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Chutani shook his head. “I’m not sure, Umar. But you’ve lost control of our nuclear arsenal and put weapons-grade plutonium in the hands of fanatics. One way or another, this must end. Our country and our arsenal must come under responsible civilian control. If we both die here in an effort to achieve that, so be it.”
CHAPTER 28
PRESIDENT Chutani had returned to Islamabad, leaving Rapp with a contingent of his top men. The string of armored vehicles containing them stretched out in front of and behind the one he was sharing with General Shirani. The road was well maintained but the sand from the empty plain had blown across it in places, occasionally bogging down the convoy.
Now, though, their destination was finally in view. A half mile away, Rapp saw a massive building shimmering in the heat. It was unremarkable in every way—a squat rectangle built from local materials and ringed by a generic chain-link fence. According to Irene Kennedy, the American intelligence community had no knowledge of the facility’s clandestine purpose and identified it as a legitimate textile manufacturing plant.
The motorcade eased to a stop and Rapp watched through the windshield as Shirani’s chief of staff leaned out of the lead car to bark orders at a guard in civilian clothing. A moment later, the convoy was progressing into the courtyard.
Shirani was sweating profusely next to him, causing stains to spread down the sides of his uniform. Rapp had straightened the soldier’s broken fingers, but he was still in a fair amount of pain.
Or was it more than that? The motorcade consisted of thirty of Saad Chutani’s elite guard, but Shirani would have at least that many loyal army regulars inside. Was he thinking about abandoning his promise to quietly resign in favor of taking his chances in an all-out firefight?
They pulled up in front of a peeling door and stepped out into the heat. Along the line of vehicles, Chutani’s men did the same, keeping their weapons out of sight. Rapp followed Shirani into a tiny office that stank of the chemicals used on the factory floor. The man standing behind the only desk was wearing the collared shirt and bland tie of a factory manager, but neither was effective in disguising his military background. He gave a crisp salute and pressed a button beneath the desk, unlocking a door at the back.
The shop floor probably would have looked pretty authentic if it weren’t for the warheads lying in various states of disassembly. Further, Rapp’s eye immediately picked out a series of seams in the concrete floor that undoubtedly hid operational nukes. If he had to guess, probably installed on Shaheen 1A ballistic missiles.
The engineers working on the warheads stopped and turned, a few attempting awkward salutes. A man whose uniform designated him an army major hurried toward them, stopping short a few feet away and firing off a somewhat crisper salute than the academics under his command.
“Welcome to Bhakkar, sir.”
“Where do we stand with the investigation into the missing fissile material, Major?”
“We have confirmation that these are the only five,” he said, glancing at Rapp but not daring to ask questions. “The remainder of the arsenal has been examined, with the exception of the one in the Americans’ possession.”
Shirani nodded. “It’s in a vehicle outside. Send a detail to retrieve it.”
“Right away, sir. What else can I do for you? We weren’t given your agenda. Are you here to see the American prisoner?”
Rapp’s eyebrows rose slightly, while the general’s expression darkened. He hadn’t mentioned anything about a prisoner and apparently hadn’t expected his subordinate to bring up the subject. It was one of the problems that accompanied a reputation for volatility and brutality. Having everyone falling over themselves to anticipate your next demand could backfire.
“Of course we’re here to see the prisoner, you idiot!” Shirani said, trying to cover. “Now, where is he?”
The major hurried toward the back of the building with Rapp and the general following. They stopped in front of a steel door and Rapp stood quietly as the increasingly anxious soldier tried to get the latch unstuck.
“We’re in the process of interrogating him,” he said, finally freeing the rusted handle. “But so far he’s said very little. We know he’s American from his accent and he’s identified himself as a member of ISIS.
“That will be all, Major.”
“Yes, sir. Let me know if I or any of my men can be of assistance.”
Rapp watched him go before turning his
gaze on Shirani.
“I forgot to mention him,” the general blurted, anxious to avert further wrath from the CIA man. “Under the circumstances, I think—”
“Shut up,” Rapp said. “All I want to hear from you is where you captured this man.”
“An ISIS group tried to hijack a truck containing one of our warheads on the road between Naal and Khuzdar. We had an army unit training nearby and they managed to capture this man as he was trying to escape.”
“The others got away?”
“Two were killed, but otherwise, yes.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Rapp saw Joe Maslick come around the corner and head their way.
“Get back to your engineers and tell them we’re going to be expecting a full report on their findings. And this time I suggest you don’t leave anything out.”