Latham showed his badge.
“Good for you. Now get the hell out. This is none of your business.”
“I’m afraid it is, Senator,” said Latham. “I think it’s time you and I had a talk.”
40
Twelve hours after he pulled Tanner from the bunker, Cahil wheeled him down the hallway of Agana’s main hospital. “Bear, where are we going? And why the wheelchair? I’m fine.”
“Hospital rules. You don’t want to piss off Nurse Ratchet.”
“They have a Nurse Ratchet?”
“Every hospital has a Nurse Ratchet. Besides, I doubt that deep-fried leg of yours would take much weight.”
“Speaking of that, have I thanked you yet?”
“A couple times.”
“Good. So tell me again: What happened after you pulled me out?”
“Figuring Takagi wouldn’t mind if we borrowed it, I loaded you aboard the helo, said good-bye to Fantasy Island, and set a course for the nearest land. Guam had the best chance of having a hospital worth a damn, so here we are.”
“I wish I could remember it.”
“You might have if I hadn’t shot you full of morphine. You’re gonna have a dandy-looking scar.”
“Where did you land, on the hospital lawn?”
“Of course not! I set her down in a field a couple miles out of town and traded it to a farmer for a ride here.”
Tanner started laughing and suddenly found himself unable to stop. It felt damned good to be alive.
“What?” Cahil said. “He can sell it. The damn thing’s worth more than he’ll earn in a lifetime.”
“Anybody ever tell you you’re rabidly practical?”
“Only you. Now, as for where we’re going… Somebody wants to see you.”
Cahil turned into a room. On the bed lay the Japanese man they’d rescued from the bunker. Behind the oxygen mask he smiled feebly and waved to them.
“How is he?” Briggs whispered.
“Two of his ribs are broken, and he lost a lot of blood, but it could be worse.”
“What’s his name?”
“Ezoe. He was the cook.”
Ezoe was reaching toward Tanner. Cahil wheeled him closer, and Tanner took the hand. “Domo arigato,” Ezoe said. “Domo.”
“You’re welcome. Do you speak English?”
Ezoe nodded.
“Good, because my Japanese is terrible. Ezoe, do you remember what happened at the island?”
“I remember.”
“Would you be willing to talk to us about it?”
“Yes.”
“First, though, we have a problem. I think it would be a bad idea for you to go home right now. If you’d like, you can come with us. We can’t force you, but—”
Ezoe’s eyes lit up. “To America?”
“Yes.”
“When do we leave?”
Abu Azhar seated General al-Khatib and their guest near the fireplace and pulled the drapes shut. Outside, the temperature hovered around freezing; the peaks of the Anti-Lebanese Mountains were capped in snow.
Azhar sat down and studied his visitor. “You are Pasdaran?” he asked.
“Yes,” the man replied proudly.
Indeed, Azhar thought, he has the eyes of a fanatic. Tough, well-trained, and only too ready to die for Islam, the Pasdaran were Iran’s elite revolutionary guard corps. This man’s presence spoke volumes of al-Khatib’s influence. Their role was the linchpin of the operation.
“How many men under your command?” Azhar asked.
“Thirty.”
“Have you been briefed on your mission?”
“No. Whatever it is, we will succeed, inshallah.” God willing.
Azhar handed the man a sheet of paper. “We want these men killed.”
The Pasdaran officer studied the list. “If it pleases Allah. When—”
“Listen to me,” Azhar said. “Do you understand who these men are? They are important and well-guarded. When I ask you if you can kill them, I want an answer, not a fanatical platitude. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” the man stammered. “Yes, I understand. I know who these men are. We can do this for you. We will succeed or die in the attempt.”
“Succeed first. What you do afterward is not my concern. All the deaths must occur within twenty-four hours of one another, two to three weeks from now. We will give you the precise schedule.”
“It will be done.”
Azhar handed him a file. “You’ll want to conduct your own surveillance.
“Of course.”
Azhar stood. “May Allah guide you.”
Once the man was gone, al-Khatib smiled and said, “You were hard on the young pup. Are you satisfied?”
“Not until it’s done.”
“Ever the cynic, Abu. Tell me, how goes your Washington operation?”
“I expect to have the information within a few days. Time enough to adjust our plans, if necessary. What about the ship?”
“She sailed two days ago.”
Azhar nodded and stared vacantly out the window. “Now it is all timing.”
“Oh, Saul, there it is!” Bernice Weinman called. “There!”
They’d chosen this spot in Charles Clora Park in hopes of seeing the ship sail into port. Saul Weinman could just make out her white superstructure beyond the breakwater. “I see her, Bernice. She’s beautiful.”
“Tell me again, what is she called?”
“The Valverde. She’s named after one of the Canary Islands.”
“Are we going there? Is that one of the stops?”
“Yes, Bernice,” Saul replied with a laugh, delighted at her excitement. “There and other places, too: Spain, Portugal, Casablanca—”
“Like the movie? Oh, how wonderful!”
After thirty-two years of private medical practice in Tel Aviv, Saul Weinman had retired the previous month. This cruise was to be their first trip alone together since their honeymoon. Bernice had waited so long for this — as had he. This would be the start of the most wonderful years of their life.
“Oh, Saul! What do you think our stateroom will be like? Will it be big? Do you think they’ll serve those drinks with the umbrellas? Or dancing! Do you think there will be dancing?”
“They’ll have everything. It’s going to be wonderful.”
“I wish we were going today, right now.”
“Patience, Bern. Day after tomorrow.”
Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland
Within minutes of receiving Tanner’s call from Guam, a relieved Leland Dutcher and Walter Oaken set to work getting them home. Two hours and a few phone calls later, a VC-20 lifted off from the U.S. air base at Misawa bound for Guam, where it picked up the trio, then headed east.
Now, some 7,000 miles later, Dutcher and Oaken stood on the Tarmac watching the VC-20 taxi to a stop. Aided by a cane, Tanner came down the ladder, followed by Cahil, who turned to help Ezoe down. Oaken ran forward to help.
Dutcher shook Tanner’s hand. “How’s the leg?”
“Sore, but working.”
“And our guest?”
“Better than he looks. Considering what he saw, he’s doing great.”
With Cahil and Oaken under each arm, Ezoe walked past them toward the car.
“How many dead?” asked Dutcher.
“Twelve that I could count. How did Mason react when he found out we hadn’t pulled out?”
“What could he say? I fell on my sword, told him DORSAL wasn’t as dead as we thought, and gave him the news. That bunker complex has all the markings of a chemical or biological facility. Trust me, they love you.”
“Glad to hear it. Leland, there’s something I didn’t tell you. On the plane we had a little chat with Ezoe. Three days before we got to the island, a ship arrived. From his description, I’m pretty sure it was Tsumago. That night, Noboru and his men loaded something aboard her. Ezoe didn’t know what. The next day, about two hours before the shooting started, a Chinook helicopter landed carrying about a dozen men. After they were aboard the ship, she sailed.” Tanner paused. “He says he got a good look at them. They were Arabs.”