“What sort of cargo? For you to be involved, I assume it must involve weaponry of some sort.”
“Or material for weapons, possibly,” Oliver said, again intentionally to distract. “Gibraltar is far from the only place of concern to us at the moment. My colleagues in those other places are doing exactly what I’m doing, although it’s more complicated where there’s no British sovereignty.”
“How can I be of service?”
“You do have radiation sensors in place?”
The admiral looked at Oliver with new intensity. “I’m certain you already know that we do.”
Oliver nodded.
“Who else knows?”
“No one here, and for the time being no one should.”
“That’s to state the obvious.”
“Allow me to be a bit more specific. The substance of this conversation must not go down or even up the chain of command.”
“A bit irregular, is it not?”
“If it weren’t, it would be done by someone else,” Oliver said. “The PM and the First Lord have been briefed. You will receive orders through the usual chain of command that will seem unrelated to the possibility I’ve mentioned but that will provide you the flexibility you’ll need should your help be required.”
“Which no doubt would be on a split-second basis?”
“If that need arises, we could require rather a lot of help on very short order indeed,” Oliver said. “So let’s hope it doesn’t. In the meantime I’ll keep in close touch. Please do the same.”
“Quite a place,” Oliver said. “Part fortress, part palace. You could shoot a film in there, except that permission would never be granted. You enter and exit by what looks like the opening to a cave, in darkness for twenty meters or so until you turn to your right and ahead there’s a shadowy lobby, walled off by tinted glass. Once inside, it’s brighter. There are military police, a discreet but deterring barrier, and beyond that a lift that ascends to where the action is. Oh, and did I mention there’s a sentry box outside the original entrance? So there’s no real attempt to hide what’s there, simply to make it mysterious, I think.”
They were seated in the living room of a rambling hacienda situated in a hollow on the way from Pond House to Marbella. The old structure stood beside an abandoned mill, and the gurgle of a natural stream could be heard through its opened doors. The room’s furniture was comfortable and worn and covered with the hair of a German shepherd and a Pekingese that belonged to a local potter, a widow whose husband had been killed in the al-Qaeda bombing at the Atocha Station in Madrid in March of 2004. In the years since, she had occasionally offered her home as a safe house to American and British intelligence services.
“Did he know anything?” Ty inquired.
“I don’t think so,” Oliver said. “It’s not the kind of secret one would be likely to share, especially with him.”
“But he’s a friend of Santal’s.”
“All part of his job, as he sees it. Sidney Thrall is a friend of Santal’s, too, and you’ve made films at his studio. In fact, to an outside observer you are a friend of Santal’s. You attended the same party the Cottons did. Not very long ago, you even graced his yacht. This is not our grandfathers’ world, where the righteous and the evil retreated to their separate base camps. We live side by side in a world of very few uniforms now.”
“Hear that bell? Class is over,” Ty said.
“Hold on a minute. I wasn’t winding you up for the hell of it. I was attempting to make a damned important point, which is that whether it’s just Santal and Frost or whether there are others involved, they are not going to give themselves away. We have to find the weak link in their plan, stress it and crack the whole bloody thing open from there. Only then will Admiral Cotton and his forces be of any use.”
“It’s nice to feel needed,” Ty said.
“I’m glad you’re happy, because this is a puzzle SIGINT can’t solve, only HUMINT,” Oliver continued, employing the professional slang for signals and human intelligence.
“Speaking of HUMINT, I had a valuable talk in Seville with Luke Claussen, who turned up out of the blue.”
“So your e-mail suggested.”
“The guy’s very concerned that his company has kept up its involvement in a Russian deal that Santal put his father into a whole lot longer than it should have. You know the one, that resort that’s going in near Kerch.”
Oliver nodded. “We both know it’s a stretch, but the powers-that-be in Washington still stand by their team’s decertification of that site.”
“Even though the decertification team was headed by Philip Frost?”
“Because it was headed by Philip, I think. You heard George Kenneth yourself. He has a sweet spot for the fellow. Who knows, maybe they were fuck buddies back when Philip swung both ways.”
“You’re kidding?”
“I am, as far as I know. I have nothing to base that theory on, but how else to account for Kenneth’s incautious loyalty?”
“They belong to the same old boys’ club,” Ty said, “that’s how, and maybe it’s enough. It blinds them to each other’s faults.”
“Whatever. It is what it is,” Oliver said. “As to Claussen’s vessel, no cargo, nada, was unloaded from it in Istanbul.”
“That’s a relief,” Ty said.
“Possibly so,” Oliver replied. “During its one-day layover in the Bosporus, the ship did take on some computer components, mostly small, lightweight stuff from India and China, also the usual teas and quite a lot of textiles. It’s still the Silk Road, after all.”
“Let me guess,” Ty said. “The teas and textiles were unloaded in Naples.”
“Along with several crates of computer components, but none of the generators or turbines or other material from Kerch,” Oliver said.
“Why are we so certain of that?”
“The cargoes were sequestered.”
Ty rolled his eyes. “How thoroughly were the crates that left the ship searched?”
“My understanding is that that was done by the Italian authorities.”
“Answer my question.”
“I thought I just did. According to their head man, they do have neutron detectors set up, but no spectroscopic gamma-ray equipment. How thick their wall of radiation-portal monitors is isn’t entirely clear either. Of course, presuming there were warheads aboard, we’ve no idea how or how well they might be shielded.”
“It’s a good bet that if they got as far as Naples under the Claussen imprimatur, they’d make their switch there. No one in their business flies under the same flag for too long.”
“Yet they might well in this case,” Oliver said, “when the flags they’re flying can be presumed to deflect suspicion as completely as Claussen’s and the Stars and Stripes. That’s why we had the Italians checking the Claussen ship’s cargo crate by crate.”
“With what results, may I ask?”
“All the crates marked as containing turbines contain turbines.”
Ty studied Oliver. “And you’re satisfied that the Italians were thorough?”
“As best one can be,” Oliver replied.
“Which could mean any one of the following: that this particular ship is uninvolved in any conspiracy, that there is no conspiracy, or that three surplus turbines came aboard in Istanbul to take the place of three of the original pieces of cargo from Kerch that were then unloaded in Naples. If the last were the case, those would have been the loose warheads.”
“It’s a theory, but then why didn’t the sensors pick them up?”
“I’m guessing they would have been well shielded, but even so. Sensors depend on one thing even more important than that.”
“Go on.”
“Someone has to turn them on in the first place and be payi
ng attention to them,” Ty said. “Do you know if they were functioning properly when those computer components and teas and textiles were offloaded?”
“I can’t give you a concrete answer to that one. Our people have raised the very same question any number of times, but they haven’t yet received a definitive response one way or the other.”
“Which in itself is a bad sign,” Ty said. “I’m pretty sure I know the answer, but the cargo that went ashore was meant to stay ashore, and it was fungible, wasn’t it? I mean, it’s hard to follow a trail of tea leaves.”
“Almost impossible,” Oliver concurred. “Of course, the left hand in all likelihood wouldn’t know what the right was doing. Anyone who happened to look the other way would more likely be responding to a bribe than functioning as a cog in a larger conspiracy. It is Naples, when all is said and done. They not only practice corruption there, they savor it. Have you been to Pompeii?”
“Never,” Ty replied.
“It’s bang next door, you know. Even that long ago, corruption thrived there. The sailors who arrived in port spoke different languages, of course, so the city employed a kind of sign language not all that different from international road signs today. For example, the route to a brothel and the brothel itself were marked by an erect penis raised from the stone.”
Ty laughed. “We’re getting off the point, aren’t we?”
“Not so far as you may think,” Oliver said. “The point is that even if there are warheads on the loose, there’s no way in hell we’re going to track them from their source, especially now that they may have passed through the maze that is the Neapolitan waterfront. There are just too many places to look, and we don’t have enough people. Nor can we track down and follow every ship, railcar and lorry we know to have been there when the warheads might have been, much less those that were there but we didn’t and still don’t know about. The conclusion is pretty obvious, isn’t it?”
“It has been all along,” Ty agreed.
“We’ll have to trace them back from their intended destination. There’s really no other choice.”
“Which is where I come in,” Ty said.
“Which is where you come in,” Oliver said. “The search for clues starts there.”
After Ty briefed him on the dinner party and the bullfight that had filled his two previous evenings, Oliver said, “You’re on your way back to the Marbella Club to collect your things. Do that! Check out and pay with a personal credit card, one you would ordinarily use. Then go directly back to Santal’s. The car you used to come here, you rented it, am I correct?”
“Yes. The hotel got it for me.”
“How do you know it hasn’t been equipped with a transponder since its arrival at Pond House?”
“Shouldn’t you have made this point before now?”
“Not really,” Oliver said, “if only because I have such faith in you. Tell me, what did you do?”
“Jammed it,” Ty said. “When I’d gone far enough, I pulled to the side of the road, found the GPS where I would have least expected to—”
“Where was that?”
“Smack under the spare tire in the trunk. I wrapped it in a piece of tinfoil I’d found in the mini-kitchen off my bedroom. I’ll unwrap it just before I return to the motorway.”
“You took the scenic route.”
“That will be my excuse if I need one, which I doubt I will. The device is a piece of junk. I’d bet it’s only there for his guests’ protection, in case they get lost. If they were genuinely suspicious, they’d use better equipment and make it harder to find.”
“By the way,” Oliver said, “on your new BlackBerry, there’s a GMT function that can also be used to jam GPS, mobile phones and the like. And it’s easy to remember—”
“Don’t tell me,” Ty said, “I hold down the G, M and T keys simultaneously.”
“You’re a quick study. It’s been designed not to overtax an already overburdened mind.”
“Custom built, in other words.”
“You said it, not me. Now, as to your cruise, we don’t know everywhere you’re bound, but we do know that one port will be Tangier. Ian has made arrangements to meet people there, and the ship’s captain has been in touch with the harbormaster.”
“Don’t lose track of me,” Ty said.
“Surpass would be difficult to lose track of,” Oliver replied.
“I didn’t mean on Surpass. I meant in the casbah.”
“You’ve seen too many old films.”
Ty nodded. “Scary, isn’t it?”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Ty’s stateroom was located on Surpass’s guest deck, at the far end of a corridor from the one occupied by Isabella. He was led toward it by a steward, a taciturn young Algerian with a compact but toned physique.
“You’re fortunate,” the steward told him. “Vanilla is my favorite stateroom.” Noticing Ty’s curiosity, he added, “All the rooms are named after orchids, mostly exotic species. For example, Miss Cavill’s stateroom is Epidendrum.”
“I see. And Mr. Santal’s, what’s his called?”
“It’s the only one that doesn’t have a name.”
“How about Mr. Frost’s?”
“His is Vanda. We passed it on the way here.”
“So it’s near Isabella’s?”
“That’s one way of putting it,” the steward said. “All the staterooms are suites; those two—Vanda and Epidendrum—are adjoining.”
“How handy,” Ty said. “What makes you so fond of Vanilla?”
“That’s hard to say. I always have been. It’s bright and large, and . . . well, the most famous people we get aboard Surpass usually stay there.”
“I’m flattered,” Ty said as a courier suddenly approached them.
“I’m looking for Epidendrum,” the courier announced.
“Behind you,” the steward told him. “Never mind, though, Miss Cavill is not in her room at present.”
“Would you happen to know where she is?”
“Whatever you have for her you can leave with me. I’ll see that she gets it.”
“I’m afraid that’s impossible in this case,” the courier said.
The steward grimaced. “Because it requires her signature?”
“It does,” the courier said.
“Well, I’ll try to raise her, then,” the steward said, removing the chrome intercom from his belt.
Before he had pressed her extension, Isabella appeared behind him, catching him off guard. “It’s all right, Jean-François,” she said, with a smile that dispelled his concern. “I’ve been expecting this gentleman.”
“Very well then,” Jean-François said. “I’ll just see Mr. Hunter settled.”
“Plenty of time for that,” Isabella replied. “Hi, Ty,” she said, offering him her right cheek. When he had kissed it, she turned her left toward him. “We’re in Europe,” she explained.
“Hi,” Ty said.
“Jean-François,” Isabella said, “see to it that Mr. Hunter’s things are in his room, would you? Ty, please come with me. There’s something I’m dying to show you.”
The sitting-room walls of Epidendrum were covered in lemon yellow suede trimmed with white moldings and a bronze-and-teak handrail. Light from a sun still high in the eastern sky flooded through its oversize elliptical portholes. Once the courier had departed with his signed receipt, Isabella pried open the large box he had brought her. Inside was a thin black cowhide attaché case. From a trouser pocket, she removed a small key, then used it to unlock the case. “Close your eyes,” she told Ty before lifting the lid. “Perhaps you’d better sit down.”
“I have a strong constitution,” Ty said.
Raising the top of the briefcase, Isabella began to laugh. “Chacun à s
on goût,” she said.
“I beg your pardon,” Ty said.
“Sorry. You don’t speak French?”
“I deliver my lines in English,” Ty said.
“American English, as a matter of fact,” Isabella added, but with no trace of condescension in her voice.
“I’m from Virginia,” Ty said. “It’s been a long time since we were a colony. Anyway, you know what they say about Americans and foreign languages.”
“Pretty much the same thing they say about us,” Isabella told him. “All right, go ahead! Feast your eyes!”
Beneath a soft black foam cover and velvet cloth, fitted neatly into recesses that had been expressly hollowed out for it, rested a spectacular parure, a necklace, bracelet and earrings set with matching blue diamonds, set off by smaller white, pink and canary ones.
“Wow!” Ty exclaimed. “They’re something, but if I were giving a present like that to a woman like you, I would do it in person.”
“That’s always the problem. Jewels like these usually come with a curse.”
“And what’s that?”
“The men who give them.”
Ty smiled. “Before I met you and Ian, before I’d come aboard Surpass and stayed at Pond House, I’d begun to think I was doing pretty well. But this is another world.”
“Do I detect false modesty?”
“Awe, that’s what you detect. Did Philip give them to you?”
“Philip?” Isabella laughed. “Now you are being absurd. He was a public servant until the day before yesterday. You know what sort of salary that brings.”
“I don’t know anything about Philip.”
“A symphony of frost and flame, no pun intended. That’s what he is.”
“If not from Philip, I suppose they must be a present from Ian?” Ty prodded, trying to maintain the light tone of their banter.
“One can dream,” Isabella said. “Silly man, they’re not for me. I’m in the jewelry business, remember?”
“I remember very well, but the pieces I saw when we met after Cannes were—”
“Much smaller, I know.”
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