“There’s a briefcase; it looks like EOD has already opened it. There are a few papers in it but not many. There’s something hanging down under the seat, but it seems like it’s stuck. It won’t pull out.”
“Don’t touch it! That’s the handle that functions the ejection seat.”
Harper grinned. “I knew that. Also, when I got up here, I saw that the ejection seat safing pin was installed.”
JC was impressed. “How’d you know about that?”
“I watch a lot of movies.”
Together they looked over the rest of the cockpit, and saw nothing else of value. They had even looked for, and found, some hidden compartments between the pilot’s seat and the outside skin of the aircraft. There was a workbench near the MiG covered with hand tools, welding fittings, a welder’s hood, an open maintenance manual, gloves, and a cell phone. JC had Harper note which page of the manual was open.
“What do you notice that’s strange, out of place, or missing?” JC asked Harper as they finished making their way around the compound.
“We didn’t find the wing. There doesn’t seem to be a pilot, at least not one wearing a flight suit. I didn’t see any chemical protective gear or store of ammunition, security is really lax, and everything is in English. There’s only one plane, so I think this wasn’t one of the shooters. Besides, there’s no machine gun attached.”
“That’s a good start. Yes, it was interesting that the filing cabinet had no lock on it. We’ll examine the contents more thoroughly back in Macapá. We need to bag the drawers individually to keep them dry on the barge trip back. You probably noticed the plane has no external markings. I didn’t see any stencils, so I assume the markings will be applied elsewhere or it won’t have any. There was no data plate or other identifying information anywhere. There are a lot of countries which have bought MiGs, but I don’t know of any which paint the top black and the bottom light blue. No wing and no pilot means the plane didn’t fly here nor will it fly out, hence the barge. That was part of Harvey’s brief last Friday.
“Where is the truck and trailer to move this to the barge? Perhaps they are part of the lumber operation. Harvey and the ABIN may want to take a look around to see if there are any other roads close by. I agree with you that the MiG was not one of the MiGs that shot down the Air World flight.”
JC and Harper briefly conferred with Harvey and Major Silva on the way back to the MiG. Yes, they had seen the truck and trailer on their way in; EOD had already cleared it and found the keys inside.
115
Classification: SECRET
From:Robert R. McGee
To:VTC Task Force
DTG:3:00 PM 3 July 2019 (03JUL19 1900Z)
Subject:Supplementary Report of Chemical Agent Investigation
1. Reference email, Robert R. McGee, 02JUL19 2230Z, subject as above.
2. After contacting twelve American chemical producers, three were found which recently produced the chemicals identified as Part A and Part B of the agents discussed in reference. Two produced Part A and the other, Part B. None of the three produced both.
3. Our agents visited all three, who cooperated fully.
a. All three received a solicitation in response to answering a query in the Commerce Business Daily. The solicitation for Part A was for an herbicide, Part B was for an insecticide, allegedly for agricultural purposes. We obtained a copy of both solicitations.
b. Contracts had been let for one thousand gallons of Part A from each producer and six hundred fifty gallons of Part B. Delivery location for all three producers is a warehouse in Bakersfield, California. Schedule called for incremental deliveries with final delivery no later than 12 July 2019. One producer had already shipped five hundred gallons of Part A. The Part B producer has a partial delivery scheduled for 5 July 2019.
4. Ongoing Actions.
a. Our agency is conducting a worldwide search for producers of Parts A and B using the chemical names shown in the two solicitations obtained.
b. A search warrant is being pursued by the FBI WMD Directorate, who will execute a search of the warehouse and will question all employees there. Surveillance of the warehouse has been initiated.
Classification: SECRET
Declassification scheduled 3 July 2031. Exempt from Freedom of Information Act request prior to 3 July 2031.
116
On Thursday at 5 p.m., Dasya arrived at Rishaan’s house to find him cursing loudly at his television. He turned it off when he heard Dasya at the door, and said, “It’s 9:30 a.m. in Brazil, and I haven’t gotten the code.” The “code” was a coded text message letting Rishaan know everything was copacetic in Macapá.
“Is that what you called me about earlier?” Dasya asked. “Could they be a little late?”
“They’ve never been this late before. They know they have until 7:30.”
Dasya sat on a stool. “You knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I should never have brought Bhatt on board. Rushil was stuck on him, though, and it would have been hard to say no. He was an idiot, but I didn’t see it at the time. Where he found Jackson I never could figure out.”
“She seemed competent enough at the time,” Dasya said, “but got careless. At least she got the pilots to the plane on time.”
“We don’t need them anymore. They are a complete liability now that we have the money. It’s only a matter of time before they get put away.”
“What about our operations base there? Our hideaway? Where will we go to wait this whole thing out? Isn’t that why we got Kevin to begin with?”
“We can stay here in Allahabad. We’ll just pick a day with favorable winds. Who would suspect us of poisoning our own city?”
“Kevin will know. He doesn’t seem like the kind who would keep our secrets once the heat is on him.”
“No! He will never tell on us. I am certain of that.”
Dasya had been impressed with Rishaan’s calmness once he stopped his rant at the television. He had something to discuss that might jeopardize that, but it needed to be said. First, though, he wanted to find out why Rishaan was so confident about Kevin Bhatt. “Why are you so sure?”
“I took steps.”
“Do you mean that box of brochures you sent back with him?”
“No, that was just to throw them off the trail when they caught him.”
“Rushil? Something with Rushil?”
Rishaan shrugged his shoulders.
It was Rushil that Dasya wanted to talk about, so he abandoned his pursuit of Kevin. “Speaking of Rushil,” he said, “I’ve been thinking about him. Do you realize we are where we are completely because of him?”
“Yes, and we must congratulate ourselves on finding such a worthy friend.”
That was not the direction Dasya anticipated. “Who was it who convinced us that killing a lot of people was justified by maybe or maybe not ending pollution in the world and slowing down global warming?”
“It’s just a few, and you believe it too, don’t you?”
“Yes, I don’t doubt it for a second,” Dasya replied. “The question is, will our project work? And who was it that convinced you that Prisha wanted you to undertake this project?”
“It didn’t take much convincing. I heard her say it myself.”
“How did it happen that people from all over the world came to you and volunteered to help you on a project they didn’t really understand, but were quite enthusiastic once they found out how a few deaths would help clean up the earth?”
“That was quite fortuitous, I admit.”
“Who was it that introduced you to Luka? I never did ask how you knew him.”
“I saw him several times at the Federation meetings. As president, I like to meet all the new scientists. He happened to be talking to Rushil when I came up to him, so Rushil introduced us.”
Dasya realized he hadn’t put a dent in Rishaan’s admiration of Rushil. He wanted to exit gracefully without setting him off, bu
t also wanted to protect his friend from himself. After complimenting Rishaan on the amazing design of the mixing tanks, and discussing how the project would be completed soon, he stood up to leave.
“The reason I came over tonight,” he said, “was to tell you since there is a week or so before the excitement starts, that I’m taking Ananya and the boys on a holiday, before the summer gets too far gone. We haven’t been on holiday since Raj started school.”
“Where are you going?”
“Delhi. They have beautiful gardens and parks, and Ananya has never been to the zoo there. We’ll be gone about four days.”
But he was really planning the trip for Goa.
117
Soon after dark, the seven-and-a-half-hour trip back to Macapá had commenced and was completed without incident. It was decided to leave the MiG on site with a guard and retrieve it in the morning or wait until the following evening. The prisoners, including the threesome taken earlier, had spent the rest of the night sequestered in ABIN custody, and the next day were taken to an undisclosed location where they would eventually tell all they knew.
The Americans had changed into tourist garb and checked in at a local hotel. Harvey had initially gone with the ABIN personnel. He joined JC and Harper about lunchtime. He looked like a warrior returning from battle: exhausted but jubilant.
“Happy Independence Day! Sleep well?” he asked over a cup of strong black coffee.
“Yes,” Harper answered, “and as soon as we finish breakfast we are going over to the warehouse.”
“Before that, let me tell you some news. We, that is, the local police, raided Mr. Bhatt’s warehouses and office. We didn’t find Bhatt at his warehouse on the Rua Beira Rio as we had hoped, nor at his home. The ABIN has been watching his house and businesses since mid-morning on Tuesday, but he hasn’t appeared. They found his passport in his house, so we know it was stamped on Monday evening at São Luis.
“The ABIN has his house, office, and boats under constant surveillance, and they’ll stop him at the border if he tries to leave the country. They’ll eventually catch him. There is something I’d like you to see before you look at the rest of the stuff at the warehouse. My escort will be here in five minutes to pick us up.”
JC wondered what had been found out from the prisoners so far. Harvey told them he would get them a list of the prisoners with what information they gleaned from their pockets. “They haven’t started the interviews yet,” Harvey said. “We should know in a day or so who will talk and how much.”
The warehouse looked more like a sawmill. There was a drying kiln at one end, with stacks of planks labeled with type of wood, date of cut, processing methods, dimensions, and destinations. At the other end were piles of unprocessed logs. In the middle were milling machines, band saws, material handling equipment, a small office, and a large object covered with a tarp. It was to that object that Harvey led them. “Go ahead, uncover it.”
When Harper pulled off the cover, he and JC gasped. A steel tank, like the ones on the island! “We got the photos and rough dimensions the Marines sent back,” said Harvey, “and it’s a match to the tanks we saw from the satellite. I believe this ties Bhatt to the aircraft attack.”
JC pointed out to Harper the strongback for attaching the tank under the aircraft wings, and reminded him of the MiG he had seen the previous day. “Remember the feet I showed you, that push the bomb away from the aircraft? If this proves to be an external fuel tank, when it was empty of fuel, they would jettison it so it wouldn’t be a drag on them. Harvey, I hope this goes back to DC with you. This one is intact, so when we get the exact capacity, we can determine how many extra miles the MiGs could fly. Let’s see if we can find a measuring tape to get a rough estimate of volume.”
“Yes, it will probably beat you back. We will fly it out tonight. It will probably take you until tomorrow to examine the documents and things at the other warehouse.”
They found a ten-meter tape, and measured the tank to be 4.5 meters long by 1.2 meters in diameter.
“This was quite a find!” JC said. “Thanks for showing us. Harper, are you ready?”
Harvey dropped them off at the warehouse on Pedro Lazarino Avenue. “I’m going to sleep for a few hours, then I’ll come over and we’ll chat.”
118
In the three hours since Dasya left, Rishaan had wondered at his words about Rushil. Especially his comment about Prisha. He had had many one-sided conversations with his beloved since her death. “She would want you to do this,” Rushil had told him.
After that, for half a year, he had told Prisha, “I’ll do this for you.” Every time, she had smiled at him, then faded away.
At about 8 p.m., he sat at his laptop and logged in at the FIS website. The Federation of Indian Scientists kept all their records on a server in the cloud, with many records behind a password-protected firewall. The public side of the firewall contained abstracts, event applications, meeting notes, and several user forums, which Rishaan never accessed.
He logged on to the restricted side and opened up the record of Rushil Singh’s application to the FIS. Under Education, Rushil had claimed a Master’s degree in chemical engineering from a university in Australia. Frowning, Rishaan tried to remember any conversation he had ever had with Rushil where chemical engineering had come up. None.
An online search of Australia’s universities failed to list the university Rushil had claimed had awarded him the chemical engineering degree.
At 9 p.m., Rishaan paid a visit to Rushil. “I’m concerned about how our project is going.”
“My friend,” Rushil answered, “if you hadn’t shot down the airplane, everything would be fine. As it is, it should still work.”
Rishaan thought he detected some smugness in the reply.
Changing the subject, he said, “There was no code today from Brazil.”
“Why is that my problem? You were preparing for that even before Bhatt left the meeting. Now where will you hide, until this all blows over, so to speak?”
“I thought we were in this together. We’ve been planning this for months!”
“Brazil is out now, isn’t it? You need to find yourselves a new lair, you and Dasya.”
He is trying to separate from us, Rishaan thought. Why? “We will stay put and wait for a favorable breeze. How about you?”
“I will be taken care of. Well taken care of. Your problem is not about the project, is it? It’s about the island that brought the plane up.”
The anger started to bubble at the mention of the plane. He struggled to maintain control. As always, thoughts of Prisha calmed him down. But just a little. “I hate them. They are dead meat! Especially that woman. Why didn’t the pilots see them?”
“They couldn’t have made the island come up, but even if they had, so what? Rishaan, you need to get hold of yourself. Focus on the project. There’s not much left for us to do. Work on your speeches while we wait.”
“A week or so until the deliveries are complete. Then Prisha will be avenged! The air will be clean and the world will change their ways. Prisha would be so proud of our work. That British woman is nothing, a dead dog. That man, too.”
“Prisha, Prisha, Prisha! Oh, please! Prisha’s dead and she can’t help you. Stay focused on the task at hand or that woman will be your undoing.”
At first, Rishaan thought “that woman” was the British woman, then realized Rushil meant Prisha. Thoughts of her kept him from apoplexy at this disrespect, or else he would have become violent. Instead, he mumbled to himself words unintelligible to Rushil, excused himself, and headed home.
It was on the way home that Rishaan remembered Rushil’s words, “I will be taken care of.” What did that mean? He had seemed smug, even arrogant, instead of the mild-mannered friend he had appeared to be for the past year. He realized Rushil had successfully changed the subject after saying, “Well taken care of,” by immediately making him angry about the plane. It was almost as if Rushil had a hidden
agenda and wouldn’t need him or Dasya much longer. He thought back to Dasya’s comments about Rushil, and regretted not giving him credit for knowing anything. Only ten days to go, he told himself and Prisha.
119
It was about noon Thursday on Emergent, when the last body bag was loaded onto the trawler. The steel tank had been hoisted on board by the trawler’s crane, as was most everything else that could be loaded on pallets. Almost all of the items from the cargo list were declared a total loss. A small squad of workers, assisted by the Marines, consolidated these items near the plane while the rest of the workers conducted the main effort of moving the two hundred ninety-one bodies to the trawler.
The airlines decided to assess the condition of the baggage after its return to Boston rather than disposing of non-returnable belongings on the island, to prevent personal items from floating away and being washed up on a beach somewhere.
The announcement of the approaching storm brought a sense of urgency to the operations. Every hour, the weather reports were received and analyzed, followed by a stowage status report to determine the need to accelerate the loading of the trawler. Each hour, the analysis confirmed they had set the right pace at the outset, and would be able to depart in plenty of time.
Phil was in frequent contact with Bob McGee, exchanging technical data on the tank and airplane damage and updates on the course of the investigation on the mainland and in Brazil. They agreed to meet early Saturday morning after JC Smalley returned from Macapá.
At 1 p.m., the trawler headed south, rounded the southern end of Emergent, and headed to Boston.
120
JC and Harper were opening the last bagged-up drawer from the Rio Jari compound. “What’s that smell?” Harper was closer and smelled it first.
“Curry,” JC said when he had gotten closer. “Funny, we didn’t smell it with the other drawers, and I don’t remember it at the compound, either in this drawer or in the huts.”
The Wreck Emerged Page 34
