Wednesday morning: Seattle Washington

Barnabas Quince stood at the bow of his chartered yacht.  He removed the wide-brimmed hat he was wearing and looked into the sky, allowing the sea breeze to jostle his hair. He looked out over the Puget Sound, marveling at its beauty and that of the magnificent Seattle skyline, less than two nautical miles away.

His cell rang—it was Henson.

“It’s showtime,” he said. “Have you heard from Singer?”

“I have.”

“Where is the FBI?”

Barnabas chuckled, “Spinning their wheels looking for an airplane hangar in South Seattle. They are clueless. The mission is a go. There is no turning back.”

“How did you manage that?” Henson asked.

“A long story.”

“How about Rainhorse?”

“Unaccounted for—still at large. I presume he is looking for me, too.”

“I thought you wanted to look Rainhorse in the eye when you killed him.”

“In a complicated plan, some things don’t turn out like you wish,” Barnabas said. “When Rainhorse broke free from the custody of the FBI, Singer could no longer track his whereabouts, but I know he’ll come for me.”

“And you are certain he will not complicate matters for us?”

“I am certain. Rainhorse fell for the airplane hangar theory, but even if he hadn’t I’ve taken other precautions.”

“True. You’re in route to the barge now?” Henson asked.

“I am.”

“Your men are on board?”

“They are, and armed to the hilt, though I don’t expect we will have to use them. Our Chinese friends just want their money and to get off the barge.”

“Shipping the weapon in on the barge and paying your customs man to quarantine it outside the city was a stroke of genius,” Henson said.  “The tsunami wreaked by the explosion will wipe out the entire city of Seattle.”

“And Tacoma and Ft. Lewis,” Barnabas added, “And far beyond.”

“And the man who court-martialed you will die.”

“As it should be.”

“And Rainhorse, too,” Henson continued. “You will have eliminated all your enemies on the anniversary of your court-martial. You are a genius.”

Barnabas smiled, “I have my moments. You have the helicopter standing by?”

“I do,” Henson said. “Once you set the wheels in motion, let me know. It will be at your position within fifteen minutes.”

“Excellent. You are in your position now?”

“Right on schedule.”

“Mr. Quince,” a man interjected from behind him. “We are two minutes from the barge.”

Barnabas nodded, “I have to go now.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

Barnabas ended the call and walked to the port side of the yacht as it pulled alongside the barge.  Captain Chang looked down on him from the deck of the large vessel.  Three rope ladders were in place ready for them.

Barnabas sent his men up the ladder first. He had dealt with Chang several times before and had never had a problem, but safety was always a concern. This was Chang’s biggest payday and for the first time in his life, Barnabas was happy to pay it.

Within five minutes Barnabas and his eight heavily armed men were standing on the deck of the barge staring at Chang and his armed six men.

“It is good to see you, old friend,” Barnabas said.

“You as well,” Chang replied.

Barnabas glanced at Chang’s men, “Since when have you been using American guards? I thought you didn’t trust them.”

“When in Rome do as the Italians do, right?” he said.

“It’s ‘do as the Romans do,’” Barnabas corrected.  “There has been no interference or inquiry from Customs and Border Protection or the Coast Guard?”

“None,” Chang replied. “Your man Max did his job well. It’s a shame you had to kill him.”

Barnabas smiled, “May he rest in peace. Take me to the package?”

“This way,” Chang said. “What do you say we both leave our men here? Guns and nuclear weapons don’t mix well.”

“Agreed,” Barnabas said, without hesitation. “You don’t mind if I have one of my men frisk you, first?”

“After all this time, you don’t trust me?”

“There’s a saying in America, ‘trust but verify.’”

A confused look formed on Chang’s face, “What the hell does that mean?”

Barnabas shook his head, “It means, raise your hands, please.”

Chang raised his hands and one of Barnabas’s men patted him down. He looked at Barnabas and gave him the thumbs-up sign.

“Sorry about that, old friend,” Barnabas said. “Lead the way.”

Chang led Barnabas down two flights of metal stairs and into a storage room, which was empty except for a large wooden crate. He estimated the crate to be about nine feet long, by five feet wide by four feet tall.

A broad smile formed on his face, “Open it.”

Chang pulled the lid off it. Barnabas’s heart raced as he looked inside. The two-stage nuclear fission-fusion weapon was enormous, everything he hoped for and more.

“Chinese built with the same payload of Tsar Bomba,” Chang said.

Tsar Bomba was the largest nuclear weapon ever actually discharged.  The Russians built and detonated it over Novaya Zemlya Island in the Russian Arctic Sea on October 30, 1961. Tsar Bomba released a yield of fifty megatons. For comparison, the total energy of all the bombs used during World War II, including two fission atomic bombs, was estimated at three megatons. The devastation wreaked by this weapon would be beyond catastrophic.

Barnabas reached in and ran his fingers across the titanium metal casing. He imagined the explosion incinerating the entire city of Seattle and the subsequent tidal wave washing away everything from Bellingham to Olympia. And it would all happen less than three hours from this moment.

He held out his hand to Chang, “The remote and the codes?”

“Not so fast,” he said. “The money transfer—trust but verify, remember?”

“Of course,” he said, raising his walkie talkie to his mouth. “Everything good up there?”

“Everyone’s calm,” came the reply. “Chang’s men are as peaceful as little kittens.”

“Good,” he said. He placed his walkie talkie back into his pocket and pulled his cell, accessing his off-shore bank.

Chang opened his own cell phone and watched the display.  Three minutes later Chang’s cell beeped and a broad smile appeared on the Chinese Captain’s face.

“That should be enough money to replace your barge and set you up for life anywhere in the world,” Barnabas said.

“I am pleased,” Chang beamed.

“We’re all set, then?” Barnabas promised.

“We are,” Chang replied.  He handed Barnabas an electronic remote and a leather-bound book containing the access codes necessary to detonate the device.

“What you have asked for will be very dangerous,” Chang said, “but you can preprogram the codes and use one button on the remote to detonate the weapon. Just be careful to not touch that button until you are absolutely certain.”

“I’ll be certain,” Barnabas said.

“Then I suggest you and your men get off this boat as soon as possible. In three hours, there is going to be a very large bang.”

“We have an exit strategy,” Chang replied.

Barnabas heard the gentle hum of distant helicopter blades.

“My ride is here,” he said. “My men will remain behind until you and your men are safely off the barge. Goodbye, old friend.”

Barnabas ascended the barge’s iron ladder and walked out onto the deck just as the helicopter landed. He nodded to his men and climbed onto the helicopter.

As the chopper lifted off, Barnabas called Henson.

“How did it go?” Henson asked.

“Smooth,” he replied, gentling brushing his fingers across the remote.

“I am happy for you,” Henson said. “I’ll see you soon.”