The Zero Hour

Lieutenant George Roth had just about given up searching the alley behind the Chinese restaurant, and he radioed in to report his lack of success. Then, as he turned back toward Broadway, something in a trash heap in a large blue Dumpster behind the restaurant attracted his attention. He moved closer to the refuse, holding his breath, and saw that his first impression had been right-it was a black leather shoe. He pulled at it, and realized that it was attached to a leg.

***

A few minutes later, the special working group assembled for an end-of-the-day full staff meeting, minus the two involved with the Mail Boxes Etc. operation, George Roth and Russell Ullman.

Sarah opened by briefing them in on the Mail Boxes watch. “Apparently someone called to ask about the package,” she said, “but hung up before we could get a fix on his location.”

“You think he got suspicious?” Pappas asked.

“Possibly. Could be he was just being careful.”

“He might not ever come in to get the package,” Pappas went on. “If it really is Baumann, he might not need it-he might have other fusing mechanisms. Baumann’s probably quite thorough.”

“True,” Sarah said. “In any case, they’ll page me if anyone shows up to claim the package.” She went on to detail the other operations that were in gear.

A full-field investigation, which Operation MINOTAUR had become, is extremely resource-intensive; it allowed them to use every weapon they had. These included clandestine microphones and video, direction finders on cars, trash covers, wiretap surveillance. Technically, a full-field was good for one year, but it was renewable-some full-fields, like the FBI’s war against the Communist Party of the United States, had gone on for forty years. The problem was, of course, that they didn’t have a year, even a month.

She related what Technical Services had discovered about the fusing mechanism. But the latest information, which she’d received a few minutes ago from the youthful-voiced Ted Grabowski, was the real story. “Once it was clear that the Libyan timer was a fake, a counterfeit, the techies began to look more closely,” she said. “They did a microscopic examination, looking for tool marks. Remember the attempt to assassinate President Bush in Kuwait a couple of years ago?”

“Sure,” Pappas said. “We found explosives, DetCord, and fusing mechanisms, and determined that the folks behind it were-who else?-the Iraqis. So what’s the connection?”

“Well, the exact same pair of wirecutters that were used to make the Kuwait bomb were used to cut the wires in this fusing mechanism.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Pappas said.

“Hold on,” Vigiani said. “You’re saying the Iraqis made this thing?”

“No,” Sarah replied. “The Iraqis didn’t make the Kuwait bomb either-they farmed it out. It was a pretty fancy piece of handiwork, probably beyond the capabilities of the Iraqis.”

“Sarah,” Vigiani said, “I think I’m above my pay grade here. Can you explain it in simple terms?”

“Okay,” Sarah said. “Baumann hired someone to construct a detonator and ship it in. Whoever he hired also did the Kuwait bomb. And was trained at the Naval Explosive Ordnance Disposal School-by us. So if we can find out who built the Kuwaiti fusing mechanism…”

“I’m intrigued by this counterfeit Libyan timer,” Pappas said. “This attempt to lay a false trail. Why would someone do that?”

“To conceal their own involvement, lead us astray?” suggested Vigiani.

“Or else,” Pappas said, “to pin it on the Libyans for some strategic reason. Either way, this is not normal terrorist behavior. This is the work of someone who wants no credit, no blame, no extortion. In short, Baumann has been hired by someone who simply wants to destroy some part of New York City, presumably the Manhattan Bank, without making a statement.”

“Well,” said Vigiani, “he sure as hell isn’t going to do it without his fuse thing. And he still hasn’t shown up to claim it, or has he?”

“Not yet, as far as I know,” Sarah replied. “He may still. Not likely, I admit.”

“Sarah,” Pappas said, “what else does this fellow need to build a bomb?”

“An explosive, obviously… Why, what are you getting at?”

“Well, terrorists love plastic explosives, Semtex and C-4 and the like, right? Which is very difficult to get on the open market. So he’s either shipping it in somehow-”

“Yes,” Sarah interrupted. “Or getting it here.” She saw where he was going. “Yes, that could be a way.”

“What, steal it?” Vigiani asked.

“Possibly, yes,” Sarah said.

“So we put out a threat advisory?”

“Too public,” Sarah said.

“Real sanitized,” Vigiani said.

“Still throws up too many questions. We’ll ask ATF to inform us of any thefts of C-4, dynamite, or other explosives, please report immediately, blah blah blah. And give our twenty-four-hour number. Without revealing why we’re so interested. Concentrate especially on military bases.”

Vigiani shrugged. “Worth a try, I suppose.” She looked up as Ranahan and Roth entered the room. “Hey, any luck?”

The expression on the two men’s faces told the assembled that it wasn’t good news.