Collateral Damage (5 page)

“The device and three smaller, non-nuclear bombs were transported to Los Angeles from the San Jose airport to a hangar at Santa Monica Airport. The three smaller bombs were assigned to McCallister’s three coconspirators, all of whom had gained employment at The Arrington. We now know that their purpose was purely diversionary—to make us think the attack was a conventional one. The device in the trunk was transported to The Arrington in a hotel vehicle by one of the three coconspirators and placed in the suite reserved by McCallister.

“As you know, the presidents of the United States and Mexico were resident at the hotel for a conference and the signing of a treaty on security and immigration. Hundreds of other prominent people were either resident in the hotel or taking part in its grand-opening festivities. Two of the three smaller bombs were discovered by our teams before they could be detonated. The third was detonated in the Santa Monica Airport hangar, destroying the Caravan and killing its pilot and the third coconspirator. We believe this was the work of McCallister, who was covering his trail.

“McCallister then set the bomb to go off at eight-thirty in the evening, near the end of a concert in the Arrington Bowl, attended by fifteen hundred people. He left the bomb in the closet, as you see it, then was driven to LAX and boarded a flight for London.

“A magazine reporter who had met McCallister and had had sex with him in his suite accidentally saw the trunk in question and that evening, when she heard that we had been searching for a large piece of luggage, informed Mr. Freeman and Special Agent Rifkin of the presence of the trunk in Mr. McCallister’s suite. You all know what transpired after that. The following is what would have happened if the device had not been stopped from detonating.”

The camera then zoomed out to an apparent altitude of several thousand feet, and an animated version of the nuclear explosion began.

Everyone started as the explosion of the device filled the screens. First there was an intense white light, followed by a fireball consuming the entire twenty-acre site of the hotel, and beyond, obliterating the Bel-Air neighborhood. This was coincident with a huge roar, shaking the speakers, and a visible shock wave that spread in all directions, destroying nearly all the buildings at UCLA, across Sunset Boulevard, and extending for miles farther. Fires broke out everywhere.

Everyone took a breath, but the event was not over. Up Stone Canyon, two city reservoir dams broke, and a high wall of water swept down the canyon, through the UCLA campus, and past Wilshire Boulevard.

The chief bomb technician’s voice rose again. “The three and a half billion gallons of water in the two reservoirs would have had the effect of extinguishing most of the fires caused by the initial fireball.”

The camera zoomed slowly upward, exhibiting the enormous swath of ruin left by the explosion.

“We estimate that more than a million people would have died in the first hour after the blast, and that as many as two million more would have died within ninety days from their injuries or from radiation sickness.”

The camera continued to pull back, and the scar on the face of Southern California was still visible as the curvature of the earth came into view. The room went dark, and then the lights came up slowly.

The president spoke for the first time. “I want to thank all of you who had a part in finding and disabling this device before it could be set off. The entire country—indeed, the entire world—owes you all a debt of gratitude that can never be fully expressed. Indeed, it
will
never be expressed, since no one will know until most of us are dead. The public knowledge of this incident will be limited to the announcement that two bombs were discovered and disarmed on the site of the hotel and that one was set off by a coconspirator at Santa Monica Airport. After that, the airplane carrying McCallister to London was diverted to Kennedy Airport in New York, where his brother attempted to help him escape. Both were shot and killed by a CIA team dispatched to stop them. Dr. Kharl met his death a few hours later in Dubai, shot by a CIA sniper, who then made good his escape.

“As I’m sure you know, last year both houses of Congress passed a bill called the National Security Act, which I vetoed, because I felt that some parts of the bill were unconstitutional. Both houses then passed a revised version that I signed into law. One of the provisions of that act is that, by order of the president, information harmful to national security can be suppressed until fifty years after the death of that president. I view the nuclear nature of this event as falling under that provision of the act, and I am issuing an executive order, which you may read in the folders before you, invoking the National Security Act. Also in each folder is a statement that I wish signed by each of you present, saying that you are aware that the Act has been invoked, and that you swear to keep secret everything you have seen and heard here today, even to the extent of discussing them with each other, and also to keep secret your part in the events covered by the Act.

“I hope that each of you, having seen what the explosion of the device would have wrought, will agree that the country should not know these things for a long time to come. Later today I will address the nation and tell them of the bomb plot at The Arrington and how it was stopped. It is very likely that, after my broadcast, you may be contacted by members of the media for a statement. In that case, I ask you to refer all questions to the White House Press Office and to make no further comment.

“Now, with the pens provided, please sign your personal statements and give them to Tim Coleman.”

Stone glanced at the brief statement and signed it. So did everyone else. Tim Coleman collected the statements.

“I want to thank you all for traveling here today and for your help in dealing with this very troubling situation,” Will Lee said. “Good day to you all.” He got up and left the room, followed by Tim Coleman.

Kate Lee spoke up. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am sure it has occurred to you that there was one other person present at The Arrington who possesses much of this knowledge. Kelli Keane, a reporter for
Vanity Fair
, has already agreed to keep her silence. Holly Barker spoke with her before the president decided to invoke the Act, so Holly will travel back to New York with a copy of the statement for her signature. She will be allowed to include a description of the search for the conventional bombs at the hotel but not to ask any of you for comment. Thank you all, and the helicopter is waiting for the New York contingent.”

—

Everyone was very quiet during the helicopter ride back to New York.

—

Stone sat in the restaurant Patroon, sipping a drink and waiting for Holly to arrive. Ken Aretsky, the owner, joined him for a while but left as soon as Holly walked in. Stone ordered her a drink.

“How did it go?” Stone asked.

“How did what go?” Holly asked in return.

“Let me put it this way: Are you satisfied with the way your day’s work went?”

“Entirely,” Holly replied. She raised her glass. “Now we need never speak of this day again.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Stone said, and he did.

Stone watched the president’s address about events at The Arrington. It was brief enough to be delivered in its entirety during a time-out of a big football game being televised. His phone rang twice that evening, while he and Holly were in bed, and he did not answer either call.

The following morning Holly went to work at the Agency’s East Side office, with the intention of returning to Stone’s house that evening.

When Stone got downstairs to his office there was a stack of messages on his desk. He typed a short statement, printed it, and buzzed for Joan.

“Are they calling you about what happened at The Arrington?” she asked.

“Yes,” Stone replied, handing her the statement. “Please call them back, read them this, then hang up.”

Joan read the statement aloud: “Mr. Barrington has nothing to add to the president’s address of last evening, nor will he at any later date. Please contact the White House Press Office with any questions you may have.” Joan gathered up the message slips on his desk. “You could make a living as a PR guy for somebody who doesn’t want to talk to the media.” She went back to her desk.

—

In her borrowed office on the East Side, Holly called Tom Riley in London.

“Riley.”

“It’s Holly, calling from the New York office. I’m on a secure line.”

“Good morning, Holly.”

“What’s new on Jasmine Shazaz?”

“Is this to do with the president’s statement last night?”

“Yes. We believe she was present when the three bombs were assembled, and she may have had a hand in delivering them to L.A.”

“Only three bombs?” Riley asked.

“What exactly do you mean, Tom?”

Riley was quiet for a moment. “Forget that.”

“No, I want to know what you’re referring to, so that this won’t come up again.”

“I haven’t heard anything, if that’s what you mean, but I dispatched the guy who took out Dr. Kharl, so I’ve just connected a few dots.”

“Dr. Kharl designed and assembled the three bombs.”

“Plastic explosives are not exactly in Dr. Kharl’s line,” Riley said.

“If you go back a few years, you’ll find he had a very nice line in plastic explosives.”

“That’s the story, then?”

“Those are the facts, Tom. Any other questions?”

“No.”

“Then please answer mine.”

“MI-6 hit the Cheyne Walk house yesterday like a swarm of hornets, but all uniformed as painters, plumbers, and carpet cleaners, with their vehicles liveried as such. They were seen to have taken away two medium-sized safes and numerous file boxes. As a further cover, Hamish McCallister’s solicitor was present to make things seem kosher.”

“I see. Have you received any information from MI-6 that might be helpful to us?”

“They’ve been very quiet, and their chief of ops has not returned my phone call of this morning.”

“Do we have any further information on Jasmine not associated with the house?”

“She went to a girls’ school in Kent, then to a Swiss finishing school. No university education that we know of.”

“Any photographs?”

“One, when she was twelve and holding a hockey stick. We’re aging it now.”

“Please fax it to me in New York. Tom, you’ve no doubt heard details of how her two brothers were dealt with.”

“I read Lance’s report.”

“You may take that as a model of how to proceed when we find her.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll see if I can unearth anything from MI-6.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you, Holly.”

Holly hung up, called Felicity Devonshire’s direct line, identified herself, and asked for Architect. This time she was handled more gently and put through after half a minute on hold.

“Good afternoon, Holly, or is it morning where you are?”

“I’m calling from New York. Good afternoon. I’ve heard about your redecoration job on a house in Chelsea. Anything you can share with me? This is a secure line.”

“It’s quite a richly appointed residence,” Felicity said. “Very nice artwork, probably in the value range of five to ten million pounds’ worth. Hamish had very positive brokers’ and bankers’ statements in his safe. It seems he came into quite a lot when he turned twenty-one.”

“Were there any photographs of his sister?”

“None, nor of his brother, though there were bedrooms that may have been used by both of them. We found some cosmetics in one bathroom. Everything, however, and I mean everything, had been wiped clean—no prints, no DNA.”

“So, they had not planned to return there?”

“They might have returned, if their mission had been, ah, completely successful, and if they’d thought there was no trail to follow to them. In the circumstances, they might have been right.”

“The president has issued an executive order under the new National Security Act, sealing everything except what he had to say in his address last evening.”

“Yes, I saw that. You may take it that I am following his wishes, though I have no legal necessity of doing so. I have not reported to my masters what I have surmised from the bits and pieces of information gleaned during my stay in your country, nor shall I. I believe that’s best for all.”