take a consignment in transit: that much was clear from
what he had seen today. Now, the fuel elements were not checked at this
end, they were fed straight into the system. He could hijack a truck,
take the uranium out of the fuel elements, close them up again, reseal
the consignment and bribe or frighten the truck driver to deliver the
empty shell& The dud elements would gradually find their way into the
reactor, five at a time, over a period of months. Eventually the reactoes
output would fall marginally. There would be an investigation. Tests
would be done. Perhaps no conclusions would be reached before the empty
elements ran out and new, genuine fuel elements went in, causing output
to rise again. Maybe no one would understand what had happened until the
duds were reprocessed and the plutonium recovered was too little, by
which time-four to seven years later-the trail to Tel Aviv would have
gone cold.
But they might find out sooner. And there was still the problem of
getting the stuff out of the country.
Still, he had the outline of one possible scheme, and he felt a bit more
cheerful.
. The lecture ended. There were a few desultory questions, then the party
trooped back to the bus. Dickstein sat at the back. A middle-aged woman
said to him, "That was my seat," and he stared at her stonily until she
went away.
Driving back from the power station, Dickstein kept looking out of the
rear window. After about a mile the gray Opel Pulled out of a turnoff and
followed the bus. Dickstein's cheerfulness vanished.
He had been spotted. It had happened either here or in Luxembourg,
probably Luxembourg. The spotter might have been Yasif Hassan-no reason
why he should not be an agent-or someone else. They must be following him
out of general curiosity because there was no way-was there?---that they
could know what he was up to. All he had to do was lose them.
He spent a day in and around the town near the miclear power station,
traveling by bus and taxi, driving a rented car,
72
TRIPLE
and walking. By the end of the day he had identified the three
vehicles--the gray Opel, a dirty little fiatbe4 truck, and a German
Ford-and five of the men in the surveillance team. The men looked vaguely
Arabic, but in this part of France many of the criminals were North
African: somebody might have hired local help. The size of the team
explained why he had not sniffed the surveillance earlier. They had been
able continually to switch cars and personnel. The trip to the power
station, a long there-and-back journey on a country road with very little
traffic, explained why the team had finally blown themselves.
The next day be drove out of town and on to the autoroute. The Ford
followed him for a few miles, then the gray Opel took over. There were
two men in each car. There would be two more in the flatbed truck, plus
one at his hotel.
The Opel was still with him when he found a pedestrian bridge over the
road in a place where there were no turnoffs from the highway for four
or five miles in either direction. Dickstein pulled over to the shoulder,
stopped the car, got out and lifted the hood. He looked inside for a few
minutes. The gray Opel disappeared up ahead, and the Ford went by a
minute later. The Ford would wait at the next turnoff, and the Opel would
come back on the opposite side of the road to see what he was doing. That
was what the textbook prescribed for this situation.
Dickstein hoped these people would follow the book, otherwise his scheme
would not work.
He took a collapsible warning triangle from the trunk of the car and
stood it behind the offside rear wheel.
T'he Opel went by on the opposite side of the highway.
They were following the booL
Dickstein began to walk.
When he got off the highway he caught the first bus he saw and rode it
until it came to a town. On the journey he spotted each of the three
surveillance vehicles at different times. He allowed himself to feel
what he had seen today. Now, the fuel elements were not checked at this
end, they were fed straight into the system. He could hijack a truck,
take the uranium out of the fuel elements, close them up again, reseal
the consignment and bribe or frighten the truck driver to deliver the
empty shell& The dud elements would gradually find their way into the
reactor, five at a time, over a period of months. Eventually the reactoes
output would fall marginally. There would be an investigation. Tests
would be done. Perhaps no conclusions would be reached before the empty
elements ran out and new, genuine fuel elements went in, causing output
to rise again. Maybe no one would understand what had happened until the
duds were reprocessed and the plutonium recovered was too little, by
which time-four to seven years later-the trail to Tel Aviv would have
gone cold.
But they might find out sooner. And there was still the problem of
getting the stuff out of the country.
Still, he had the outline of one possible scheme, and he felt a bit more
cheerful.
. The lecture ended. There were a few desultory questions, then the party
trooped back to the bus. Dickstein sat at the back. A middle-aged woman
said to him, "That was my seat," and he stared at her stonily until she
went away.
Driving back from the power station, Dickstein kept looking out of the
rear window. After about a mile the gray Opel Pulled out of a turnoff and
followed the bus. Dickstein's cheerfulness vanished.
He had been spotted. It had happened either here or in Luxembourg,
probably Luxembourg. The spotter might have been Yasif Hassan-no reason
why he should not be an agent-or someone else. They must be following him
out of general curiosity because there was no way-was there?---that they
could know what he was up to. All he had to do was lose them.
He spent a day in and around the town near the miclear power station,
traveling by bus and taxi, driving a rented car,
72
TRIPLE
and walking. By the end of the day he had identified the three
vehicles--the gray Opel, a dirty little fiatbe4 truck, and a German
Ford-and five of the men in the surveillance team. The men looked vaguely
Arabic, but in this part of France many of the criminals were North
African: somebody might have hired local help. The size of the team
explained why he had not sniffed the surveillance earlier. They had been
able continually to switch cars and personnel. The trip to the power
station, a long there-and-back journey on a country road with very little
traffic, explained why the team had finally blown themselves.
The next day be drove out of town and on to the autoroute. The Ford
followed him for a few miles, then the gray Opel took over. There were
two men in each car. There would be two more in the flatbed truck, plus
one at his hotel.
The Opel was still with him when he found a pedestrian bridge over the
road in a place where there were no turnoffs from the highway for four
or five miles in either direction. Dickstein pulled over to the shoulder,
stopped the car, got out and lifted the hood. He looked inside for a few
minutes. The gray Opel disappeared up ahead, and the Ford went by a
minute later. The Ford would wait at the next turnoff, and the Opel would
come back on the opposite side of the road to see what he was doing. That
was what the textbook prescribed for this situation.
Dickstein hoped these people would follow the book, otherwise his scheme
would not work.
He took a collapsible warning triangle from the trunk of the car and
stood it behind the offside rear wheel.
T'he Opel went by on the opposite side of the highway.
They were following the booL
Dickstein began to walk.
When he got off the highway he caught the first bus he saw and rode it
until it came to a town. On the journey he spotted each of the three
surveillance vehicles at different times. He allowed himself to feel
Similar Books
