“Huh?”
“Never mind. Thinking out loud.”
The coffee finished brewing and Kyle poured two mugs full, not neglecting creamer and a huge hit of sugar for Hugh. “Terrible Trio,” Hugh said, raising his mug in the traditional toast.
Kyle smiled. “Terrible Trio,” he said and clinked mugs with Hugh. He sat down behind his desk.
Hugh drank. Strong enough to melt the bowl off a spoon and sweet enough to send him into a diabetic coma, the coffee had a reviving effect. “Is Lilah as beautiful as ever?”
“You know she is, you just saw her in October.”
“Kids good?”
“As good as the little monsters ever are,” replied their loving father. “Come on, Hugh. You look like hell. What’s going on? Are you sure Sara is okay?”
“She’s fine,” Hugh said. “So far as I know.”
“Oh. Ah. Well. What’s going on, then? These aren’t my usual office hours. It’s gotta be good to get me in here this early. Or a friend,” he added pointedly.
“The FBI still regard Alaska as one of four states on a short list where the threat of domestic terrorism is regarded as real?”
Kyle stared at him, puzzled. “Are you awake yet? You know we do, along with Montana, Wyoming, and Idaho. It’s why our manpower’s been so beefed up here over the last five years.”
Hugh had had a long flight during which he had marshaled his arguments and worked out a way to phrase them that would make his case without tempting Kyle to have him committed. “Have you considered the possibility of an attack from an international source?”
Kyle set his mug down with a thud. “What the hell’s going on, Hugh?” His eyes narrowed. “Does the CIA have information to that effect? And if it does, why haven’t we been notified?”
“Let me talk it through,” Hugh said.
Kyle looked at him for a long moment. Hugh Rincon was tall and blond and brown-eyed without being in the least bit pretty. His ease of manner belied his intellect, both of which were obvious without being offensive. He was, in short, the kind of man other men liked and all women loved. He always had been, Kyle thought ruefully. Kyle was lucky he’d seen Lilah first. Not that Hugh had ever given anyone but Sara a second look.
Across the desk Hugh shook off his fatigue and turned a mental switch. He spoke as if he were giving this briefing for the first time, a little tentatively, as if Kyle was the first focus group for this particular presentation. His speech was deliberate without being pedantic, but even if he had turned into the world’s worst teacher his subject would have guaranteed Kyle’s interest. “Given Alaska’s strategic location on the Pacific Rim, and given the great circle route reality of international commerce, I don’t think it’s unrealistic that intelligence agencies in Alaska hold a watching brief for terrorist traffic coming in the opposite direction from Asia.”
Kyle thought. “What would be the target if, as you suggest, we did have terrorist traffic coming at us from Asia?”
“In Alaska, the first target we think of is, of course, the terminal in Valdez,” Hugh said. “Fourteen percent of the nation’s annual supply of oil travels through that port in very large crude carriers.”
“Given the regularity and efficiency of USAF patrols-”
“Understood. I consider that threat remote. However, speaking of the air force, there are two large military bases in the state with nuclear weapons on site. They’re attractive targets, and they have the added advantage of being perceived as too far off the national radar to worry about.”
“Location, location, location,” Kyle said, expecting at least a smile. He didn’t get one.
“As for targets beyond Alaska, try every shipping port, oil refinery, and military base on the West Coast of the U.S. All they’d have to do is put a bomb on a VLCC and sail it into any harbor with a refinery from Bremerton to San Diego. Very big boom.”
Kyle relaxed a little. “Is that realistic?”
“You tell me, Kyle,” Hugh said, his voice hard. “Was Oklahoma City realistic? Was 9/11 realistic? No, they won’t try that exact MO again, but who knows what else they’ve got up their sleeves? We have information that Bin Ladin has his own personal fleet of oceangoing vessels. Some sources number it at as high as twenty vessels total. Where are they? Where are they going? Who, and, even more importantly, what are they bringing with them? You know the story of Container Bob, right?”
Kyle shook his head.
“The Italians stumbled across an Egyptian-born Canadian named Amid Farid Rizk inside a container en route from Port Said to Rotterdam, changing ships in Gioia Tauro. He never would have been caught if he hadn’t decided to drill more holes for air and the Italian police hadn’t heard him. The container came equipped with all the modern conveniences, including a heater, a toilet, and a bed. Not to mention the satellite phone, the laptop, and the Canadian A &P certificate.”
“Jesus,” Kyle said, shaken in spite of himself. “He was an airplane mechanic?”
“You bet. We checked. He did the work. The certificate was valid.”
“So it was a test run?”
Hugh shrugged. “We don’t know. The container’s final destination was listed as Halifax, Nova Scotia.”
“What did this Rizk say?”
“He didn’t say anything. He got himself a smart lawyer who got him bail. He was in the wind by November.”
“What was his lawyer’s name?” Kyle said. “Just in case I ever decide to rob a bank in Italy.”
“That’s not the point, Kyle.”
“What is the point then, Hugh?” Kyle said, mimicking his tone.
“My point is, they’ve been practicing traveling in container ships,” Hugh said.
“Okay,” Kyle said, putting his mug down and placing both hands flat on his desk. “What the hell’s this about, Hugh? You hitch a ride from Tokyo on a cargo jet, you get me out of bed to come down here, and so far all I’m getting is a lecture on terrorism. A lecture I’ve already heard.”
Hugh held up a hand. “Bear with me, okay, Kyle? Please?”
Kyle took a deep breath, exhaled. “All right. Go ahead.”
“I don’t know about you, and I admit, maybe it has something to do with where I was born and where a lot of people I love still live, but I’ve never been as concerned over terrorists in the Middle East as I have been terrorists in Asia.”
“Like North Korea,” Kyle said. “It’s why you took your master’s in Asian studies. I know all this, Hugh.”
“What do you know about North Korea?”
Hugh hadn’t meant it to sound like a challenge, but Kyle responded as if it were. “Since the end of World War II, the Korean peninsula has been split into two, with the north under Chinese domination and the south under Western, uh, influence. South Korea has a stable government, a booming economy, and a well-armed and well-trained military. North Korea? North Korea is starving to death, mostly because instead of figuring out how to feed their people they’ve concentrated fifty years of gross national product on the development of long-range missiles and research into weapons, including chemical, biological, and, yes, nuclear.”
“Not bad,” Hugh said, complimentary, and Kyle gave a curt nod. “They know how to do it well enough that they’ve been exporting their expertise overseas, most recently to Iran. I’ve been to the Korean DMZ, Kyle, and it’s not a pretty sight. Every now and then North and South shoot at each other across the DMZ, air to air, ship to ship, whatever’s handy. The North has missiles in place targeting the South’s nuclear power plants. Instant dirty bomb.”
“Didn’t our going into Iraq tone down their rhetoric a little?”