to the Iran border. She’s not likely to leave it.”

“We’ll plan on that. She’s also holding a steady speed of a hundred and ten kilometers an hour, just under seventy, which makes my job a bit easier.”

“Boy genius,” she said with a smile.

“It’s on the speedometer.” A minute later he said, “So… why is our favorite Arab here with his bearded friend?”

“Iranians aren’t Arabs.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Unfortunately I do, Mr. Racial Stereotype. All I can think of is that he’s concerned Saliha isn’t going to deliver this final patch.”

“He seemed satisfied she’d do it when we talked to him in Prague.”

“Talk? Is that what you call interrogating a hog-tied man lying on the floor?”

“I never touched him.”

“Maybe the bearded guy is a boss of some kind and wants to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

“They might think she’s betrayed them. That won’t be good if true.”

“Jeff, there’s really nothing we can do except talk to Saliha when we get the chance. I don’t like Ahmed being here. He’s a killer. I haven’t the slightest doubt he had every intention of killing both of us. We’d be dead now if we hadn’t managed to escape. I don’t need to remind you that this isn’t what we do. We need a backup plan. Do you think Frank can have her picked up by the Turkish police or stopped at the border? This really shouldn’t be up to us. Surely the Company has assets in place by now.”

“Assets? Where’d you get that?”

“I read novels, I know how these spy types talk. And I worked at NSA, remember?”

“If the Company had anyone in the area Frank would have called. It’s not like there’s a lot of time for them to coordinate an operation against a moving target in the middle of the desert. He’s not thrilled about us doing this but he sees the necessity since we’re on her tail. As for Turkey, I don’t know about cooperation. It’s been moving more Islamist every year. The current government is pretty cozy with Iran. They aren’t known to cooperate with America, or Europe for that matter… not unless there’s something in it for them. Just a second. She’s pulling off the highway,” Jeff said. “Hold off on that call. The boys are following her.”

“The red car is exiting with us,” Ahmed said. “You were right.”

“Be prepared. It’s almost certainly the CIA, though we cannot rule out the Mossad.”

At the mention of the dreaded Israeli agency, Ahmed’s mouth went dry. To his knowledge he’d never encountered its agents but the stories he’d heard were bloodcurdling. Its exploits in Europe and the Middle East were terrifying in their daring and success.

“How is it possible for them to be here?” Ahmed asked.

“Why do you even ask the obvious? Two CIA agents questioned you. You gave them Saliha’s name, didn’t you? And her cell-phone number? You told them what she was doing?”

“I didn’t. Really.”

“Of course you did. That’s why they are here.”

Saliha preferred stopping infrequently on these trips. It was a long drive and every minute off the highway was a minute lost. But from long habit she’d established when and where she’d take a break. This town was one of many along the highway, red-roofed stone houses clustered together, the spire of a single mosque shooting skyward. Here, just off the exit, was a small, clean café where she could use the facilities and order a roll and coffee to go. She’d pick up some water while she could. She parked the Ford Fiesta beside the café, locked the doors, and went inside.

Ahmed slowed his car as he waited for instructions. “She doesn’t know me,” Hamid said. “I’ll go inside, then follow her to the car. I’ll get out here. I want you to park well in front of her. Watch through the mirror so she doesn’t see your face. She’s your girlfriend so she should be happy to see you but you’ve never come to Turkey before and your presence will likely startle her. I’ll talk to her, then you come up and be certain to smile, Ahmed. This is a friendly gesture on your part. You want to help her out.”

“She’s smart. She’ll know.”

“Just do it. Now let me out.”

“What about the red car behind us?” Ahmed asked as he braked to a stop.

“Here.” Hamid reached into the gray travel bag he’d picked up at the café and handed over a Browning Hi-Power 9 millimeter. “It’s single action for the first shot,” he reminded him. There was a Spanish .380 Astra Constable as well, a much smaller though still heavy pistol. Hamid took that for himself, slipping it into his pocket. “We want no trouble. This is just in case they start it.” Hamid stepped from the car, then casually walked to the café.

Jeff stopped the Fiat well back from the Hyundai. He saw the bearded man exit the car, then watched as it moved and parked some thirty feet in front of the Ford Saliha was driving. “Ahmed’s driving,” Daryl said. “I’ve never seen the other man before this morning. What do we do?”

“Wait and watch.” He glanced beside him at the sound of a bell and saw a loaded donkey behind, led by a young boy.

Inside, Saliha smiled at the owner, who expressed surprise at seeing her again so soon. She ordered a large American coffee to go and her favorite sweet along with two bottles of water. While she was in the bathroom, Hamid entered. As he spoke no Turkish he ordered two coffees in English and pointed to several rolls, asking they be put in a sack for him. The man understood and had both orders ready by the time Saliha come out. She saw Hamid and smiled politely while reaching for the money to pay for her order.

She was not a beautiful woman, Hamid noted. She was pretty in a traditional Turkish way with a more prominent nose than he preferred and long, quite lovely black hair. She moved with a certain confidence rare in any Muslim country and he wondered if it was because she was from Turkey or if it was the result of her time in the West.

He gave the man more money than necessary, then hurried after the woman. He glanced to his left and saw the red Fiat well back. A man and a woman were in it, watching. He turned right and timed himself to reach Saliha just as she arrived at her car.

“Excuse me,” he said, glancing over her to see Ahmed exit the Hyundai. “Do you know this area?” So close, he saw she was a good three inches taller than he was. That was, unfortunately, all too common in his life.

“No,” she answered without suspicion. “I’m just passing through.”

“Ahh. The same as me.”

“You could ask in the café.”

“I could but I speak no Turkish.”

“I don’t know if—”

At that moment Ahmed was immediately behind her. He placed one strong hand on each of her shoulders. “Hello, Saliha.”

She turned and gasped. “What… what are you doing here?”

“Ahmed will ride with you,” Hamid said. “I will follow. We just want to be certain you reach Iran without difficulty.” He smiled. “All is well, I assure you.”

“I…”

“Let’s go,” Ahmed said with a warm smile.

Once the two were in the car Hamid knocked on the passenger window. “Here,” he said to Ahmed. “I bought you coffee and something to eat.”

As the couple drove off, Hamid returned to the Hyundai. With a last glance at the red Fiat, he followed.

“They’ve kidnapped her,” Daryl said.

“That’s one word for it. I think they want to make certain she gets to where she’s going.”

Jeff followed the two cars through the town, then back onto E80 where Saliha in the lead car soon returned to her former pace.

“I don’t see that there is anything we can do now,” Jeff said. “They are dangerous men and there’s no doubt the bearded one saw us.”

“He doesn’t know who we are.”

“Somehow that fails to reassure me.”

Daryl stared out the window. The countryside was rolling and green, shedding winter. The poverty was apparent everywhere she looked. The sky, however, was magnificent, an indigo she couldn’t recall seeing before. “I’ll call Frank while we still have a signal.”

When she was finished placing the call, Daryl lifted the cell phone to her ear. She glanced out the window again. A small, white plane trimmed in silver was slightly behind them, pacing traffic.

53

Frank could not have been more unhappy. He’d not seen his family for a week. His wife understood and didn’t complain, but it was still difficult. He talked with his daughters each day and they seemed to take it well, but with children you never knew.

Preparations for the Iranian nuclear test at the Kavir-e-Lut salt flats were well advanced according to the latest analysis of satellite imagery. Chatter intercepted by the National Security Agency confirmed high expectations within the Iranian military and among the ruling elite. The logistics were complicated but once every part was ready, transported to the site, and assembled, it wouldn’t take long.

And so far there was no sign that Tusk had managed to leap the new air gap. Once it did it would spread like wildfire and this time it was designed to be a program destroyer, not an inhibitor. The satellite image of the fuel enrichment plant in Natanz was continually displayed on one of his monitors as he waited for confirmation of success. During occasional lapses in his frantic schedule, he’d find himself staring at the buildings and grounds, searching for some sign.

The target date for detonation was April 26, just ten days out. The UNOG report had been delayed and was the subject of wild speculation, some of which was now in the media. Its contents and conclusions had been cast in doubt. The consequence was that a military strike had been ruled out for the time being, leaving Stuxnet3 as the only remaining weapon. With this Chinese countermeasure on the way, its success was in doubt, and if it failed Frank didn’t want to think of the way the world would be changed.

With the access Jeff and Daryl had given him, Frank was now continuously monitoring the cell-phone locations for the couple as well as that of Ahmed. According to Jeff and Daryl, Ahmed and Saliha were now in the same car. Any likelihood of Jeff and Daryl talking the woman out of the trip or getting the patch from her was all but gone.

Frank had attempted to get agents moved into action in Turkey and been shocked at the amount of red tape he’d encountered. One senior manager had even wanted to schedule a meeting to discuss his request. As a consequence he’d spoken briefly to Edinfield earlier, ostensibly to update her, but in fact to see if he could enlist her help in getting agents in place. Instead, she’d told him about her pickup order for the couple so he’d not wanted to risk revealing their location. They were in the hunt, on the very tail of the mule, while he had no idea if real agents could get that close in time. He didn’t like it but it was up to them.

Which raised the most important question of all: So what if Jeff and Daryl pulled this off? The Chinese would just find another way, or for that matter they might simply e-mail the patch to Iran. Until now they’d used a mule but there were ways to send it digitally that were nearly as secure. With time running out and their mule intercepted wouldn’t that be the logical move?

The question was all about timing. Somehow he had to find a way to delay the patch until after the air gap was jumped and the Trojan had time to do its work. He looked again at the growing file on Ahmed Hossein al-Rashid of Prague. He’d had a very able team on the man since his name first appeared. They’d accessed ASSET at the Italian border crossing the night Daryl was likely transported into the EU and they’d found the man’s photo.

In the end, he’d settled on arranging to have an advisory sent to the Turkish government concerning Ahmed Hossein al-Rashid. He’d included the passport information and photograph. The advisory requested that Ahmed be detained and the Prague police notified because he was wanted for questioning in a murder there, and also by the Geneva police concerning his involvement in an abduction and killing of a UNOG official. He didn’t know if it would help or not but it was something.

54

Daryl glanced into the sky. “That plane’s still there.”

“What plane?”

“There’s been a small white plane following behind us almost from the start. I thought I said something about it earlier.”

Jeff leaned down to look and spotted it off to their right flying low. “That’s odd.”

“It’s probably just following the highway to wherever it’s going.”

“Maybe. Still, you’d think it would have flown past us long ago. I’d think an airplane would have trouble flying as slow as a car travels. Keep an eye on it.” He glanced at his cell phone. No signal.

Half an hour later the blue Ford exited the highway, followed closely by the black Hyundai. Jeff glanced at the fuel gauge. “Pit stop, I think. We need gas as well and a stretch.”

“Among other things. Make sure it’s got a restroom.”

Jeff watched as both cars ahead drove a short distance into the city then nosed into a large service station. It was situated amid rolling hills, the city itself thick with trees. He spotted three minarets, which he took as an indicator of size.

Saliha parked the car, then climbed out followed by Ahmed. The bearded man got out, giving Jeff and Daryl a look that seemed to say, “Stay where you are.”

Which proved no problem. There was a small car rental agency across the street and a few blocks down, still within sight, a gas pump out front. “Think they’ll sell to us?” he asked.

“Why not? You’ve got a credit card.”

Keeping an eye on the two other cars Jeff went inside and found they would fill up his tank. There was also a restroom they could both use. When Jeff came out Daryl was standing beside the Fiat, staring into the sky. “That plane’s circling. It’s following us.”

“Or them.”

“Or all of us.”

Jeff checked his cell phone, confirmed a signal, then placed a call to Frank. It rolled over to voice mail. “Frank, do you know anything about an airplane out here? We’re on E80 more than halfway to the border, in a town I can’t read the name of. Call back when you can.”

“What do you think it’s up to?” Daryl asked, watching the sky.

“I don’t know.”

“It can’t be good.”

“Probably not. Traffic will thin as we drive farther east. I wonder if whoever it is would try something then?”

“Jeff,” Daryl said, “I have an idea. If I’m wrong it won’t mean much; if I’m right it could make the difference.”

Ten minutes later Daryl pulled in behind the Ford and Hyundai, driving the Fiat. Jeff was just behind her, in a newly rented Ford Fiesta, this one green. She planned to trail the other cars for a bit, slowly dropping back while Jeff moved in front of her, testing if the plane stayed with her. If not, she’d just close up and they’d work with two cars. If it did, she had other plans.

When Ahmed slid into the car beside her, Saliha was enraged and for a time her anger overwhelmed her fear. Why had he come all the way to Turkey? She was furious, so mad, she said nothing for a long time.

Then she began to wonder just how he’d tracked her down. He must have gone to her mother’s place. How else could he have managed it? Had he threatened her? It wouldn’t have been necessary. Her mother knew better than to resist a determined man. Saliha had even mentioned Ahmed to her once or twice, always in a positive way.

“Why are you here?” she demanded, startling Ahmed from his thoughts. “And just who is that little man with you?”

He smiled. “I’m here to help you. I told you before that this was important. Don’t you want me here?”

“I can handle this on my own. This makes me think you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you, but…”

“He is your boss? Is that it?”

“Something like that. He doesn’t know you like I do. He insisted we come just to make sure.”

Saliha drew a deep breath, then released it in a sigh. She was in trouble. Why else would they go to all this effort and expense? They wanted this thumb drive in Iran today and they wanted to be certain she didn’t change her mind. She shouldn’t have said anything about this being her last trip. It had made Ahmed suspicious and brought in this other man.

She’s continued thinking about this as they drove, not certain what she should do. She smiled, behaving as if everything was fine. A dark thought returned to her. When she crossed the border, would she be allowed to come back? Thinking of Ahmed with his false sincerity she suspected not. They’d sever her relationship with whatever she’d been taking, once and for all.

It occurred to her that she should start looking for a way out. She ran through any number of scenarios, then the most obvious came to her. These men weren’t Turkish, and Turks were well known for defending their own women. If she had the chance she should take it. After all, she’d managed to get away from the American with no help at all. She’d toss the thumb drive at their feet and run. Let them take it into Iran. It was time she got to Paris or Rome.

Then she recalled the threat against her family. Had Ahmed meant it? Would he really go so far? What would the men he was working for do? But she had to try, she just had to. She wanted to cry.

The caravan below, as Wu was coming to think of it, had reached a more isolated region of Turkey. Traffic on the highway was minimal. What remained were the heavy semis, a few pickups, and a scattering of cars. Houses were far between, the country primarily rolling grassland with small scratch farms. It looked exhausted.

He’d picked up the Magic Dragon cell-phone tracker along with the weapons. Magic Dragon, as the device was known, made it possible for him to track any cell phone. It was especially effective from the air. It was simple to use and he’d taught Li within minutes. The device was the size of an iPad, but with old-fashioned knobs. What it did was emit a signal that mimicked that of a cell tower. The cell phone being tracked would then automatically ping the tower and report its GPS location whether the phone was in use or not. Magic Dragon had a range of up to two miles from above, less on the ground. It had allowed them to locate then stay with the cars below.

The morning weather had been clear but now dark clouds gathered overhead and gusts of wind rocked and buffeted the small plane from time to time. It would likely get worse as the day progressed and the ground warmed. If this were a pleasure flight he’d have turned back long ago. Li was looking a little nauseous though he’d not said anything.

Sometime earlier, Li had reported that Ahmed’s cell phone was now appearing in the blue car. That had puzzled Wu until he’d thought to have him insert Saliha’s number into the Magic Dragon locater and there it was, with Ahmed. They were in the car together. Ahmed’s partner in the black sedan was following close behind.

“We need to get the red car away from the others,” Wu said. “The computers will be in it. We want it off the highway and on a side road. Once there we should have no problem. I’m reluctant to do anything on a busy highway. We need to continue operating in Turkey when this is finished.”

Li said nothing. He was now quite pale. Wu smiled to himself, having once been very airsick himself. He needed a break below, some change he could take advantage off. In the meanwhile they needed to be ready. “Check the weapon,” he ordered.

Li nodded. He put aside the Magic Dragon, reached behind, and removed a HK G36, the assault rifle of the German army. It was best not to use Chinese-made firearms.

Henri Wille received the notice over his secure Interpol e-mail system. Their American friends had sent a strongly worded “request” to the Turkish government that one Ahmed Hossein al-Rashid be detained. The Prague police wanted the man for questioning into the murder of Karim Behzad. He was also wanted by the Geneva Canton Police for the abduction of two Americans and his complicity in the murder of a UNOG official.

Henri smiled at the last. He wondered if the Geneva police even had this man’s name. He leaned back in his chair and thought. Someone was pressing very hard. Though official wheels were turning Turkey was known for how slowly it moved in these matters. But there was another way. A better way.

For more than three years Henri had served as UN liaison on the TALOS project, intended to provide the European Union with the most advanced border security system in the world. With UNOG located just a few short kilometers from the EU, it had insisted they have a security representative on the committee.

His counterpart from Turkey was Attila Arif, a senior deputy in the General Directorate of Security in Ankara. Despite his ominous sounding first name, Arif was a congenial man, given to heavy drinking and relentless womanizing.

When he came on the line, he said, “My friend, Henri, it has been too long. We are not supposed to meet for another two months.”

“I have a favor to ask, Attila.”

“Just ask. If I can do it you know I will.”

Henri told him what he wanted.

“Consider it done, my friend. Nothing could be easier.”

55

Gholam Rahmani, known as Hamid, watched the Ford Fiesta almost in a trance, his mind far, far away. When will it all end? he thought. How long must it continue?

No wife, no children, no real life. He’d been a teenager the year the Shah fell. Now in his early fifties he wondered what jihad had really meant to him. Was the cost too high?

After his father vanished into Iran and he’d received just the one letter from his mother there’d been no word again. He’d assumed all his family dead. These had been very difficult and lonely years. Once the family rug business in Italy became prosperous it was only natural that he joined the Frente Democrático Iraniano, FDI. Now as executive director he was in position to know every opponent of the Islamic Revolution in Europe. Had anyone accused him of being a devoted son of the Iranian revolution his life would have been worthless. He was certain that no Iranian exile would initially believe it. Rahmani, they would say, had every reason to despise the mullahs and what had been done to his family. He would not support them and he’d never betray his Iranian brothers and sisters in exile.

In fact, convincing the Iranian intelligence service VEVAK of his sincerity had not been easy, since his reputation as an opponent had been so well established. But he’d persisted and in time they’d given him small assignments, which he carried out with precision. When he’d been ordered to kill the then executive director of FDI, a close friend and longtime mentor, he’d seemed to scarcely hesitate. Only after that had he been accepted and quietly ushered into Iran for special training, then given the field name Hamid.

In time he’d risen in responsibility. He’d subsumed every normal human response and emotion to his great jihad. The Prophet taught that every man is at war with himself and that he must first conquer the darkness within before he would make jihad on the enemies of Allah. He struggled every moment in Iran to conquer himself. The fate of his family had been unfortunate, he was told. Had his true loyalties been known they might have been spared. He must accept the most sincere apologies for his loss. And he had.

On his third trip to Iran, two years earlier, he’d been given a great gift, a visit with his older brother, Nader. It had been a joyous homecoming as each of them had thought the other long dead. They met in Tehran though Nader said he lived elsewhere, the city unnamed. Hearty, heavyset, gregarious as ever but now with gray hair, he told his younger brother that he was married with three children. “All daughters, alas.” He’d trained as a scientist and did unspecified work for the government.

Rahmani had found family again. The third day of their visit, Nader had taken his younger brother far out into the country into the foothills of the Alborz Mountains in a borrowed Land Cruiser. There, the brothers had set up a small camp; they’d joked, eaten, relaxed. Then, at last, far beyond any possible ears, all pretense vanished as a heavy silence fell between them.

Rahmani broke it. “Our father and mother.”

“They killed them both. Father simply vanished almost the moment he got off the airplane. An informer reported that mother had sent you a letter. She was arrested and disappeared.”

“She wrote me of our brothers. And of our widowed sisters.”

Nader closed his eyes briefly in sorrow as he murmured a prayer.

“I am allowed to see them from time to time. They are okay. Not happy, childless, unmarried, but okay. Perhaps they will let you see them.”

Rahmani said nothing for a long time. “Can this really be our Iran? It is like a prison, my brother.”

“It is not like a prison, it is a prison. Let me tell you about my work.” Nader had then told him what he did at the Natanz Fuel Enrichment Plant. “We are preparing enriched uranium for our glorious Islamic nuclear bomb.” Rahmani said nothing. “You are part of the revolution now, my brother. An important man, I am told. They trust you or you would not be allowed to see me.”

“I tried to go on, to live a normal life. I had an Italian girlfriend in school. I wanted to marry her.”

“You should have. A good marriage is a blessing. I am very fortunate.”

“But we are having this conversation out here.” Nader shrugged. “No, I could not marry, not with what I planned to do.”

“And what was that, little brother?”

“The mullahs cannot last. They are too corrupt. Iranians will not tolerate a theocracy indefinitely. They came to power in a revolution, a revolution will sweep them away.”

“Just as I thought. You were always the hard one.”

Rahmani told his brother of his mentor, of the night he’d killed him. “I knew he was sick, though not how badly. I told him of my mission but that the price for acceptance was his death and it was too much. He held my hands and told me he was dying. He spoke of his dreams for our great nation, how the mullahs must be crushed. He told me I must pay whatever price was necessary, no matter how hard I found it. He told me he was proud of me. He asked for a week to visit family, to make his arrangements. He gave up his remaining few months so I could wage jihad against the mullahs from within. Still, it was very, very hard. He was a great man.”

Rahmani stared across the land toward the mountains, inhaled the sweet fragrance unique to this region. “From where I am now I do them enormous harm. I’ve already largely neutralized their European operations. Several agents have been executed for failures I arranged. But this bomb — it will change everything. Even Iranians who do not support the mullahs believe Iran should have the bomb.”

“Yes, it will give them many more years in power. And they will use it. Trust me. They will use it.”

“When they do, the West will retaliate. They are not as weak willed as the mullahs believe.”

“They are stupid men. So stupid you would be amazed.”

“What more can I do? You have not told me your duties without a reason.”

“Nothing right now. We are having many problems. This Stuxnet — I’m sure you’ve read of it — has caused much greater harm than is admitted. But they are preparing a new, secure computer center. Once it is operational they will accomplish wonders. Today, we must set up a secure means for me to communicate with you. When I know something vital, I will tell you. Then, if you can, you must act.”

Rahmani was silent for a time, then, “If I am caught and tortured, what we have said today will come out.”

“It is written, little brother. But like you, I will not rest until these bearded bastards burn in Hell.”

“Allah willing,” Rahmani said. His brother met his eyes and repeated, “Allah willing.”

There had been no message after that and Rahmani wondered if Nader had changed his mind or perhaps disappeared. Scientists in Iran were reported to simply vanish from time to time. Then, on March 19, a month earlier, had come this message through the tortuous digital pathway they’d agreed to:

His brother had taken a terrible risk in contacting him and forwarding the internal FEP documents to support his claim. While only such evidence would be persuasive to any meaningful power, it exposed him. Rahmani wondered if his brother could escape his fate.

Two days later, Rahmani delivered the information to the United Nations because he did not trust the Americans or British to do anything. But if UNOG failed to act, he’d threatened, he’d take the data to them, and if he had to he’d go public. Somehow, he would find a way to compel the world to take action.

Then this Chinese counter to any new version of Stuxnet had appeared. He’d risked everything giving his brother’s documents to the UN. He continued that risk today. Ahead, Ahmed rode with the mule. Rahmani would stop her. That was why he was here. If he could do it and keep his position as chief of Iranian intelligence in Europe, so be it. If not, he was always in the hands of Allah, the Merciful.

“I have to go,” Saliha said.

“Go where?” Ahmed looked confused.

“You know, in a ladies’ room.”

“Oh. Of course. You can pull over. It is not a problem.”

“What do you think I am? A woman who squats on the side of a highway? There is a town up ahead. I stopped there once before. It has a café I can use.”

Ahmed thought about it a moment. “All right.”

They were now two to three hours from the border and Saliha had decided she’d only have two chances. One would be a stop well short of the crossing; the other would be at the border itself. She’d spent some time considering talking Ahmed into taking the thumb drive across himself. He was here, what did they need her for?

But that led to only one answer. Yes, they wanted what she had in Iran but they also wanted her in Iran. She slowed when she saw the sign. YAY-LACIK. It was not much of a town. The hills were more pronounced now with evergreen growth in the cooler climate.

Behind them, Rahmani slowed with the Ford. He glanced at his watch. Early for a break. The weather was turning nasty. The wind had really picked up and was blasting the car with considerable force from time to time. Sunset was at 7:30 p.m. and that was about when they’d reach the border. He needed to do something soon.

Behind them both, Jeff dropped well back, wondering how he’d pass unnoticed in such a small town.

Daryl had fallen far behind and the plane remained with her. She’d checked her cell phone to call Jeff but there was no signal. She had her spot picked out, Tercan Baraji, an enormous hydroelectric reservoir. The map showed a network of roads leading around it. She’d take in the sights while the other cars drove on. After an hour of delay she’d return to the highway and follow. Easy.

Ahead of Jeff the blue Ford pulled to a stop in front of a small café. There were a few tables and empty chairs. The black Hyundai stopped immediately behind the Ford. The diminutive man climbed out and stretched, looking back the way they’d come, not registering Jeff in his different car. Jeff saw the woman get out and go inside, followed by Ahmed. The bearded man remained without, smoking a cigarette.

Jeff turned into a narrow side street, then maneuvered until he was largely unseen from the other cars but had a clear view of the front of the café.

Daryl spotted the road to the lake and took it. A short distance later she looked up and sure enough, there was the little plane. She could feel the wind herself and wondered what it was like up there. Not pleasant.

Overhead, Wu had been fighting the SportCruiser for the last two hours. The pounding wind was playing havoc with the little plane. More than once he’d thought about just turning around but the red car was just there. And now it was by itself, away from the highway. He banked the plane and descended, maneuvering for the best approach.

Li had thrown up once earlier and apologized repeatedly for it. Still, he’d improved after that and though he looked wan he had the assault rifle between his knees, ready for action. These were CIA agents, certainly armed. Wu was taking no chances.

“Take them out,” Wu ordered. “Careful with the car. We don’t want computers with holes in them.” Wu dipped the plane and cut speed even more. His main concern was a sudden downdraft. He doubted the craft had enough power to overcome anything too precipitous.

Li opened the window and cold air beat into the cockpit. He moved in the seat so he could aim the assault rifle. He had a fifty-round magazine with three more in the war bag. He slipped the weapon to full automatic fire.

Below, Daryl was concentrating on the road. If it deteriorated she planned to turn around and head back to the highway, then find another off road to follow. It didn’t have to go to the lake. It could go anywhere.

Saliha stalled in the restroom. She’d counted on men being gathered here as they always were, but because of the weather there were only two sitting inside, both old. Even if they stood up for her, how far were Ahmed and the other man prepared to go? And once she tried to get away and failed, they’d know, and if she was wrong in her assessment she would certainly be their enemy from then on. She might not even live to reach the border.

Ahmed knocked on the door. “Let’s go. It will be dark soon.”

Saliha stared at herself in the mirror. She felt the knife in her pocket, knowing she hadn’t the courage to use it. You’re a coward, she thought. A coward.

As she exited the café she looked at the men. No, these wouldn’t do. It had to be the border, she thought. There were guards there. They’d likely remember her. Yes, the border. That was the best place to escape. As for her family, she’d call and warn them.

Ahmed stood at the bar to pay for his soda as Saliha went outside. He glanced at the television. Startled, he saw two photographs of him, one from his passport, the other of him sitting in a car. My God! he thought. He stared in amazement and fear. The picture cut to a serious young woman reading from a script, then a telephone number appeared on the screen. He was wanted, here in Turkey, right now! He glanced quickly around. No one else was watching the television. He dropped a large bill on the counter and rushed out.

Fortunately, Hamid had stayed with his car. Saliha didn’t notice Ahmed’s anxiety as he slipped behind the wheel and joined her. She made a U-turn and drove back to the highway. Beside her, Ahmed stifled his panic. He’d have to avoid getting too close to the border. He needed to tell Hamid about this but when he did it would be just one more sign of failure. Perhaps after Saliha had crossed over and they had a success to enjoy. Yes, that would be the moment.

Just then, there was a distinctive sound Daryl had only heard once before — bullets striking very close to her. There were thuds across the front of the car and the distant sound of rapid gunfire. She accelerated rapidly.

The plane, she thought, it’s from that plane!

Overhead, Wu gunned the engine, gained altitude and banked. “Any luck?”

“I shot across the engine to disable the car. If you can come in very low I’ll go for the tires next.”

Wu didn’t like the sound of that. Low was not good. The plane was a lot safer higher up. He looked down and spotted the red car racing toward the lake. He gunned the engine to make a low pass but much faster, much safer than before as he had to catch the fast-moving car. “Make the most of it, Li.”

The strong wind battered the plane and Li had trouble taking aim. As the car came in sight he squeezed the trigger but only let off a few wide shots. The plane just wasn’t stable enough. “We need to make the car the target or give this up,” he said. “It’s too rough for proper aim.” Wu gunned the engine and made a sharp turn to come around for another pass.

Daryl was frantically searching for somewhere to hide, a building of some kind or a natural protection. This road joined a broader, more improved road running beside the lake. She raced toward it, taking the turn hard, the tires screeching. She shifted gears, then gunned along the new road, picking up speed, wishing they’d rented something with more power.

Then bullets slammed into the car, the sound on the roof like very heavy hail.

On the highway Jeff glanced back repeatedly for sight of Daryl and the red Fiat. He couldn’t get used to the idea of their being separated at such a time. It looked as if she’d been right about the plane; once she’d faded back he’d lost sight of it. It was possible it had flown on but if it had she’d have rejoined him by now, assuming the Fiat could catch up. Saliha was maintaining a quick pace.

He glanced at his phone. No signal.

Daryl weaved back and forth across the road, doing what she could to evade the plane and the bullets. Several had struck the car; one had gone through the passenger seat. Steam was coming from around the hood and the engine was making a terrible racket. Ahead was a cluster of squat buildings near the dam. She straightened out and risked a look for the plane. With a sinking heart she saw that it was coming around again.

Daryl downshifted, punched the accelerator to the floor, and the little engine screamed.

“Last pass,” Wu said. “Empty a full magazine into the car, aim for the driver.”

“Right,” Li said as he reached behind him and extracted a fresh magazine, which he snapped in place.

Wu nosed the plane down and pushed the throttle full forward. The wind was less violent and he was willing to risk a lower pass, one certain to make the kill. Then he’d land on the asphalt road, recover the laptops, and they’d be on their way.

Li placed the rifle out the window and pressed it against his shoulder. Wu could see the buildings ahead but he’d catch the car before it ever reached them. When the car was in sight Li held the trigger down in sustained automatic fire, aiming as best he could directly at the driver.

Daryl sensed rather than saw or heard the plane. She yanked the wheel hard over. The Fiat tottered on two wheels as if it might go over but it held as her momentum drove her off the road onto the flat expanse beside it. The car came to an abrupt stop as the engine died.

Daryl looked anxiously out the window. The plane was making a slow wheel in the sky as it turned to attack again. She turned the key. The engine ground in a disheartening way and refused to catch. She tried again with no luck. As she turned the key a third time, she saw the plane coming nearly straight at her.

The car engine roared to life. She rammed the gear into reverse and shot backward onto the asphalt. She slammed on the brakes, changed gears, then punched the accelerator as she pointed the car for the buildings directly ahead. As she did she weaved side to side, alternating between braking and accelerating. Bullets slammed into the car. She felt a blow from above but no pain or other sensation. She hit the brakes hard, the car skidding to a stop. The plane zoomed past her.

“They stopped,” Li said, pulling the rifle back in. “Maybe I got the driver.”

Wu banked sharply, still at a leisurely pace for an aircraft designed to resist extremes. The car below was not moving. “Again,” he ordered. “I think we have them.”

But as he approached, his worse fear was realized. The wind pummeled the plane cruelly and as he slowed to give Li his best shot, they were caught in a sudden downdraft. It seemed to Wu that the plane was being pressed to the ground by a powerful, unseen force.

Daryl saw the plane coming at her. Light-headed, she turned the ignition again but this time there was no hope. The engine refused to even turn over. She jumped out of the car and looked back at the plane as it dropped even lower, like a fighter coming in for a strafing run.

Wu pushed the control forward for maximum power and fought to raise the craft but to no avail. He was being forced down relentlessly. “Pull up!” Li shouted, but it was too late. The plane slammed into the ground just in front of the red car in a violent crash that at once turned into a fireball, the flames engulfing the Fiat as the wreckage scattered immediately in front of it, some striking the front in passing.

Daryl had only made it a few yards when she felt the plane hit and she was knocked forward, engulfed in the horrible sounds of the crashing plane. Then there was silence, broken only by the sound of the flames.

She was out of breath and light-headed, struggling to stand up. When she looked she saw that her clothes were covered in blood. Unseen to her, men rushed from the buildings in response to the explosion. The violence of the explosion, flames, and ugly plume told them there were no survivors.

56

I need to change clothes before crossing the border,” Saliha said. “You know how you Iranians are.”

“Of course.” Ahmed had cautioned her that first trip about what she must do. He was pleased she remembered because it was obvious she was upset. He’d never seen her like this, so withdrawn and anxious. Confronting her in Ankara had been a mistake. He wished Hamid had listened to him. Had they left her alone all would have been well. Instead, he was a wanted man in a foreign country. “I’ll tell you where,” he said.

This next part was going to be tricky. Ahmed didn’t dare get too close to the border for fear of being recognized. But this had to go smoothly. He doubted Hamid would take the thumb drive across himself and he certainly wasn’t going to suggest it. No, it had to be Saliha. That’s what she was paid for.

They’d been driving through a mountainous region of Turkey for the last hour. The highway wound back and forth like a snake, crossing numerous bridges, large and small. The sun was dipping very low on the horizon. The leaves on the poplar trees flanking a stream bristled in the breeze, reflecting a final stream of fading sunlight. Some fifteen miles from the border they came on a gaudy truck stop. “Here,” Ahmed said. “You can use the restroom.”

Saliha pulled the car off to the side of the building, out of the path of the trucks fueling up. It was one of those modern structures, seemingly snapped together like a child’s toy. She found it very depressing. In all her trips she’d never once stopped at this place.

She was exhausted as she went to the rear of the car and opened the trunk for her Iran-crossing attire. She’d tried to devise some scheme for the border and could come up with nothing specific. She’d have to see the situation, then respond to it. The only thing about which she was absolutely certain was that she was not entering Iran.

Rahmani pulled up beside the blue Ford and climbed out as Saliha walked past him, carrying a travel bag. She stared straight ahead, making a point not to look at him. He lit a cigarette and pulled his light jacket closely about him. It was cold.

“She is changing,” Ahmed said. Rahmani nodded in understanding. “We are close to the border.” Rahmani glanced at Ahmed and wondered why he was saying these things. They were self-evident.

Across the service area, Jeff drove to the opposite end of the building and killed the engine. He’d watched Saliha go around the station carrying a bag. He glanced along the side of the building and decided to risk an attempt. Before getting out of the car he checked his cell phone. There’d been no calls from Daryl and he was uneasy about the silence. Once, he had regained a signal and called her; each attempt had rolled over to voice mail. He assumed she was out of contact but took no comfort in the thought.

Ahmed and the other man were talking, each keeping a casual eye on the corner Saliha had gone around. Jeff slipped out of the car and walked by the side of the building, along the wall to the back. The ground dropped off sharply here and there was little space for him to move along. Excess concrete oozed from the foundation and was now frozen in a permanent curl. Loose rock and gravel made his footing uncertain.

Jeff edged along the back until he came to the far corner. A quick peek revealed two doors he took to be the entrances to restrooms. He waited for one to open, then he’d do what he could. It was more likely she’d bolt than talk to him.

“At the border,” Rahmani said in front, “you will see her to the crossing.” No such thing would occur, of course, but that was what Ahmed expected to hear.

“Hamid,” Ahmed said quietly. “I must tell you something.” Rahmani raised an eyebrow and Ahmed rushed into his story, telling him how he’d seen his photograph at the last stop, that he was certain he was wanted here in Turkey. “I cannot risk getting close to the border.”

“Was my photograph on the television?”

“No, I assure you.”

“Did you wait until the broadcast was finished to be certain?”

“I… I left. Saliha was outside and I was concerned someone might recognize me if I remained near the television.”

Rahmani considered this new information. Events were moving much faster than they had a right to on their own. He and Ahmed should have been undetected here in Turkey yet someone knew enough to put out an alert for Ahmed, perhaps even for himself though he couldn’t imagine that was likely.

Still, it was apparent that he’d dithered too long. He needed to act as soon as he could. The woman had to go because she’d seen him as an ally of Ahmed. Ahmed had to die because he’d know Rahmani had stopped Saliha. “Get the woman,” he snapped. “We need to go somewhere private.”

When Ahmed came around the corner, Jeff pulled back. He heard pounding on the door. “Saliha. Change later. We need to leave right now.”

“I’m not finished.”

“Forget it. Let’s go. We’re in a hurry.”

A moment later Jeff heard the door slam, then Saliha complaining to Ahmed as the two went toward the front of the building. He moved as quickly as he could back the way he’d come, turned the corner, then sneaked a look. Saliha was getting into the Ford with Ahmed beside her. The other man had already started his engine and was watching them intently. As soon as the two cars pulled away he jumped into his car. To his surprise they turned away from the border.

“It’s just up here,” Saliha told Ahmed, gesturing lightly. “I don’t know why I couldn’t finish. It would only take a few minutes.”

“Just go where you usually do. It is quiet, you say?”

“Of course. You think I undress in front of others?”

Two miles up the highway, she found the small road leading to her usual place by the stream and poplar trees. She exited, then drove slowly to the small, discreet clearing she always used. “Hurry up,” Ahmed ordered.

“Oh? Now you are in a hurry?” Saliha climbed out of the car and opened the rear door where she’d left the bag. “Go join your friend. I don’t want you watching me.”

Ahmed opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. He went to Rahmani, who had just stopped and was getting out of the car. Ahmed told him she wanted privacy. “As if I never see her naked,” he said. The two lit cigarettes and leaned against the Hyundai, smoking.

The sun had set and the place was cast in shadows. Saliha glanced about uneasily. The trees were a dark, ominous presence. The water bubbled around rocks and over stones, the sound cold, not cheery as it had been so often. She opened the trunk and lay her clothes neatly inside as she removed them. It was cold and she shivered in the breeze. She removed the ankle-length dark skirt and matching long-sleeved parkalike garment from her bag and slipped into them. She placed her denims and jacket into the bag. She picked up the head scarf and put it on, then closed the lid.

Rahmani glanced the way they’d come. “Did you hear that?”

“Just a truck on the highway,” Ahmed answered.

“It sounded like a car on this dirt road.”

“I heard nothing.”

Rahmani had already slipped his .380 pistol into his jacket pocket and now he held it in his hand. He turned his attention from behind him to the woman as she returned. In a moment they’d both be where he needed them.

Jeff saw the two cars flash their brake lights, then turn off the highway. He came nearly to a stop as he watched them vanish amid trees and brush. He could see there was a stream down there so it was unlikely they’d gone far. He made the same turn, stopping almost at once, and backed the car into a thin spot amid the brush, the branches pressed against the car. He got out, carefully pushed the door closed, bumped it gently to seal it, then followed on foot. The dirt road curved slightly, blocking his view.

He heard the slam of a trunk before he saw the cars. When he spotted them the little man was holding a gun and waving it about as he barked orders.

This was nonsense, Rahmani thought. Why am I talking? I know what I have to do.

Ahmed looked confused as he followed orders and stood beside Saliha. What was Hamid up to?

Saliha, for her part, knew. She saw the look in the man’s eyes — apprehension mixed with determination. When she saw the gun she had not the slightest doubt what was going to happen. She’d waited too long. “He’s going to kill us,” she hissed.

“What?” Ahmed glanced at her, then at Hamid. Realization washed over him in a cold chill. Of course. That’s exactly what he was going to do.

Ahmed smiled. “Hamid. What is the problem, my brother?” he said in Farsi. “We have a duty to perform…” As he spoke he slowly reached for the Browning Hi-Power that had been sticking in the small of his back all these hours. Hamid might be highly trained, he might be the master of operations in Europe, but Ahmed saw how nervous he was. He only required an instant.

Rahmani was sweating. He was angry he’d hesitated at all. Ahmed was prattling on and on about nothing, then suddenly there was the gun he’d given him in his hand. Rahmani snapped off a shot but Ahmed dove away as he did. Saliha lunged to her right. Rahmani fired a shot at her, too, but knew he’d missed.

From the ground, Ahmed was raising his weapon even as he struggled to his knees. Rahmani fired again and again and again. As the bullets struck him, Ahmed fired but the shot went wild, his bullet ricocheting off into the distance. Then his arm lost strength and the gun fell. Ahmed wobbled on his knees for a moment, then toppled forward onto his face.

Saliha saw the first bullet strike Ahmed as she pulled up her long skirt and went running for her life toward the highway. She heard the other shots in quick succession. Then, in front of her, was the American. “This way!” he shouted. “I’ve got a car!”

The two of them ran the short distance to his car. She frantically jumped in as did Jeff. He started it up and shot out onto the dirt road, fish-tailing toward the nearby highway. The rear glass of the car shattered and he heard the zip of a bullet passing very near his head. Then he was on the highway accelerating as fast as he could.

“The other way!” Saliha shouted. “To the border. There are armed guards there!”

But it was too late. It was a divided highway with a deep cut between the two sections. Jeff was speeding back into Turkey.

Rahmani ran to his car and was quickly on the highway, racing after the Ford. He accelerated past two slow-moving semis as he steadily gained on the smaller car.

“Faster! Faster!” Saliha shouted. “I can see a car behind us. He’s getting too close. Faster!”

Jeff glanced at the speedometer. Nearly ninety miles an hour. The highway curved and he was forced to slow each time, taking all three lanes to make the turns. He was more concerned with crashing than getting shot. He couldn’t imagine the Hyundai was faring any better.

Rahmani had caught a glimpse of Jeff. Where had he come from? How was it possible for him to have traced them to this remote corner of Turkey? He thought about his cell phone. That had to be it. The CIA was tracking his cell phone. No, he suddenly thought, not his, but Ahmed’s. Yes, that made sense. They’d been on to Ahmed; that was why his photograph was on Turkish television.

There was a lesson in this. He’d have to figure out how to carry a cell phone that couldn’t be traced.

Jeff accelerated after every turn but his speed remained distressingly slow. For bursts he managed eighty or ninety miles an hour, but at the turns he’d drop to seventy or less. The car reluctantly responded when he accelerated. He raced past slower-moving traffic, flashing his headlights repeatedly to press a car out of a lane.

For all this, behind him Rahmani was slowly gaining.

Ahead, Jeff spotted a cluster of vehicles. He lifted his foot from the accelerator and slowed, searching for a way around the trucks and cars. Saliha was no longer shouting at him but had turned in her seat and was watching behind them, telling him every few seconds how close was the pursuing car.

“Who is in it?” he asked.

“The little man. Ahmed’s boss, I think. He shot Ahmed. He was going to kill me.”

They reached the cars and to Jeff’s dismay he was forced to drop to just sixty miles an hour. The other car would be on them in seconds. He crowded his way up against another car and leaned on the horn, flashing his headlights. The car braked quickly three or four times to get him to back off.

Jeff looked to his left, then his right, to see if he could go off the road and get around a car and three semis moving bumper to bumper. The drops on both sides were steep.

“He’s here,” Saliha said, her voice suddenly rising an octave.

Jeff slammed on his brakes and the Hyundai was suddenly beside him. He wrenched the steering wheel to the side and banged into it hard, then harder still as he tried to force it off the road. The Hyundai dropped back and Jeff accelerated again, soon reaching the other vehicles. But now they’d thinned and he managed to weave his way through, only touching one of the passenger cars on the rear bumper as he passed him. With clear road ahead he punched the accelerator to the floorboard.

Saliha had dropped below the passenger seat but now that the car was running smoothly she climbed back up and peered again over the back of the seat. “I can’t see him. I think he’s blocked. Can you find a road off? Maybe we can take one and hide where he can’t see us.”

There were no exits. The only good news was that there were only occasional cars. Jeff was free to go as fast as the highway allowed. Still, the frequent curves forced him to slow again and again. Finally, Saliha said, “I see a car gaining on us. It’s him, I think. Can’t you go faster?” She jerked the head scarf off and threw it onto the backseat.

Jeff flew by a slow-moving pickup truck. The highway dipped and ahead was a long straight stretch.

“He’s catching us!” Saliha shouted. “He’s almost here! Hurry!”

Jeff saw the car in his rearview mirror. Just as the Hyundai was almost on him he again slammed his brakes. This time the car ploughed into him, clinging to his bumper, trying to flip him around. Jeff sped up but the other car closed at once, quickly pulling beside them. Again Jeff slammed into him then pulled to his left and hit his brakes. The Hyundai shot forward and now Jeff was behind him.

“Cross over here!” Saliha shouted. “There! See it?”

The divide between the two stretches was flat now. Jeff braked hard, spotted an informal crossing, and went over to the other side of the highway. They raced back toward the border. “Get into the town!” Saliha shouted. “There are guards. He will have to stop.”

Jeff could hear a grinding in the rear of the car; metal pressed against a tire.

“Oh no!” she said. “There’s a car coming after us. You have to go faster!”

But there was no going faster. It was as if something was pulling the Ford back, keeping it from speeding up.

“He’s shooting again!” Saliha screamed. “He’s—”

A wet mist splashed against the windshield and on Jeff, showering the side of his face. He looked over. Saliha had collapsed in the seat, a section of her skull missing.

Jeff slammed on his brakes and the Hyundai shot up to him. He looked over and saw the driver aiming a gun at him, his eyes wide in excitement. Jeff wrenched the wheel hard over and smashed into the car, hearing the grind of the sides, forcing his car against the other. He pressed harder, then harder, finally driving it off the highway. Jeff followed it to the apron, then fought to crawl back onto the asphalt. When finally he had control, he looked over his shoulder. He could see nothing.

The black Hyundai had shot off the highway, flying into one of the many small chasms over which they’d raced. For Rahmani, there was no time to think. At one level it all happened in slow motion, on another it was irresistible. He was trapped by the onward motion. He saw the rocky wall at almost the moment the car struck it. Then dark consumed him.

Jeff looked at Saliha again. There was no doubt at all. He slowed to fifty miles an hour to think what to do. Ten minutes later when he saw an exit he took it. He drove a few miles along a lonely road, pulled to the side, and stopped. Outside he stood sucking air, struggling to clear his mind and steady his nerves.

As the adrenaline faded, Jeff felt suddenly depressed and anxious. That young woman. He’d never seen anything like her death before. One minute she was struggling to live, the next instant her life was gone. Had he caused this? Was this all his fault?

His hands were shaking as he ran them over his face, struggling to regain control. Finally, on wobbly legs he went around the car and from the passenger door lifted the woman out, then dragged her into the brush. He lay her respectfully. He returned to the car, retrieved the scarf, and covered her face. Finally, he checked her clothing and located a thumb drive matching those he’d seen in Ahmed’s apartment. He slipped it into his pocket.

There was nothing to bury her with and he wasn’t even certain he should. Better he made certain she was found. He checked the rear wheels and managed to bend away whatever was rubbing against a tire. Back on the highway he checked markers and made mental notes that would lead someone to this spot.

With immediate danger past, he wondered where Daryl was.

57

The problems with the WAyk5-7863 grid in Washington State had brought matters to a head for Guy Fagan. He and his team had been working on a complex program that was designed to make possible an emergency override of an electrical grid in the event of a cyber-attack. At the minimum it was intended to prevent the kind of cascade that led to massive power outages. These were nearly always the result of an interruption in the delicate balance of supply and demand. As a safety precaution, power generators dropped out of the grid when too much strain was placed on them because of the abrupt collapse of electricity. The new program allowed such generating stations to remain in the grid without danger. It was potentially revolutionary — if it worked. It had in simulations. Only with its adoption would Fagan know if it performed as designed in the real world.

Though no one was saying so, the pressure he was under to release the new program suggested that someone had made an initial determination that the Yakima grid had been subject to just such a cyber-attack, and there were fears the malware that had caused it was implanted within other grid systems. His oversight committee had met earlier in the day. Fagan’s team had carefully reviewed every simulation for them and it was decided the new program should be released. He was confident it would do what it was designed to do but if it did not, it would cause no harm. That had been a priority in the project from day one.

Approximately one-third of the electrical grids in the United States would receive the program within the next few minutes. Another third were expected to adopt it over the coming weeks.

“All right,” Fagan said. There were five of his team in his office. “Here we go.” He sent the program off, confirmed the message had gone out, then turned around to be greeted by grins and applause. “Good job, all.”

“We’ve got cake and ice cream,” his assistant said.

“I’d rather have a drink.”

One of the engineers whispered, “We’ve got that covered.”

As the software arrived at each operations center, it was opened. In some cases it was installed at once, in others it would be installed within days. It made no difference. The moment the program was opened, the Trojan Horse insinuated itself into their control system, concealing itself where no one looked, doing nothing for now. When the time was right it could call home and inform its creator that it was in place, that they had a backdoor into one-third of the American electrical grid, a backdoor through which any malware could be inserted, an opening for a full scale cyber-attack.

We have successful penetration,” the tech announced to his team standing behind him. “Five of the grids have already called home. The others should within a few hours. Congratulations to us.”

There was a scattering of applause and wide smiles as he swiveled in his seat.

“Very good,” Colonel Jai Feng said. “I believe there is refreshment waiting for you all.”

“Won’t you join us?” the tech asked.

“I cannot. But you have my congratulations.” Feng nodded to all, then took the stairs back to his office. A success. Just what he needed. The silence from Beijing was ominous. There had been an initial expression of disapproval when his data-altering program had been uncovered at UNOG and Whitehall so quickly. He’d explained how that was inevitable once it was employed in such a cavalier way. But as was always the case even though his warning was true, or perhaps because it was, the accusations against him had been sharp.

And his hopes had been so high. Had he been given enough time that program could have been spread throughout the West. The havoc his team could have created would have been incalculable. No one would have trusted anything in their computers. True, his own people had made an error but that was something he could have overcome. Given time Feng was convinced this virus would be the most powerful tool he’d ever unleashed on China’s enemies.

There’d been no word about the two laptops he’d wanted, no confirmation that his Stuxnet countermeasure had found its way into the new Iranian computers. He’d assured his superiors repeatedly that using a mule was unnecessary, that there were secure ways to send it by e-mail but he’d been overridden repeatedly.

“Colonel?” It was his aide.

“Yes?”

“Men here to see you.”

“Men? What do you mean?”

In marched three men in suits, one of middle years, the others very young. Feng knew none of them but he knew immediately what they represented. “Ministry of Public Security,” the lead man said. “Come with us, Colonel.”

Feng lifted himself erect. He blinked as if struck, then blinked again. “I have just performed a great service for the party and our country.”

Their faces might have been carved from stone. “Come with us, Colonel,” the man repeated.

Feng hung his head. It was over.

58

After the body search at the entrance to Building J, Dariush Elahi went directly to his workstation to begin his night shift, nodding to a few co-workers on the way. Since the Stuxnet infection security had been significantly increased. Building J was part of the facilities expressly designed and maintained to create the ultimate air gap. No thumb drives or personal computers were permitted in this new facility. Cell phones were allowed but they had to be turned off and could only be used during breaks or at mealtime.

Before the acquisition of new computers and the creation of this secure facility, the program had been set back repeatedly. The failure rate of the 12,000 centrifuges spinning out enriched uranium had exceeded half and those that had not failed had nearly all produced useless product. The full scope of the disaster was known only within certain parts of the program. As senior engineer, Elahi was privy to such knowledge.

They were very close now, very close indeed. Promotions and bonuses had been promised at the time of success. Elahi could hardly wait. Projections from earlier that week said that some time in the next few days they’d have the quantity necessary for the first test. Then they’d see if the engineers had done their job and the bomb worked.

Elahi lay his cell phone down on his desk as he went to work. A few seconds later, Stuxnet3 made the wireless leap into his computer. This was a virgin system, which had never before been penetrated and the Trojan Horse found a vast expanse of fertile digital space in which to seek, to expand, and to destroy. As the malware moved beyond Elahi’s computer, it encountered itself spread everywhere, like an enormous spiderweb. In fact, there was almost no space left for it. The thirty thousand new computers within the air gap were utterly and thoroughly infected though until now the malicious network remained almost entirely dormant.

Now, having reached a specified critical mass and implanted itself in all the essential processes, Tusk initiated the sequence for which it was designed. And like a digital kamikaze, it set about destroying itself.

There had been no word from Turkey since the advisory that an arrest notice had been issued for Ahmed Hossein al-Rashid. Since Agnes Edinfield had had nothing to do with it, she wondered just who had. The only information she possessed for now was that it originated from the General Directorate of Security in Ankara. She’d asked her man in Ankara to learn how it had come about.

There was, as well, no word about Jeff Aiken or Daryl Hagen. She wondered if they’d succeeded. Or were they dead in a ditch somewhere in Turkey?

She was tired. She closed her eyes, wanting very much to go to sleep. Instead, she read the cable once again. China had been informed that the United States knew of the Stuxnet3 countermeasure and that there would be hell to pay if they attempted to give it to Iran again. All this had taken place through back channels, but in her experience these were usually the most effective.

In his office, Frank Renkin was again watching the Intel sat in geosynchronous orbit over the Indian Ocean. For some two weeks, one of its powerful sensors had been directed at the fuel enrichment plant in Natanz. This was the primary target for Tusk. From this angle there was nothing special about the place. Most of the facility was underground but what was above was a series of square and rectangular buildings roughly organized around a rotary motorway.

The Israeli time estimate for penetration and activation had been six to ten days. The clock was fast running out on that and the plant would reportedly soon be ready with enough fissionable uranium for a nuclear test. Activity at the test site remained frenzied and several prominent Iranian officials were on their way there for an inspection tour. Company interpretation was that they wanted to see the bomb go off.

Edinfield wandered into his office. “I’m leaving. Anything?”

Frank wondered how she knew. Well, you couldn’t keep something like this a secret for long from professional spooks. “There have been some tantalizing trickles of information from FEP that suggests penetration. The program is designed to make preparations and activate when a specific level of saturation has been achieved to produce maximum effect.”

“How’d you jump the air gap?”

Frank smiled. “Classified.” It was Jeff Aiken, he wanted to say but could not. He looked back at the screen. “I’ve been watching this thing for two weeks now with no sign.”

“Will you know from the screen?”

He smiled. “Oh, yes. I’ll know.”

“We think China’s going to back down on the countermeasure you were concerned about.”

Frank had reported his call from Jeff, confirming the mule had been stopped. “How’d you manage that?”

“With the events of the last few days we’ve got enough evidence that they’ve been helping the Iranians to go public. They don’t want that getting out, certainly not with the international condemnation and sanctions that would bring…”

“Think it will stop them for good?”

“For a while. What’s that?”

Frank looked back at the screen. “That’s it!” Suddenly he was no longer tired. “It worked! By God, it worked!”

In real time, with a very slight stop-action motion, Frank watched one explosion after another. In one building, the windows were blown out, followed by a large section of the roof. In two others, the roof came off at once. Then from the ground about the structures, enormous plumes of smoke and dust emerged, confirming explosions underground.

Frank sat transfixed as each of the enrichment facilities was destroyed. They’d be getting radiation readings soon but they weren’t really necessary. Tusk had already shown itself to be the most powerful Trojan Horse ever unleashed on an enemy.

“A virus did that?” Edinfield asked in awe.

“Yes.”

“This will change everything,” she said.

“For them and for us.”

59

How’re you doing, trooper?” Jeff asked.

Daryl was sitting upright in a hospital bed. “I’ll live. I’ve got a new scar or two, unfortunately.”

“Just as long as you’re okay.” After leaving Saliha’s body, he’d checked his cell phone again and there was a message from Daryl telling him she was in the hospital in Erzurum. She wanted him to come as soon as he could. On the way, he notified Frank of Saliha’s death, confirming he had stopped the countermeasure from reaching Iran, and given him the markers so someone could find her body.

“My wild-goose chase turned out to be more that I bargained for,” Daryl told him, as she related the story. “The power plant workers saved me. We should do something nice for them. And for Saliha’s family.”

“I’ll call Frank. Maybe he can pull some strings.”

She glanced toward the hallway. “I’m going to have to talk to the police about the airplane.” Daryl closed her eyes. “I’m really tired, Jeff. So very tired.”

“We’ll be home soon.”

Her eyes popped open. “What happened to Italy?”