Fallout

by James W. Huston

Luke replied, not sure what to say, “So what are you doing here? And why is she here?”

  “Helen and I are working in parallel. And . . . well . . . a proposal has come our way. A proposal to do something we could not generally do.”

  “What?”

  “The man who works for you. Or maybe this MAPS outfit. Who’s subcontracting for you . . .”

  “Vlad?”

  The man nodded. “He is apparently very well connected back in Russia. He knows many people who seem to know much of what goes on in India.”

  “Sure, Russia sells arms to India.”

  “Exactly. Russia wants India to do well, but it doesn’t want a war. Others are happy to stimulate a war between Pakistan and India. Russia’s not interested. They’re scared to death of a huge Islamic state right at their belly. They’d rather keep the ‘Stans separate.”

  “I don’t get why Pakistan would go about it so indirectly if they’re trying to start war. Why wouldn’t they just go at it?”

  “The international community would hold it against them. You can’t just go attacking another country. But if India—or someone else—responds incorrectly or improperly to some uncontrolled stimulus, such as an Air Force pilot who’s out of control, then Pakistan would of course have to respond to that attack by India, thereby achieving their objective indirectly.”

  “Must take a lot of training to learn to think like that,” Luke said. “Is this about Kashmir?”

  “Kashmir is only part of it. India and Pakistan have been at each other’s throats for forty years now. Pakistan in particular has been looking for an excuse to start fighting again. This may be it.”

  “An attack on the United States? How does that do it?”

  “That might have been the first step. To punish the United States for the way it treated Pakistan, the refusal to deliver arms—”

  “Where do they think they got their F-16s?”

  Morrissey nodded sympathetically. “Yes, but where do you think New Zealand got the forty F-16s that they’re leasing from the United States?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Those were intended to go to Pakistan. But we were annoyed with them, so we blocked that sale, and the planes went to New Zealand. We cut them off for a long time. It was only when Clinton went back and visited Pakistan that we began to reestablish military ties. It’s still nowhere near where it was, and the Pakistani military has been bitter about it for a very long time.”

  Luke rubbed his forehead. “Where does all this take us?”

  “Khan is affiliated with an extremely radical group within Pakistan, based in Peshawar, that is intent on stimulating war between India and Pakistan over Kashmir. They think they can beat India and that India doesn’t have the will to fight over Kashmir. It will be the first step to a regional Islamic state.”

  “But why attack us?”

  “Because not only is he intent on war between India and Pakistan, he despises the secular government of Pakistan. To him they’re as illegitimate as the government of India. He wants the current Pakistani government out and a war with India. He’s trying for both.”

  “How do you figure that?”

  He waved his hand. “I’ve gone on too long. This is all speculation. But I had to give you some background because of what I’m about to ask you. Based on what you and Vlad told Helen, we believe that the possibility of a strike on an Indian nuclear plant is real. He’s probably planning on doing it without any knowledge or authorization of the government of Pakistan.”

  “Now you believe them?” Luke exclaimed.

  “There’s a bombing exercise scheduled out of Karachi. F-16s with laser-guided bombs to a bombing range near Karachi. They’ve done such exercises only twice before, and we believe that Khan—his actual name, we now know, is Major Ghayyur Elahi—will be leading the practice strike.”

  “It’s just unbelievable.”

  “As I was saying, your friend Vlad has surprising friends in Russian intelligence. They’ve talked to the people in Indian intelligence, who want to bring huge elements of Air Force into the northwestern part of the country, put out a protective ring of surface-to-air missiles and antiaircraft gunnery, and generally behave as if they’re about to be attacked. The Russians were able to convince them that such conduct would simply provoke the very thing they’re trying to prevent.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “Your Mr. Vlad proposed to Russian intelligence—which proposed to Indian intelligence—that you and he go to India—”

  “What? What for?”

  “And fly on their behalf—”

  “For what?”

  “To defend their nuclear plant.”

  Luke sat openmouthed. “That’s nuts.”

  Morrissey leaned forward. “You know this pilot better than anyone. Do you think you could stop him?”

  Luke considered it. “In what?”

  “An Indian MiG-29.”

  “I don’t know, probably.”

  The CIA officer could sense Luke’s consideration. “The Indians talk a good game. But they fly about five hours a month. They don’t practice dogfighting much, never fire live missiles, and have never flown against an F-16. You’ve fired live missiles from a MiG-29.” He waited for Luke’s reluctant nod. “You’ve fought the very pilot they now fear, in the same aircraft he’ll be flying, and have seen his weaknesses. Fair?”

  “I suppose. But still—”

  “Let me finish,” Morrissey said, putting up his hand. “You’d be supported by as many Indian fighters as necessary, up to the entire squadron. More, even. Not too far from the nuclear power plant there’s already a squadron of MiG-29s. The Archers.” He shrugged. “They might be able to handle it by themselves. But on the off chance that they can’t, they’re willing to allow you two to be with them if and when Khan attacks.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He nodded slowly.

  Luke glanced toward the bedroom to make sure Katherine hadn’t woken up. “The last time a government man came to my house, it was the Undersecretary.”

  “I’m not asking you—”

  “Just hold on a minute,” Luke interrupted. “Then, when I got back from putting my ass on the line to fight this asshole over San Onofre, another government dickhead arrested me. Now, all of a sudden, I’m your best friend? You come to me in the middle of the night because I’m the only one who can stop him?” He shook his head. “I’m not buying it. Let the Indians have their shot at him. If they put up enough airplanes, they’ll get him.”

  “They don’t think so,” he replied. “Mind if I smoke?” he asked, reaching into his shirt pocket.

  “Yeah, I do mind. It stinks up the house. You can go out and sit with the other federales and smoke outside.”

  He withdrew his hand. “They’ve asked our government to help them. All on the QT, of course.”

  “So send some of those crack F-15 pilots who didn’t get to the fight in time to make any difference over San Onofre.”

  “They’ve asked for you and Vlad by name.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you know the MiG-29, and they think you can beat Khan without starting a war over it.”

  “What’s the official government position? What do you want?”

  “It’s why I’m here, why we’re here,” he said, glancing at Helen, who’d been silently watching Luke’s face throughout. “We’re here to ask you to go. It may be the only way to keep this whole thing from getting out of control.”

  “It’s already out of control!” Luke said, raising his voice and standing. “If you can get his fingerprint while he’s on a Pakistani Air Force base, just send back whoever did that and whack him! Just rip his heart out! Why all this covert fly-for-India, Russian-intelligence stuff? Just go get him!”

  “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Our options . . . are different than they were.”

  Luke stared at the CIA officer. He felt trapped. It was askin
g too much. And where did Vlad get off offering his name to India to come defend them? “What’s the plan?”

  “What’s going on?” Katherine asked from the doorway in her nightgown. She had her glasses on and was straightening her hair. “What are you doing here?” she asked Morrissey.

  “Sorry to intrude. I’m Bill Morrissey. I’m with the government.”

  “Which government?”

  “United States.”

  “What do you do for the government?”

  “I’m with the CIA.”

  She was surprised. She looked at Helen. “What brings you here?”

  “We came to talk to Luke. Sorry we woke you.”

  “You didn’t, he did. I tend to wake up when he raises his voice in the middle of the night. What’s going on, Luke?” she asked, a frown deepening on her brow.

  “They have an idea of how to stop Khan.”

  “Let me guess,” she said. “And you’re just the guy to do it?”

  “I’m not sure. They were just about to tell me what the idea was. Pull up a stool,” he said, motioning for her to sit next to him.

  Li glanced at Morrissey, who gave her a reassuring nod and said to Katherine, “We were just talking to Luke about some arrangements that have been made to counter what we think Khan’s real plan is. We have to move fast.”

  “Go on,” she said. “Let’s hear it.”

  Morrissey looked at Luke intently. “You leave this morning from San Francisco International Airport aboard Air India Flight 618 and fly directly to New Delhi, where you’ll be met by the Indian Air Force. They’ll take you to the Air Force base, where you’ll be briefed. We think you’ll have time for one familiarization flight in the Indian MiG. Then, if the attack is when we think, you’ll have about twelve hours to rest and prepare. The remainder of the Indian MiG squadron will be right behind you and will help in any way you want.”

  Luke rested his elbows on the table and held his head. This was impossible. “If I screw this up, they’ll blame us.”

  “They’ll blame you, or the U.S. will blame you—someone will, count on it,” Katherine added.

  “Your name will never show up anywhere, unless we say it should. If it turns sour, you won’t be blamed. They’ll go at him with everything they’ve got if he gets through. Frankly, they’re afraid that if you’re not there, they won’t even find him in time to defend the plant. You’re to get the first crack at him.” Morrissey waited. He sensed Luke wavering. He played his final card. “I thought you might want the chance to get back at the guy who ruined your school—and your life. And Vlad is going.”

  Luke looked surprised. “You talked to him?”

  “The Indians already know him. They know what he can do with a MiG.”

  Luke glanced at his watch. “I can’t get to San Francisco in three hours.”

  “We’ll get you there.”

  “How?”

  “Helicopter.”

  “There’s no helicopter anywhere near here.”

  “It’s hovering five miles from here. It just picked up Vlad and came straight here from Tonopah. They’re waiting to find out if you’re going. As soon as you say the word, they’ll set down on your beautiful, newly paved runway and take you to San Francisco.”

  “What about the school? You guys shut it down after the attack.”

  “The government still wants you operating.”

  “If I go, I want your word. The school goes on, with me or without me. Win or lose in India.”

  Morrissey hesitated. “You have my word.”

  Luke saw the hesitation. He looked at Helen, who nodded her agreement. “What do you think, Katherine?”

  She looked at Morrissey, then Helen. “I’m sorry. I’ve seen the government at work too many times. They’ll lie right to your face if it’s to their advantage.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Morrissey said, stung by her comments.

  Katherine raised her eyebrows. “You’re with the CIA and you wouldn’t lie to him if you thought it was in the national interest to do so?”

  “No. I wouldn’t.”

  Katherine smiled. “I might have been born yesterday, but I wasn’t born at night.” She looked at Luke. “Unless they put it in writing and I keep the document, I wouldn’t count on it.”

  Luke went to the kitchen and took out a piece of paper from a drawer. He handed it to Morrissey. “Put it in writing.”

  Morrissey hesitated. “I’ll have to be vague, at least about what you’re doing.”

  “Just put in there that the school is to remain open and that that is the will of the United States government.”

  Morrissey’s pen hovered over the paper, and then he began writing. When he finished, he handed the document to Luke, who passed it to Katherine without even reading it.

  Katherine read every word. Then she nodded at Luke. “This will do it.”

  “Bring them in,” he said to Helen who left quickly.

  Katherine was somber. “You don’t have to prove anything,” she said to Luke.

  “I know. But somebody has to stop him.”

  “India can do it without you.”

  “Probably. But if they can’t, it’ll start a war,” he said.

  “You really think so?” she asked.

  “I’ve got to stop Khan. I didn’t get it done here. I’ll do it there.”

  Morrissey closed his briefcase and handed Luke a passport and a ticket. The passport had his picture on it but was in the name of Robert Boswick.

  Luke looked at it and frowned. “What’s this?”

  “We don’t want Khan hearing about this. He has a lot of friends. We want him to assume that if we’re onto him, all we’d ever do is pass it to India. He has no fear of them.” Morrissey’s face was dark. “He’s much more resourceful than we gave him credit for.”

  They got up and headed toward the back. As they walked, Luke asked Katherine, “You okay with this?”

  “You’re taking a risk you don’t have to take. India can take care of itself.”

  Luke shook his head. “It’s not about India. It’s about Khan. He tried to ruin us, Katherine. I owe him. I owe Thud.”

  “He’s not a threat to us anymore.”

  He stopped. “I wouldn’t ever be the same person if I just let this happen. I’d be cowering in a corner somewhere,” he said. “I’ve got to get this done.”

  There were a lot of things she wanted to say, but she could tell by the look on his face that none of them would make any difference.

  They went to the back of the house. He heard the deep rumbling of a jet-powered helicopter and looked in the direction of the noise. He watched as the dark Sikorsky S-76 settled quickly onto his runway, throwing sand all around on either side. The side door came open, and a man in a flight suit and helmet motioned for him to climb aboard quickly. Luke looked back at Katherine and waved awkwardly before dashing for the helicopter.

  26

  The special agents pressed their backs against the wall outside Merewether’s apartment. They’d been waiting in shifts in their cars for days. No one had tried to enter the apartment since Merewether’s disappearance. No cleaning service, no friends, no family—no one. Not even the manager. No lights had come on, the phone didn’t ring once—they had it tapped—and no one showed any interest in Merewether at all. It had made for a dull stakeout.

  Then, just at dusk, Merewether had driven up in his antique Volkswagen Bug with the rusted bumper and parked on the street. The FBI agents had thought they were hallucinating. They expected someone to come at some point, but not Merewether himself. Not in his car, not so obviously.

  Merewether had gotten out of his car and gone to the elevator. The FBI agent stationed outside had immediately radioed the others, then hurried to the elevator and to Merewether’s floor.

  They waited outside his door, their guns drawn. The lead agent knew very well what his instructions were. If Merewether returned, they were to wait to see if he called anyone or tried to make any conta
ct with anyone that might lead them to the Pakistani who’d set up the entire thing—who had himself conveniently disappeared.

  The lead agent stood next to Merewether’s door. He could hear the television: CNN. Typical Washington, he thought. In D.C. everybody does their work, then runs home to see how much of it was legitimate, determined by how much of it makes it onto CNN. In D.C. if you’re not on television, you don’t exist.

  The agent checked his watch and looked at the other three agents. They were to wait thirty minutes or until Merewether left. Whichever came first. Then they were to arrest him on a list of federal offenses as long as his excuses were sure to be. The lead agent carried the arrest warrant in his suit pocket. He waited a minute and checked his watch again. He knew Merewether wasn’t leaving. He must have something else in mind, some specific purpose that would make him come back to this apartment, after being gone long enough to have seen his name in the papers. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to escape. His apartment was on the seventh floor of a high-rise with no way out except through the door next to the agents.

  CNN droned on in the background as another seventh-floor resident came out of the elevator and passed the FBI agents in front of Merewether’s apartment. He looked at them and their drawn guns and hurried by, quickly turned the corner, and glanced back, horrified and intrigued.

  Twenty-seven minutes. The agent had waited long enough. He reached across the door with the back of his right hand and rapped sharply. “FBI, open up. We have a warrant for your arrest!” The agents breathed more deeply, ready for whatever Merewether had in mind.

  “FBI! Open up!” he repeated with an insistent, no-nonsense tone.

  Still nothing.

  “Open up! FBI!” he demanded. No response. He looked at the other agents. They were all in agreement. He nodded. They all knew what the plan was and what each one’s role was. The lead agent tried the doorknob. It was locked. He examined the construction of the door. The usual hollow-core apartment door with cheap hardware. One kick, he thought. He went to the other side of the hallway, across from the door, took one quick step, and kicked with all the force of his leg right next to the doorknob.

  The door flew open. Merewether had closed the dead bolt behind him, and it tore through the frame and the wallboard as it was forced open. “FBI!” the agent yelled as he moved rapidly into the apartment with his gun ready, looking for any danger. The other three agents flowed into the apartment behind him and fanned out to cover the entire hallway from the living room to the kitchen. The apartment lights were on in all the rooms they could see. The television was on, too, but no one was watching it.