Memorial Day

Thirty-Four

AFGHANISTAN

Rapp left the ammunition bunker, grabbed Urda, and quickly explained to him everything he'd just learned from Abdullah. The two men double-timed it back to the intel tent where Rapp called for everyone's attention. This time he would hold off on contacting Washington until he could corroborate Abdullah's story.

The Saudi's earlier false confession was a setback. How bad a setback Rapp didn't know, but assets had undoubtedly been directed to check international airfreight coming into the U.S. over the last forty-eight hours. Even more harmful, though, would be the loss of confidence by those back in Washington pulling the switches. One more screwup and they would begin to doubt everything Rapp was sending them.

Just as Rapp was about to speak, his sat phone rang. He answered it reluctantly, and listened to Ke

Once that happened, Ke

"Everybody listen up," boomed Rapp with Urda and General Harley at his side. "We are looking for any reference to a ship that left Karachi approximately three weeks ago. We think the ship may have been headed for Charleston, South Carolina, due to arrive sometime today."

As Rapp looked out across the silent faces, he saw one of Urda's people sifting quickly through a stack of documents. There was something about the ma

"I've got it right here." He pulled a sheaf of documents from the stack and shook them in the air.

Both Rapp and Urda lunged forward to look at the documents. They were in Urdu, so Rapp understood nothing other than the wordsKarachi andCharleston. The analyst translated the rest of the information. The ship was a Liberian container vessel of no great value or significance.

Rapp asked the analyst, "Is this a bill of lading?"

"Yes."

"Is this the only one you remember finding?"

"No." The black-bearded man shook his head, and patted the stack of documents before him. "These are all bills of lading. This one," he shook the prized document in the air, "is the only one I remember originating from Karachi with a destination of Charleston."

"Are there any others that left Karachi approximately three weeks ago?" The smile was now gone from Rapp's face.

"Yes." The man nodded vehemently "Practically the entire stack."

Rapp's jaw clenched. He was once again wondering if Abdullah had lied to him. "How many bills are there, and how many left Karachi three weeks ago?"

The analyst looked down and consulted his notes. "There are seventeen separate bills of lading, with the majority of them leaving from Karachi. Four of those left approximately three weeks ago, and all four are headed for the United States."

"When are they due to arrive?" Rapp asked tensely.

The analyst shook the document he'd already pulled. "This one in Charleston today." He set it down on the table, and began rifling through the stack until he found another one. "This one bound for New York is also due to arrive today, and this one bound for Miami is due to arrive today as well." He shuffled through a few more pages and said, "And this one is due to arrive in Baltimore today."

Rapp began thinking of which finger he would cut off first. "Are there any bills for airfreight?"

"No." The analyst shook his head and gestured at the entire table where Urda's people were working on the documents written in Urdu and Pashto.

"All right listen. Here's what I want you to do. Fax all of these documents to the CTC."

"I already did. About thirty minutes ago."

Rapp was surprised. "Have you spoken to them about this?"

"Yeah, but they don't have anybody on duty right now who can translate Urdu."

"What?" asked an incredulous Rapp.

"We were told to translate these files on the missing Pakistani scientists."

The man wanted to explain further, but Rapp cut him off. "Listen...right now I want you to focus your attention on these four bills of lading. Translate them immediately, send the information to CTC and then begin on the others. If you need anyone else to help grab them right now. Good job and get moving!"

Thirty-Five

MARYLAND

The secure video teleconference was up and ru

Valerie Jones, the president's chief of staff, was sitting directly across from Ke

Washington, like most centers of power, was an environment dominated by meetings. Breakfast meetings, morning meetings, midmorning meetings, lunch meetings-it went on and on from predawn all the way into the night. A lot of very important people would be missing their breakfast meetings this morning and it would not go u

Jones hung up the phone and exhaled in relief. "So far, so good," she said to the president. "That was Tim." Jones was referring to Tim Webber, the White House press secretary, who had been given the unenviable task of pulling duty at the White House. This had been Jones's decision. Most of the TV reporters began showing up around 6:00 a.m. with print media coming in around 9:00 a.m. It would be much easier for Webber to deflect questions and deal with any rumors in person rather than over the phone.

"Not a call from the media yet," the chief of staff added.

The president looked at a string of clocks on the wall and noted the time on the one marked Washington. It was a little past five in the morning. "The media isn't even out of bed yet."

"I know that," retorted Jones, "but they have plenty of sources in your administration. I'm amazed no one has called to tip them off." Jones had a bit of an edge to her, which in a way was a prerequisite for her job. Even when dealing with the president she could be harsh.

Ke