On the other hand, Rainbow did seem to be working. Even Clark admitted that, unhappy though he continued to be, he was a “suit” working behind a desk and sending younger men off to do the exciting stuff. For much of his career as an intelligence officer, John had grumbled at oversight from above. Now that he was doing it, he thought that maybe he understood it a little better. Being in command might be rewarding, but it could never be much fun for someone who’d been out in the weeds, dodging the fire and involved in the things that happened out at the sharp end. The idea that he knew how it was done and could therefore tell people how to do it was as unpopular a stance for him to take as it had been . . . for him to accept, as recently as five years earlier. Life was a trap, Clark told himself, and the only way out of the trap wasn’t much fun either. So, he donned his suit coat every morning and grumbled at the effect age had on his life, just like every other man of his age did across the planet. Where had his youth gone? How had he lost it?
Popov arrived at Dublin Airport before lunch. There he purchased a ticket to Gatwick for the hour’s flight back to England. He found himself missing the G-V business jet. A very convenient way to travel, liberating from the hustle of the airports. It rode every bit as well as a jumbo jet – but he’d never have enough money to permit him to indulge himself that much, and so he struck the thought from his mind. He’d have to settle for mere first-class travel, the Russian grumbled to himself, sipping some wine as the 737 climbed to cruising altitude. Now, again. he had some thinking to do, and he’d found that the solitary time in the first-class cabin of an aircraft helped.
Did he want Grady to succeed? More to the point, did iris employer want Grady to succeed? It hadn’t seemed so for Bern and Vienna, but was this a different matter? Maybe Henriksen thought so. He’d given Popov that impression in their discussions. Was there a difference? If so, what was it?
Henriksen was former FBI. Perhaps that explained it. Like Popov, he wouldn’t court failure in anything. Or did he really want this Rainbow group damaged to the point that it couldn’t couldn’t what? Interfere with some operation?
Again the brick wall, and again Popov struck his head against it. He’d started two terrorist operations, and the only purpose for them he could discern was to raise the international consciousness about terrorism. Henriksen had an international consulting company in that area, and Henriksen wanted the consciousness raised so that I could win contracts-but on the surface it seemed an expensive and inefficient way of doing it, Popov reflected. Certainly the money to be gained from the contract won would be less than the money Popov had already expended-or pocketed. And again he reminded himself that the money had come from John Brightling and his Horizon Corporation-perhaps from Brightling himself-not Henriksen’s GlobalSecurity, Inc. So, the two companies were related in their objectives, but not their financial support.
Therefore, Popov thought, sipping his French Chablis, the operation is entirely Brightling’s doing, with Henriksen as a support service, providing expertise and advice
-but, one objective was to get Henriksen the consulting contract for the Sydney Olympics, to start in only a few weeks. That had been very important to both Brightling and Henriksen. Therefore, Henriksen was doing something of great importance to Brightling, doubtless in support of the latter’s goal, whatever the hell that was.
But what did Brightling and his company do? Horizon Corporation and all of its numerous international subsidiaries were in the business of medical research. The company manufactured medicines, and spent a huge amount of money every year to invent new ones. It was the world leader in the field of medical research. It had Nobel Prize winners working in its labs, and, his Internet research had determined, it was working in some very exciting areas of potential medical advancement. Popov shook his head again. What did genetic engineering and pharmaceutical manufacturing have to do with terrorism?
The light bulb that went off over the Irish Sea reminded him that only a relatively few months before, America had been attacked with biological warfare. It had killed about five thousand people, and incurred the lethal wrath of the United States and her president. The dossier he’d been given said that the chief of this Rainbow group, Clark, and his son-in-law, Chavez, had played a quiet but very dramatic role in concluding that bloody little war.
Bio-war, Popov thought. It had given the entire world a reason to shudder. In the event it had proven to be an ineffective weapon of statecraft – especially since America had reacted with her customary speed and furious effectiveness on the battlefields of Saudi Arabia. As a result, no nation-state today dared even to contemplate an attack on America. Its armed forces strode the world like a frontier sheriff in a Western movie, respected and, more to the point, feared for their lethal capabilities.
Popov finished his wine, and fingered the empty glass in his hand as he looked down at the approaching green coastline of England. Bio-war. It had made the whole world shiver in fear and disgust. Horizon Corporation was deeply into cutting-edge research in medical science. So, surely, Brightling’s business could well be involved with biological-warfare research-but to what possible end? Besides, it was a mere corporation, not a nation state. It had no foreign policy. It had nothing to gain from warlike activities. Corporations didn’t make war, except, perhaps, on other corporations. They might try to steal trade secrets, but actually shed blood? Of course not. Again, Popov told himself, he had merely found a blank hard wall to smash his head against.
“Okay,” Sergeant Major Dick Voss told them. “First of all, the sound quality of these digital radios is so good that you can recognize voices just like a regular conversation in a living room. Second, the radios are coded so that if you have two different teams operating in the field, one team comes in the left ear, and the other team comes in the right ear. That’s to keep the commander from getting too confused,” he explained, to the amusement of the Australian NCOs. “This gives you more positive control of your operations, and it keeps everybody informed on what’s going on. The more you people know, the more effective you will be in the field. You can adjust volume on this dial here-” He showed them the knob on the Microphone root.
“What’s the range?” a senior Aussie NCO asked.
“Up to ten miles, or fifteen thousand meters, a little longer if you have line of sight. After that, it breaks up some. The batteries are rechargeable, and every set comes with two spares. The batteries will hold their charge for about six months in the spare holders you have, but we recommend recharging them every week. No big deal, the charger comes with every set, and it has a universal plug set. It’ll fit into a wall socket here, or anyplace else in the world. You just play with the little fucker until you get the right plug pattern here-” He demonstrated. Most of the people in the room looked at theirs for a few seconds. “Okay, people, let’s put them on and try them out. Power on/off switch is here . . . .”
“Fifteen kilometers, eh?” Malloy asked.
“Right,” Noonan said. “This way you can listen to what we’re doing on the ground, instead of waiting to be told. It fits inside your aircraft headset and shouldn’t interfere much with what you need to get over your intercom. This little switch can be attached, and the control button goes down your sleeve into your hand, so you can flip it on or off. It also has a listen-only mode. That’s the third position here.”
“Slick,” Sergeant Nance observed. “Be nice to know what’s happening on the ground.”
“Damned right. If you ground-pounders need an evac, I’ll be halfway in before you make the call. I like it,” Colonel Malloy noted. “I guess we’ll keep it, Tim.”
“It’s still experimental. E-Systems says there may be a few bugs in it, but nobody’s found them yet. The encryption system is state-of-the-art 128-bit continuous, synchronized off the master set, but hierarchicalized so that if a set goes down, another automatically takes that function over. The boys and girls at Fort Meade can probably crack it, but only twelve hours after you use it.”
“Any problem with being inside an aircraft-interference with any of the onboard systems?” Lieutenant Harrlson asked.
“Not that we know of. It’s been tested on Night Hawks and Stalkers at Fort Bragg, no problems discovered.”