“I’ll live,” he said, returning her smile.
“I am truly glad to hear that, because today we will make our move against Fukai.”
Kelley had arranged to rent a car yesterday, and at 8 a.m. it was brought up from the city and left for them in the tiny parking lot, across the garden beyond the hotel annex. She drove because she could read Japanese-none of the road signs, what few there were, were in English-and because McGarvey’s right leg had stiffened up, making it difficult to walk, let alone manipulate the pedals.
Only a few puffy white clouds sailed over the hills and mountains ringing the city, but the sky was a hazy, milky blue, illuminating the lush green countryside with an almost magical light. This region was like a fairytale land: Important in the mid-sixteenth century when Nagasaki was the only port open to foreigners; again in 1945 when the atomic bomb was dropped here; and now because of some insane plot for revenge.
Fukai Semiconductor’s vast factory complex and world headquarters were located northeast of Nagasaki on Omura Bay. McGarvey’s briefing package had contained extensive diagrams showing the installation’s layout and something of the sophisticated security systems designed not only to detect the presence of intruders, but in some instances to neutralize them, even kill them. Fukai himself was apparently paranoid about security; and he was rich and powerful enough to maintain a substantial armed force of guards without the federal government lifting a finger to stop or in any way control him.
The compound was built like a fortress. McGarvey had spent a considerable amount of thought on exactly how it could be breached, coming to the conclusion that he would have to get close enough for a firsthand look before he could make any plan.
He had briefly discussed the problem with Carrara and the Technical Services team that had been hastily assembled to brief him, and they agreed, with one reservation.
“If Spranger is actually working for Fukai-and we don’t have any direct proof of that yet-he probably told them about you,” Carrara had cautioned.
“No doubt,” McGarvey replied. “But they won’t be expecting me to show up so soon, nor will they be expecting me to come in the front door with the proper credentials.”
“I’d like to send someone over to back you up, but it’s not possible.” Carrara shook his head. “There’s going to be hell to pay for this. A lot of political fallout.”
“I stay out of politics,” McGarvey said.
“Right. Just like a surgeon stays out of the operating theater.”
Traffic was heavy along the narrow highway until they were well clear of the city, and even then there was no time when they had the road to themselves. Kelley was a good driver, and she apparently knew the local customs and rules of the road well enough to get along without incident.
She had dressed again in the plain gray business suit she had worn at the airport, making her look like the executive secretary and translator her legend said she was.
McGarvey had let her study the briefing package he’d brought out from Langley, and afterwards he had filled in whatever gaps he could, though there were holes a mile wide in the plan.
“What happens if something goes wrong out there?” she asked.
“We play it by ear.”
“I meant what if they recognize you, or me?”
“I don’t know,” McGarvey had told her, and they’d not discussed it any further. This morning she’d made no comment as she watched him reassemble his gun and then place the holster at the small of his back, but he could see that she was troubled. There was nothing he could say to reassure her, so he said nothing about the possibilities they would be facing.
They topped a rise and suddenly Omura Bay was spread out below. Fifteen miles across they could see a jetliner taking off from the Nagasaki Airport. But directly below, spread out along the western shore of the bay, the Fukai Semiconductor compound ran for at least five miles, and included the main administration area, a huge research facility, seven large processing and assembly buildings, a landing strip and several hangars for the fleet of business jets and two Boeing 747s, and an extensive dock and warehouse area for the fleet of ships the corporation maintained.
Satellite antennae were located throughout the vast compound. Several years ago Fukai had begun putting up its own communications and research satellites, buying boosts into space from the European Space Agency as well as NASA until recently, when the Japanese themselves (with a lot of Fukai money behind them) started launching their own rockets.
Carrara admitted that the National Security Agency’s current guess was that at least two of the Fukai satellites were probably being used as surveillance platforms. Parked in geostationary orbits some 22,000 miles over the western hemisphere, there was little doubt about just who was the likely surveillance target. But nothing could or would be done about it.
“Space, as it was explained to me,” Carrara said, “is still free. That means for anyone, not just any government.”
Also evident, even from a distance of several miles, were the outward signs of Fukai’s security arrangements. An inner and an outer wire mesh fence (no doubt electrified) surrounded the entire compound. Separated by a twenty-five-yard-wide no-man’s-land, the fence line was punctuated every hundred yards or so by tall guard towers.
As they watched, they could see Toyota Land Rovers patrolling the perimeter not only inside the fence, but outside as well.
The place looked like a prison. Only in this case the guards were not trying to keep people in, they wanted to keep intruders out. It made one wonder what they were doing down there that they had to go to such extreme measures.
“It’s bigger than I thought it would be,” Kelley said, her voice and manner subdued.
“Yeah,” McGarvey said absently, his thoughts racing. He pulled over to the side of the road and studied the vast compound for several long minutes.
“What do we do now?” Kelley asked.
McGarvey looked at her. Security might be tight, but he thought he knew how he could get in undetected tonight.
“We’ll present our credentials,” he said. “I need to take a look at something.”
Chapter 68
Liese Egk tossed her Louis Vuitton bag in the back seat of the Jaguar convertible parked next to the Volkswagen van in the garage. She stood in the darkness for several long moments, her hands gripping the edge of the car so hard that her knuckles turned white.
Ernst was asleep in the house, and if he’d taken the sedatives she’d laid out for him he wouldn’t feel a thing for another twelve hours. Plenty of time for her to make it down to the waiting private jet at the Rome Airport.
But she could not leave. Not like that. Not knowing what Spranger, even in his present condition, was still capable of doing. The man was half dead, and he was a maniac, yet he was the best and most ruthless operative she’d ever known. And he still had the loyalty of the group, the contacts around the world, and the respect of a great many people who would be willing to hunt her down if it came to that.
She walked slowly to the door and looked across the compound toward the dark house and shivered even though the night was warm.
If she left like this tonight, Ernst would recover eventually and he would come looking for her. Even Fukai’s promise of protection would do her no good. Ernst would find a way to get to her. And when he did he would kill her … unless she killed him first.
She turned that thought over in her mind. On the way up from Greece she had toyed with the idea on several occasions; putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger would have been child’s play. But in her heart of hearts she’d known that she wouldn’t do it.