"What is this?" Nossur Aruch asked, a catch of intrigue in his soft voice. Eyes wide and unblinking, he took a hesitant, reverential step toward the device.
"The solution to all the world's ills," Babcock intoned. He beamed through his jowly face.
The former terrorist looked at the interior secretary.
"It is a bomb of some sort?"
"It is the bomb," Babcock explained. "The last bomb ever needed."
"It is atomic?"
Babcock glanced at Doe. The scientist nodded. "Ye-es," Babcock replied vaguely. "Technically it does work on the atomic level. But it's far more sophisticated than your garden-variety nuke. You must know that Earthpeace would never have anything to do with a common nuclear device." Aruch didn't seem interested in the moral distinctions the environmental organization drew between one bomb and the next. His fascinated gaze was leveled on the bomb before him.
"They are supposed to be available on the black market," the Palestinian commented as he stared at the stainless-steel casing. He reached out a tentative hand. "Former Soviet warheads are alleged to be popping up the world over. I have yet to see one, however. Radioactive junk is all one can get these days. This is the genuine article?"
"No, actually," Babcock admitted, frowning slightly. Aruch seemed a little too interested in the bomb. "As I told you, it's not a typical nuclear device."
"It will level a country?" Aruch asked hopefully. Babcock retreated a step. The glimmer of cunning in the PIO leader's eyes was unexpected and disturbing.
"Not in a standard way," the interior secretary offered slowly.
"Oh." The former terrorist's shoulders slumped. Hope instantly returned. "A city?" he asked.
"Maybe," Babcock admitted. "Listen, I'm not quite sure I like the way this is going."
"How big a city? Like Tel Aviv? Or Jerusalem? Do you have more than one? Where did you get it? Can you get more?" The questions came out in a flood.
Aruch didn't even wait for an answer to any of them. He wheeled to the men who had followed him onto the Grappler's bridge.
"Load it in the truck," he commanded.
"Now wait just a goldurned minute there, Nossur," Bryce Babcock warned. He slid protectively between Aruch and the bomb. "I don't know what you have in mind, but-"
Without a look at the secretary, Nossur Aruch snapped his fingers. Guns instantly rattled up.
The interior secretary's sagging jowls locked in midprotest. His face registered utter shock.
Silent now, Babcock was shoved roughly aside. Helpless, he watched as two PIO soldiers hefted the prototype neutrino bomb off the console, carting it out into the sunlight.
Babcock cringed when they accidentally banged it on the metal door frame.
"He knows how it works?" Aruch demanded. He aimed a stubby finger at Ree Hop Doe.
When Babcock nodded dully, Dr. Doe's hooded eyes opened wide.
"I onry hera for cash," the scientist pleaded. "Rawyer costa much money. Appear process taka rong time. China no foot birr anymore." He wheeled on Babcock. "Terr him I no wanna be stuck with clummy Mexican marr rawyer!"
Aruch ignored the man's pleading eyes. Fatang stood near the door. Turning to the soldier, Aruch pointed at Doe.
"Bring him," the PIO leader commanded.
The guard directed two men to drag the whimpering scientist outside.
"What of this one?" Fatang asked, indicating Bryce Babcock with a jerk of his automatic rifle. Sudden, intense fear gripped the secretary. Babcock's bladder reached critical mass. The warm release flooded down his legs and into his leather boots.
"He may yet be of use," Aruch admitted with some reluctance. "Bring him, as well."
There was no time for relief. Fatang grabbed the stunned Babcock by the arm, shoving him outside. A military urgency seized the Radiant Grappter. Aruch quickly deployed his men around the ship, instructing them to look for other bombs. The first was loaded by soldiers onto Aruch's canvas-covered truck on the dock far below.
"There aren't any more," Babcock pleaded as PIO soldiers swarmed down into the bowels of the Earthpeace ship.
"We will see," Aruch said, big nostrils flaring. A muffled popping sound was audible beneath their feet. Gunshots.
Babcock and Doe exchanged sick glances. Standing in the warmth of the soft Mediterranean breeze, the pops seemed to go on forever. One for each Earthpeace crew member.
At first, Babcock's trousers clung wetly to his inner thighs. By the time the PIO soldiers returned to the deck, the same white sun that had browned the skin of pharaoh and bedouin for thousands of years had begun to dry the damp material to salty stiffness.
The soldiers cried ululations of triumph. Above their heads, they carried a lumpy bundle. Running, panting, they dumped their prize at the feet of Nossur Aruch.
The PIO leader raised an unhappy eyebrow beneath the great peak of his checkered kaffiyeh.
It was a man. He was lying on his side, his face turned away from Aruch. It was unclear if he was dead or alive.
"What is this?" Aruch scowled, nudging the body with the ice of his black boot. The man plopped over onto his back.
When the face became clear, Nossur Aruch's eyes sprang wide. His mouth formed a shocked O.
"It cannot be," he breathed. Arms flailing, he whirled on Bryce Babcock. "It cannot be!" he sang, delighted now.
Babcock shrank from the grubby, ecstatic little man.
"I thought it'd be poetic." The interior secretary shrugged, afraid. "He was always a warmonger." The PIO leader's wild eyes flew to the slumbering form of the elderly former United States President. He was the devil. A saber-rattler who had set back the cause of terror a generation. At least. A man whose time in office had put people like Nossur Aruch virtually out of business. To finally have this hated creature. Here.
It was a dream come true.
Joy bloomed like a desert flower on Nossur Aruch's face.
"He lives?" Aruch hissed.
"Pumped full of tranquilizers," Babcock admitted. "But, yes, he's alive."
"Take him," the terrorist ordered Fatang with growling delight.
As the ex-President was hoisted into the air, Babcock's eyes took on a look of wild helplessness. "You want him? You can have him. He's yours. No fuss, no muss. Signed, sealed and delivered. Bomb, too. Hell, I'll even throw in the Chink, no charge." He stabbed a shaking finger at Ree Hop Doe. "Just let me go."
Nossur Aruch turned slowly to Bryce Babcock. The Arab was a crushed beer can in wrinkled khaki. A demonic smile split his stubbly face.
"Do you not wish to see the peace you have brought?" he asked with soft menace.
"Me? Nah. Not really," Babcock dismissed. "I really should get back to America. The department's got this new program where we're gonna be releasing grizzlies into Central Park. I really should be there to head off the protests. But, hey, don't let me stop you."
He spun. A rifle barrel was aimed at his face. He turned back to Aruch.
"Or I could go with you. See how this plays out." He nodded agreeably. "You know. Whichever."
Aruch ignored Babcock's panicked rambling. With a crisp nod, he turned away. PIO soldiers shoved Bryce Babcock and Ree Hop Doe forward.
With Nossur Aruch leading the way, the entire group hustled down the long gangplank of the Radiant Grappler.
Chapter 22
Admiral Harris saw to it that the USS Ronald Reagan brought them as close to the maritime boundary of Lebanon as possible.
Concerned for Chiun's safety, the Navy man offered to have them taken ashore under cover of darkness. It was Remo who refused the assistance. He had the carrier's crew throw the smallest inflatable life raft they could find into the gently chopping waters.