Bretti fumbled for another cigarette, indignant. “Hey, I brought you more than you ever had before-”

“And now you must do much better. I had to arrange some political favors to get you and your antimatter into India in the first place. Do you think it was easy for me to use a diplomatic pouch to transport your device?”

“I did the best I could,” said Bretti defensively.

“No doubt you discovered that other, competing political parties in my government are already highly suspicious of my activities.” Chandrawalia leaned forward to emphasize the words. “The next time you enter my country it will not be so easy to get past customs.”

Bretti took another sip of the now-cold espresso, feeling the acid of caffeine roil in his stomach. It was now even clearer just how much the Indians needed him. He started to feel cocky. “Fine, I’ve got one crystal-lattice trap hidden in the main experimental target tunnel, and another in one of the substations, collecting stray antimatter. The large one should have collected ten times what I promised you, more antimatter than has ever been stored before. In fact, we may even be nearing the capacity of the device design.” His eyes glittered-now he finally had the man’s attention.

“I can go fetch it early tomorrow morning, after midnight, and we can be on our way-but I need something more from you.” He narrowed his eyes and nervously stroked his goatee.

Chandrawalia stiffened. “We have already paid you a great deal of money for an incomplete task-”

Bretti pounded his fist on the metal table, rattling his espresso cup. “And you need to be ready to offer me sanctuary. If things go to hell around here, I may have to run. This isn’t like shoplifting a candy bar from a grocery store. The FBI is already on site, and my advisor Dumenco just may be able to figure out what’s going on, if he lives that long. He’s probably the only one who can unravel what’s happening to his enhanced beam, where all the extra antimatter is going. I may have to lie low in your country for a while.”

Bretti swallowed hard, but tried not to let uneasiness show on his face. He wasn’t a professional criminal, didn’t have any idea how to cover up evidence, keep his alibi straight, avoid suspicion. For all he knew, he could have left telltale, incriminating signs all over the place.

“I’m afraid that is impossible, Dr. Bretti,” Chandrawalia said coolly.

Fueled by the caffeine-charged espresso, Bretti stood up. “You don’t seem to understand who’s calling the shots around here!”

Chandrawalia looked at him with a maddeningly smug expression. “Yes I do, Dr. Bretti. I understand quite well. It is you that does not understand that I do not speak for India -my position is a concession of the party now in charge, a position designed so that the People’s Liberty for All coalition will support the present government. After our work with your antimatter supply succeeds, perhaps then my political party will be in a position to offer you asylum. For now, we are at as great a risk as you are.”

Bretti’s cheeks burned. “For doing medical research! Give me a break.”

Chandrawalia lowered his voice. “Don’t be stupid, Mr. Bretti.” The Indian’s words stung. “Even I did not think you to be so dense. If we really wanted the antimatter for commercial applications, we would have gone through your Department of Commerce. These p-bars will be used for weapons applications-nuclear weapons, a bold new design.”

“That’s crazy,” said Bretti, confused. “You don’t use p-bars in a nuclear chain reaction-” But as he spoke, he realized he wasn’t sure. In fact, he had no idea, had never even considered the possibility. Holy shit, he thought. Nuclear weapons? What have I gotten into?

“Properly harnessed, antimatter injected into an imploding bomb core can dramatically increase the yield. These results have been widely reported by a research group at your own Penn State. In short, with the proper technology, your antimatter will allow us to build far more warheads with far less precious plutonium. It will give India a strategic advantage such as we have never had over Pakistan or China -and the People’s Liberation for All party will become heroes.”

Chandrawalia’s gray beard and mustache surrounded his expression of intense focus. “Tomorrow, you will be ready with your cargo. I will expect you at the airport for the early afternoon flight. You will board the Concord again and return to New Delhi. If you are true to your word, and if you deliver ten times as many p-bars, perhaps we will discuss the matter further.”

He brushed down his jacket, stood, and carefully pushed the metal chair back into place at the table. “Good day.”

Bretti seethed as he watched the man walk back down the sidewalk. Damned… towelhead! Then he calmed himself, clenching and unclenching his fists. He would just have to avoid the cops, and the FBI until then. It was only one more day, and they couldn’t possibly have had time to check the thousands of employees who might have been working in and around the Tevatron, substations, and admin building during the days in question. Besides, the investigators probably thought he was still on vacation, so maybe they hadn’t even considered looking him up.

Nuclear weapons!

He ran a shaking hand through his hair and glanced around the deserted coffee shop, at the traffic rushing past on the street. This changed everything. With every passing moment he felt himself being dragged deeper into a bottomless pit. Deeper and deeper. Bretti tried to wet his lips, but his mouth was dry, cottony. The coffee made his mouth taste sour.

He needed another cigarette, but his hands shook so badly he could barely use his lighter.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Thursday, 2:21 p.m.

Aurora, Illinois

Standing at a pay phone outside a gas station near the hospital, Craig flipped open his notebook and found a telephone number he never thought he’d have occasion to use.

His stomach knotted. He couldn’t believe he was about to make this call. He kept telling himself it was a bad idea, that he was going against numerous regulations about contacting foreign nationals without prior approval.

But it also might give him answers no one else wanted to talk about.

Thinking of how Goldfarb had been left for dead, how a would-be assassin had come right into the hospital to kill the already-dying Dumenco, and how the Ukrainian continued to avoid answering his questions, Craig decided to make the call-and damn the consequences.

He’d report the contact to the Office of Professional Responsibility and the Oakland security office as soon as he was done. But this was his case now, and he had to pursue it in the manner he deemed best. Besides, it wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d done anything June Atwood could scold him for.

He opened the dangling phone book, flipping pages until he found the International Access Code for the Russian Republic.

He had a federal credit card for official calls, but decided in this case it would be better if he paid for it out of his own pocket. Despite the inconvenience, he had bought a handful of prepaid phone cards inside the gas station. He had been on many criminal cases, but this was the deepest Counter Intelligence stuff he had ever tried.

Using the phone cards, Craig punched in the access code and dialed the international number he had written down. He didn’t bother to calculate the time difference, because he had to call now. Several lives depended on the information he needed.

If General Gregori Ursov was there, he was there.

When the phone rang and was answered by someone in garrulous Russian, Craig spoke clearly and patiently. “English please.”