should follow. The explosive itself won’t lead us anywhere, it’s far too commonplace. The radioactive material and the detonator are how we’ll catch him. The file contains likely sources of nuclear waste; power stations, hospitals, laboratories. I’m afraid it’s a very long list. And there’s a directory of people who might help him with the detonator, just a couple of hundred engineers with known IRA sympathies. Provided he doesn’t tell them what he’s up to, he won’t have much difficulty getting help. I’ve also included a list of useful contacts in all the major cities. FBI, CIA, NEST.”
“NEST? What’s NEST?”
“Nuclear Emergency Search Teams. Since 9/11 they routinely hunt for bombs in DC and other major cities. The whole thing is completely hit and miss but the FBI will randomly select a city, then a team of scientists will prowl the area; docks, airports, railway sidings. They just drive around in unmarked vans, packed with sophisticated sniffing equipment, searching for radiation emissions. Sometimes they’ll move about on foot with detectors concealed in briefcases and backpacks. The technology is very advanced. But so far they’ve failed to turn up anything suspicious. Sending NEST teams out is a shot in the dark, but it's better than sitting around doing nothing.”
“How do we stay in touch?”
“Video link and the web. A communications room has been set up for you at the Embassy in Washington, in case you need it. An operations base where local rules and regulations don’t apply could be useful. Ambassador Brightman will provide anything else you need. But don’t be misled by his name. The Ambassador is very much old school.” She smiled a cryptic smile. “You’ll find the access codes in the file and a CD of our encryption software you can load on any PC anywhere. Memorise the codes and torch the copy. Soon as I have something, anything, I’ll post it on the web. You do the same. Everything will be perfectly secure. There’s no chance of an intercept.” She paused. “Anything else I can help with?”
“O’Brien’s bio would be useful.”
She passed a photograph across the desk.
“That’s him on the left, with his friend McGuire when we released them both from the Maze. There’s a full biography in the file but briefly, Declan was born in the Bogside in 1954 into a known IRA family. We first became aware of him in the early seventies. We have film of him on Bloody Sunday chatting with Martin McGuiness. He was eighteen at the time. His younger brother, Liam was wounded that day. Never fully recovered. So Declan learned to hate us at a young age. He ran a cell on the mainland for several years and may have been involved in the Docklands and Manchester bombs but there’s no proof. Then we lost sight of him for a while, but at some point his family moved south to Dublin. Last week the CIA picked up some radio traffic in Colombia and spotted Declan flying in and out of Ortega’s private airstrip. From there he travelled south into the safe-haven and met up with the others.”
“So he hates the Brits. I can understand that. Partition was one of the biggest cock-ups in history. If I were Irish I’d be a rebel too. And then we shoot his kid brother for Christ sake. Of course he’s bitter. But it’s a long way from hating the Brits to providing the guerrilleros with a Dirty Bomb.”
Bowman got up and went to the window. “What’s his motivation?”
“McGuire says it isn’t money, though O’Brien probably stands to make half a million dollars, maybe more. Who knows? He could probably name his price. McGuire says Declan wants his name in the history books. Interestingly, that coincides with something in the file. When Declan was active in the UK it sometimes seemed like he was trying to get caught. Kept leaving little clues about the place. The psychological profilers took a look at it, thought he might have some kind of psychobabble complex. Declan O’Brien is
“NEST? What’s NEST?”
“Nuclear Emergency Search Teams. Since 9/11 they routinely hunt for bombs in DC and other major cities. The whole thing is completely hit and miss but the FBI will randomly select a city, then a team of scientists will prowl the area; docks, airports, railway sidings. They just drive around in unmarked vans, packed with sophisticated sniffing equipment, searching for radiation emissions. Sometimes they’ll move about on foot with detectors concealed in briefcases and backpacks. The technology is very advanced. But so far they’ve failed to turn up anything suspicious. Sending NEST teams out is a shot in the dark, but it's better than sitting around doing nothing.”
“How do we stay in touch?”
“Video link and the web. A communications room has been set up for you at the Embassy in Washington, in case you need it. An operations base where local rules and regulations don’t apply could be useful. Ambassador Brightman will provide anything else you need. But don’t be misled by his name. The Ambassador is very much old school.” She smiled a cryptic smile. “You’ll find the access codes in the file and a CD of our encryption software you can load on any PC anywhere. Memorise the codes and torch the copy. Soon as I have something, anything, I’ll post it on the web. You do the same. Everything will be perfectly secure. There’s no chance of an intercept.” She paused. “Anything else I can help with?”
“O’Brien’s bio would be useful.”
She passed a photograph across the desk.
“That’s him on the left, with his friend McGuire when we released them both from the Maze. There’s a full biography in the file but briefly, Declan was born in the Bogside in 1954 into a known IRA family. We first became aware of him in the early seventies. We have film of him on Bloody Sunday chatting with Martin McGuiness. He was eighteen at the time. His younger brother, Liam was wounded that day. Never fully recovered. So Declan learned to hate us at a young age. He ran a cell on the mainland for several years and may have been involved in the Docklands and Manchester bombs but there’s no proof. Then we lost sight of him for a while, but at some point his family moved south to Dublin. Last week the CIA picked up some radio traffic in Colombia and spotted Declan flying in and out of Ortega’s private airstrip. From there he travelled south into the safe-haven and met up with the others.”
“So he hates the Brits. I can understand that. Partition was one of the biggest cock-ups in history. If I were Irish I’d be a rebel too. And then we shoot his kid brother for Christ sake. Of course he’s bitter. But it’s a long way from hating the Brits to providing the guerrilleros with a Dirty Bomb.”
Bowman got up and went to the window. “What’s his motivation?”
“McGuire says it isn’t money, though O’Brien probably stands to make half a million dollars, maybe more. Who knows? He could probably name his price. McGuire says Declan wants his name in the history books. Interestingly, that coincides with something in the file. When Declan was active in the UK it sometimes seemed like he was trying to get caught. Kept leaving little clues about the place. The psychological profilers took a look at it, thought he might have some kind of psychobabble complex. Declan O’Brien is
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