“Nor does capitalizing on the technology Spranger and his people are stealing for them.”
“I’m not sure it’s that complicated,” the Technical Services director said. He took off his glasses and polished the lenses with his handkerchief.
“What do you mean?”
“We don’t know yet if that’s what K-l was after in Switzerland.”
“The triggers… Carrara objected, but Anders held him off.
“Excuse me, sir, but the impression I get is that they weren’t necessarily after the technology so much as they were trying to buy the specific item. They wanted the actual working triggers. The devices themselves.”
“Same thing.”
“I don’t think so. If they were after the technology as such, then I would tend to believe that the Japanese, or someone in Japan, wanted to learn how to build nuclear weapons.”
“The Japanese are developing a credible rocket program. They’d have the delivery system.”
“Nasty thought, isn’t it?” Anders said. “But if someone over there was simply interested in purchasing the triggers and an initiator and seventy or eighty pounds of plutonium, then I’d say their aim was to build an actual weapon.”
Carrara sat back. “Terrorists.”
“They didn’t hesitate to shoot down that Airbus loaded with innocent people,” Anders said.
“No. The question is, how far along are they? How close have they come to gathering everything they need to make such a device?”
“And once they’ve got the bomb, what’s the target?”
“The answers are in Tokyo,” Carrara said, picking up his telephone. “I don’t care what it takes, Sargent, but we must find McGarvey. Immediately.”
“I’ve got an idea on that score as well,” Anders said.
“Just a minute,” Carrara said to his secretary on the phone, and he put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Go on.”
“We think someone is hacking in our computers. And considering the nature of the files the intruder has been trying to pry open, we think the hacker may be working for McGarvey.” Ander smiled ruefully. “The son of a bitch has got friends everywhere.”
Carrara nodded. “You think we can get a message to McGarvey via this intruder?”
“It’s worth a try.”
“Do it,” Carrara said, and he removed his hand from the telephone mouthpiece. “Tell the general I want to see him immediately.” He smiled grimly. “No, tell him.”
To the east the sky seemed to be getting brighter with the false dawn as McGarvey sat smoking a cigarette by the window. Behind him, Kelley Fuller rolled over on her tatami mat and sighed. They’d both spent another restless night.
It was the confinement, he thought. But just now Tokyo was a dangerous city for them.
Until Rencke could supply him with a name they could only stumble around in the dark.
Sooner or later they would end up like Shirley and Mowry. There’d be no defense against such an attack.
“What is it?” Kelley asked softly from the darkness.
“I’m waiting for my call to go through.”
“To your friend?”
“Yes. Can’t you sleep?” McGarvey turned from the window. Kelley was sitting up. She wore one of his shirts as a nightgown. It was very big on her, and made her look even smaller and more vulnerable than she was.
“How long must we wait?” she asked.
“Until we get some answers…
“Which could be never!”
“There are a lot of powerful people working on this,” McGarvey said patiently. They’d gone over this several times already. “Sooner or later at least some of the answers will be forced. It’s inevitable.”
“In the meantime we hide and do absolutely nothing. I’m going crazy.”
“If you want to go home I’ll arrange it for you,” McGarvey said. When the time came he would need her as a guide through Tokyo’s labyrinths. But if she folded she would be less than useless.
“You didn’t see him on fire in front of the Roppongi Prince,” she said softly. “You didn’t hear his screams, his pleas for someone to help him.” She hesitated. “You didn’t… smell the odor of burning flesh.”
The telephone rang, and McGarvey stubbed out his cigarette and picked it up. “Yes?”
“I have your party on the line, sir,” the operator said.
“Thank you,” he said. “It’s me, anything new?”
“Let me tell you, I’m either going to have to get out soon or 111 be forced into setting Ralph loose on them.”
“Are they on to you?”
“Looks that way. Are you keeping your socks dry?”
“Trying to,” McGarvey said. “Have you anything for me? A name?”
“No names yet, but apparently you’re in the right place. Seems like the local cops found a pair of highly unusual and very sophisticated communications devices that match the one the cops at Orly came up with.”
“Are the Japanese authorities cooperating with us now?”
“I’m not clear on that point, but hang on to your suspenders. Looks like Phil or somebody over there has put out a call for you. They want, in a most urgent manner, for you to make immediate contact.”
“Put out the call how?”
“Well, that’s just it, you see. They know that someone is dallying in their valley, and the smart buggers figure it’s your doing. Get a message to the intruder and ergo, the message is got to you.”
A Tokyo police van passed on the street below and disappeared around the corner at the end of the block.
“They’re making the connection across the river,” Rencke was saying. “And it’s got them shakin’ in their boots.”
“But it’s not the government over here?”
“I’m getting no indications. But whoever it is has got to be a well-heeled dude.
And just now there’s oodles if not googols of them.”
Another police van pulled up at the end of the block. “Hold on a second,” he told Rencke, and he motioned for Kelley to get up. “Get dressed, we’re leaving,” he whispered urgently, and he turned back to the phone.
“Mac?” Rencke asked. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” McGarvey said. “But listen, you may be going about this from the wrong direction.
Granted it may have to be a wealthy Japanese, but it’s more than that. We’re looking for a wealthy man or group, who would have a motive to assemble the parts for such a device.”
Rencke sucked his breath. “Revenge,” he said.
“I’ll call you soon,” McGarvey said, and he hung up.
The first police van returned and stopped at the opposite end of the street. Two police cars passed it and slowly approached the hotel.
“It’s the police,” McGarvey said to Kelley, who was hurriedly dressing in slacks and a sweatshirt.
“They’re looking for us,” she said.
McGarvey slipped on his shoes and threw his things into his overnight bag. Under no circumstances did he want to get into a gun battle with the legitimate police.
But there was no way of telling for certain who was legitimate and who wasn’t until after the fact.
A minute later he and Kelley stepped out into the narrow corridor. Their room was on the fourth floor, and already they could hear some sort of a commotion going on in the lobby.
“We’ll go out the back, so long as they haven’t blocked the alley,” McGarvey said as he led the way to the fire escape he’d discovered a half hour after they’d checked in.
Nothing moved below in the dark, crowded alley. During the day the narrow, winding pathway was crammed with tiny shops, stalls and vendors selling everything from American video tapes to bolts of silk, electronic games, potency potions and powders, live eels and traditional kimonos. At this hour, the permanent shops were tightly shuttered, and the vendors had taken their stalls away.