let the analyst go anywhere,” he advised. “In fact, have him brought in on some pretense. Arrange for him to be held until this is over.”
“You’re afraid he’ll talk?”
“If he hasn’t already, yes, I am. Let’s find out for sure if he’s made any calls or spoken to anyone since his debrief, and hold anyone he’s even said good-night to. He knows there’s a nuclear missile roaming around in Nepal or Tibet. I’d suggest we take him out of circulation immediately.”
The President glanced at his watch. “He’s still in with the deputy director, going over it all one more time. Give me a moment.” He picked up a phone, dialed, then spoke softly into the receiver. “It’s done,” he said. “They’ll keep him at Langley for the time being.”
“Good. Now, who else knows?”
“I already told you, Hal—”
“Excuse me, sir, I mean which countries?”
“Well, we’ve got to assume the Russians know—it’s their damn missile that’s been stolen.”
“Did we have any indication that they were housing arms in Kathmandu?”
“There were plenty of rumors at the end of the Cold War, of course, but that’s all they were at the time—rumors. The intelligence coming out of the former Soviet Republic was terrible. The CIA didn’t have anything concrete or we’d have moved on it long ago.”
“But the CIA had something?”
“One field agent offered up an unconfirmed report, but it was little more than something he’d heard.”
“Based on what we’re seeing here, I’d say it’s been confirmed,” Brognola said.
The President stood and paced while Brognola gathered his thoughts.
“Sir, if China finds out...” he started.
“Then any hope we have for Tibet is lost,” he finished. “Worse, if that damn nuke gets launched into China...”
“Then we could be looking at World War III.”
“Exactly,” the President said. “That seems like a pretty good reason to kick you out of bed, wouldn’t you agree?”
“No complaints, Mr. President.”
“All right, so what do you recommend?” he asked.
“Have we had any contact with the thief? Any ransom or other demands?”
“No, and I think that’s more troubling than anything. Someone after money and power we can negotiate with, but a true believer of some kind or another...”
“In Nepal or Tibet?” Brognola asked. “Is there anything happening with the Chinese that might have motivated this from inside either country?”
“Not that we’re aware of, but I’ll dig a little deeper into that and see if they’ve managed to keep something from us. We don’t know yet what we’re dealing with. If the person who stole it has an agenda, then we’ve got nothing to give them and no room to negotiate. So I’ll ask again, Hal—what are your recommendations?”
“We go in fast and quiet. Striker’s the best man for this kind of job—hell, he’s the only man for this kind of job.”
The President nodded. “Fast and quiet it is, then,” he said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and we can put a lid on this before we’ve got every warlord and criminal in the region going after the warhead, let alone China.”
“It’s possible,” Brognola said. “Anything else, sir?”
“I want to add one to your team,” the President replied. “An expert on the region and in the field. Two is better than one on this hunt in case something goes wrong.”
“Sir, Striker doesn’t always work and play well with others. It’s just his nature.”
“He will this time, Hal,” the President said. “And that’s not nature—it’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.” Brognola got to his feet.
“Oh, and Hal?”
“Sir?”
“Let’s not drop the ball on this one, okay? I’d hate to have to be the first President since Truman to be responsible for a nuclear holocaust.” The President was staring at him very intently, his eyes clear and focused.
“You know that Striker has never dropped the ball, sir,” Brognola said. “And he won’t now.”
Mack Bolan had been to the National Mall on a number of occasions, but it was almost never to revel in the monuments to the people and values that had built this country, let alone enjoy the park space. Not that he wanted to play the tourist, but he wouldn’t mind coming here once or twice for reasons less imperative than the end of the civilized world. Still, when Hal Brognola had called him early that morning and said they needed to meet immediately, he knew from experience that somewhere in the world his skills were needed.
As he approached the bench where Brognola had suggested they meet, he was surprised to see a woman seated next to the big Fed. The sun had only recently come up, and they appeared to be the only people out on the Mall at the moment. The pair was deep in conversation, and Bolan cleared his throat to announce his arrival.
The woman turned around slowly. “Colonel Stone, I presume?” she said, rising to her feet. “I feared we’d be waiting on you all morning.” She shook Bolan’s hand and then turned back to Brognola. The action offered an alluring glimpse of her slender neck hidden by long, black hair that fell almost to the small of her back. “I was just running out of stories to tell to fill the time.”
“I rather doubt that,” Bolan said. “Hal.”
“Colonel Stone,” Brognola said, also rising to stand. “Thank you for coming. Let me introduce you to Alina Nischal. She’s vital to the mission we’re about to discuss.”
“Pleasure,” Bolan said.
Brognola handed Bolan a foam cup of coffee. “Let’s walk.”
As they crossed the Mall in the cool morning air, Brognola filled them in on the situation. “Approximately forty-eight hours ago, a small nuclear missile, an RT-2PM, on a mobile launching platform was stolen from a secret Russian holding facility in Kathmandu, Nepal. Based on satellite images, it appears to be a complete system, ready for service. The last image we picked up tracked it leaving the city and heading north, toward the border with Tibet.”
“Is there any chance it’s the Russians stealing one of their own weapons?” Bolan asked. “The black market in that part of the world sells pretty much anything and everything.”
“We don’t think so,” Brognola said. “But we can’t discount
