“Right. I guess he knows you’re credible.”

“Can we move on?”

“Yeah. I just needed to know that this is in the right hands, and it’s not sitting in someone’s tomorrow box.”

She moved on. “I also gave Doug the names Tim Black and Elwood Bellman, and I told him that Black was probably staying in a hotel in Los Angeles, and Bellman in San Francisco, and that we needed to find these pilots ASAP.” She added, “I told him my suspicion that they could be transporting suitcase nukes.”

I nodded. That was the right move, obviously. “Did that get his attention?”

She ignored that and continued, “He promised to begin a manhunt in LA immediately, and to call the San Francisco field office, and also to put this out to all local law enforcement agencies in both cities and suburbs. He will also speak to his boss in LA, and both of them will call the Directors in Charge in New York and Washington, and report this tip. Doug will affirm that he believes it is a credible tip, based on the specific nature of the information and so forth, and he’ll describe the actions he’s taking.”

“Good. But if this turns out to be four suitcases filled with porn magazines for Madox’s Arab friends, will Doug take the rap? Or will he mention your name?”

She looked at me and asked, “Do you think I’m wrong on this?”

I thought a moment, then replied, “No. I think you’re right. Four suitcase nukes. I’m with you.”

“Good. Thank you.” She continued, “I told Doug to ask for an elevated domestic terrorist threat level.”

“That should get the LA office off their surfboards.” I reminded her, “This is not actually a domestic threat.”

“No. And Bain Madox is not a terrorist… well, maybe he is. But I couldn’t figure out how to classify a plot to send four suitcase nukes overseas, so I said to Doug, ‘Treat it like an elevated domestic threat, as long as we believe the suitcases are still in LA and San Francisco.’”

“Good move.”

“The FBI in both cities are contacting all the local cab companies to see if any of their drivers remember picking up a male passenger at the taxi line at LAX and SFO, carrying a large, black leather trunk. But I think that’s a long shot because, as you know, many of those cabbies are foreigners, and they don’t like to talk to the police or FBI.”

That was not a politically correct statement from a Federal employee, but when the pressure was on, even the Feds had to retreat into reality.

She continued, “We have a better description of the trunks than of the pilots and co-pilots. So, I asked Doug to call the FAA and get Black and Bellman’s license photos e-mailed to the FBI in LA and San Francisco ASAP. Then, I learned, to my amazement, that pilot licenses don’t have photos on them.”

“Unbelievable. Another incredible example of FAA post-9/11 stupidity.”

“So I used the FAA addresses for the pilots to get their state driver’s licenses with their photos. Black lives in New York, Bellman lives in Connecticut.”

“I see you were busy while I was gone.”

“I got real busy after I realized we may be dealing with suitcase nukes.”

“Right. And how is Doug?”

“I was too busy to ask him. But he did send you his regards.”

“That’s nice.” Fuck him. “Did he appreciate you telling him how to do his job?”

“John, I had the information, and I’d been thinking about this, and he was… well, stunned. So, yes, he appreciated my input.”

“Good.” Also, I recalled he seemed dim-witted.

I thought about this new and exciting development, and my mind was trying to compute all the angles, equations, and possibilities. I said to Kate, “If these pilots went to hotels, and if this is some kind of secret Madox mission, which it seems to be, then these four guys probably checked in under false names.”

She nodded. “But we have the real names of the two pilots, so the FBI will have their driver’s license photos very soon, if not already.” She informed me, “Doug is asking the Kingston regional office in New York to send an agent to the GOCO dispatch office at Stewart Airport to find out who the co-pilots were.”

“Good thinking.” It seemed that this end of the problem was covered, but I thought that finding those four pilots would not be easy, especially if Madox had instructed them to lay low, not answer their cell phones, stay in their hotel rooms, and use false ID.

Kate said, “Unfortunately, the suitcase nukes-if that’s what they were transporting-could very well be out of their hands by now.”

“They are suitcase nukes. Just call them what they are.”

“Okay, okay. Madox is going to ship them someplace out of the country. My guess is the Mideast, or another Islamic country.” She went on, “I called Garrett Aviation Service back and got a guy on the phone who said that the Cessna Citation could not make a Pacific crossing unless it went up the West Coast to Alaska, then the Aleutian Islands, then Japan, and so forth.” She pointed out, “This would involve many refueling stops, not to mention customs checks along the way. So, I think we can rule that out.”

I nodded and processed all this. Madox’s Cessna Citations had landed Sunday night in LA and San Francisco. The pilots and co-pilots had left no local address, but had indicated that they were flying out Wednesday-tomorrow-and heading back to New York. And I was sure that the pilots thought they were, and maybe they really were. Meanwhile, where was their cargo? Most probably it was not with them any longer.

I said to Kate, “I’m thinking that Madox is going to use-or has already used-one of his own oil tankers to transport these nukes someplace. That is why his aircraft landed in seaport cities.”

Kate nodded. “I came to the same conclusion, and I asked Doug to begin a search of ships and containers at both ports, beginning with GOCO-owned ships.” She said unnecessarily, “This is a big job. But if they get the NEST teams activated soon, and the port security people, who also have gamma-ray and neutron detectors, we might get lucky.”

“Right… but they need to sweep not only ships and containers but also warehouses and trucks… and for all we know, those nukes are going to be shipped by commercial air carriers.”

“They’re also checking all area airports.”

“Okay. But this really is like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

“These needles are radioactive, and we have a good chance of finding them.”

“Maybe, if they’re still in LA and San Francisco. But here’s a more likely scenario-those nukes are already on their way by sea or air to their final destinations. I mean, it’s been almost two days since they arrived on the West Coast.”

“You may be right, but we need to search for them in these cities in case they’re still there.” She added, “It will be easier to find the pilots, especially if they turn up at LAX and SFO tomorrow.”

“Right. Okay, here’s the bottom line on those pilots. It would be nice to find them, but I don’t think the FBI will find them with their suitcases. The pilots will, however, know where they delivered the suitcases, or maybe who picked them up. But the trail will probably end there.” I pointed out, “Unfortunately, we’re about forty-eight hours late on this, and the next time those suitcase nukes are seen, it will be in the form of four mushroom clouds over Sandland.”

Kate stood silent and motionless for a while. “God, I hope not.”

“Yeah.” Well, it seemed that Kate and what’s his name in LA had done all they could on short notice, and they’d done a good job-though this was not rocket science, or nuclear physics for that matter. It was standard police and FBI work, and it would yield the four pilots, and maybe even some information about the suitcase nukes. The problem, however, was-as it had always been with this case-time. Madox had started the game before the visiting team had even shown up, and he had points on the board before his opponents took the field.