Cahil said, “Briggs, there’s one more thing: I tried to keep tabs on Susanna but—”
“She’s gone, I know,” Tanner replied, then described the message she’d left him.
“I’m sorry,” Cahil said.
“Not your fault. Have you talked to Leland yet?”
“No.”
“I’ll do it. You stay on Trpkova. Keep your distance, Bear.”
“Will do.”
Tanner disconnected and dialed Dutcher’s cell phone. “Briggs?”
“Yes.”
“Call land line.”
Tanner redialed Langley’s operations center and was transferred directly to Sylvia’s office. “You’re on speaker-phone,” she said. “Everyone’s here. Where are you and what’s happening?”
Tanner brought them up to speed, starting with his arrival in Kulm am Zirbitz and ending with Cahil’s revelation about Svetic’s true identity. “The answer is yes,” Tanner said. “Bear’s sure; he’s met the man. Where are the Roots?”
“Safe — along with their luggage,” Dutcher replied. “By now they’re somewhere over the Atlantic. They’ll be landing in six hours. Walt’s got a theory you need to hear about.”
“I’m listening.”
Oaken laid out the same scenario he’d given Dutcher and the others: the Serbian SDB’s hiring of Litzman; the false trail designed to implicate Svetic and thereby Bosnia; the conference delegates and their trip home aboard the Aurasina.
Tanner was stunned. It all made sense, it all fit. Things had just gone from bad to worse: Risto Svetic, descendent of the Dark Watch guerrilla leader and fugitive were one and the same. Litzman and the Serbian SDB had chosen their scapegoat well. If the plan succeeded, Svetic/ Trpkova’s alleged involvement would be all the catalyst pro-Serbian factions needed to ravage Bosnia. And what of Kestrel? At the very least, Trpkova was a battle-hardened guerrilla who had eluded capture for over a decade; at worst, he was exactly what the Serbians claimed — a terrorist guilty of mass murder. Whatever the truth, it was a safe bet Trpkova had sought out Kestrel as part of a larger plan.
The worst case was unthinkable: Litzman succeeds in sinking the Aurasina; hundreds of people die; Trpkova is blamed and the Balkans descend into war — and behind it all, Kestrel is let loose. The next worst case was little better, if at alclass="underline" Litzman fails, the Aurasina sails on, and Trpkova slips into the hinterlands of Bosnia with Kestrel.
“So Litzman never knew about Kestrel,” Briggs said. “Hell, he might not even know about the Roots, the kidnapping — none of it.”
“Could be,” Dutcher replied. “It’s clear Grebo was a mole for the SDB; whether he was planted specifically for this we don’t know. Either way, that’s what he’s been doing for Litzman — acting as a human homing beacon.”
“Letting Litzman stay two steps ahead of Svetic all the way.”
“Exactly,” said Oaken.
Len Barber said, “The question is, Did Litzman know Svetic would be using the Aurasina?”
“Doubtful,” Tanner replied. “Its just a happy coincidence for the SDB. All Litzman and SDB needed was Trpkova in Trieste at roughly the same time as the delegates. Litzman’s window dressing and Trpkova’s name would do the rest. Nobody would doubt he’s responsible.”
“This is a goddamned catastrophe in the making,” said George Coates. “There’s a thousand ways to lose this and only a couple to win.”
“Then let’s find them,” Tanner said. “The ferry leaves at midnight. Unless something changes, Trpkova will be on it. He’s heading home, trying to go to ground. We either take him now, or before he gets off the ferry. Do we have any guesses on how Litzman’s going to do it?”
Dutcher replied, “Either a bomb already aboard or an attack en route — which I think is the more likely of the two. I doubt he had either the time or opportunity to plant something aboard.”
“I agree,” said Coates.
Sylvia said, “Which makes me wonder about the mystery crate he picked up in Lorient.”
“There’s a French naval base there,” Tanner said. “Do they have—”
“Working on it. We’re not expecting a quick answer, though. If they’re missing something they won’t be quick to admit it. The what doesn’t matter as much as the where and how.”
“Which brings us back to Litzman,” said Tanner. “You’re tracking the Barak?”
“We’ve had a Lacrosse on her since she arrived in Trieste,” Sylvia said, referring to a Lacrosse radar satellite. Unlike standard imagery satellites, Lacrosse platforms can see through rain, clouds, and camouflage, day or night. “She’s headed south. As of ten minutes ago she was coming up on Pula on the tip of the Istrian Peninsula.”
“I need to get ahead of him,” Tanner said. “Whatever he’s got planned, he’ll have to do it before the Aurasina reaches Zadar.”
Oaken said, “Start driving toward Graz. I’ll call you with flight arrangements.”
“Wait,” Len Barber said. “Let’s slow this down. We’re overlooking the most direct solution: Stop the ferry; have the Italian police grab Trpkova.”
“A bad idea,” said Tanner.
“Why?”
“First, that’s when he’s going to be most on edge; until he’s on that ferry and it’s underway, he’ll be looking for the net to drop on him. Once he’s headed home, he’ll relax. Secondly, departure’s only two hours away. Even if we get the Italians’ cooperation, by the time we get done answering all their questions, they won’t have enough time to mount an operation worth a damn. The last thing we need is Trpkova in a standoff while he’s got his hands on Kestrel.”
“You have a suggestion, Briggs?” Sylvia asked.
“Bear follows Trpkova onto the ferry and keeps tabs on him. I go after Litzman. In the meantime, we’ve got eight hours to plan a reception before the Aurasina reaches Zadar. We take him the moment he steps onto the pier. If he sails on to Sibenek or Split, we do it there. There’s one thing I’m sure of: If we try to do this halfway and Trpkova gets wind of it, we’re done — Kestrel’s out.”
There was silence on the phone for several seconds, then Sylvia said, “Dutch?”
“Better to plan it out than stumble into it. Even if Briggs doesn’t catch up to Litzman, we’ve got Cahil. If worse comes to worst, he can disable the ferry. If not, we get a team to Zadar and wait.”
“George?”
“I agree. We don’t have time to bring in the Italians or anyone else. This is on us alone.”
“Okay,” said Sylvia. “That’s our plan. Briggs, get moving. Find Litzman; stop him.”
44
As the Aurasina was steaming out of the Gulf of Trieste and turning south along the Istrian Peninsula with her cargo of 800 passengers and 290 passenger vehicles, Tanner was pulling into the parking lot of a small municipal airstrip on the southern edge of Graz. Through the hurricane fence he could see a single hangar. The double doors were open, revealing the pale glow of fluorescent lights.
Briggs climbed out of the Mercedes, shoved the keys under the seat, then locked and closed the door. He checked his watch; he had a few minutes. He dialed Cahil. Dutcher had called Cahil with orders to follow Trpkova aboard the Aurasina, but had told him nothing else.