Day of Wrath

Mayer called out to Libby Bauer for coffee and motioned his predecessor toward a chair. In short order, she appeared with two steaming mugs, then disappeared closing the door behind her.

“So how’s the book going, Sam?” the current J.S.O.C commander asked.

Rumor said that Farrell was working on a novel, supposedly a thinly Veiled autobiography.

“Pretty good. I sit at my desk and tell lies all day. Not a bad way to earn a living,” Farrell replied.

“But you didn’t come all the way down here to discuss literature, did you?”

“No, George. I didn’t.”

Farrell set his coffee aside This was the moment of truth. He’d promised Peter Thorn he’d try to kick the U.S. government into gear on the wild-assed story the younger man had told him. Now it was time to honor his promise. He just hoped Thorn wasn’t barking up the wrong tree. “There’s a container ship headed for Galveston — maybe already there. I believe someone’s trying to smuggle a nuclear weapon into the United States aboard that ship.”

Mayer grinned. “Look, Sam, you can’t run drills like that anymore, you’re out of the—” He stopped, studying Farrell’s expression more closely. His grin faltered and then vanished. “Jesus, you’re really not kidding, are you?”

“No,” Farrell said. “And this is no drill, George.”

He ran quickly through all the information Thorn had given him.

“Christ.” Mayer stood up and started pacing — as though he could work off the horrible implications of what he’d just been told by walking.

“You really think this Caraco Savannah has a nuke on board?”

“Yes,” Farrell said simply. He was committed now.

Mayer spun on his heel. “Who else knows about this, Sam?

Have you taken this to the FBI or anybody else?”

Farrell shook his head. “Not yet. You’re the first.”

“Jesus.”

Farrell understood his successor’s confusion. The military, the FBI, the CIA, the State Department, the Department of Energy, and almost every other arm of the U.S. government had given a lot of long, hard thought to the potential threat posed by a nuclear weapon smuggled onto American soil. Procedures had been established, organizations created, and yet here he was bypassing the whole establishment in the blink of an eye.

“Just what the hell’s going on here, Sam?” Mayer asked.

“What’s your source for this data?”

“HUMINT,” Farrell said, using the acronym for human intelligence — a fancy term that meant an agent, someone who’d acquired the information the hard way.

“What kind of HUMINT?”

“Someone reliable,” Farrell said.

“Meaning you can’t tell me? Or won’t?” Mayer asked.

“Unfortunately, maybe a bit of both, George.” From what Thorn had told Farrell, Thorn’s name was probably mud around all of official Washington. So there wasn’t any point in attributing the data directly to the younger man. The armed forces and the political establishment had missed the boat before — all because they’d viewed an intelligence source with suspicion.

“But you’re convinced that this isn’t just some cock-andbull story spun by somebody who’s had one too many drinks?” Mayer asked again.

“I think this is gospel, George,” Farrell said, hoping like hell that his faith in Peter Thorn wasn’t misplaced. “And if I thought I could get action through the normal channels, believe me, I’d be filling out all the proper forms faster than Libby Bauer can make coffee.”

“Uh-huh,” Mayer grumbled.

Farrell knew what his successor was thinking. Farrell hadn’t exactly been known as a stickler for Army regulations during his time as head of the J.S.O.C. But then nobody in the special warfare community was especially proficient at genuflecting before all the established bureaucratic icons. And Mayer was no exception.

“Okay, Sam.” The other man sighed. “If you’re so damned sure about this, I’ll send up a flare and we’ll see what scurries for cover.”

Farrell nodded silently. That was more than he had any real right to ask. He just hoped it would be enough.

Fort Bragg, North Carolina EMPTY QUIVER ALERT — FLASH PRIORITY From: Joint Special Operations Command Headquarters.

To: Director, FBI N: Reliable HUMINT indicates possible nuclear weapon contained in cargo aboard container ship CARACO SAVANNAH. Vessel departed Wilhelmshaven, GERMANY, on JUNE 5. Destination — GALVESTON, TEXAS. Weapon believed concealed inside smuggled Russian-make jet engines shipped as auxiliary generators. Urgently suggest immediate investigation.

JUNE 14

_{On Interstate 135, Near Salina, Kansas (D MINUS 7)}