Across the desk Hugh shook off his fatigue and turned a mental switch. He spoke as if he were giving this briefing for the first time, a little tentatively, as if Kyle was the first focus group for this particular presentation. His speech was deliberate without being pedantic, but even if he had turned into the world’s worst teacher his subject would have guaranteed Kyle’s interest. “Given Alaska’s strategic location on the Pacific Rim, and given the great circle route reality of international commerce, I don’t think it’s unrealistic that intelligence agencies in Alaska hold a watching brief for terrorist traffic coming in the opposite direction from Asia.”
Kyle thought. “What would be the target if, as you suggest, we did have terrorist traffic coming at us from Asia?”
“In Alaska, the first target we think of is, of course, the terminal in Valdez,” Hugh said. “Fourteen percent of the nation’s annual supply of oil travels through that port in very large crude carriers.”
“Given the regularity and efficiency of USAF patrols-”
“Understood. I consider that threat remote. However, speaking of the air force, there are two large military bases in the state with nuclear weapons on site. They’re attractive targets, and they have the added advantage of being perceived as too far off the national radar to worry about.”
“Location, location, location,” Kyle said, expecting at least a smile. He didn’t get one.
“As for targets beyond Alaska, try every shipping port, oil refinery, and military base on the West Coast of the U.S. All they’d have to do is put a bomb on a VLCC and sail it into any harbor with a refinery from Bremerton to San Diego. Very big boom.”
Kyle relaxed a little. “Is that realistic?”
“You tell me, Kyle,” Hugh said, his voice hard. “Was Oklahoma City realistic? Was 9/11 realistic? No, they won’t try that exact MO again, but who knows what else they’ve got up their sleeves? We have information that Bin Ladin has his own personal fleet of oceangoing vessels. Some sources number it at as high as twenty vessels total. Where are they? Where are they going? Who, and, even more importantly, what are they bringing with them? You know the story of Container Bob, right?”
Kyle shook his head.
“The Italians stumbled across an Egyptian-born Canadian named Amid Farid Rizk inside a container en route from Port Said to Rotterdam, changing ships in Gioia Tauro. He never would have been caught if he hadn’t decided to drill more holes for air and the Italian police hadn’t heard him. The container came equipped with all the modern conveniences, including a heater, a toilet, and a bed. Not to mention the satellite phone, the laptop, and the Canadian A &P certificate.”
“Jesus,” Kyle said, shaken in spite of himself. “He was an airplane mechanic?”
“You bet. We checked. He did the work. The certificate was valid.”
“So it was a test run?”
Hugh shrugged. “We don’t know. The container’s final destination was listed as Halifax, Nova Scotia.”
“What did this Rizk say?”
“He didn’t say anything. He got himself a smart lawyer who got him bail. He was in the wind by November.”
“What was his lawyer’s name?” Kyle said. “Just in case I ever decide to rob a bank in Italy.”
“That’s not the point, Kyle.”
“What is the point then, Hugh?” Kyle said, mimicking his tone.
“My point is, they’ve been practicing traveling in container ships,” Hugh said.
“Okay,” Kyle said, putting his mug down and placing both hands flat on his desk. “What the hell’s this about, Hugh? You hitch a ride from Tokyo on a cargo jet, you get me out of bed to come down here, and so far all I’m getting is a lecture on terrorism. A lecture I’ve already heard.”
Hugh held up a hand. “Bear with me, okay, Kyle? Please?”
Kyle took a deep breath, exhaled. “All right. Go ahead.”
“I don’t know about you, and I admit, maybe it has something to do with where I was born and where a lot of people I love still live, but I’ve never been as concerned over terrorists in the Middle East as I have been terrorists in Asia.”
“Like North Korea,” Kyle said. “It’s why you took your master’s in Asian studies. I know all this, Hugh.”
“What do you know about North Korea?”
Hugh hadn’t meant it to sound like a challenge, but Kyle responded as if it were. “Since the end of World War II, the Korean peninsula has been split into two, with the north under Chinese domination and the south under Western, uh, influence. South Korea has a stable government, a booming economy, and a well-armed and well-trained military. North Korea? North Korea is starving to death, mostly because instead of figuring out how to feed their people they’ve concentrated fifty years of gross national product on the development of long-range missiles and research into weapons, including chemical, biological, and, yes, nuclear.”
“Not bad,” Hugh said, complimentary, and Kyle gave a curt nod. “They know how to do it well enough that they’ve been exporting their expertise overseas, most recently to Iran. I’ve been to the Korean DMZ, Kyle, and it’s not a pretty sight. Every now and then North and South shoot at each other across the DMZ, air to air, ship to ship, whatever’s handy. The North has missiles in place targeting the South’s nuclear power plants. Instant dirty bomb.”
“Didn’t our going into Iraq tone down their rhetoric a little?”
Hugh’s short laugh was without humor. “They figure the only way to keep us from doing the same to them is to keep building bigger and better and more weapons. And they’ve been force-fed hatred of Americans with their mother’s milk for going on sixty years now.”
“I’ve read the reports, Hugh. I am the agent in charge of the Joint Terrorism Task Force in Alaska.”
“Yeah, well, I just read a news release from the Korean Central News Agency which said, in part, and I’m quoting verbatim here, that ‘the U.S. is restless with its ambition to conquer the world.”“
Kyle had to smile. “Funny. I don’t feel all that ambitious.”
Hugh shook his head. “Not so funny. That peninsula is a pile of kindling just waiting for a spark, and the first people who are going to have to respond to the fire are right now sitting up over there on Government Hill, warming up their F-15s.”
“Okay,” Kyle said, “they’re pissed and they’re motivated. What does that have to do with terrorism? Is Kim Jong II sponsoring state terrorism? What are we looking at here, another Lockerbie? Another Cole?. Another 9/11?”
Hugh drank the rest of his now tepid coffee and set the cup carefully on Kyle’s desk. “I think the men responsible for the Pattaya Beach bombing in October are planning to launch a Scud missile with a cesium-137 payload at a target somewhere on the western coast of North America. Do you know what cesium-137 is?”
Kyle’s voice failed him. He shook his head.
Hugh told him.
“Jesus Christ,” Kyle said, stunned. “Hugh, are you sure?”
He met Kyle’s eyes and said firmly, “I’m sure, Kyle.”
“Then I don’t get it.” He aimed an exaggerated look over Hugh’s shoulder. “Where are the marines? Why aren’t you out at Elmendorf briefing the pilots so they can take these guys out? Why come to me?”
“Do you know anyone at Kulis?”
“The Air National Guard base? Sure. Why?”
“Do you know where Sara’s ship is?”
Kyle’s expression changed. “Hugh.”
“I know she’s on the Sojourner Truth. I know the Sojourner Truth’s on patrol in the Bering Sea.”
“It was,” Kyle said.
Hugh looked at him.
“The Sojourner Truth interdicted a Russian processor fishing on our side of the Maritime Boundary Line. The Coasties boarded them, arrested the crew, confiscated the vessel, and are now on their way with it into Dutch Harbor to turn it over to the authorities.”
“You sound like you’re reading a press release.”