“I don’t buy it,” Decker said. He shook his head. “And I don’t buy that story about evidence going missing.”
“What’s that?” said Seiden.
“I was told there was a robbery at Mossad headquarters in Tel Aviv, and that the videotape which El Aqrab made of the Miller murders had been stolen.”
“Ah, I see,” said Seiden. He focused on Warhaftig, a tiny smile playing on his lips. “Now I think I understand. Yes, Agent Warhaftig. Very good. Mazel tov.” Then he looked across the aisle at Decker, adding, “There was no robbery in Tel Aviv. Although it was certainly made to look that way.”
“Jesus Christ!” Warhaftig said. He reddened visibly. “John, get back to your seat.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Decker said. “One of the most wanted men in Israel, and no one bothered to make a copy of the tape that documents his latest killings? That doesn’t make any sense. And even if there were only one copy, why wasn’t it in some evidence locker in Jerusalem, or in the Knesset someplace, instead of in Tel Aviv?”
Decker suddenly realized he was shouting. He lowered his voice and said, “Just before he tried to kill us, El Aqrab confessed Garron had stolen money from him, cash his father kept at home in case the ben Saad family had to flee the country. A lot of cash — almost two and a half million dollars. He said Garron used it to finance his elections.”
“And you believed him,” Seiden said, “because, as a baby killer and murderer of women, he is such an honorable man.” He looked derisively at Decker but there was something about his voice — the slightest hesitation, a faulty intonation — that undermined its authenticity.
Even Seiden’s unsure, thought Decker. “He had no motive to lie. He thought I was about to die. Yes, I believed him. That’s why Garron was so damned sensitive. Do you really think he’d let the only copy of that tape remain in Tel Aviv? Something doesn’t add up.”
Decker stood. He hovered in the narrow aisle. “No,” he said. “You had a copy of that tape already, didn’t you? I don’t know how, but you knew about that illustration, even before I saw the wallpaper in Queens. You recognized those words. I saw your face, Otto. You probably already knew about Garron too. After everything we’ve been through together and you’re still lying to me.”
“I didn’t know about Garron,” Warhaftig answered testily. “But, frankly, I’m not surprised. He and his son have been under a financial cloud for years. Just because I’m a Jew doesn’t mean I automatically like the man.”
“What does it mean, then, Otto?”
“Don’t be a fool, John. I have a job to do, and so do you. Israel is our strongest ally in the Middle East. This isn’t about the Palestinians. Or the Israelis, for that matter. It’s about our country, John. Yours and mine. Our industry and commerce. And good old American jobs. All that we are as a nation, as a people depends upon the oil and, therefore, the politico-economic security of one of the most volatile regions of the world. A world that’s getting smaller, mind you, and deadlier every day. Why do you think we’re in Iraq, for Christ’s sake? Just because Saddam was a sadistic tyrant? Why do you think we’re in Afghanistan? We have to support Israel, no matter what we think.”
“I am trying to support her. Don’t you get it?” Decker said. “It’s time the Israelis tested the resolve of the Islamic faith. They should sue for peace. A real and lasting peace. Now that would be truly brave, instead of simply obdurate. Then, if the fundamentalists refused to cease hostilities — as prescribed by the Qur’an — they’d lose their moral authority. In front of the whole Islamic world.” He shook his head. “Of all the peoples on this earth, you’d think the Israelis would understand what it means to be persecuted, to be… abused. It’s as if they’re suffering from a collective legacy of guilt, as if — as victims of abuse — they’re compelled to abuse others.” He paused. Then he looked down at Seiden and said, “‘The sins of the father.’ You’re a student of psychology, aren’t you? You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Look John,” said Warhaftig. “It isn’t up to us to judge. We’re not the politicians, thank God. I’m just trying to do my job. Sometimes it isn’t a very pleasant one, but it’s what I swore an oath to do.”
“Oh, I get it. ‘I was just following orders.’ Isn’t that what they said at Nuremberg?”
Warhaftig leapt to his feet. He clenched his fists. Decker puffed himself up. Seiden jumped in between them, facing Decker, a scowl darkening his face.
Then Swenson suddenly appeared. She had overheard them arguing. “Who fucking cares?” she said. “We’re probably all about to die anyway.”
“I care,” said Decker, rising to his full height. Seiden was still a good three inches taller.
“We don’t have time for this,” she said. “The world’s about to be destroyed and you’re bickering like children. Men!” she spat. “Look at you prance. That’s why this planet’s so fucked up — you idiots are running things.” Then she turned away and said, “I have to prepare for my descent.”
“What descent?” said Decker, suddenly sobered.
“Who do you think’s going to navigate the Alvin to set off the counter-wave? I’m the best shot we’ve got.”
“She’s right, you know,” Warhaftig said.
“Shut up,” said Decker. “You keep out of this. Why do you have to go? I thought you said you’d never set foot in a DSV again. Shouldn’t the Navy or—”
“I know those canyons better than anyone on the East Coast,” she said. “And I know the Alvin.” She placed her hand on Decker’s shoulder. “You know I’m right, John. Think about it.”
The argument reached its logical conclusion. He had known it all along. He had seen this darkened terminus at the far end of the labyrinth as soon as she had mentioned Newton, and there was no amount of foliation, no plenitude of mirrors or gilded tiles that could blind him from the truth. Equal and opposite reactions.
“Then, I’m going with you,” Decker said. He spoke with grim finality. “I’m not breaking up this team. Not now. Not after everything we’ve been through.”
“I’m sure the Navy will provide me with a pilot. I don’t need you, John. We probably won’t… ” She hesitated. She took him by the hand. Then she said, “We won’t have time to get too far before we have to set off the device. Otherwise it won’t work. The mega-tsunami will be on us.”
Decker looked deep into her eyes. “You don’t have a choice, Emily,” he said. “It’s a three-man sub. I’m paid to risk my life, as Otto here just reminded me. If you go, I go. At least that will solve his problem. Fewer people talking once this is over.”
“Believe it or not, John,” said Warhaftig, “I would actually enjoy seeing you two again, once this is over.”
“I think the whole world will,” said Seiden.
“Question is: What kind of world will it be?” said Decker. “I’m not sure it’ll be much fun picking up the pieces.”
“You really want to know?” Warhaftig said. He pulled a piece of paper from his jacket and handed it to Decker.
It was a damage assessment report, labeled Top Secret, an exercise in scenario planning run by DARPA and the CIA. Decker studied it carefully. It estimated damages, lives lost, infrastructure ruined. And the ripples extended worldwide. Apparently, with the annihilation of financial systems, of telecommunications and energy infrastructure, of so much industry and government and academia on the east coast, not only would the United States begin to slide into a deep depression, but every nation of the world would be affected.