Fatal Thunder: A Jerry Mitchell Novel Read Online Free Page B

Afghanistan, and then northern Pakistan, into Kashmir, where one of the six weapons had been discovered to be missing. Churkin had been forced to make sure the rest of the shipment was safe before leaving in pursuit of the thieves, but they had vanished into the landscape. By the time he’d found their trail, he was days behind and too late.
    Kirichenko decided it was a good thing he hadn’t been any closer to his goal. Churkin and Kirichenko were not fast friends, but they were kindred souls working for a common purpose—massive financial reward. His loss would have been inconvenient, at least. Kirichenko privately wondered what Churkin’s plan would have been if he’d reached the LeT camp with the warhead inside.
    “So why did Jawad steal one of my nuclear warheads? Did this fool Faysal think he could build his own initiator?” Kirichenko asked, almost laughing.
    “No, but Faysal knew that Lashkar-e-Taiba had someone who might be able to—someone from the Khan network,” Churkin reported in a dark tone.
    “Oh.” Kirichenko understood the implications instantly. A brilliant Pakistani scientist named A. Q. Khan had first helped build Pakistan’s weapon, and then created a nuclear underground network that had provided technology to Iran, Libya, and North Korea—at least. While he’d been under house arrest for a while in Pakistan, he had been freed in 2008. His network had never been dismantled.
    Churkin reported, “Those two thieves walked into that Lashkar-e-Taiba camp and were paid ten times the amount for one warhead that you gave Al Badr to transport all six. Jawad was doing his best to drink his way through his half of the money.”
    “Did he tell anyone else where they had obtained the warhead?” Loss of one of the six weapons was bad enough, but if the shipment had been compromised …
    “Jawad said they didn’t speak to anyone else on the way, not with what they were carrying. It took them some time to reach the LeT camp after they stole the weapon, and if Jawad was telling the truth, they reached it about the same time that the rest of our shipment crossed into Indian territory. Anyone Faysal talked to is now in hell along with him. I’ve also just confirmed the remaining five have reached the coast.”
    “And Jawad?” Kirichenko asked.
    “Will not talk,” Churkin replied. “I solved his drinking problem.” Kirichenko could almost hear Churkin smiling.
    “Then there’s nothing else to be done there. You should get into India as quickly as possible.”
    “Understood,” Churkin replied. “I’ll contact you again when I’m across the border.”
    12 March 2017
    0820 Local Time
    Director General Naval Projects, Ship Building Centre
    Visakhapatnam, India
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    Samant looked up from the keyboard when he heard the knock. His office door was open, and Maahir Jain, Samant’s former first officer and now commander of INS Chakra , was standing in the doorway like a child waiting for a parent to notice him.
    He couldn’t hide his surprise—it was Sunday and he certainly didn’t expect anyone to drop by his office—but he also suddenly felt great pleasure at seeing his old executive officer, and he let that show as well.
    Samant almost leapt up from behind his desk, coming around to offer his hand. “ Captain Jain. It’s good to see you! Would you like some tea?” Samant pointed toward the teapot and cups but Jain waved him off.
    “I cannot stay long,” he explained apologetically. “I have an appointment with Vice Admiral Dhankhar at nine.” After a moment’s hesitation, he continued, “But I wanted to come by and see how you were faring in your new assignment. The men are asking after you, as well.”
    I’ll bet they are, Samant thought. He’d used a “firm, but fair” command style, emphasizing discipline and professional knowledge. He’d driven Chakra ’s crew hard, and they’d performed, but they always called him “Captain,” never “Skipper.” It hadn’t bothered