The sum of all fears - Tom Clancy [465]
Golovko nodded. "It will be done."
"A pleasure doing business with you, Sergey. A shame about Lyalin."
"What do you mean?" Golovko asked.
"The stuff he was giving us - both of us - it's really too valuable to lose "
"We do not do business to that degree, Ryan, but I admire your sense of humor."
Dr Lowell emerged from the structure just then, carrying a lead bucket.
"What's in there?"
"I think it's some plutonium. Want to take a closer look? You could end up like our friend in Damascus." Lowell handed the bucket to a soldier, and to the engineer-commander he said, "Move everything out, box it, ship it. I want to examine everything. Make sure you move everything out."
"Yes, sir," the colonel said. "And the sample?"
Four hours later, they were in Dimona, the Israeli nuclear 'research' facility, where there was another gamma-ray spectrometer. While technicians ran the test, Lowell went over the plans again, shaking his head. To Ryan, the drawings looked like the diagram of a computer chip or something similarly incomprehensible.
"It's big, clunky. Ours are less than a quarter this size but you know how long it took us to build something of this size and yield?" Lowell looked up. "Ten years.
"They did it in a cave in five months. How's that for progress, Dr Ryan?"
"I didn't know. We always figured a terrorist's device - but what went wrong?"
"Probably something with the tritium. We had two fizzles back in the fifties, helium contamination. Not too many people know about that. That's my best guess. The design needs some further looking at - we'll computer-model it - but on gross examination, it looks like a fairly competent - oh, thank you." Lowell took the spectrometry print-out from the Israeli technician. He shook his head and spoke very softly:
"Savannah River, K Reactor, 1968 - it was a very good year."
"This is the one? You're sure?"
"Yeah, this is the one. The Israelis told me the type of weapon they lost, the mass of plutonium - except for the scraps, it's all here." Lowell tapped the design sheets. "That's it, that's all of it," he said.
"Until the next time," Lowell added.
Always a student of the law and its administration, Deputy Assistant Director Daniel E. Murray observed the proceedings with interest. Rather odd that they used priests instead of lawyers, of course, but damn if it didn't work. The trial took just a day. It was scrupulously fair and admirably swift. The sentence didn't bother Murray, either.
They flew to Riyadh aboard Prince Ali's aircraft, leaving the USAF transport at Beersheba. There would be no indecent haste in the administration of sentence. There had to be time for prayer and reconciliation, and no one wanted to treat this any differently from a more pedestrian case. It also gave time for people to sit and reflect, and in Ryan's case to meet with another surprise. Prince Ali brought him in to Ryan's accommodations.
"I am Mahmoud Haji Daryaei," the man said, unnecessarily. Jack knew his face well enough from the CIA file. He also knew that the last time Daryaei had spoken with an American, the ruler of Iran had been Mohammed Reza Pahlavi.
"What can I do for you?" Ryan asked. Ali handled the translation for both of them.
"Is it true? What I have been told, I wish to know that it is true."
"Yes, sir, it is true."
"Why should I believe you?" The man was approaching seventy years of age, with a deeply-lined face and black, angry eyes.
"Then why did you ask the question?"
"Insolence does not please me."
"Attacks against American citizens do not please me," Ryan answered.
"I had nothing to do with this, you know that."
"I do now, yes. Will you answer a question? If they had asked for your help, would you have given it?"
"No," Daryaei said.
"Why should I believe that?"
"To slaughter so many