Covert One 4 - The Altman Code Read Free Page B

Liang.”
    “Not at all. I wonder whether you could possibly join me and some of my

colleagues from the Shanghai Biomedical Institute for dinner tonight. We

are keenly interested in the work of both USAMRIID and the CDC on

emerging viral agents that threaten all of us.”
    “I’d very much like that,” Smith said smoothly, giving his voice a tinge

of regret, “but tonight I have another engagement. Perhaps you are free

some other time?”
    “With your permission, I will contact you.” “Of course, Dr. Liang.” Jon

Smith continued on to the desk, his mind already on Liuchiu Island and

tonight.

Covert One 4 - The Altman Code

Chapter Two.
    Washington, D.C.
    Wide and physically impressive, Admiral Stevens Brose filled his chair

at the foot of the long conference table in the White House underground

situation room. He took off his cap and ran his hand over his gray

military buzz cut, amazed–and worried–by what he saw.
    President Castilla, as always, occupied the chair at the head. But they

were the only two in the large room, drinking their morning cups of

coffee. The rows of seats at the long table around them were ominous in

their emptiness. “What chemicals, Mr. President?” Admiral Brose asked.
    He was also the chairman of the joint chiefs. “Thiodiglycol–”
    “Blister weapons.”
    “–and thionyl chloride.”
    “Blister and nerve gases. Damn painful and lethal, all of them. A

wretched way to die.” The admiral’s thin mouth and big chin tightened.

“How much is there?”
    “Tens of tons.”
    President Castilla’s grim gaze was fixed on the admiral. “Unacceptable.
    When–” Brose stopped abruptly, and his pale eyes narrowed. He took in

all the empty chairs at the long table. “I see. We’re not going to stop

The Dowager Empress en route and search her. You want to keep our

intelligence about the situation secret.”
    “For now, yes. We don’t have concrete proof, any more than we did with

the Yinhe. We can’t afford another international incident like that,

especially with our allies less ready to back us in military actions,

and the Chinese close to signing our human-rights accord.” Brose nodded.

“Then what do you want me to do, sir? Besides keeping a lid on it?”
    “Send one ship to keep tabs on the Empress. Close enough to move in, but

out of sight.”
    “Out of sight maybe, but they’ll know she’s there. Their radar will pick

her up.
    If they’re carrying contraband, their captain at least should know.
    He’ll be keeping his crew hyperalert.”
    “Can’t be helped. That’s the situation until I have absolute proof. If

things turn rocky, I expect you and your people to not let them escalate

into a confrontation.”
    “We have someone getting confirmation?”
    “I hope so.” Brose pondered. “She loaded up the night of the first,

late?”
    “That’s my information.” Brose was calculating in his mind. “If I know

the Chinese and Shanghai, she didn’t sail until early on the second.” He

reached for the phone at his elbow, glanced at the president. “May I,

sir?” Samuel Castilla nodded.
    Brose dialed and spoke into the phone. “I don’t care how early it is,

Captain. Get me what I need.” He waited, hand again running back over

his short hair. “Right, Hong Kong registry. A bulk carrier. Fifteen

knots. You’re certain? Very well.” He hung up. “At fifteen knots, that’s

eighteen days, give or take, to Basra with a stop in Singapore, which is

the usual course. If she left around midnight on the first, she should

arrive early in the morning on the nineteenth, Chinese time, at the

Strait of Hormuz. Three hours earlier Persian Gulf time, and evening of

the eighteenth our time. It’s the thirteenth now, so in five-plus days

she should reach the Hormuz Strait, which is the last place we can

legally board her.” His voice rose with concern. “Just five days, sir.
    That’s our time frame to figure out this