out his gloved hand and counted the points. “One: The Iraqis are not renowned for their safety precautions. Two: The bags were in the open compartment, absurdly foolish, even for the Iraqis. Three : the tanker was oriented in a western direction. Four . . .”
“What does the fact that it was going west have to do with anything?” asked Doberman.
“I surmise that it was returning rather than arriving at its destination,” said Wong.
“You’re telling me that it delivered chemicals somewhere?” said Hawkins.
“That would be a leap in logic that I am not prepared to make, especially since we are speaking about the Iraqis,” said Wong. “But it would be foolish not to consider that a distinct possibility. The most likely theory is that these bags were never filled. Rather, they accompanied similar bags, which have now been deposited at some destination further west.”
“Maybe they were on their way to get filled,” said A-Bomb.
“Admittedly a possibility,” said Wong. “I would note, however, that the ambient temperature of the liquid they were submerged in was the same as the truck, which suggests the liquid had been in the truck a long time. Such would be the case certainly if the truck were making its way back after a morning delivery, but not if it had only just taken on the milk in preparation for its mission.”
“What do we now?” asked Hawkins.
“I suggest we examine the map your sergeant discovered and see where the truck has been,” said Wong. “And then we attempt to act on that information.”
“I knew we’d get around to blowing something up eventually,” said A-Bomb.
*****
The Iraqis were not so cooperative as to have marked their drop-off with an X , but Wong worked over the map like a forensic scientist— or, as A-Bomb put it, a witch doctor summoning the dead. He claimed that the folds and pen impressions in the paper showed that the truck had followed a course from somewhere near or in Jordan, continuing west into some hills about fifteen miles from Sugar Mountain, where Doberman and A-Bomb had blown up a storage bunker that morning.
Had it stopped at the bunker? Wong couldn’t say. Had it made a delivery or picked something up there? Wong couldn’t say. What had it done afterwards? Wong couldn’t say.
And somehow, everybody nodded and called him a genius.
Doberman nodded as Hawkins said he would authorize a recon mission to the village where the truck had apparently turned around. It was called Al Kajuk on the map. None of the Delta teams Scud hunting up north were close enough to check it out. Fort Apache would have to send its own people.
“There are three or four buildings large enough to be storage facilities there,” Hawkins told Wong as they examined the maps and some satellite photos near the truck. “It’s pretty close to Sugar Mountain. Maybe the buildings there house Scuds.”
“ The facility at Sugar Mountain may well be related,” said Wong. “They might have kept the chemicals there, then moved them with this or another vehicle. Or it could be a coincidence. It could conceivably be a decoy.”
“Doubt it,” said Hawkins.
“So this could be a wild goose chase,” said Doberman. It seemed to him they were jumping to way too many conclusions here. Hawkins glared at him; the Army guy definitely had a stick up his butt, Doberman decided. Tall guys always did.
“If it’s a wild good chase,” said Hawkins sharply, “it’s my wild goose chase.”
“Not if we’re giving you air cover,” said Doberman.
“Bullshit.”
“What do you mean bullshit?” said Doberman. “What the hell do you think we’re doing here?”
“One of your planes is still grounded,” said the Delta Force captain. “And as for you. . .”
“Captain O’Rourke’s plane is good to go,” announced Rosen, joining the small group huddled in Hawkins’ command post.
“You found a patch?” asked A-Bomb.
“I borrowed a few things from the tanker truck. I
“What does the fact that it was going west have to do with anything?” asked Doberman.
“I surmise that it was returning rather than arriving at its destination,” said Wong.
“You’re telling me that it delivered chemicals somewhere?” said Hawkins.
“That would be a leap in logic that I am not prepared to make, especially since we are speaking about the Iraqis,” said Wong. “But it would be foolish not to consider that a distinct possibility. The most likely theory is that these bags were never filled. Rather, they accompanied similar bags, which have now been deposited at some destination further west.”
“Maybe they were on their way to get filled,” said A-Bomb.
“Admittedly a possibility,” said Wong. “I would note, however, that the ambient temperature of the liquid they were submerged in was the same as the truck, which suggests the liquid had been in the truck a long time. Such would be the case certainly if the truck were making its way back after a morning delivery, but not if it had only just taken on the milk in preparation for its mission.”
“What do we now?” asked Hawkins.
“I suggest we examine the map your sergeant discovered and see where the truck has been,” said Wong. “And then we attempt to act on that information.”
“I knew we’d get around to blowing something up eventually,” said A-Bomb.
*****
The Iraqis were not so cooperative as to have marked their drop-off with an X , but Wong worked over the map like a forensic scientist— or, as A-Bomb put it, a witch doctor summoning the dead. He claimed that the folds and pen impressions in the paper showed that the truck had followed a course from somewhere near or in Jordan, continuing west into some hills about fifteen miles from Sugar Mountain, where Doberman and A-Bomb had blown up a storage bunker that morning.
Had it stopped at the bunker? Wong couldn’t say. Had it made a delivery or picked something up there? Wong couldn’t say. What had it done afterwards? Wong couldn’t say.
And somehow, everybody nodded and called him a genius.
Doberman nodded as Hawkins said he would authorize a recon mission to the village where the truck had apparently turned around. It was called Al Kajuk on the map. None of the Delta teams Scud hunting up north were close enough to check it out. Fort Apache would have to send its own people.
“There are three or four buildings large enough to be storage facilities there,” Hawkins told Wong as they examined the maps and some satellite photos near the truck. “It’s pretty close to Sugar Mountain. Maybe the buildings there house Scuds.”
“ The facility at Sugar Mountain may well be related,” said Wong. “They might have kept the chemicals there, then moved them with this or another vehicle. Or it could be a coincidence. It could conceivably be a decoy.”
“Doubt it,” said Hawkins.
“So this could be a wild goose chase,” said Doberman. It seemed to him they were jumping to way too many conclusions here. Hawkins glared at him; the Army guy definitely had a stick up his butt, Doberman decided. Tall guys always did.
“If it’s a wild good chase,” said Hawkins sharply, “it’s my wild goose chase.”
“Not if we’re giving you air cover,” said Doberman.
“Bullshit.”
“What do you mean bullshit?” said Doberman. “What the hell do you think we’re doing here?”
“One of your planes is still grounded,” said the Delta Force captain. “And as for you. . .”
“Captain O’Rourke’s plane is good to go,” announced Rosen, joining the small group huddled in Hawkins’ command post.
“You found a patch?” asked A-Bomb.
“I borrowed a few things from the tanker truck. I
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