Ferguson nodded as though his approval was actually required.
Alvarez’s voice came back through the speakerphone. “In short, Ozols was going to sell the location of the sunken ship to the highest bidder. The buyer would then be free to recover the missiles at their leisure. As you can imagine, there are a lot of regimes out there who would love to get these kinds of weapons for their arsenals. Ozols claimed that he had half a dozen other potential buyers interested when he approached us. He wanted to sell the information for two hundred million euros, but I bartered him down to a little over one hundred million.”
Chambers sighed. “I cannot overstate the importance of our being the ones to recover those missiles. Not only would we improve our own antiship-cruise-missile technology, but, more significantly, we can prevent some less-than-desirable faction from potentially using the technology against either us or our allies. Furthermore, it would enable our own navy to improve and develop defenses against these kind of missiles.” She paused before adding, “Let’s not forget the Chinese and Iranians have these kinds of weapons already.”
Wyley leaned toward the speakerphone. “A hundred million bucks for a grid reference seems a little steep.”
Ferguson came to the rescue. “Each year we spend more than the GDP of most countries making sure we have the best toys. A hundred million to leapfrog a quarter century of arms development is the bargain of a lifetime. Especially because we’ve been after the Sunburn for years and Russia won’t sell.”
“And they’ll still work after all this time underwater?” Wyley asked.
Sykes nodded. “Maybe, maybe not. They’re housed in airtight casings that protect them from the elements but aren’t designed for submersion in salt water. The casing may have corroded, and any that have been exposed to sea water will be useless, but the technology will still be extractable, as will the warheads carried, which could be anything. Anyone who recovered the missiles and their accompanying electronics would be able to reverse-engineer the design and create their own equivalents. Against a regime with these kinds of missiles our naval capabilities are extremely reduced. Even replicas with fifty percent of the capabilities of an Oniks can cripple or even destroy one of our aircraft carriers.”
“And why deal in Paris?” Chambers asked.
Alvarez’s voice again emanated through the speakerphone. “The man was paranoid as hell. He was convinced we were going to double-cross him. He would only meet on neutral soil. Somewhere he thought we would have difficulty pulling any stunts. Paris was his idea. He gave me a seven-day window, promising he’d call at some point during that period with the time and location of the meet. He phoned just before six this morning, said he wanted to meet an hour later. Obviously he didn’t show.”
Chambers leaned forward gracefully. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that Ozols gave any clues as to where the frigate is located before you were due to meet.”
“Unfortunately he did not. He was coy enough not to give me anything even remotely specific. What he did tell me was that Moscow believed the ship had sunk in deep water and so wasn’t worth recovering but that in fact it had come to rest on continental shelf in shallow water. Ozols claimed it’s in international waters so anyone with a boat and its location can get to it easily. I’m sure you can appreciate that there is a lot of continental shelf out there in the Indian Ocean.”
“Why didn’t he just try selling the information back to the Russians anonymously?” one of the mandarins asked.
“My guess is he knew if he tried to they’d be able to work out who was doing the selling and send a nice little SVR execution team to offer him a better deal.”
Chambers asked, “How was the exchange supposed to happen?”
“Ozols had agreed to supply the information on a flash drive that he was going to give me on the day he was killed. I would then check the information, and, if it appeared genuine, I would wire half the money to his bank account. I would then walk away with the drive once he had checked with his bank that the money was there. The other half would be held in an escrow account that he would get access to once we had located the ship. It was the best deal I could negotiate.”
“Okay,” Chambers said. “Now take us through what happened in Paris.”
“We still haven’t gotten even a fraction of the details yet,” Alvarez began. “The French are keeping as many people out of the loop with this as much as possible. It’s so sandwiched in crap it’s taken this long just to chew through it.”
“Don’t tell me you’re surprised at this,” Ferguson interjected. “Our friends across the pond may be among the least intellectually blessed of our allies, but they’re not quite as dumb as we would like to believe. They have eyes and ears. They know we’re keeping them in the dark about something and they don’t like it.”
Procter smiled inwardly. The old man always spoke his mind without restraint, quite often without decorum as well.
Wyley cleared his throat before getting involved again. “Do you think they found out about the op?”
“Unless there’s a leak or they’ve developed extrasensory perception, then of course they haven’t,” Ferguson responded. “But Gallic paranoia has probably conjured up a host of incredible explanations for events thus far. None of which will be close to the truth, so stop worrying about them. For the time being at least the French are nothing more than an annoyance.”
Chambers gave Ferguson a polite but firm look. “Continue, Alvarez.”
“This is what we know. The medical examiner puts Ozols’s time of death at sometime between five and seven am. He was supposed to meet me to make the exchange at seven. He was shot in an alley just off the Rue de Marne. Corpse found by a shop owner pretty quickly. No identification, but I saw his body myself at the morgue. Double-tap through the heart with holes so close they were touching, and one through the temple from close range. No witnesses. No physical evidence. The killer was definitely a pro.
“Anyway, this is where it gets interesting. At eight fifteen the Paris police were called to a hotel where they found eight dead bodies. Five inside the hotel itself, two in a building opposite, and another in the street. One of the cops I spoke to, off the record, told me that they think one man killed them all. Bullets found in several of the corpses were 5.7 mm subsonics, the same round that killed Ozols, though fired from a different but same-model gun.”
“What the hell happened?” Procter asked.
“At this time I have no idea,” Alvarez answered. “I need to get inside that hotel, watch the security tapes, and look at the police report if I’m going to find out. I haven’t been able to do that on my own.”
“I’ll make sure that happens,” Chambers said.
Ferguson was shaking his head. “Someone killed Ozols and then went on a rampage through a Paris hotel? Doubtful.”
“That’s exactly as it appears,” Alvarez stated firmly.
Chambers asked, “Do we have any indication whatsoever of who this killer represents? I’ll take a guess at this stage.”
“Ozols never told me who else he was negotiating with but I think we can make some educated guesses. Russia and China already have them and Iran has Sunburns, so Ozols wouldn’t go to them. Ozols wanted to deal in Paris so the French probably aren’t involved. But all the other usual suspects would love to get their hands on the Oniks: Israel, Saudi Arabia, Great Britain, India, Pakistan, North Korea. If someone found out Ozols was selling to us and not them then it’s not unreasonable to think they’d try and get the information anyway. Sending a professional killer is a hell of a lot cheaper than paying what Ozols wanted as well. And let’s not forget that the Russians might have found out what Ozols was up to and tracked him down.”
“So, to clarify,” Ferguson began, “you’re saying the killer could be working for anyone?”