Page 10 of Trapped With the Secret Agent

“Ever since the Soviet Union broke up, all those new little countries—Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and every-other-kind-of-stan—don’t have dick for money. Desperate times called for desperate ways to bring in cash, so, warheads occasionally go...missing.”

“Missing?”

“Yeah, as in‘oops we’ve misplaced another Kh-55SM cruise missile with a 200-kiloton nuclear warhead and our army is too underfunded to go looking for it’. So, we’d send them a couple hundred million in aid and faster than a magician conjuring a rabbit out of a hat, the missile is found. Of course, every time it happens, the price goes up.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I’m a journalist, remember? Sometimes the stories I cover are buried deep in dirt. As for why they would detonate one here, I’m thinking punishment and publicity.”

“Huh?”

“Setting off a warhead in a US embassy in a US–friendly country is a means of punishing governments friendly to the USA and encouraging other governments to be less friendly. To have its greatest impact the detonation has to take place with as much publicity as possible.”

“But the moment they announce they have a bomb won’t the US military try to stop them? They’d send in some commandoes or something. Wouldn’t they?”

“If there’s time, but I doubt they’ll give us that luxury. I think the terrorists are going to make this look like a standard run-of-the-mill embassy takeover and try to negotiate with the US government until the last moment. Then, when they have the whole world’s attention, they’ll announce that they have the bomb and detonate it before anyone can stop them.”

Silence.

Georgia took in an unsteady breath. “You’re telling me this is one giant suicide bomb?”

“Yeah. That’s what I think.”

Another long pause. Georgia’s shaking got worse. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

* * *

Awave of dizzinessswept over Georgia and nausea threatened to upset her normally unflappable stomach. She tried to bend over, knowing that if she didn’t get her head between her knees, she’d be out colder than a mackerel on ice.

Peter’s voice penetrated the buzzing in her ears. “Are you all right?”

What an idiotic question. Of course, she wasn’t all right. She was either going to pass out or throw up all over him.

“I’m dizzy,” she whispered, hardly recognizing her own voice it sounded so far away and weak.

“Sit down, before you fall down.”

“Where? There’s no room.”

“We’ll make room.”

She felt him shifting, lifting her to sit on the box right next to them and coaxing her to lean over his arm. She felt better immediately.

“Wow, not only do you know all about the shady world of nuclear warhead theft, but next you’ll be telling me that in addition to being a journalist, you moonlight as the Incredible Hulk. You can use all those muscles to punch your way out of here, right? Please?”

“You’re not dizzy. You’re drunk.” He pushed down on her back until her head was between her knees and against his thigh.

“Do you think they’ll be back for us soon?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know if I should pray for them to forget about us or not.”

“Not. We have to find out what they’re going to do and when.”

Georgia turned her head and squinted at him, but he was no more than a vague shadow. Close enough for their bodies to be in a loose embrace, but a shadow, nonetheless.

“How are we going to do that?”

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