"So this entire mess, the Einstein situation as well as the Middle East, could be all tied together," Benson said.
"You could make that argument, sir," Allbright said.
"I need some theories as to why the Chinese might want to poison the Saudis oil—
who stands to gain, strategic impacts, that kind of stuff."
"I'll get some people on it right away," Allbright said. Benson looked over at Miles and Smoot. "Agent Miles, I want you and Agent Smoot to investigate the bombings that are occurring in Israel. I'll call right now and have one of our jets made ready. I want you to leave for the Middle East immediately. If the bombings in Israel are being caused by the Chinese, maybe we can stop this war before it begins."
The trio rose to leave. "Work fast, you three. I have to brief the president tomorrow morning," Benson said as they left.
CHAPTER 41
Taft parked the NIA sedan just outside the newly constructed monitoring station near the town of Potomac Beach, Maryland. He looked over at his partner. "What's the purpose of scheduling the test after sunset?"
"To demonstrate the 'above-surface night capability'" Martinez said, reading from the report.
"Splendid," Taft said as he climbed out of the car.
Martinez closed the folder and joined Taft alongside the sedan. Walking toward the construction trailer, Taft and Martinez noticed new landscaping that had been installed since their last visit. The freshly planted trees and shrubs hid the site from the road. Martinez was about to knock on the door of the trailer when a voice boomed from inside: "Come on in."
The sensors we placed underneath the road picked up your car and activated a remote camera," the contractor said proudly. "I watched you drive into the compound." He reached for a pair of hard hats and handed them to the pair. "You are Agents Taft and Martinez, if I remember correctly."
"That's correct. You have a good memory," Martinez said, smiling. The contractor motioned to the door of the trailer. "Our technicians are already starting the system for the test. We can go and watch."
The three men walked across the dirt parking lot and stopped at the monitoring station. The contractor punched in a code on a key pad to release the door, then swung it open.
The inside of the building was dimly lit and the smell of fresh concrete still hung in the air. To the side, mounted on the wall, one of the three floor-to-ceiling, highresolution screens was already lit. The screen was displaying a green-colored threedimensional image of the Potomac River. The contractor walked over to a technician who was typing on a computer keyboard.
"How goes it?" he asked the technician.
"Not great," the man admitted. 'The software controlling screens two and three has a glitch. We're running a systems check now."
"These are the NIA inspectors," the contractor said, indicating Taft and Martinez.
"How long until we're operational and can demonstrate the system?"
"No idea," the technician said, returning to his work. The contractor smiled wanly at the two agents. "Would you care to wait in the trailer?
There's a television you could watch."
Taft looked at Martinez and nodded. Both men began to walk for the exit.
"I'll come and get you when we're operational," the contractor shouted as they exited the building.
It would be close to 9 p.m. before the system was working properly. At about the same time, at NIA headquarters, General Benson telephoned his wife to explain that he would be late and that she shouldn't wait up for him. Then he phoned down for a dinner from the NIA cafeteria. He was reading the latest reports from the Middle East when the orderly from the cafeteria delivered the meal. Benson signed the bill, tucking a five-dollar bill underneath for the orderly, then removed the stainless-steel cover from the largest plate.
A slab of chicken fried steak covered in a white sausage gravy took up over half the plate. The remaining area on the plate was piled with mashed potatoes ladled with more of the gravy. Removing the cover from another plate, Benson found green beans. The last plate held a slice of pecan pie for dessert. A container of iced tea rounded out the order. After liberally covering the meat and potatoes with salt and pepper, Benson began to eat.
His meal was interrupted with several telephone calls.
The NIA agents in position near the Carondelet began to phone in to Benson at fifteen-minute intervals. Their reports said the vessel remained anchored in the Potomac River with no sign of movement on deck. Dick Allbright telephoned from his office and explained to Benson the progress they were making in the Middle East. After completing his report, he asked Benson, "How late will you be working tonight?"
"Late," Benson replied. "How about you?"
"Late. I've got that weird feeling like something is going to break soon," Allbright noted.
"Me too," Benson said. "It's about time for something to happen." As he spoke those words Benson had no way of knowing that the Carondelet was the solution to their problems. The ship seemed but one small piece in a larger puzzle.
"If nothing happens by midnight," Benson said to Allbright, I'm ordering the Coast Guard to board and seize the ship."
"Do you think the papers are already on board?"
"Maybe, or they soon will be," Benson said. "And this time I want them recovered." The Chinese Kong mini-sub was powered by quiet electric motors that spun a shaft that ran to the stern. The motors made the submarine's operation almost silent, but they offered little in the way of power to the single propeller. Still fighting the river current, the submarine droned on toward its rendezvous. Inside the mini-sub the humidity was already rising, and droplets of moisture fell from the roof of the vessel like a gentle rain. The air inside the cigar-shaped vessel was turning stale, the smell of fear and uncertainty combined with sweat and body odors.
Behind the glass-enclosed bubble, Pilot Ho Pei struggled to keep the submarine on a compass heading. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. He would be glad when this was over and he was safely back in China.
Tsing nervously scanned the Potomac River, then checked his flashlight to make sure it was still working. His extraction was scheduled for 10 p.m. He was glad tonight was the night — he had the nagging suspicion his good luck was running out. Twice already he had nearly been captured. It was time to leave the United States for good. The constant stress of hiding from his pursuers was taking its toll.
Glancing down at his left hand, he saw it was trembling slightly. Pouring the plastic cup of coffee onto the ground he tossed the thermos and cup into the bushes. Soon, once he was aboard the ship, he could sleep. He glanced at his watch again and stared downriver.
Minutes seemed like hours.
In the construction trailer near Potomac Beach, John Taft was rapidly growing bored.
"This show is just plain stupid," Taft said. "How do a coffee shop waitress and an unemployed chef manage to cover the rent on a high-rise apartment in New York?"
"Quit being pissy, it's just a sitcom," Martinez said.
"We should both be home right now," Taft said. "You with your wife, me with somebody warm and cuddly."
"What happened to the last lady you were dating?" Martinez asked.
"The one who looked like Teri Garr?"
"Yeah, that one," said Martinez.
"She got transferred to Salt Lake City." Just at that instant the perpetually optimistic contractor yanked open the door of the trailer. "The system's up and running," he said enthusiastically.
Taft and Martinez rose from the old couch in the trailer. Walking across the parking lot, the three men entered the building. All three of the screens were now lit. The contractor pointed to the screens and began his spiel.