Atomic Fracture. Don PendletonЧитать онлайн книгу.
taken a step back from him. But eventually they had begun to regard him as one of their own again. And those in the position to continue to promote him year after year had learned to trust him once more. Or at least act as though they did.
Mussawi sprayed his keyboard liberally and began to wipe it down with a clean cloth.
By showing their trust for him, his fellow employees could then sit back in their chairs and think, See, we are not racists. Not at all. We even have a man of Arabic origin working in a position of trust.Which, considering the real reason Mussawi was working where he was, made his mission a hundred times easier.
Mussawi used the cloth to push the button that would start his computer, wondering briefly if anyone might have touched it since he’d left the day before.
As the computer worked its way through boot-up and other programs for which it was preset to utilize, Mussawi caught a glimpse of navy blue out of the corner of his eye. He looked up, smiling the congenial smile that had become second nature to him since he’d begun to work his way into the hearts of the other storage facility employees at the desks crowded into the large underground office. The smile widened further as he recognized Catherine’s blond hair and blue eyes. The woman wore a navy-blue suit, and looked far more professional than she had only a few hours earlier.
Without the suit. In his bed. But she was every bit as sexy, Mani realized, as she set a disposable cup of steaming coffee on his desk.
“I thought you might need a little pick-me-up,” Catherine said right before she took a sip from her own cup. Then, in a much quieter voice, she added, “After all, you expended a lot of energy last night.”
Mussawi stared at the bright red lipstick that had just been transferred from Catherine’s mouth to the white foam cup. In his mind, he pictured her as she’d been last night, squirming under his touch and gyrating to the rhythm of their love-making. “I have a lot of that same energy left,” he whispered back, glancing quickly around to make sure none of the other people at their desks were paying them any attention. “But a little caffeine never hurt.”
The two nuclear storage facility managerial position employees’ eyes met for a moment and Mussawi felt a combination of lust and guilt flow through his veins. Fraternization such as theirs was forbidden between the men and women who worked together in this facility. Which, of course, made an affair such as theirs all the more enticing. They had been flirting for weeks, and the former Saudi knew that the rumors about them had run rampant. But they had not consummated their attraction until last night.
And as they’d lain together afterward, with the moonlight through his bedroom window causing the Anglo woman’s light skin to glow against Mussawi’s darker flesh, she had said, “We’ll have to be extra careful now, my love. We need to distance ourselves from each other at work.”
Mussawi had shaken his head. “That is the worst thing we could do. People have talked about us for weeks now. If we suddenly start ignoring each other, they will know it has finally happened.”
Catherine winked at her new lover, jerking his mind out of the reverie. “Tonight?” she asked softy.
Mussawi nodded. “By all means.” But even as he said the words an uneasiness swept over him. American women were promiscuous. Had he picked up any germs or even some sexually transmitted disease from Catherine? He had insisted on using condoms. Still....
Mussawi sprayed more disinfectant on his hands and rubbed them together. It was too late to worry about that now, he thought as Catherine turned and disappeared behind one of the dozens of dividers that separated the office cubicles from each other.
Mussawi’s computer was now ready and he tapped in the complicated set of codes to access the facility’s inventory lists. He began a second set of carefully encoded entries that would eventually lead him to the whereabouts of several hundred small, easily portable nuclear bombs. “Backpack nukes,” he whispered under his breath, thinking of how very American the nickname was. He was about to access the list when Jason Hilderbrand suddenly appeared at the side of his desk. “Morning, Mani,” the man said. Hilderbrand wore a button-down collared shirt beneath a V-necked sweater-vest, and shining brightly at his throat was a silver Christian cross. “How’s it going, my man?”
Mussawi shook his head slightly. “It will be a boring day, I’m afraid,” he said.
“Inventory, you know.” Without thinking, his hand rose to his neck and he grasped the cross dangling from a silver chain around his own throat. It had been given to him by Hilderbrand soon after he’d expressed an interest in Christianity.
Hilderbrand smiled and Mani could tell that his eyes had dropped to the cross. “And how about the other thing?” he said. “The revival is still going on at my church. Great evangelist they’ve brought in. Patsy and I’d be honored to take you with us tonight.”
Mussawi thought briefly of the hot, stuffy, tent meeting to which Hilderbrand was referring, then of the soft white flesh now hidden beneath Catherine’s navy-blue work suit.
“I am sorry, Jason,” he said. “But I have a previous engagement.”
Now Hilderbrand reached up and touched his own cross. “But you’ve thought about it some more, right?”
Mussawi didn’t want to pour it on too strong. So he said, “Yes, Jason. I do think about it. A lot. But it is very difficult to reject things you have been taught since birth.”
Hilderbrand nodded. “I understand,” he said. “But keep thinking about it, okay? Sooner or later, the Holy Spirit will bring you the Truth.”
“I am doing my best,” said Mussawi, his mind still on Catherine.
“I know you are.” Hilderbrand smiled. He patted Mussawi on the shoulder, then walked away.
Mussawi returned to his computer screen and keyboard and pulled up the page listing the backpack nukes. The page had been flagged, and when he hit the icon to open his top-security interoffice email, he found an order to transfer an even dozen of the small nuclear devices to another secret storage site in the Florida Keys.
The smile that covered his face now was not for anyone else’s benefit. It was for him, and him alone. He had kept up with the ongoing hostilities in both Central and South America and had suspected for several days now that he’d get an order such as this.
Just because they were called backpack nukes didn’t mean they had to be carried to a detonation site like a college student on his way to English composition. They could be dropped from an airplane or encompassed in the nose of a rocket just like any other bomb. For that matter, they could be rigged with a timer and simply left somewhere.
Mussawi closed the email and began the next long, tedious series of codes and passwords that would get the ball rolling for the transfer. He knew the United States had no intention of using the small nukes as a first strike against any of the countries south of Mexico. But they had to be prepared for the unlikely event that Iran, or North Korea, or one of the other “axis of evil” nations with nuclear capabilities but short-range delivery systems could cut a deal to launch at the U.S. from a closer site.
After all, it was hardly a secret that the rebels in South and Central America were being backed by America’s enemies. And considering the unstable leaders who ran such countries, the decision to attack the U.S. could come based on nothing more than a sudden whim.
Mussawi stopped typing as another form appeared in his peripheral vision. He looked up to see John Karns standing patiently next to his desk. “How about lunch today, Mani?” John was a retired Marine drill sergeant who had let himself go somewhat since leaving the service. His white shirt hung over his belt both in front and on both sides.
Mussawi beamed again. “Sounds good, Sarge. But it’s your turn to pay and my turn to pick.”
Karns shook his head and chuckled. “That’s a hard one to guess,” he said. “You never want to go anywhere but McDonald’s.”
“I like Burger King, too,” said Mussawi.