The Rule of Nine Read Free Page A

Air Station.
    â€œThere is no secret to the fact that a group of terrorists were thwarted in their attempt to detonate a bomb-laden vehicle near the naval base at Coronado.” Olson looks up to make sure we’re all singing from the same page.
    â€œAnd that in the ensuing gun battle the terrorists, all of them, were killed along with three law enforcement officers. At some point the bomb was defused and the vehicle was removed. Are we in agreement with regard to these basic facts?” asks Olson.
    â€œIf you say so,” says Harry.
    â€œDo you have some other version of the facts?” Olson looks at him.
    â€œThis is your party,” says Harry.
    â€œFine, let’s start with you, Mr. Hinds. Have you spoken to anyone in the media, or anyone else for that matter, concerning the events in question?”
    â€œI might have mentioned it to my barber,” says Harry. “People want to know. What can I say?”
    â€œBut as I understand it, you weren’t there that day,” says Olson. “You weren’t actually near the truck or at the scene, is that right?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œSo where did you get your information?”
    Harry glances at me.
    â€œSo whatever you think you might know concerning the shoot-out and the truck, and whatever was on the truck”—Olson puts the emphasis on this last point—“is nothing but hearsay. Is that correct?”
    â€œThat’s right. So why don’t I just go?” Harry starts to get up.
    â€œSit down,” says Olson.
    â€œHow about you, Mr. Madriani?” Olson looks at me. “Have you talked to anyone, besides your partner, concerning the events that day and what you think you might have seen?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNo one? You haven’t mentioned it to other employees in your office?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat about your family? You must have said something to them?” says Olson.
    â€œNo. There’s just my daughter. And I want to keep her out of it.”
    â€œWhat is her name?” Olson sits poised with his pen over a yellow legal pad.
    â€œStay away from her,” I tell him. “She’s not involved.”
    â€œHer name?” he says.
    â€œSarah Madriani.”
    He writes it down. “Does she have an address?”
    â€œShe lives with me. She’s just graduated from college.”
    â€œCongratulations,” he says. “Has anyone from the media tried to contact you concerning the events at Coronado?”
    I laugh. “You must be kidding. We’ve had to change our business phone number four times. For three months we had to move the location of our practice to another office in another city to avoid the horde camped outside our door. That answer your question?”
    Olson looks at Thorpe, who nods as if to confirm these details.
    â€œSo you’re telling us you haven’t divulged any information concerning the details of what happened that day?”
    â€œBy details, do you mean the fact that the device on board the truck was nuclear?” I say.
    â€œYou don’t know that,” says Thorpe.
    â€œSo what do you think it was?” says Harry.
    â€œAccording to the information I have, it was an IED, an improvised explosive device,” says Thorpe.
    This is the official line, and technically correct. After all, it was a forty-year-old nuclear bomb originally designed for the belly of an obsolete Russian cruise missile and modified sufficiently to be loaded into the bed of a rental truck. The government has offered no other details and has blunted further inquiries on the grounds of security and because the device is the subject of an ongoing investigation. No doubt the investigation will be ongoing in perpetuity. Nobody wants to explain how close we came to a moon-size crater at the north end of Coronado or the annihilation of most of the inhabitants of the city.
    â€œThe fact of the matter is,”