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“Anything else you want me to do?”
“Take a cab to Rio Alba and pick up our supper,” Castillo said. “Paul’s about to order it.”
“That’s one of your better ideas, Charley.”
“According to Napoleon, an army moves on its stomach. I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”
Santini chuckled.
“Tell Paul to order me a large bife chorizo,” Santini said and broke the connection.
Sieno got the Rio Alba on the telephone and placed the order.
“So now all we have to do is wait, right?” Torine asked when he saw Sieno hang up.
“So that nobody falls asleep while we’re waiting,” Castillo said, “I thought we’d talk about briefcase-sized nuclear bombs.”
Torine looked at him with a puzzled look on his face.
“Why do I have this odd feeling that you’re serious?” he asked.
“I am,” Castillo said.
“What’s that about?”
“Jack Britton heard from an undercover counterterrorism cop that the same people who were involved in stealing the 727 have bought a hundred-odd-acre farm outside Philadelphia. On the farm are some old iron mines. They are stocking them with food and intend to use them as shelters when someone sets off a briefcase-sized nuke in Philadelphia.”
“How reliable is Britton’s source?” Torine asked, incredulously. “That sounds awfully far-fetched, Charley.”
“I know. But it can’t be ignored.”
“Britton believes this?” Fernando asked.
“Britton thinks it can’t be ignored,” Castillo said. “He’s up there now with some Secret Service guys and some state cops he knows, looking around. I’m going there from Midland, on my way to Washington. So let’s talk about nukes. You went to nuke school, right, Jake?”
“In my youth, I flew B-29s,” Torine said. “I don’t know how many nuke schools I’ve been to. But no nuke I ever heard about would fit in a briefcase.”
“Briefcase, no,” Sieno said, matter-of-factly. “Suitcase, yes. There are some people in the agency who believe an agent named Sunev—”
“Who?” Castillo asked.
“Sunev,” Sieno repeated. “A Russian defector. I forget his first name, if I ever knew it.”
“KGB Colonel Pyotr Sunev, by chance?” Kocian asked, politely.
“Yeah, that’s him,” Sieno said.
“You know about this guy, Billy?” Castillo asked.
“His name came up several times. He’s a friend of your good friend Mr. Pevsner.”
“I’ll want to hear about that, Billy, but first I want to know what the agency believes about what this guy said.”
“Sunev testified before a congressional committee—I saw the tapes a half dozen times; he wore a black bag over his head so he couldn’t be recognized—five, six years ago. He said that during the Cold War, he’d been assigned—he was a spook at the Soviet mission to the UN—to find drops across the country for weapon
s, including SADMs and the communications equipment necessary to make them go off. He was a little vague about whether he’d actually set up the drops or where they were.”
“And the agency believes this guy?” Torine said.
