Countdown - Iris Johansen [63]
Bartlett was talking on the phone and merely nodded.
Things were moving, stirring. Bartlett was operating with meticulous efficiency, and Brenner was no longer the easygoing Aussie she’d met on the plane. He was impatient, machete-sharp, and very defensive of his friend. She could understand his reaction. She was feeling that impatience and stirring to action herself.
The door of the library was open and she saw Trevor sitting at the desk, putting the videotape in an envelope. He looked drained. She’d never seen him with that expression of extreme weariness and disappointment. She hesitated. “Are you okay?”
“No.” He tossed the envelope aside. “I’m sick to death. And I’m wondering why the human race hasn’t evolved to a higher state that could prevent us from producing the Grozaks of the world.” He looked at her. “So has Mario convinced you what a callous bastard I am?”
“Don’t be stupid. Sometimes I have a soft heart, never a soft head. How could you be to blame? Grozak lied to Mario.” She paused. “And there’s no way you’d be capable of the kind of coldness it would take to deliberately ignore a ransom letter to keep Mario working.”
“I wouldn’t?” His brows lifted. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” She frowned. “And I didn’t come down here to defend you to yourself. I just got through trying to talk sense into Mario.”
“And did you succeed?”
“No, he’s too busy trying to blame everyone but himself for his father’s death, which I guess is understandable.” Her lips tightened. “So I stopped being diplomatic and patient and told him he needed to face up to the truth.”
One corner of his lips lifted in a faint smile. “Well, that’s certainly not diplomatic.”
“He didn’t have any right to blame you, even if he has just had the most incredible shock. If you need him to continue with the translating, you’ll have to try to soothe him.”
“Good God, I believe you’re defending me.”
“I just don’t believe in unfairness. Don’t let it go to your head.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.”
“And I may not have completely alienated Mario. He’s a nice guy and he may be able to face his guilt and stop blaming you if we give him enough time.”
“I don’t know how much time we have.”
“What’s the hurry?” She sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “Why would Grozak kill that poor man just to stall for time?”
“Grozak and I are in a bit of a competition. First one who crosses the finish line gets the prize.”
She shook her head. “Another one of your games? And what’s the damn prize?”
“Initially? A chest full of gold.”
“Initially? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means the prize may be a hell of a lot bigger down the road.”
“Stop being cryptic. Give me a straight answer.”
“I’m not trying to be cryptic.” He leaned wearily back in his chair. “I told you last night that I’m not hiding anything anymore. I guess I’m just tired.” He reached in the drawer, drew out a rolled document, and spread it out on the desk to reveal a map of the United States. “You want to know what the prize is?” He pointed to Los Angeles. “That’s a prize.” He pointed to Chicago. “That’s a prize.” He tapped his index finger on Washington, D.C. “And that may be the biggest prize of all.”
“What are you talking about?”
“On December twenty-third there will be nuclear explosions set off in two cities. I haven’t been able to find out which ones. But it will be a sizable blast, and enough radioactive material will be released to kill thousands.”
She was staring at him in horror. “9/11,” she whispered.
“Maybe worse. It depends on how many kamikaze are put into play.”
“Kamikaze?”
“The modern-day terrorist version of kamikaze: the suicide bomber. It doesn’t work nearly so well unless the man who’s setting off the bomb is willing to put his neck into the noose.”
“Wait a minute. You’re talking about terrorists? Grozak is a terrorist?”
He nodded. “Since 1994. After his stint as a mercenary he finally found his niche. Over the years he’s hired himself out to several