Black Rain

“At least the last part’s true.”

“It makes for a better lie,” Gibbs assured him.

Beside him, Blundin remained quiet, and Moore wondered if he was involved in the scheme or just along for the ride. His jowly face didn’t give much away. Blundin was a good man, but he was one of Gibbs’ boys. Gibbs protected them and they protected him. Moore couldn’t blame Blundin for that; he directed his anger at Gibbs. “And to what end am I to be treated with such scorn?”

“Matt thinks they’ll attempt to buy you off—or rent you, at least. I forgot to tell you, we’ve ruined your credit as well, made it look like you’re in over your head. Big gambling problem. Came on strong when you were in Macau last year.”

Moore grimaced in disbelief. “You can’t actually be serious. The head of the operation suddenly pulled from the front line and put out to pasture? It’s too obvious.”

“These bastards are bold,” Blundin grumbled. “They lured your partner to a meeting co

“Amateurs?” Moore said. “Desperate and disco

“We’ve been pla

Moore shook his head, doubting anyone would be so foolish.

Gibbs showed little sign of being moved, but when he spoke again his tone had become more genuine, no doubt by design. “Arnold, we don’t get along. Never have, right? If we asked the company shrink, she’d say that you resent me for taking what should have been your post and that I’m threatened by your ability. After all, given the chance, you could probably do my job at least as well as I do it, maybe better. Why do you think I send you ru

Moore smirked in disgust. The hard sell and the soft sell all wrapped up in one. “I wouldn’t do your job,” he said. “Not the way you do it, at least. So don’t give me that line of crap. What you sense from me is not that I want your title, but that I’d rather you didn’t have it either. Your judgment is poor and you’re reckless, too damned reckless for my taste.” He shook his head again. “This plan is absurd. It’s ludicrous. As ludicrous as everything else you’ve asked us to do. Splitting us up at the last minute, concocting this ridiculous story and throwing me out there as some kind of bait. This is amateur work and it’s going to get people killed. It almost did already.”

“You presume too much, Arnold.” Gibbs’ voice had become a warning; lines were close to being crossed.

“And you think too little,” Moore said. “Do you actually still intend to send her into the jungle with a bunch of civilians and some loan-outs from the Research Department? Even after all this?”

“She has protection.”

“So did Dixon,” Moore shouted. “Where the hell is he now? Did his team suddenly reappear, all ta

“Enough!” Gibbs slammed his hand on the desk, his face red with frustration. “There’s no other way. We need this. Your country needs this.”

The room was silent. Moore watched Gibbs rubbing his fingers together while he got ahold of himself.

“You know what we do?” Gibbs said finally. “The greatest country on earth? We borrow money from China to pay the Arabs for their oil. That’s what we do. One day the Chinese are going to stop loaning it to us, or the Arabs are going to stop accepting paper for their hard assets.”

He pushed a folder aside and leaned in toward Moore. “If this thing is out there, then it’s the key to a whole new world, begi

Moore had heard this speech before. And while he agreed with Gibbs’ assessment as to the magnitude of the changes that a working cold-fusion system would bring to the world, he continued to disagree with the man about the effort needed to get those results.

At Moore’s silence, Gibbs exhaled in frustration. “This is what we pay you for. To run around and gather things up that will keep the country ahead of the competition. This one just happens to be in a hole in the ground somewhere instead of in a lab or on a database. And it also happens to be the big one, the Manhattan Project of our time. I’m not giving that up, but we damn well can’t have an army ru

“No,” Moore said. “But you can send me back before anything else goes wrong.”

Gibbs’ mind was not one to be changed by argument or persuasion; he would only dig in further out of pride. Moore knew this, but had been unable to check himself. He watched as Gibbs took the folder back from Blundin and closed it. The discussion was over.

“You don’t want to do this for me?” Gibbs said. “Fine, don’t.” He leaned forward, the sunken eyes and hollow cheeks suddenly menacing and evil. The Rodent possessed. “But you’re not going back and your partner is still out there. And she will be in danger until we find out who’s shadowing us.”

Moore refused to look away, but he could say nothing. He stared at the director in a dead silence and watched as the jagged smile returned—the deal was done.

CHAPTER 9

Professor McCarter stepped out of the service elevator with Susan Briggs and William Devers at his side. They entered a narrow, angled hallway that ran beneath the hotel toward the chosen meeting room. Bundled pipes and electrical conduits ran overhead and the floor was solid, unadorned concrete. Odd surroundings that left McCarter quietly surprised. His surprise changed to concern when they passed a stocky man with a radio bug in his ear and the bulge of a weapon clearly visible under a dark windbreaker.

The man waved them around a corner, toward their destination.

“Security,” Devers said. “We always have them when we’re overseas. Remember that Russian job I told you about? We had a bunch of ex-paratroopers following us; strangely enough, most of them had no teeth.”

Susan laughed. “Gross.”

“Good people, though,” Devers said. “Very willing to share their vodka. Just didn’t have the best dental plan.” He turned around and studied the man behind them. “We’ll have to see how these guys turn out.”