The Hamlet Warning (12 page)

“I’ll sure say one thing for you, Loomis,” Johnson said. “You’ve really got one hell of a devious mind.” He started toward the phone, but hesitated. “Does the patient necessarily have to be a terminal case? Wouldn’t a tolerably sick one work just as well?”

Loomis shook his head sadly. “Johnson, you’ve just got no class. That’s the key to the whole thing. The doctor is happy to get the dying man off his hands. After the damned drug doesn’t work, all we have to do is bury the patient and send the doctor a letter saying that was tough titty about his patient, but he has made a tremendous contribution to medical science.”

“I see,” Johnson said. “No loose ends dangling.”

Loomis nodded. “You’re learning,” he said.

Chapter 13

Minus
7
Days
,
03
:
16
Hours

Loomis opened the meeting two hours later in a hastily prepared suite at the Jaragua. The site was a compromise. Loomis wanted to get away from the
palacio
and the routine traffic of government. Obviously, the Embajador was out. The press immediately would grow suspicious of the activity. And Loomis didn’t want to meet in the United States Embassy, for he knew that would be the first step toward losing control of the whole operation.

The suite was stripped of all furnishings except tables and chairs. All pictures, vases, and ornaments were removed in the interest of electronic sanitation. A plain green felt cloth covered the big table in the largest room. Ordinary saucers served as ashtrays. When the suite was ready, Loomis had his staff make one final electronic search. They found no indication that the suite was not clean.

The entire wing of the hotel was then sealed. Loomis placed well-tailored, well-armed men at strategic points. Any remaining tourists — or newspapermen — who happened to be strolling down the corridors would see nothing to arouse curiosity. To all outward appearances, the guards could be native businessmen waiting for their wives or local executives quietly conferring on some matter. But if a tourist or newspaperman happened to make a wrong turn, attempted to enter a wrong room, he would be guided politely but firmly in the right direction.

Communications to the suite were jerry-rigged, but sufficient. Three lines were patched into the switchboard at the embassy to maintain continuous contact with key offices in Washington and Europe.

At 9:45 the first of the group arrived. By ten all were present, seated solemnly at the long table. Of the entire group, only Loomis and Johnson — and perhaps Johnson’s two men — knew the purpose of the meeting. Only Loomis’s use of El Jefe’s name had convinced most of the Dominicans to attend on such short notice.

Facing them, Loomis experienced a strong sense of
déjà
vu
. He’d been through this so many times — the planning before committing the troops.

He studied the faces of the men around the table.

Most seemed more irritated than curious. Loomis knew he would encounter varying degrees of hostility among them. That was natural. He wasn’t worried about it. But he
was
concerned that the hostility might stand in the way, that they might not accept his word on the urgency of the problem. The Dominican Republic had been so totally immersed in its own affairs for so many years, and the Dominicans had faced so many crises, that such an abstract, faceless danger would be difficult for them to accept.

Loomis rose. He opened in English, aware that all in the room spoke the language well enough to follow his meaning. “Most of you know me. Some don’t. I’m Loomis, chief of security to El Jefe. I’ll introduce you quickly, for we have little time to get acquainted. To my right is Colonel Escortia, who is here representing the army in the Distrito Nacional.” 

He continued on around the table. Johnson and his two agency men. Dr. Ricardo Espinosa, chairman of the physics department at the university, who, Loomis had been surprised to learn, was one of the leading scientists in the world in his specialty of molecular structure. Admiral Manuel Marquez of the Dominican Navy, who had weathered a number of rough political seas to keep his post. Navy Captain Luis Martínez, superintendent of Santo Domingo’s dock facilities. Juan Camacho, in essence director of Dominican foreign affairs. Dr. Francisco Limantour of the medical systems at the university. José Galíndez, chief of the Policía Nacional.

With the introductions completed, Loomis paused. He lowered his voice to a confidential tone. “Last night, Mr. Johnson, representing the United States Government, informed the Dominican Republic of a critical situation. I spent the night discussing the matter with El Jefe and his advisers. He has assigned me to bring the matter to your attention.”

As he talked, Loomis made eye contact with each of the Dominican leaders, attempting to break through their antagonism, their natural resentment that he, a foreigner, had been selected to become the confidant of El Jefe, to convey orders to the country’s administrators.

“Before I go into the matter, let me make plain the structure of this meeting,” he said. “I am acting for El Jefe. He has made me responsible for the decisions, subject, of course, to his approval. You have been asked by El Jefe to be my advisers. Your counsel and expertise are urgently needed. The next two or three days will probably be the most memorable in your lives. I hope they are not the last days of your lives.”

Loomis gave the words time to take effect. The faces around the table were now a study in contrast.

He saw anger, curiosity, amusement, contempt, and surprise.

But he had reached them. 

“Everything you are about to hear is in the utmost confidence,” he said. “Nothing revealed here is to leave this room. If you must divulge anything to an assistant, or if I feel I must, to my staff, we will all make the evaluation to do so.”

Loomis glanced at his watch. “I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. Less than forty-eight hours from now, a Liberian tanker is scheduled to arrive in Santo Domingo. She is scheduled to tie up alongside the docks in La Francia to off-load crude and some container cargo. The United States Government has information — has evidence — that a party or parties unknown have placed aboard that ship nuclear materials sufficient to construct a homemade but effective bomb well into the kiloton range. The United States believes that device will be detonated in Santo Domingo, probably within a week of the arrival of the material, unless we make a successful interception.”

Loomis waited patiently through the exclamations from around the table, then raised his hands for silence.

“I know this is a lot to absorb on such short notice. But we all have a lot of work to do. I hope you’ll keep this thought foremost in your minds: this is but one of two bombs to be constructed by this group. It’ll be set off without preamble, not as an attack on the Dominican Republic, but as an example to lend weight to an extortion attempt against the United States. We are not in a bargaining position, even if we knew who they are. We’ve
got
to find that bomb.”

He called on Johnson to fill the group in on the details. While Johnson talked, Loomis jotted down ideas on a legal pad, outlining the plan he’d mapped out with El Jefe.

Johnson described events leading up to the loading at the mouth of the Tagus, the aerial surveillance, and the various theories as to who might be behind the plot.

Colonel Escortia kept shaking his head in amazement, and Loomis made a mental note. Escortia, a man of action, might become a problem in a game of watch and wait. Dr. Espinosa, the molecular authority, was staring at the table, lost in thought. Of all the group, he alone had shown no surprise. The others listened to Johnson in stunned silence.

“We have no knowledge of what this Hamlet Group wants,” Johnson concluded. “But obviously, the United States and the Dominican Republic are in this together. My government offers every facility for your use in our mutual problem.”

He sat down, unbuttoned his collar, and loosened his tie. Loomis leaned back and braced his boots on the rungs of an empty chair. “Any questions so far?” he asked.

Dr. Espinosa looked up from his preoccupation with the table top. “Uranium or plutonium?” he asked.

“Our information is that uranium will be used for the Santo Domingo device,” Johnson told him. “Our man who managed to infiltrate the Hamlet Group learned, before he was killed, that the group also possesses plutonium. Their bomb maker chose uranium.”

“A mixed blessing,” Dr. Espinosa said. “And an understandable decision on his part. It perhaps would be less deadly in yield, but it would be much easier to construct and more certain, mechanically, to perform.”

“Why are you so certain Ramón isn’t connected with this?” Colonel Escortia asked.

“Primarily, because this is out of his league,” Loomis said. “We can’t be positive he doesn’t know about it. But for the moment I think we can assume he doesn’t. On the advice of El Jefe, I have leaked word to the press that the government would be receptive to dialogue with Ramón. We may need his cooperation on this. Obviously, his revolution will complicate matters. We may have to ask him for a cease-fire.” 

Sharp glances told Loomis that the possibility didn’t sit well with the Dominican leaders.

But no one protested.

Galíndez of the Policía Nacional fixed his sleepy, heavily lidded stare on Johnson. “I have been to Langley for training by your agency,” he said. “I know of your computer, Octopus. I was told it contains names, descriptions, and
modi
operandi
of thousands of criminals and political terrorists. Can’t Octopus help us on this?”

“We will call on Octopus,” Johnson said. “But a computer is only as useful as the information you can put into it. With this case, we have so few data. Perhaps, with developments, Octopus will be of some use.”

Loomis waited patiently while Johnson handled the questions, giving them time to grasp the problem, allowing them a few minutes to consider the possibilities. He still sensed their resentment toward him but, as yet, resistance was unformed. He brought the questioning to a close.

“We’ve got a lot to do in the next twenty-four hours,” he told them. “Each of you has a room or suite on this floor. You can set up shop here, have your staffs and assistants bring in whatever you need. For the most part, we can allow your staffs and the press to assume our work is connected in some way with the revolution. I see no reason to tell anyone otherwise, except on a need-to-know basis. Obviously, secrecy is mandatory. If this Hamlet organization learns we’re onto them, they’ll probably put another plan into operation.”

“What about our families?” Dr. Limantour asked.

“Presumably, we
will
find the material,” Loomis told him. “If we don’t — if it comes to that — we’ll map out some plan of evacuation. But at this point, it hasn’t been discussed.”

“What right, under international law, do we have to seize the ship?” Captain Martínez asked.

“None,” Loomis said. “So we’ve taken the trouble to manufacture a reason.” He turned to Dr. Limantour. “Have you ever treated a case of bubonic plague?”

Dr. Limantour smiled slightly. “No. And if that was a polite way of asking how much I know about it, I’ll answer that question, too. I know about as much as you could expect of any outstanding chief of diagnostic studies — just the bare basics.”

“We’re planting a case of bubonic plague in a Lisbon hospital,” Loomis explained. “Naturally, the patient will have had extensive contact with someone aboard the tanker. We’ll quarantine the ship for a thorough medical study of the crew, fumigation of the holds for carrier rats, whatever we’re allowed to do under international law. This will, of course, give us the opportunity to conduct a thorough search of the ship. I hope that you, and Captain Martínez, will explore the medical and legal aspects and determine our limitations.”

The two men nodded agreement. Loomis turned to the foreign affairs director.

“Señor Camacho, seizure of a ship naturally involves our foreign politics to some extent. El Jefe would like for you to monitor — and of course to participate in — our discussions and to offer your opinions on any potential hazards you might foresee.”

“With a clear-cut case of a communicable disease, I do not believe there will be complications,” Camacho said.

Loomis went to the next item on his list.

“Dr. Espinosa, I’ve been advised by the U.S. Government that the materials aboard the tanker probably will be hidden in oil drums identical to thousands of others on board. They say we probably wouldn’t be able to find it by radiation. Do you agree?”

Dr. Espinosa toyed with his pen a moment before answering. “Not necessarily,” he said. “The United States has achieved considerable sophistication in this field. Their shipping methods have been evolved over a long period, utilizing much experience. If this is a homemade container, the techniques are perhaps far less accomplished. I would presume that there might be a fair chance of a measurable degree of radiation — enough to merit the effort. But we will need equipment more precise than any we possess in the Dominican Republic.”

“All right,” Loomis said. “Give Johnson a list of everything you need. It will be flown in on orders from Washington. Also, perhaps you can confer by phone with Mr. Johnson’s experts, and advise us on what we’ll be hunting.”

Loomis went rapidly to the next item. “Admiral, the United States has the tanker under aerial surveillance. Its position now is two hundred miles or so northeast of the entrance to the Mona Passage, moving at fifteen knots. How soon can we put the ship under surface surveillance?”

The admiral figured briefly on a scratch pad. “The
Duarte
is in harbor,” he said. “She could put to sea within the hour. At thirty-three knots — that would be forty-eight knots closing — she would be able to make rendezvous about daylight tomorrow morning.”

“Good. It would be best if the
Duarte
approached the tanker from the west, as if entering the passage from another direction. It would then be natural for the
Duarte
to fall in astern and follow the tanker on into Santo Domingo.”