Remington said, “Let me make sure I’ve got this right. You brought one canister of UF6 back with you, which is at the airport. The rest you left in a tunnel behind the base at Sebha.”
“That’s correct.”
“How many canisters are there in all?”
“Twelve.”
Remington looked at the other officers and said, “We’re going to have to figure out how to secure them.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Lasher confirmed that it is indeed UF6?” Remington asked.
“Dr. Jabril did. He opened one of the canisters and examined the glass ampoules inside.”
“Where is Dr. Jabril now?”
“I believe the name of the facility is Tripoli Center Hospital. He and Lasher are being treated by a Belgian doctor.”
“How serious are their injuries?”
“Critical. Both men went into shock. I was told they’re going to be medevaced to Germany as soon as their conditions stabilize.”
Remington rose, leaned both hands on the table, and shook his head. “This is awful. Horrendous.”
Crocker asked, “Any news about my wife and Brian?”
Remington shook his head as though he didn’t want to be bothered. “No. Not yet.”
Crocker groaned. “Shit.”
The acting CIA station chief looked up at him and said, “Before you leave, the ambassador wants to see you.”
Feeling numb, Crocker followed him down several halls and past the ambassador’s secretary, who said, “Go in.”
They found the ambassador leaning toward a mirror, adjusting the knot in his tie. CNN International was playing in the background.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen. Sit down. I want to hear what happened…”
Crocker’s brain wanted to shut down, and the muscles in his legs were shaking. But he forced himself to relate everything in detail again. The ambassador didn’t seem as upset as Crocker had expected him to be.
He said, “Transitions are messy. After forty years of a military dictator, no one expected this to be easy. I’m sorry for your trouble, Crocker. I commend you and your men. Trust me when I tell you that we’ll deal with this and put it behind us.”
Saltzman took his hand and squeezed his shoulder. “Thank your men for me. Get some rest.”
Crocker stood, but his feet didn’t want to carry him out.
He felt awkward, disoriented, unsure that what he’d just experienced was real. The ambassador’s low-key reaction seemed at odds with the importance of his team’s discovery.
A red-haired secretary entered and whispered something to the ambassador, who was combing his hair.
Remington put an arm around Crocker’s shoulders and asked, “Are you alright?”
As he looked at Remington, his whole body started to tremble, and he realized that neither man had mentioned Holly, even though she’d been missing for more than two days.
“Sir, you haven’t mentioned my wife.”
Remington tried to pull him out the door, whispering, “Not now.”
Holding his ground, Crocker said, louder this time, “Mr. Ambassador, is there any news? Any new developments I should know about?”
Saltzman looked at Remington, who cleared his throat and said, “Yes, your wife. Of course. We’ve been working on that 24/7 and believe she’s safe.”
“Where, sir? Where is she?”
“We’re tracking down some leads on that, which I can’t divulge.”
“You know who’s holding her?”
“We have some ideas, yes.”
“And you believe she’s being well treated?”
“Yes we do, Crocker.”
He felt overcome with emotion, as though he was going to cry. He bit down hard and said, “Please do everything you can to get her back safely.”
“We will, Crocker,” Remington said.
Ambassador Saltzman: “We’re doing all we can.”
He wanted to scream “All isn’t enough!” but used every ounce of his willpower to restrain himself.
“Okay,” he muttered, turning on his toes. He walked back to the Suburban feeling he was about to explode.
He dreamt he was underwater. The tank on his back had run out of oxygen, and he was trying to fight his way to the surface, but the hulls of several large ships blocked his access.
Holly whispered urgently in his ear, “Tom. Tom. Help me! I’m up here!”
His lungs burning, he tried to squeeze between two ships and got stuck.
“Tom! Tom, quick!”
Kicking, pushing, and squirming with all his might.
“Holly! Holly, I’m coming!”
He woke up in the guesthouse bedroom gasping for air, his entire body covered with sweat.
Akil lay gently snoring on a cot under an open window. The light was fading outside. In the distance he heard the call for evening prayers being blasted from loudspeakers.