Mike said, “We need to call Zachery, right now, get a whole team on his trail.”
“I agree. But first I want to hear what Menard has to say so we can give Zachery all the information he needs.”
Mike said, “If a German national who was a technology leader in nano-biotech is making a play for polonium, this scares me to my boots. This U-boat, if he finds it—”
Menard answered on the first ring. “I was about to call you, Nicholas. I have a name for you, someone I think will be of interest.”
“Is it Manfred Havelock?”
“I see I wasted my time since you found this person on your own?”
“No, Pierre, you’ve verified it for us. It’s a long story, but we cracked an encrypted laptop full of files, and there was a warning about Havelock trying to buy up Russian polonium stores.”
“What? Polonium? This I do not know about. Mon dieu. This is frightening news. Havelock, il est très fou—crazy in the head, you know what I mean? He is quite intelligent, but there are whispers, and more, about his personal choices. He is known to be unpredictable. He is a scientist, and owns a company that makes brain implants for amputees and such. I believe he would be the most logical choice behind the implant you saw today. But this—polonium?”
Mike asked, “Pierre, what rules did Havelock break to get on Interpol’s radar?”
“He has been moving small water-fission equipment around Europe. He bought a load of equipment from CERN—the European Organization for Nuclear Research—in Geneva last year. Little pieces, here and there. We always watch what sort of machinery moves through Europe when they come out of the nuclear fission laboratories. On the surface, it was not of concern—Havelock is a scientist, as I said, a visionary, with many irons in the fire. It wasn’t unusual for him to be gathering this type of material. But if you combine this machinery with black-market purchase of polonium-two-ten—” He drew a deep breath. “This is frightening indeed.”
Nicholas said, “Is he trying to build his own nuke, only in a nanotech environment? A mini-nuke of some sort?”
“I hope not, but I am afraid that is very possible. There have been advances made in nanotechnology weapons, certainly. North Korea, Iran, Russia—even Cuba has opened a nanotechnology university, and is studying the possibilities. The Americans have perfected their pinpoint laser technology, and I am sure they are quietly trying to develop miniaturized nuclear weapons. But I was not aware this technology had advanced past the theoretical. Even the smallest crop of suitcase dirty bombs are still fifty pounds. Imagine a miniaturized nuclear weapon the size of what? A wallet? Smaller, even?”
“So we could be dealing not with a mini-nuke, but a micro-nuke, one that’s virtually undetectable to our current safeguards.”
“Exactement. I must go, Nicholas. I will initiate an urgent investigation into Havelock immediately. The most recent information we have on him shows he lives in Berlin. I will start there.”
“What do you plan to do, Pierre?”
“Park a satellite above his home and listen in to his conversations. If he is importing polonium, we must find out what he plans to use it for. I will keep you informed of what we find. Thank you for alerting me.”
Mike said, “Pierre, this is a really sensitive situation. There’s a lot more going on here than the polonium. Be careful, don’t let Havelock know you’re onto him. Be very careful.”
The Frenchman laughed, a hard, empty laugh. “Naturellement. You as well. À bientôt.”
When the phone clicked off, Mike said, “Zachery. Now.”
“Yes, we need to warn him.”
Zachery sounded half asleep when he answered.
“Yes? Mike, what is it? You two didn’t get shot up again, did you?” They could practically hear him snap to.
“No, sir. I have news about the Pearce murder.” Mike told him about Menard, and Havelock, and the files, the polonium-210, and the frightening possibility of a miniaturized nuclear weapon. He was quiet for a minute, then, “I’ll take it from here, Mike. I need to talk to the director. Good work.”
“Sir, it’s Drummond here.”
“Talk to me.”
“There appear to be a group of fifteen men in Pearce’s files who are conversing regularly, much of it in code. They are all high-level government people, or financiers, from all over the world. I think Pearce was a member of a secret organization. There’s something big going on, and if one of their members has stolen spy satellite specs on his computer, and another’s son is trying to buy up polonium, we could be looking at a massive international problem. I respectfully request to come back on board, officially.”
“Nicholas, I can’t do that, not officially, at least. After the inquiry tomorrow, you’ll be reinstated.” There was a pause. “Do I want to know how you’ve come across this information?”
“No, sir.”
“Probably from the same place Gray Wharton got what he gave me. I’ll need a full report in an hour.”
“Yes, sir.”