Part 34 (1/2)
She dialed, but there was no answer there either. Eileen frowned and left a message on the machine.
”Now, where could Joe be?” she wondered aloud, then realized he was probably working out at the health club near the Garden of the G.o.ds. Nelson had said he swam or ran there nearly every day. She got her keys from her desk.
”You got the rest of this?” she asked Rosen. He was still relaxing, feet up on the desk.
”I got the paperwork going,” he said, and flapped a hand at her. ”Go on.”
As Eileen took her jacket from the hook by her desk, Rosen spoke behind the wet rag.
”Eileen?”
”Yes?” she said, shrugging into her jacket and checking her holster.
”You sure you don't want me to go? I got a funny feeling about this one.”
Eileen felt a run of goose b.u.mps.
”No,” she said, after thinking for a moment. ”We have to get that paperwork out the door. I'll only be an hour at the most.”
”Okay,” Rosen said. ”Just watch your back.”
”I will.” She smiled at the washrag. ”Don't worry.”
Colorado Springs.
Lucy leaned back in her chair, sighing. She'd had to pa.s.s on the plum wine because of her pregnancy, but she'd eaten the other dishes until she was stuffed.
”This plum wine isn't authentic anyway,” Fred Nguyen said. Fred's wife Kim was another California Vietnamese with the same mixture of Asian features and beach girl mannerisms. They had two children, a boy and a girl.
”I'm afraid of labor,” Lucy admitted. ”But it's worth it to have a baby.”
”You're going to love being a mom,” Kim said, stacking dishes. ”Labor isn't all that bad.”
Behind her, Fred rolled his eyes.
”I need to get to my hotel room,” Lucy said, smiling. ”I've got to get ahold of Colonel Ellison. And maybe Detective Reed, if she's around.”
”Sure you can't stay?” Nguyen asked. He'd already given Lucy his sheaf of doc.u.ments, which she'd locked in her little travel suitcase. The suitcase was the only CIA-made object in her wardrobe. No poison pens or little laser-beam penlights, she'd thought with a sigh. The suitcase was aluminum reinforced and had a tiny acid container in the locking mechanism. If the case was forced the acid would dump and destroy the contents of the case.
”Cool,” Lucy muttered when Mills gave her the suitcase on her first business trip.
”Don't forget the combo,” Mills had said.
”Or the acid will eat my shorts.” Lucy grinned. Mills didn't laugh.
”I do have to work,” Lucy said. ”Thank you so much for the meal and the company.”
Looking at the two of them made Lucy miss Ted terribly. She wished she'd talked him into coming with her instead of going to Florida. For whole blocks of time she could make herself forget Fouad Muallah and the Turtkul missile silo, then she would remember. Remembering felt awful. There was nothing she could do, she reminded herself as she shook hands with Fred. Her a.n.a.lysis was complete and that's all she was, an a.n.a.lyst. She wasn't some kind of movie hero, to go with guns blazing into Uzbekistan and somehow ruin Muallah's plans. She just had to wait it out.
”Good luck with your little one,” Kim said, woman to woman, and they smiled at each other.
”Take care, now,” Fred called as she walked to her car, and a s.h.i.+ver ran up her spine like the cold touch of a hand. Muallah. Nuclear threat. Lucy held one hand over the rounded swell of her belly as she got into the car.
Air Force One.
Richard, attached like a round little barnacle to the side of his father, heard the whole conversation. Air Force One was in the air and there were no aliens, just a crazy Arab terrorist who might launch a nuclear missile. Some CIA a.n.a.lyst had decided he was going to launch at the United States instead of the obvious target, Israel, and the Russians refused to let the Americans take the missile silo out. Evidently there were some Russian hostages.
Richard had great problems with algebra, but he had a keen grasp for detail. What was most important was that the chances of America getting nuked seemed pretty small. The atmosphere inside Air Force One was definitely more relaxed.
”Admiral Kane,” Dad said in his Mr. President voice.
”Sir,” said the voice over the radio. Kane sounded old, Richard thought. Or perhaps he'd been up for many hours.
”You're requesting authorization to enable the Missile Defense System?”
”That is correct, sir. The sooner the better. If there is a launch and the system is already set up for tracking, we should have a better chance of shooting it down.”
”More than a chance, I hope, Admiral,” the President said harshly. ”For the money we've spent.”
”Mr. President, the system is still in the start-up stages. It's not fully operational. But we feel confident the system will work.”
”Any chances of the system being compromised?”
”None as far as we can tell, sir.”
”Approved,” the President said, and waved his hand to cut the communications link. ”Now let's get to work on the Russian situation.”
One of the Generals in the cabin looked quickly at Richard and Steve, then looked at the President. The President glared at him.