TableofContentsTitlePageCopyrightPageAcknowledgements

ONE-TheCelebesSeaTuesday,4:19A.M.TWO-Washington,D.C.

Monday,7:45P.M.THREE-TheCelebesSea

Tuesday,4:34A.M.FOUR-Sydney,Australia

Thursday,8:30A.M.

FIVE-Darwin,AustraliaThursday,8:42A.M.SIX-Washington,D.C.

Wednesday,7:33P.M.SEVEN-Sydney,

AustraliaThursday,10:01A.M.EIGHT-TheCelebesSea

Thursday,12:12P.M.NINE-TheCelebesSea

Thursday,12:33P.M.TEN-Darwin,Australia

Thursday,12:05P.M.ELEVEN-Darwin,

AustraliaThursday,12:17P.M.TWELVE-TheCelebes

SeaThursday,1:08P.M.THIRTEEN-Washington,

D.C.Thursday,11:09P.M.FOURTEEN-Darwin,

AustraliaFriday,12:47P.M.FIFTEEN-Darwin,

AustraliaFriday,12:59P.M.SIXTEEN-Washington,

D.C.Thursday,11:55P.M.SEVENTEEN-Cairns,

AustraliaFriday,7:00P.M.

EIGHTEEN-TheCelebesSeaFriday,7:33P.M.NINETEEN-Overthe

PacificOceanFriday,2:57A.M.TWENTY-Cairns,

AustraliaFriday,7:58P.M.TWENTY-ONE-The

CelebesSeaFriday,9:44P.M.TWENTY-TWO-Cairns,

AustraliaFriday,9:45P.M.TWENTY-THREE-

Washington,D.C.Friday,

7:17A.M.TWENTY-FOUR-The

CelebesSeaFriday,10:33P.M.TWENTY-FIVE-Tokyo,

JapanFriday,9:34P.M.TWENTY-SIX-

Washington,D.C.Friday,8:57A.M.TWENTY-SEVEN-The

CelebesSeaFriday,11:09P.M.TWENTY-EIGHT-Over

thePacificOceanSaturday,

2:22A.M.TWENTY-NINE-The

CelebesSeaSaturday,12:04A.M.THIRTY-Washington,

D.C.Friday,10:07A.M.THIRTY-ONE-The

CelebesSeaSaturday,12:36A.M.THIRTY-TWO-The

CelebesSeaSaturday,1:00A.M.THIRTY-THREE-The

CelebesSeaSaturday,1:01

A.M.THIRTY-FOUR-

Washington,D.C.Friday,12:31P.M.THIRTY-FIVE-The

CelebesSeaSaturday,2:02A.M.THIRTY-SIX-TheSouth

PacificSaturday,7:44A.M.THIRTY-SEVEN-

Washington,D.C.Friday,7:44P.M.THIRTY-EIGHT-Cairns,

AustraliaSaturday,9:45

A.M.THIRTY-NINE-Darwin,

AustraliaSaturday,12:08P.M.FORTY-Darwin,

AustraliaSaturday,12:31P.M.FORTY-ONE-

Washington,D.C.Saturday,12:23A.M.FORTY-TWO-Cairns,

AustraliaSaturday,5:57P.M.FORTY-THREE-Cairns,

AustraliaSaturday,6:22P.M.

FORTY-FOUR-Washington,D.C.Saturday,7:31A.M.FORTY-FIVE-TheGreat

BarrierReefSaturday,10:03P.M.FORTY-SIX-Cairns,

AustraliaSaturday,10:04P.M.FORTY-SEVEN-

Washington,D.C.Saturday,8:47A.M.FORTY-EIGHT-Cairns,

AustraliaSaturday,10:49

P.M.FORTY-NINE-Cairns,

AustraliaSaturday,11:12P.M.FIFTY-Cairns,Australia

Saturday,11:27P.M.FIFTY-ONE-Cairns,

AustraliaSunday,12:00A.M.FIFTY-TWO-

Washington,D.C.Saturday,11:00A.M.FIFTY-THREE-The

CoralSeaSunday,1:21A.M.FIFTY-FOUR-Cairns,

AustraliaSunday,1:42A.M.FIFTY-FIVE-TheCoral

SeaSunday,1:55A.M.FIFTY-SIX-TheGreat

BarrierReefSunday,2:09A.M.FIFTY-SEVEN-The

CoralSeaSunday,2:09A.M.FIFTY-EIGHT-

Washington,D.C.Saturday,12:38P.M.FIFTY-NINE-TheCoral

SeaSunday,2:39A.M.SIXTY-OspreyReef

Sunday,2:46A.M.SIXTY-ONE-

Washington,D.C.Saturday,1:00P.M.SIXTY-TWO-TheCoral

SeaSunday,3:01A.M.SIXTY-THREE-The

CoralSeaSunday,3:08A.M.SIXTY-FOUR-

Washington,D.C.Saturday,1:24P.M.SIXTY-FIVE-TheCoral

SeaSunday,3:33A.M.SIXTY-SIX-Cairns,

AustraliaSunday,3:56A.M.SIXTY-SEVEN-The

CoralSeaSunday,4:01A.M.SIXTY-EIGHT-Cairns,

AustraliaSunday,4:45A.M.SIXTY-NINE-Cairns,

AustraliaSunday,4:59A.M.SEVENTY-Washington,

D.C.Saturday,3:06P.M.SEVENTY-ONE-Cairns,

AustraliaSunday,5:07A.M.SEVENTY-TWO-Cairns,

AustraliaSunday,5:16A.M.SEVENTY-THREE-

Cairns,AustraliaSunday,5:24A.M.SEVENTY-FOUR-

Cairns,AustraliaSunday,5:30A.M.SEVENTY-FIVE-Cairns,

AustraliaSunday,5:38A.M.SEVENTY-SIX-

Washington,D.C.Saturday,4:00P.M.SEVENTY-SEVEN-

Cairns,AustraliaSunday,7:10A.M.SEVENTY-EIGHT-

Darwin,AustraliaSunday,7:13A.M.SEVENTY-NINE-The

CoralSeaSunday,7:45A.M.EIGHTY-Darwin,

AustraliaSunday,7:46A.M.EIGHTY-ONE-

Washington,D.C.Saturday,6:29P.M.

OthertitlesbyStevePieczenik

THEBESTSELLINGNOVELSOFTomClancy

REDRABBITTomClancyreturnstoJack

Ryan’s early days—in anextraordinary novel of globalpoliticaldrama...

“AN OLD-FASHIONEDCOLDWARTHRILLER.”

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THEBEARANDTHEDRAGON

President Jack Ryan facesa world crisis unlike any hehaseverknown...

“INTOXICATING . . . AJUGGERNAUT.”—Publishers Weekly

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RAINBOWSIXClancy’s shocking storyof

international terrorism—closer to reality than anygovernment would care toadmit...

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JackRyanhasalwaysbeenasoldier.Nowhe’sgivingtheorders...

“AN ENORMOUS,ACTION-PACKED, HEAT-SEEKING MISSILE OF ATOMCLANCYNOVEL.”—TheSeattleTimes

DEBTOFHONORIt begins with the murder

ofanAmericanwomaninthe

backstreetsofTokyo.Itendsinwar...

“A SHOCKER!” —EntertainmentWeekly

THEHUNTFORREDOCTOBER

The smash bestseller thatlaunched Clancy’s career—the incredible search for aSoviet defector and thenuclear submarine he

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REDSTORMRISINGThe ultimate scenario for

World War III—the finalbattleforglobalcontrol...

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PATRIOTGAMESCIA analyst Jack Ryan

stops an assassination—andincurs the wrath of Irishterrorists...

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The superpowers race fortheultimateStarWarsmissiledefensesystem...

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CLEARANDPRESENTDANGER

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THESUMOFALLFEARS

The disappearance of an

Israeli nuclear weaponthreatens the balance ofpower in the Middle East—andaroundtheworld...

“CLANCYATHISBEST...NOTTOBEMISSED!”—The Dallas Morning

News

WITHOUTREMORSEHis code name is Mr.

Clark. And his work for the

CIAisbrilliant,cold-blooded,and efficient . . . but who ishereally?

“HIGHLYENTERTAINING!”—TheWallStreetJournal

NOVELSBYTOMCLANCYTheHuntforRedOctoberRedStormRisingPatriotGames

TheCardinaloftheKremlinClearandPresentDangerTheSumofAllFearsWithoutRemorseDebtofHonorExecutiveOrdersRainbowSix

TheBearandtheDragon

RedRabbitTheTeethoftheTiger

SSN:StrategiesofSubmarineWarfare

NONFICTIONSubmarine:AGuidedTourInsideaNuclearWarship

ArmoredCav:AGuidedTourofanArmoredCavalry

RegimentFighterWing:AGuidedTourofanAirForceCombatWing

Marine:AGuidedTourofaMarineExpeditionaryUnitAirborne:AGuidedTourofanAirborneTaskForce

Carrier:AGuidedTourofanAircraftCarrier

SpecialForces:AGuidedTourofU.S.ArmySpecial

Forces

IntotheStorm:AStudyinCommand

(writtenwithGeneralFredFranks,Jr.,Ret.,andTony

Koltz)EveryManaTiger

(writtenwithGeneralCharlesHorner,Ret.,andTonyKoltz)ShadowWarriors:Insidethe

SpecialForces(writtenwithGeneralCarl

Stiner,Ret.,andTonyKoltz)BattleReady

(writtenwithGeneralTonyZinni,Ret.,andTonyKoltz)

CREATEDBYTOMCLANCY

TomClancy’sSplinterCellTomClancy’sSplinterCell:OperationBarracuda

TomClancy’sSplinterCell:Checkmate

TomClancy’sSplinterCell:Fallout

CREATEDBYTOMCLANCYANDSTEVE

PIECZENIKTomClancy’sOp-CenterTomClancy’sOp-Center:

MirrorImage

TomClancy’sOp-Center:GamesofState

TomClancy’sOp-Center:ActsofWar

TomClancy’sOp-Center:BalanceofPower

TomClancy’sOp-Center:StateofSiege

TomClancy’sOp-Center:DivideandConquer

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TomClancy’sOp-Center:MissionofHonor

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TomClancy’sOp-Center:CalltoTreason

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TomClancy’sNetForceTomClancy’sNetForce:

HiddenAgendasTomClancy’sNetForce:

NightMovesTomClancy’sNetForce:

BreakingPoint

TomClancy’sNetForce:PointofImpact

TomClancy’sNetForce:CyberNation

TomClancy’sNetForce:StateofWar

TomClancy’sNetForce:ChangingoftheGuardTomClancy’sNetForce:

SpringboardTomClancy’sNetForce:The

ArchimedesEffect

CREATEDBYTOM

CLANCYANDMARTINGREENBERG

TomClancy’sPowerPlays:Politika

TomClancy’sPowerPlays:ruthless.com

TomClancy’sPowerPlays:ShadowWatch

TomClancy’sPowerPlays:Bio-Strike

TomClancy’sPowerPlays:ColdWar

TomClancy’sPowerPlays:CuttingEdge

TomClancy’sPowerPlays:ZeroHour

TomClancy’sPowerPlays:WildCard

Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseither

aretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,

livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesis

entirelycoincidental.

TOMCLANCY’SOP-CENTER:SEAOFFIRE

ABerkleyBook/publishedbyarrangementwith

JackRyanLimitedPartnershipandS&RLiterary,Inc.

PRINTINGHISTORYBerkleyedition/July2003

Copyright©2003byJackRyanLimitedPartnershipand

Allrightsreserved.Thisbook,orpartsthereof,maynotbe

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http://us.penguingroup.com

AcknowledgmentsWe would like to

acknowledge the valuableassistance of Martin H.Greenberg; Larry Segriff;Denise Little; John Helfers;Brittiany Koren; LowellBowen, Esq.; RobertYoudelman, Esq.; DanielleForte,Esq.;DianneJude;andTom Colgan, our editor. Butmost important, it is foryou,ourreaders,todeterminehow

successful our collectiveendeavorhasbeen.—Tom Clancy and Steve

Pieczenik

ONETheCelebesSea

Tuesday,4:19A.M.There were three things

that swarthy, dark-eyedSingaporean Lee Tong knewverywell.One of those was the sea.

The lanky but muscular LeewasthesonofthelateHenryTong,ahardworkingmateona timber carrier. The elderTong’s vessel, the 100-ton

capacity Lord of the Ocean,was a container ship. It tookregular runs of hardwoodcargofromtheirhomeportinSingapore to India. On thereturntripitwouldcarryteaklogs that had been shippedfrom the Ivory Coast toBombay. These were boundfor Hong Kong and Tokyo.Lee’s mother had died offoodpoisoningwhen theboywas five. Rather than livewith his grandparents in

Keluang, on their inlandfarm,Leeoften traveledwithhis father. By the time Leewas thirteen,hewasworkingfull time as a cabin boy forthefirstmate.Traveling the timber route,

Lee learned the differentmoods of the waters. Theclean smell of the AndamanSea was different than thetart,oilysmellalongthecoastof the South China Sea. ThecurrentsoftheEastChinaSea

causedasharperrockingthanthe heavier, lofting swells inthePacificOcean.Thestormswere different, too. Somewere sudden and ferocious.Others came from afar withenoughwarningthatthepilotcould steeraround them.Leealso learned about men ontheseodysseys.Whatpleasedthem, what bothered them,what bothered them enoughto kill. He learned thatmoney, undemanding

women, cigarettes, drink andthecamaraderieofdrink,andtheloyaltyoffriendsweretheonly things that reallymattered tohim.By the timethe elder Tong died of liverfailure, Lee had onlymanaged to get a lot ofsmoking and drinking done.He would never get muchmoreaslongasheworkedonthe Lord of the Ocean or avessel like her, which waswhy Lee Tong took up the

nextprofessionhedid.When Lee was sixteen,

several years into his owncareer on the timber ship, hemet two other young sailorswho did not want to end uplike their own fathers. Whowere unhappy working forthree dollars a day, sevendays a week. Eventually, inport,theysatdownwithotherdissatisfied young men fromother professions. That ledLee to the second thing he

knewverywell.Piracy.Lee was standing in the

steep raised prow of thesampan. The vessel was notofSingaporeandesign.Itwasa squat Shanghai Harbormodel, also known as amu-chi or hen boat. The namewas a result of the sampan’sresemblancetothebird.Builtmostly of softwood, whichagedwell andwasextremelylight,themu-chiwaseighteen

feet long with fourcompartments, including agalley. There was an enginefor rapid travel and fouryulohs—thirteen-foot-longoars—for silent travel. Thatwas how the five sampanpirates were traveling now,withLee’screwmatesrowingtwomen to a side.They hadbought the sampan in China,legally, just over two yearsbefore. They had paid for itwith cash, most of it

borrowed from Lee’sgrandparents. The loan wasrepaid within a year. Buyingthe sampan was the lastlawfulactthemenhaddone.Early in their career the

men learned how to minglewith harbor traffic to selecttheirprey,howtotrackthemuntil dark, and how to comealongsideswiftlyandquietly.They learned how to prowlthe shipping lanes with theirbacks to the setting sun so

that they would not be seen.Former police sergeant KohYu kept both a 500-channelscanner and a world bandreceiver on board tomonitorrestricted police and militarycommunications. He hadstolen them before resigningfrom the Special OperationsCommand of the SingaporePolice Force. After samplingall kinds of ships, theyfocusedonyachtsandfishingcharters.Thetakewasusually

good, and resistance waslimited to indignant words.Since most of those wordswere English, Lee didn’tunderstand what was beingsaid. Among them, only theunflappable Koh spokeEnglish. And Koh did notcare what was being said.Noneofthemenfeltremorseabout the work they did. Onland,thelargetookadvantageofthesmall.Thefathadtheirwaywiththelean.Atsea,the

sharksatethetuna.LeeTonghadtriedbothlives.Hepreferredbeingashark.They began by waylaying

small pleasure boats, tourships,andpartyvesselsoutofHong Kong and Taipei. Themen didn’t even have toboard the ships to rob them.They came alongside andpressedplasticexplosiveslowon the hull. The soft,explosive patties werehomemade from concussion-

ignited mercuric fulminate—a mixture of mercury,alcohol, and nitric acid—paraffin, and linseed oil tokeepthewaxpliant.Thatwasa contribution of eight-fingered Clark Shunga, aformer demolitions man forthe lumber industry. Treesthat were too difficult to cutdown were blasted down.Whenhelosttwofingerstoafaulty detonator cap, he wasfired with meager

compensation. The Woo SeeLumberCompanywas afraidthathewouldkillsomeonebymishandling explosives. Heshowed them that he couldstill play the guitar, but theywere unimpressed. Clark putall of his severance pay—fifty dollars—toward thesampan.Thepirateswouldcarefully

place the plastic explosivesforeandaft,afewfeetabovethe waterline. That would

keep themdry. Itwould alsomakeitdifficultforanyonetotry to dislodge them with apoleornet.Theywouldhavetostandthere,ontherockingdeck,whilethepiratesshotatthem. After the explosiveswere placed, the sampanwould withdraw to a safedistance of between fifteenand twenty feet. Using amegaphone,theywouldorderthat valuables, jewels, andoccasionallyafemalehostage

be sent over the side in arowboat or dinghy. Theywould enjoy the woman’scompany for a short whileand then sether adrift. If theorders were not followed,they would turn on the lasersight and fire a bullet fromone of the M8 pistols thateach man carried. The shotwould ignite the explosive.Todate,thepirateshadneverfound it necessary to destroyaship.

The Celebes Sea was stillrelativelynewterritorytoLeeandtheothers.Theyhadbeensailing this region of theWestern Pacific for just twomonths, since the Singaporenavy increased its patrols inthe South China Sea. Theshippinglanesweredifferent,and the sea itself wasdifferent. The waters did notheave up and down or fromside to side like other bodiesof water. They pitched you

back and then drew youforward, thanks to a verystrongandconstantundertow.ItremindedLeeofsomethinghisfatheroncesaidaboutlife:thatitletsyoumoveonestepahead and then knocks youbacktwo.The sampan was traveling

dark. The cabin lights wereoff, and even thephosphorescent compass wascovered with a canvas cloth,so that it would not be seen

when they came alongside.They were headed towardtwo beacons roughly aquarter mile away, the foreand aft running lights of ayacht. It was an eighty-foottwo-mastedsailingyachttheyhad spottedwhile heading toport the previous day. Themen had tracked the low,sleek vessel as it headedsoutheast. It was on an easycoursewithjustafewpeopleon board. It was probably a

weeklong charter that costsomefatAussieorMalaysianabout fifteen or twentythousand dollars, American.It was the perfect prey. Thiswas the third thingLeeTongknew well: spotting perfecttargets. Since organizing theothers on that hot, humid,hard-drinking night in HongKong,Leehadneverpickedaloser.Untiltonight.

TWOWashington,D.C.

Monday,7:45P.M.The Inn Cognito was

located at 7101 DemocracyBoulevard in Bethesda. PaulHood had never been to thenewhotspot,butOp-Center’sattorney, Lowell Coffey III,had given it an enthusiasticrecommendation. Hood andhis undemanding palatewerehappy with something less

chichi. He could do withoutTVmonitorsshowingtapeofblinking eyeballs andsnapping fingers.But hewasnot here alone. He was withDaphne Connors, founder ofthe cutting-edge Daph-Conadvertising agency. Theforty-one year-old divorcéehad also gotten a thumbs-upfrom Coffey, who knew thefamilyofherformerhusband,attorneyGregoryPacking,Jr.The name of Daphne’s

firm appealed toWashingtonians. Especiallyto the military. The blond-haired Daphne also appealedto Beltway insiders. She hadthestylishpoiseandintensityof a CNN anchorwoman. Inaddition to handling variousArmy accounts, sherepresented hotels andrestaurants, including thisone. That was how theymanagedtogetareservation.Daphne was quite a

contrast to Hood, whose jobas the director of Op-Centerdemanded quiet, steadyleadership. The husky-voicedwoman was extremely high-energy. She reminded Hoodof the late Martha Mackall,Op-Center’s go-get-’empolitical liaison. Martha hadbeen confident, poised, andalways stalking. He didn’tknow what she was huntingorwhy.Hewasnot sure shedid, either. But she never

stopped.Maybe that’swhatMartha

was really searching for,Hood thought.Understanding.Tragically, terrorist bullets

ended the life of the forty-nine-year-old African-Americanwoman.Hoodwassorry he had not gotten toknow her better. From astrictly managerial point ofview,healsowishedhecouldhave learned how to harness

herintensity.Hoodtriedtokeepupwith

the hard-driving Daphne asshe described how sheestablished her agency incollegewithcommissionssheearned from selling ad spaceinuniversitynewspapers.Shetoldhimhowithadgrowntoa global organization thatemployedover340people intheUnitedStatesalone.Intenminutes she must have usedthe words push and drive a

dozen times each. Hoodfoundhimselfwonderinghowtheir respective organizationswould fare if they switchedjobs. His guess was thatDaph-Con would end upbeing sold to some insipidconglomerate andhomogenized. Op-Centerwould probably swallow theNSA, the CIA, and possiblyInterpol.Well, it might not be that

extreme, Hood thought. But

he had served as mayor ofLosAngeles.Hehadworkedon Wall Street. And eightyears ago he had returned togovernment. Hood wasfascinated by the differentmanagement styles in thepublic and private sector.Heenjoyed the give-and-take ofa team, the challenge ofreaching a consensus. Theneed for self-expression thatdrove someone like Daphnewas foreign to him. It was

also a little off-putting—notbecause he disapproved butbecause he felt intimidated.His formerwife,Sharon,hadbeen introspective and verysatisfiedtogowiththefamilyflow.Eventhepresidentsandworld leaders Hood hadknown found it necessary tobeteamplayers.“Paul?” Daphne said over

herducksaladappetizer.“Yes?”“I’vebeen toenoughpitch

meetings to know whensomeone’s brain iswandering,”shesaid.“No, I’m here,” Hood

repliedwithasmile.She gave him a dubious

look. It had playful cornersaround the eyes and mouth,butjustbarely.“You were telling me

about theprobonoworkyoudo for the Native AmericanChumash in California, sothat their sacred caves in the

Santa Ynez range areprotected.”The woman relaxed

slightly.“Allright,youheardme. But that still doesn’tmeanyouwerelistening.”“I assure you, I was,” he

said.“Thatglazed,unfocusedlookyousawwastheglazed,unfocusedeyesofPaulHoodat the end of a long day ofbureaucraticconflicts.”“I see,” Daphne said. She

smiled now. “I understand.

Totally.”Still, Hood knew that she

wasright.Yearsago,anactorfriend in Los Angeles hadtaught him a trick of thetrade.Itwascalled“floating”lines. It was done whenperformers did not haveadequate rehearsal time.Youletwordsintoyourshort-termmemory,wheretheycouldbeaccessed.Thatlefttherestofthe brain free to observe,muse, and—yes—wander.

Hood used the technique tomemorize speeches when hewas mayor. Since coming toWashington, he haddeveloped floating to an artby attending endless policybriefings that were anythingbut brief. He could listen,even take notes, whilethinking about what heneeded to do when he gotbacktoOp-Center.Daphne pushed her plate

aside and leaned forward.

“Paul, I have to confesssomething.”“Why?”Shelaughed.“Funny.Most

people would have asked,‘What?’”He thoughtabout that.She

was right. He did not knowwhyhesaidthat.“Ihaven’tbeenonadatein

seven years,” Daphne said,“and I’m afraid I’ve turnedthis into something of a dogandponyshow.”

“If it helps, I’m enjoyingwhatyouhavetosay.”“You’re sweet, but I don’t

like it,” Daphne said. “I’macting like I’m at a clientpitch. I’m trying too hard tosellmyself.”“No—”“Yes,” she insisted.

“You’vebeenverypatientforthelasthalfhour.”“I told you, I’m

interested,” he answeredtruthfully.“Idon’tmeetmany

peoplewhorunbusinesses.”“No,youmeetpeoplewho

runcountries,”Daphnesaid.“Most ofwhomare not as

interestingasyouare,”Hoodreplied. “And that wasn’t aline,”headded.That caught her with her

guard down. “Talk to meaboutthat.”“Most of them had to

sandblast their mostdistinguishing features, makeeverything smooth to get

where they are,” Hood toldher.“What’sleftisguidedbyconstitutions or surroundedbydomesticandinternationalwatch-dogs, constituents, andspecialinterests.”“Is that a bad thing?” she

asked.“Not necessarily,” Hood

replied. “It preventsdictatorships. But it alsoslows progress to a glacialpace. The individual leadercan’tmovewithouttheentire

system moving with him orher.”“Still,what theydoaffects

more than the bottom line ofa very minor privately heldcompany.” She sat back.“Whataboutyou?”“What do you want to

know?”heasked.“How you do it,” she

replied. “You don’t seem tobe one of those bureaucratswho’s always on the make,lookingforaccess.”

Hoodselectedabreadstickfromthebasket.Hedabbeditinadishofoliveoilandtooka bite. He was not good atthiseither.WhenSharonusedtoaskhimhowhisdaywent,he never said much. Therewas no point starting alengthy conversation becausethere were alwaysinterruptions. The phone, thekids, something on the stoveorintheoven.“I’m interested in having

the access it takes to do myjob, not in collecting it,”Hoodreplied.“Anidealist.”Hoodshruggedashoulder.“Is that a yes?” Daphne

pressed.Hood looked at her.

Daphne had a nice smile. Itstarted at the eyes andmadeitswaydown.“Let’ssayItryto do what’s right,” hereplied. “When I screw up,it’snotoutofmalice.”

“So you don’t possess therevenge gene that mostpeople in big governmenthave,”shesaid.“No,” he said. “Bastards

invariably cause their owndownfall.”“And that reallyworks for

you?”sheasked.“It leaves me free to do

more constructive things,”Hoodsaid.Daphnelaughed.“Lord,we

are very different people. I

hate SOBs or discourtesy orpeople who beat me atanything.”She regardedhim.“Istilldon’tbelieveyouhaveabsolutely no bloodlust. Tellme if I’m overstepping somekind of first-date rule withthis, but I read about thosemen who took the childrenhostage in New York. Theones you and your teamkilled. Didn’t you hatethem?”“That’s a good question,”

Hoodreplied.Daphne was referring to

the renegade United Nationspeacekeeperswhohad seizedtheSecurityCouncilduringaparty. Several children,including Hood’s daughterHarleigh, were among theyoung musicians providingentertainment. Hood and hisnumber-two man, GeneralMike Rodgers, entered thechamberand,inabloodygunbattle,freedthecaptives.

Daphne was regardingHoodintently.“I certainly hated what

theydid,”hetoldher.“Butnotthem?”sheasked.“No,” he answered

truthfully.“Theylost.Victorycost us something. Lifealwaysdoes.Butitcostthemeverything.”“Soyouseeitasanetgain

forourside,”Daphnesaid.“I’m not quite that

dispassionate about it, but

yes.Moreorless,”Hoodtoldher.“You’re more

philosophical aboutconfrontations than I am,”Daphnetoldhim.Thewomanleaned forwardagain. “Ihatemy enemies, Paul. I despisethem from my nose to mytoes. And I track them. Ifollow their activities in thetrade magazines and throughthe cocktail-party circuit. Ifthey are executives in a

public company, I check thestock several times a day.Eachtimeitgoesdown,I’mahappy woman. I don’t missan opportunity to cut theirhamstrings. In fact, I go outofmywaytogetthem.”“Well, that’s business,” he

said.“No, Paul. It’s personal. I

personalize it. I personalizeeverything. You don’tunderstandthat,doyou?”“It seemsa littleobsessive

to me,” he admitted. “Ormaybe that should be forme.”“It is obsessive!” Daphne

agreed. “Who says that’s abadthing?”“Well,therewillalwaysbe

moreenemies,”Hoodreplied.“You can’t vanquish all ofthem.”“Probablynot,”shesaid.“So I don’t see what the

benefitistoanongoinghigh-intensityconflict,”Hoodsaid.

“Living,” she said. “Youfeel passionate aboutsomething every second ofeveryday.”“The hate doesn’t eat you

up?”Hoodasked.“That’s the point!” she

said.“Itonlyeatsyouupifitstays inside. I channel it, useitasfuelforotherthings.”“Isee,”Hoodsaid.Not only did Daphne

remind Hood of MarthaMackall, but she would get

along terrifically with Op-Center’s intelligence chiefBob Herbert. Herbert hatedfast and deep andenthusiastically. Hoodadmired, respected, andtrusted him. But if Herbertdidn’t have someone to keephim in check, he wouldconstantly struggle betweenwhatwasrightandwhatwassatisfying.Daphne sat back again.

“So. Now that I’ve turned

you off completely, talk tome about whatever you dothatisn’tclassified.”“You didn’t turn me off,”

Hoodinsisted.“No?”Hoodshookhisheadashe

took another bite of bread-stick. “Some of my bestfriendsaresociopaths.”The woman gave Hood a

twistedlittlesmile.That’s promising, Hood

thought. She can laugh at

herself.Hood answered Daphne’s

question as she finished herappetizer. He explained thatOp-Centerwastheepithetforthe National CrisisManagement Center. It washoused in a two-storybuilding at Andrews AirForceBase.During theColdWar, the nondescript, ivory-colored structure was one oftwo staging areas for flightcrews known as NuRRDs—

nuclear rapid-responsedivisions. In the event of anuclearattackonthenation’scapital, their job would havebeentoevacuatekeyofficialsto safe command centersoutside of Washington, D.C.With the fall of the SovietUnionand thedownsizingofthe NuRRDs, emergency airoperations were consolidatedelsewhere. The newlyevacuated building atAndrews was given over to

thenewlycharteredNCMC.HoodtoldDaphnenomore

or less thanwasdescribed inOp-Center’spubliccharter.“The NCMC has two

primary functions,” Hoodsaid quietly. Speaking in aloud whisper was a habit hehad developed whenever hediscussed even declassifiedOp-Centerbusinessinpublic.“One is preventative. Wemonitor intelligence reportsas well as the mainstream

pressforpossible‘hotbutton’incidents. These areseeminglyisolatedeventsthatcan triggerpotentialcrisesorterrorist activities at homeandabroad.”“Suchas?”sheasked.“The failure of Third

World governments to paytheir troops, which can leadto revolution and attacks onAmerican interests,” Hoodsaid. “The seizure of a largecache of drugs, which can

spur retaliation against lawenforcement officers. Wemakesurelocalpersonnelareawareofpotentialdangers.”“So there’s a lot of

profiling, intelligentguesswork, that sort ofthing,”Daphnesaid.“Exactly,”Hoodsaid.“The

other function of Op-Centeris todealwith situations thathavealreadystartedtoburn.Ican’t go into details, but it’salongthelinesofwhatwedid

attheUnitedNations.”“Killing bad guys,”

Daphnesaid.“Only when necessary,”

Hood replied. He said nomore.Untileightmonthsago,the

crisis-management processrelied heavily on the rapid-response military squadknown as Striker. AfterStriker was decimated inKashmir, Hood decided torely instead on the surgical

insertion of deterrentpersonnel. This allowed Op-Center toundermineenemiesfromtheinside.Itmighttakemoretime,butitriskedfewerlives. If a military presencewere required, Rodgerswould call in an outsidespecialopsunit.Theconversation turned to

their private lives. Daphnetold Hood about her ex-husbandandhowhewasnotambitious enough to satisfy

her.“He was a partner in his

father’s law firm, a verypowerful and high-profilefirm,” she said. “But hepreferred riding horses toworkingwithcases.Itriedtoget interested in that, but thesmell and the emptyshmoozing just drove mecrazy. Especially since thatwas as high as he everaimed.”“Didn’t you know what

kindofmanhewaswhenyoumarriedhim?”Hoodasked.“I was twenty-two,” she

said.“Ididn’tknowanything.Ihadspentmy teenageyearsbuildingmy little advertisingbusiness. I thought it wouldbefuntohookupwithamanwho knew how to relax andhad the means to do so. Ididn’tcountonlosingrespectforhim.”Hood laughed. “I had just

the opposite problem,” he

said. “Mywifewasn’t happywith the way Op-Centermonopolized my time. Iactually quit for a few days,butIcouldn’tstayaway.”“Did you know it was

costing you your marriage?”Daphneasked.“Notuntil theaccountwas

overdue,”Hoodsaid.“IknewSharon was unhappy, but Ididn’t think she was thatunhappy.”“Sosheinitiatedit?”

Hoodnodded.“How do you get along

now?”Daphneasked.“Okay,”Hoodsaid.“She’s

flexiblewithvisitationandallthat.Butwewereneverreallybest friends. I suppose thatwasaproblemallalong.”“I agree,” Daphne said.

“Youhavetolikesomeonetobe their friend. You don’thave to like them to bemarried to them. Actually,I’ve developed a simple test

forthat.”“Haveyou?”“Yes,” she said. “I call it

the sandbox test. If you andyour potential mate weredropped in a sandbox, couldyou have fun there fortwenty-fourhours?Couldyoubuild castles or have a littleZen garden or pretend youwere on a beach?Could youimprovise a game ofBattleship or draw pictures?Could you do something

other than have sex or wishyouweresomewhereelse?Ifthe answer isyes, then that’sapersonyoushouldconsiderbeingwith.”“Does it have to be a

sandbox?” Hood asked.“Whynotjustahotelroomorsomeformoftransportation?”“Youwould haveTV in a

hotel room,” Daphne said.“Ormagazinesandfoodinanairplane or train. A sandboxdemands imagination. You

have to look at a mound ofsand and see a dune or amountain or a castle. Itrequires the ability to playwell with others and to be alittle silly. It requires thecapacity to access the childinside you. Otherwise youcan’t be in a sandbox at all.Or a fun relationship. Youalso need to be able tocommunicate. If you don’thave all of that, you’ll beincredibly bored. Or else

you’ll end up bickering.Those same qualities arenecessary for a successfulrelationship.”“Andhowdidyouarriveat

thisconcept?”Hoodasked.“When I was doing a

national campaign for aninsurance company,” thewoman said. “Itwas set in asandbox, with two peoplegrowing old together. Itstartedmethinking.”Now Hood thought, too.

He could never have spent aday in a sandbox withSharon.Hecouldnotimaginehimself playing in a sandboxwith former Op-Center pressliaison Ann Farris. After hisseparation, he had a flingwith her. But Hood couldhavespentadayinasandboxwith the woman he wasdating before, Nancy JoBosworth. The love of hislife. A woman who walkedout on him and shattered his

heart.HoodthoughtaboutthewayBobHerberttalkedabouthis wife, a fellow CIAoperative who was killed inthe Beirut embassy blast in1983.Hecouldimaginethemplayingtogetherinasandbox.Hell, that was essentiallywhat they were doingtogetherinLebanonwhenshedied andHerbert lost theuseofhislegs.“Itworkswithmostof the

ladies I’ve known,” Hood

told the woman. “But itsounds as if your formerhusband would have been agreat one for playing in thesandbox.”“He would have been,”

Daphne agreed. “If it were areallybigsandboxandhewaswith a Thoroughbred.Gregorywouldhavefeltself-conscious,uptight, andboredwith justme. Like Lawrenceof Arabia without a camel.That’s the key, Paul. Would

you enjoy a silly experiencelike that together? Is the ideaof being together moreimportant than where youare?”“Igetit,”Hoodsaid.The sandbox test was an

absolute. Daphne wasobviously a woman ofextremes, and life demandedmore compromise than sheseemedwilling to allow.Yetit was sad to think that veryfew people Paul Hood knew

couldpassthetest.EspeciallyhimselfandSharon.Hood did not know

whether he and DaphneConnorswouldenjoyadayina sandbox.And it wasmuchtooearlytoworryaboutthat.Still, they had spent anagreeable time having dinnerand discussing very differentphilosophiesoflife.They had not come to

blows.Thatwasagoodstart.

THREETheCelebesSea

Tuesday,4:34A.M.The sampan rocked

vigorously from side to sideas it neared the yacht fromthe stern. Lee Tong hadmovedaft.ClarkShungahadpassed out plastique to Leeand one of the other men.KohYucontinuedtomonitorthe radio while the mensilently oared the sampan

closer.Lee was poised on the

horseshoe-shaped aft sectionof the boat. His feet werebare,andhislegswerespreadwide to help him keep hisbalance.Twocurvedwoodenarms rose three feet above aseat to which the keel wasattached.Leeworkedthelongyuloh-shaped keel with hisleft hand. The waterwhispered across the paddleofthekeel.Thesoundalways

calmedhim,especiallybeforean assault. In his right handhe held a fist-sized chunk ofplastique. The explosive wassealed in a sheet of plasticfood wrap. The coveringprevented the sea spray andLee’s perspiration fromcoating the plastique. Thedampness would make itdifficult for the waxysubstance to adhere to thehull.Thepirateshadslungsixlargecanvassacksfilledwith

sandovertheportsideofthesampan. This quieted theimpact in case the vesselshappened to bump oneanother.Lee’s pistol was tucked in

a worn leather holsterattached to his belt.Heworethegun lowonhis right hip.Oncetheexplosiveshadbeenplacedandthesampanpulledaway,Kohwouldcomefrombelowwithamegaphone.Hewould call out to the

passengers on the yacht. Ifnecessary, Lee and Clarkweretheoneswhowouldfireattheplastique.Thesampanwasjustafew

meters from the yacht. Theship was not at anchor, andthe sampan was rockingslightly in its wake. Leeskillfully maneuvered thekeel while the other menoared forward. At the bow,Clarkwatchedtheyachtwithnight-visionglasses.Virtually

everypleasureshipthatsailedthesewatershadadeadman’swatch from dusk until dawn.Evenso,ashiptravelingdarkand silent was virtuallyimpossible to see or hear.Especiallyifitcamefromthebow or stern. Most sentriestended to stay in themidsection of the vessel andwatch the horizon. That wasespecially true in this region.Most sailors did not yetconsider the Celebes Sea to

bedangerous.The sampan eased ahead.

Theyachtwasmorethanfourtimes the lengthof thepiratevessel. They would sailalongside, close to the hull,and place the explosives inreverse order. Clark wouldattach his explosive to therear of the vessel as theypassed. Then the sampanwould continue forward. Ifthe pirateswere spotted, Leewould be able to aim his

weaponattheplastiqueClarkhad placed. When theyreached the bow, Lee woulduse a rag to wipe sea sprayfrom the vessel. Then hewould place his chargeagainst the hull. Then thesampan would move off totheside.Clarkcontinuedtoscanthe

ship slowly from bow tostern.AsfarasLeecouldtell,there was no one on deck.Suddenly, Clark stopped. He

was lookingata spot lowontheforwardmast.“Retreat!” Clark said in a

strongwhisper.Lee turned the keel to the

port side. The yuloh menimmediately switched tobackwater strokes. Lee bentat the knees to brace himselffor the lurch he knewwouldfollow.Thesampanshookasit braked. The streamlinedboat steadied quickly as themenbegantorowinreverse.

Lee opened his eyes verywide.Hetriedtoseeintothedarkness. He searched thespot where Clark was stilllooking. He could not seeanything.“It’s tracking us,” Clark

said. His voice was loudernow.“Whatis?”Leeasked.“A security camera with a

night-visionlens,”Clarksaid.“It’s three meters up on themast.”

Leelookedup.Hestilldidnot see the surveillancecamera. But there was notimetoworryaboutit.Justasthe sloping prow of thesampan cleared the stern ofthe yacht, several figurescame on deck. They wereabout four meters up. Leecould not see them, but hecould hear them. He couldalso hear the distinctive slapof clips being loaded intoautomatic weapons. An

instant later, the soft, blacknightwaspockedwithyellowflashes, deadly stars on thedeckoftheship.Asoundlikeballoons popping rolled fromthedeck.Andthentherewerescreams. The screams of themenonthesampan.Lee felt the backward

movement slow. The yulohmen must have been hit. Hedid not dwell on that. Hereleased the tiller and ranforward. Realizing that he

was still holding theplastique, Lee tossed itoverboard.Hedidnotwanttoriskhavingabulletstriketheexplosives by chance. Hischances of surviving theattack were remote enoughwithouttheaddedrisk.As the wooden deck spat

splintersofwoodathim,Leescurried on hands and kneesto the middle of the vessel.The belowdeckscompartments were covered

by a long, invertedU-shapedshelter. This was made ofFoochow pine covered withbamboomatting.Theroofingwould provide someprotection as Lee made hiswaybelowdecks.Thepirate’sintention was to hide thereand hope that the yachtsmendid not board the sampan. Ifthey did, he still had hispistol. He would use itagainst them if he could. Ifnot, he would turn it on

himself.Hedidnot intend tospendanytimeinaSingaporeprison.Lee screamed as a bullet

hit his right ankle. The shotcut his Achilles tendon andcaused his leg to straighten.Hefloppedflatonhisbellyasa hot, cramplike pain raceduphisrightsideallthewaytohisneck.Ashefell,asecondbulletdrilledintohisleftcalf.That sent a wave of fire upthe other side. Lee bit down

hard to keep from screamingandgivinghislocationaway.Desperately, he tried to pullhimself forward on his flathands. Perspiration stung hiseyes. He felt as though hisbodyweighthadtripledashedragged himself ahead. Hesucked air through his teethand fought to keep his eyesopen.Suddenly, that effort was

nolongernecessary.There was a sound from

the bow like a rock goingthrough glass. He knew thatsound. It was plastique. Leefelthimselfrising.Thesoundwas followedby intenseheatandwhitelight,bothofwhichhitLeelikeafist.Hecouldn’thear,see,orfeelanythingbutthatforanendlessmoment.And then he heard, saw,

andfeltnothing.

FOURSydney,Australia

Thursday,8:30A.M.LowellCoffeylikedagood

intellectual fight. He lovedjoining them. He lovedcausing them. Typically,there were two ways theycameabout.One way was by giving

speeches.Communicatinghisstrongly held ideas asconcisely and effectively as

possible. Being the attorneyforOp-Centerallowedhimtodothatfromtimetotime.Hespoke on issues ofinternational rights andnational security, of civilliberties and the loss ofprivacy. If the thirty-nine-year-old attorney had thethick skin required forpolitics, he would have runfor office. But he had astubborn, confrontationalnaturewhenanyonecriticized

his views. In politics,Coffeyknew he would get it fromboth sides. The SouthernCalifornia native believed ina very strong and aggressivemilitary. That was hisconservative side. Hebelieved very deeply inhuman rights in all theirforms and variations. Thatwashisliberalside.Hewouldnever form any kind ofcoalition to get himselfelected, which was

unfortunate. Unlike manypoliticians,LowellCoffeyIIIhadwhathejokinglyreferredto as a “substance abuse”problem.Hewas addicted toissuesthathadmeatonstrongbones. His interest insubstance was what drovehim to international law.Hisfather would have preferredthat he join the successfulentertainment law firm ofCoffey andO’Hare, based inBeverly Hills. But while

CoffeylikedhisArmanisuits,Rolex watch, and Jaguar—which was in the shop morethan it was out—he hadneededsubstanceaswell.Hefounditfirstasanassistanttothe California state attorneygeneral, then as deputyassistant to theUnited Statessolicitor general. Sincejoining Op-Center six yearsago, he was up to his cleftchin in substance. Therewashardly a nation on earth or a

division of the federalgovernment Coffey had notdealt with since joining theNational Crisis ManagementCenter. Sometimes thosedealings were adversarial, aswhen Striker was caught inthe struggle between Indiaand Pakistan, or when PaulHoodandMikeRodgersshotup theUnitedNations toendthehostagestandoff.Oftenheendeduplearningonthejob.But even international

confrontations gave himsatisfaction he would nothave gotten from negotiatingproduct placement in moviesfor deodorant or beveragebrands.Coffey’spersonalandprofessional integrity did notprevent his coworkers fromreferring to the sandy-hairedCalifornianasPercyRichkid.It was a tease, and he rolledwithit.Besides,Coffeycouldnothelpthefinancialstratumin which he was born. He

took pride in the fact that hehad never used familyconnections to get anything.Coffey had worked hard ateveryschoolheattended,andhe had earned every positionheheld.The second thing the tall,

blue-eyed attorney enjoyedwas travel. Unlike mosttravelers, however, seeingnew sights was not whatappealed most to Coffey.Back in the early 1980s, the

attorneyhadattendedOxfordfor postgraduate studies ininternational law. Being oncampus had exposed him toideas that were not onlycontrary tohisownbutoftenanti-American. Coffey knewthings to be true viscerally.He enjoyed having theopportunity to defend themintellectually. He discoveredthat classrooms,coffeehouses, even trainstations and airport lounges

gave him an opportunity tojump into conversations andstate his views. Aftergraduation, traveling aroundthe world for the state ofCalifornia and the federalgovernment gave Coffey thechance to exercise his skills.Happily, every region wasdifferent.Coffeyencountereddebates in London that wereunlike those he found inMontreal,Moscow,Tokyo,orDamascus.

Andnow,Sydney.Coffey was standing

outside the front door of thePark Hyatt Sydney onHickson Road. He hadarrived the night before andgonedirectlytobed.Fromhisroom at the rear of the hotelhe could see across SydneyCove to the spectacularSydney Opera House.Standing here, along thebroadavenue,hewasable tolook out at the wharves on

Walsh Bay. Sydney was aclean, vibrant, spectacularcity. Coffey was onlyscheduledtobehereforthreedays.Mostofthattimewouldbe taken up by theConference on InternationalOceanic Sovereignty. Coffeyhopedhewouldhave time toseesomeofthecity.Even though Coffey had

his sunglasseson, itwas stilla blindingly bright morning.The sun bounced off the

water and the clouds. It wasreflected from every silvertowerandwhitestructureinacityfullofthem.Thesunandair felt different here thanthey did in theUnited Statesor Europe. Maybe the heatwas softened by the constantsea breeze.Maybe the oceankept the air clean as well.Whatever it was, Coffeyfounditinvigorating.Tourists came and went

from the hotel as Coffey

waited for his ride. PennyMastersonwaschairpersonofthe Asian Rim RelocationOrganization.Coffeyhadmetthe woman in Washingtonseveral years earlier at aseminar hosted by AmnestyInternational. ARRO was anot-for-profitgroupdedicatedto assisting refugees fromIndonesia, Malaysia, andother nations close toAustralia. Many of thoserefugees ended up in

Australia, most of themillegally. Those who werecaught or subsequentlyidentified were returned totheirhomelands. If therewasanythingworsethanbeinganillegal immigrant deportedfromanation,itwasbeinganillegalemigréreturnedtooneofthosecountries.Chargesoftreason, followed by lengthyprison sentences includinghard labor were notuncommon.

The petite, strawberry-blond Penny was the perfectperson for the job. Thetwenty-nine-year-old wassweet, she was bright, shewas compassionate. She hadgrown up being teased abouthermaidenname,whichwasPennyDate.Boyswould askif that was how much shecharged. As a result, Pennyhad the thickest skin ofanyoneCoffeyhad evermet.She could run for public

office and win. But shewanted to help people andnot, as she put it, “run afootball team whose primaryadversaryisitself.”Pennypulledup inherold

red pickup. The doormanopened the battered door. Itgroaned.“Sorry, Lowell,” Penny

saidasheclimbedin.“Itisn’texactly the red-carpettreatment.”“It’s charming,” Coffey

replied diplomatically. Thetruth was, the truck smelledof fertilizer, and there werewhat Bob Herbert calledHVICs on the windshield—high velocity insectcasualties. The only thingcharming about the vehiclewas the driver. Penny’saccenthadlittlesilverbellsinit. Her smile gleamed likethose little silver bells. Andher eyes were as brilliant asthe sunshine. If shewere not

married,hewouldbeengagedin a very serious long-distancecourtship.“The truck is functional,”

Penny said. “Unfortunately, Ihadn’t quite mastered someofthenarrowturnswhenthathappened,” she added,noddingtothedenteddoor.“But you have now?”

Coffeyaskedanxiouslyashebuckledhimselfin.Penny laughed. That was

music, too. “I wouldn’t put

GabyinhereifIhadn’t,”shereplied as she pulled awayfromthehotel.“Gabrielle must be what,

now—a year old?” Coffeyasked.“Thirteen and a half

months,” Penny said. “Andshe’sapeach.”“I have no doubt,” Coffey

replied. “What about yourhusband?Howishedoing?”“Charlie is doing great,”

Penny said. “He quit the

parks service seven monthsago and became a self-employedgardener.”“Which explains the truck

insteadofaminivan,”Coffeysaid.“We’ve got a fleet of

three!” Penny laughed.“Charlie just couldn’t take itanymore.Hespentmoretimefiguring out how toimplement budget cuts in hisfield crew than he didactually landscaping. As he

putit,‘Iwastiredoftryingtomoveheaven.I’drathermoveearth.’”“We’ve got that same

problem at Op-Center,”Coffey said. “Do you workwithhimatall?”“On weekends I use this

truck to help him transporttrees,shrubs,andsoilaroundthe city and suburbs,” Pennysaid. “I have to say, I enjoygetting my hands dirty in awholesomeway.”

“It probably takes yourmindoffthemoreunpleasantthingsinlife,”Coffeysaid.“It does,” Penny agreed.

“But I found that it alsoserves a purpose in my ownwork. When I drive up tomeetings or detainmentcenters, people don’tautomatically assume I’m ahomemaker who is usingARRO as something to fillthedaytimehours.”Penny turned off Hickson

Road. Tools rattled in theopenbackofthetruck.Pennydid not even seem to beaware of the sounds. Therewas something sweet aboutthat,Coffeythought.“How is the conference

shapingup?”Coffeyasked.“It’sgoingtobethelargest

of the fourwe’veheldhere,”Penny said. “Thirty-twonations, one hundred andeleven representatives. Andthe breakfast reception at the

State Parliament House isgoing to be a first. They’refinally acknowledging thatwe’re a force to be counted.When that’s done, we’ll goover to the SydneyConventionCenter.You’llbespeaking after dinner, whichmeans that everyone will bewell-fedandreadytositbackandlisten.”It also meant that Coffey

would have time to mingle,eavesdrop, and findoutwhat

other people were thinking.He would have time toaddress up-to-the-momentissuesinhisspeech.“Will our nemesis Brian

Ellsworth be there?” Coffeyasked.“He was invited, of

course,” Penny said. “But hedeclinedasusual.”“I’d be honored to take it

personally,”Coffeysaid.“Your keynote speech in

Brisbane lastyearwasnot in

his nightstand reading stack,I’msure,”Pennysaid.“ButIdo believe his disinterest isspread across the entireorganization.”Ellsworth was chief

solicitor for the AustralianMaritime IntelligenceCentre.Based in Darwin, NorthernTerritory, the MIC was thefirst line of defense againstillegal aliens trying to maketheirwayintoAustralia.Theymaintainedthatnationalswho

desired amnesty typicallydefectedtoforeignembassiesintheirowncountries.Asfaras Ellsworth was concerned,everyboat,plane,or raft thatcame through the back doorcarried drugs, smugglers, orterrorists. According toARRO’s research, just over65percentof those craft did.The other 35 percenttransported people who werepoor, terrified, and searchingfor a lessoppressed life.The

“Australia first” MIC had agreat deal of influence inparliament. By law, illegalimmigrants were typicallyreturned to their point oforigin within twenty-fourhours. ARRO and the MICwere constantly fighting oneanotherforawaytomaketheprocessmoreequitable.As Penny spoke, her cell

phone beeped. The youngwoman excused herself andansweredit.

“It could be the baby-sitter,” she saidapologetically. She punchedthehands-freephonethatwasbracketed to the dashboard.“Hello?”“Mrs.Masterson?”askeda

man’svoice.“Thisisshe.”“Mrs. Masterson, is Mr.

LowellCoffeywithyou?”“I’m Lowell Coffey,” the

attorneysaid.“Whoisthis?”“Sir, this is JuniorSeaman

Brendan Murphy in thecommand ofWarrantOfficerGeorge Jelbart, MIC,” theyoung man replied. “I haveyour name from Mr. BrianEllsworth. Sir, WarrantOfficer Jelbart waswondering ifyoumighthavesomefreetimetoday.”“I’m here for a

conference,”Coffeyreplied.“Yes,sir,weknow.”“WhatdidMr.Jelbarthave

inmind?”Coffeyasked.

“A flight to Darwin,”Murphyreplied.“That’s clear across the

continent!” Coffey declared.“Why does he need to seeme?”“We have a situation, sir,”

the officer replied. “One thathe needs to discusswith youface-to-face.”“What kind of situation?”

Coffeyasked.“Ahotone, sir,” thecaller

repliedgravely.

The way the MIC officeremphasizedhot ledCoffeytobelieve that he was notreferringtothetemperatureoran imminent event. That leftjustoneinterpretation.“There are some people I

should talk to before I agreeto anything,” Coffey said,glancingatPenny.“We are a little squeezed

fortime,”Murphysaid.“Youare the first and hopefullyonly call I’m making about

this.”“IfIdecidetocome,when

can you arrange fortransportation?”“A P-3C patrol craft has

been dispatched to SydneyAirport, Mr. Coffey,” thecaller replied. “It will arrivewithinthehour.AsIsaid,sir,thewarrantofficerwouldliketotalktoyouinperson.”Penny and Coffey

exchanged looks. She tappedtheMutebutton.

“Thatdoesn’tsoundlikeaninvitation,”shesaid.“No,” Coffey agreed. It

soundedlikeanorder.“Whatdoyouwanttodo?”

sheasked.“That doesn’t seem to

matter,doesit?”heasked.“Why not?” she asked.

“You’re a civilian and anAmerican. You can tell thejunior seaman, ‘No thanks,’andhangup.”“Then I wouldn’t find out

whyEllsworth recommendedthey call,” Coffey said. “Ihave a feeling the MIC isinterested in talking to Op-Center, not just to LowellCoffey.”“What makes you say

that?”Pennyasked.“I’drathernotsayuntilI’m

sure,” Coffey replied. It wasnot that he did not trustPenny. But he was anattorney. A cautious one. Hedid not like to say anything

hedidnotbelieveorknowtobetrue.Coffey disengaged the

Mutebutton.“Where will the plane be

waiting?”Coffeyasked.“Ifyougo to thedomestic

cargo terminal, someonewillmeetyou,”thecallersaid.“All right,” Coffey said.

“I’llbethere.”“Thankyou,sir,”thejunior

seaman said. “I’ll inform thewarrantofficer.”

And Coffey would informHood.He apologized to Penny.

She said that she understoodcompletely. He said that hehoped he would be backsoon.In his heart, though, he

sensed thatwould not be thecase. Especially if “hot”meantwhathethoughtitdid.

FIVEDarwin,Australia

Thursday,8:42A.M.Fifty-two-year-oldWarrant

Officer George WellingtonJelbart had seen andexperienced manyextraordinary things in histhirty-two years of service intheRoyalAustralianNavy.Jelbart spent his first

twelve years of militaryservice with the

HydrographicForce.BasedinWollongong, just south ofSydney, he and his teamconstantly updated charts ofthe 30,000 kilometers ofAustralia’s coastline as wellasadjoiningwaters.Helovedbeingoutinshipsandplanes,producingmaps that coverednearly one sixth of theworld’s surface. Even whenhis team was caught in atropical cyclone, a categoryfive hurricane, or a tsunami,

he relished the work he wasdoing. As his naval officerfatheroncedescribedit,“TheNavy puts muscle in yourback. Danger keeps itstrong.”The next nine years were

radically different and muchless muscular. BecauseJelbart was so familiar withthe geography surroundingAustralia, Deputy Chief ofNavy Jonathan Smithmovedhim to the Directorate of

Naval Intelligence. That wasduring the 1980s, when theinflux of Japanesebusinessmen and investorsbroughtaninfluxofJapanesecriminals. There, in awindowless office, Jelbarthelped signal personnelpinpoint the direction andlocationofbroadcastscomingfrom local waters andsurrounding nations. He didthat out of duty, not love.Finally, on his fortieth

birthday, Jelbart requested atransfer. He needed to bebackon the seaor at least inthe sunlight. Smith agreed toa compromise. He gaveJelbart a promotion andshifted him to the MaritimeIntelligence Centre. There,the newly minted warrantofficerwouldbeout-of-doorsand dealing with a widerrangeofillegalactivitiesthanhehadinhispreviousposts.That was where Jelbart

encountered the unexpectedonaweeklybasis.Someofitwas heartbreaking. Therewere the Malaysian slaverswho abducted Aboriginechildren via cargo plane.There were refugees fromwar-ravagedEastTimorwhowere dropped offshore usingWorld War II-surplusparachutes. Most of themwereyoung.Allofthemwereinexperienced jumpers. Fiftyof the sixty-seven of them

drowned. There were theAustralian drug traffickerswho used surfboards withhigh-tech listeningdevices tospy on MIC aircraft. Jelbarthad even investigated sea-monstersightings in theGulfof Carpentaria. Those turnedouttobeChinesesubmarinesconductingmaneuvers.But in all his years in the

Royal Australian Navy, thesandy-haired, six-foot-four-inch Brisbane native had

never heard anything likethis. The implications werechilling.Jelbart had arrived at his

office in the AustralianCentral Credit UnionBuilding, 36 Mitchell Street,atsevenA.M.Throughouttheearly 1990s he had arrivedearlytohearphonemessagesand go through the mail.Sincethelate1990shehadtocome to the office early toslog through E-mails. If he

could eliminate the E-mailsfrom fellow officers whowere compelled to forwardbadjokes,hecoulddothejobinanhour.Unfortunately,hehad to open everycorrespondence on the offchanceithadsomethingtodowithnavalmatters.Shortly after Jelbart

arrived, the phone beeped.His aide, Junior SeamanBrendan Murphy, answered.Murphyforwardedthecall.It

was from Captain RonaldTrainor of the Freemantle-classpatrolboatSuffolk.Theyhad found a man floating inthe Banda Sea twelve mileseastofCelebes.“The fellow was barely

conscious and clinging to asectionofwaterloggedpine,”Trainor reported. “He’sdehydrated and lost a lot ofblood. He had been shottwice in the lower legs andmanaged to rig some crude

bandages from his shirt. Weassume he’s a pirate whosemissionendedbadly.”“That’s a possibility,”

Jelbartsaid.Jelbartwas confused. This

was a routine rescue oninternationalwaters.Itdidnotrequire the ship’s captain toreporttohimpersonally.“But what drew us to him

was extremely unusual,” thecaptainwenton.Jelbart grew concerned as

Trainorexplained.What theyfound was not only unusual,it was inexplicable. Thewarrant officer wanted acomplete investigation.Trainor told him that theywould search for the rest ofthe vessel and crew, as wellaswhoeverattacked them.Inthe meantime, the injuredmanwasgoingtobeairliftedtotheRoyalDarwinHospitalalong with the remnants ofhisvessel.Jelbartsaidthathe

would meet the helicopterthere to take charge of theevidence and arrange forsecurity. When he hung up,Jelbartrealizedthathewouldalso have to notify ChiefSolicitor Brian Ellsworth.Ostensibly, the Banda Seacastaway was being broughtto Darwin for medical care.But Captain Trainor’s otherdiscovery made that asecondary issue from theMIC’s point of view. The

man had to be questioned.There were complex legalissues surrounding theinterrogation of a foreignnational recovered ininternationalwaters.Ellsworth was in the

shower when Jelbart called.The civilian official livedwith his newscaster wife inthe exclusive La GrandeResidenceonKnuckeyStreet.At the warrant officer’s

insistence, Mrs. Ellsworth

summonedhim to thephone.Jelbartexplainedthesituationas it had been explained tohim. The forty-three-year-oldsolicitorthoughtforaminutebeforereplying.“I will meet you at the

hospital,” Ellsworth replied.“But there is someone else Iwouldlikeyoutocall.”“Who?”“A gentleman named

Lowell Coffey,” Ellsworthsaid. “He is in Sydney for a

conference on internationalcivilrights.”“That’s the ARRO

symposium?”“Yes,” Ellsworth said.

“Mr. Coffey works for theNational Crisis ManagementCenterinWashington.”“Op-Center? Do we really

want a foreign intelligenceservice involved in this?”Jelbartasked.“We want the NCMC for

threereasons,”Ellsworthtold

him.“First,we’llwant togeta very quick read on thissituation. The NCMC canhelp us. Second, one of theirbest people is already inAustralia. I don’t agree withhis politics, but he is smartand well-informed. Finally,holding this shipwreckedalien could backfire.Especially if the explanationturns out to be somethingvery innocent. If thathappens,wehavesomeoneto

sharetheblame.”That last was not entirely

honorable, Jelbart thought,but the solicitor did have apoint.Ellsworth had told Jelbart

how to get in touch withLowellCoffey.HewastocallPenny Masterson, who wasMr. Coffey’s host for theARRO conference. Thewarrant officer passed theinformation to BrendanMurphy. Jelbart also told

MurphytodispatchaplanetoSydney. If the Americanagreed to come, Jelbart didnotwanttowasteanytime.While the junior seaman

made the calls, Jelbartcomposed an E-mailexplaining the situation. HesentthemessagecodedLevelAlpha to Rear Admiral IanCarrick at Royal AustralianNavy headquarters inCanberra. The Level Alphaclearance guaranteed that

only the rear admiral wouldsee it. When that wasfinished, Jelbart checked hiscomputer to see whatappointments he would havetocanceltoday.Andpossiblytomorrow.Hehopedthistooknolonger.Ifitdid,whatJelbarthoped

was just an incident couldturnouttobeacrisis.

SIXWashington,D.C.

Wednesday,7:33P.M.“What do we know about

the hair up Shigeo Fujima’snose?”PaulHoodasked.Hood, Bob Herbert, and

MikeRodgersweresitting inHood’soffice.Itwastheendof an uneventful day in themiddle of an uneventfulweek.Asmuch asHoodhadoften wished his plate were

not so full, he felt restlesswhen it was empty.Especially since he did nothavea family togohometo.Ironically, it was hisoverpackedschedule thathadcosthimhisfamily.PaulHood’squestionhung

intheair likeahigh,archingfly ball. Shigeo Fujima wasthe head of the JapaneseIntelligence and AnalysisBureau at the Ministry ofForeign Affairs. Fujima had

helped Op-Center resolve arecent crisis in Botswanawithout explaining why heknewwhatheknew.Orwhyhe was interested. That didnot sit well with Hood.Especially since the youngofficer was not returningHood’scalls.“We know nothing,”

Herbert replied, finallycallingthecatch.“What have we done to

findout?”Hoodasked.

“Last time I checked,which was about two hoursago,everyoneinthetechlab,including Matt Stoll, hadbeen unable to get into theIAB computers,” Herbertwent on. “Stoll says that allthe files we want to look atare apparently in dedicatedsystems.”“I’m not surprised,” Hood

said.“TheIABdoesnotplaywell with others.” DaphneConnors’s sandbox reference

popped intohis head.Maybethe woman had somethingthereafterall.“Do we want to send

someonetoTokyo?”Rodgersasked. “Check the files afterhours?”General Rodgers had

recently established a humanintelligence team at Op-Center. It consisted ofinternational operatives whohad worked with Op-Centerin the past. Three of the

members had distinguishedthemselves on the inauguralmissiontoBotswana.“Who would you assign?”

Hoodasked.“I’ve been talking to the

guys weworkedwith duringthe Korean missile crisis,”Rodgerssaid.“Theygavemethe names of people theyhaveused.I talkedtoseveralof them. One in particularseems a good candidate.BibariHirato.She’s based in

Tokyo.”“This makes me nervous.

What’s she got against herowncountry?”Herbertasked.“Japan isn’t her country,”

Rodgerssaid.“Isee,”Herbertsaid.“Bibariisthedaughterofa

Korean comfort woman. Herfather is one of three or fourhundred Japanese sol.dierswhousedherearlyinthewar.Bibari’s mother gave her aJapanese name so she could

gooverifshechoseto.”“And mess with them,”

Herbertsaid.“Inaword,yeah,”Rodgers

said.“Objection withdrawn,”

Herbertsaid.“Mike,whydon’twehave

Bob run a check on her?”Hood said. “If she’s cleanfrom our point of view, let’sdoit.”“Itwasontheto-dolistfor

tomorrow,”Rodgerssaid.

As themenwere chatting,Hood’s phone beeped.Hood’sassistant,BugsBenet,said Lowell Coffey wascallingfromAustralia.“Thanks,”Hoodsaid.“What time is it there?”

Herbertasked.“Late tomorrowmorning,”

Rodgerssaid.“Too early for Lowell to

have pissed off anyone at abreakfast meeting,” Herbertsaid.

Herbert fell silent asHoodtookthecall.“Morning, Lowell,” Hood

said. “How are things DownUnder?”“Surprising,” Lowell

replied. “I’m on my way totheairport.”“Why?What’s up?” Hood

asked.“I’m not entirely sure,”

Coffeysaid.“Lowell,BobandMikeare

here,” Hood said. “I’m

putting you onspeakerphone.”“Good,” Coffey said. “I

mayneedtheirhelp.”Hood punched the button

and sat back. “Go ahead,Lowell.”“Afewminutesago,Igota

callfromanaidetoaWarrantOfficerGeorge Jelbart of theMaritime IntelligenceCentre,” Coffey said. “Hetold me they have a hotsituationup inDarwin.From

whatIwasabletogetoveranunsecure line, ‘hot’ probablymeansonething.”“Radioactive,”Hoodsaid.“Right,”Coffeyreplied.Hood felt a chill in the

small of his back. “Did hegive you any context, ascenario of some kind?”Hoodasked.“Zero,”Coffeysaid.“ButI

was on a cell phone, and heobviously didn’t want to sayverymuch. All I was told is

that there’s an airplanewaiting to take me toDarwin.”Herberthadalreadyswung

up the laptop computerattached to his wheelchair.The intelligence chief hadlost theuseofhis legs in theBeirutembassyblastthathadkilled his wife. He hadwireless Internet on thelaptop, as well as the abilityto tap any of Op-Center’scomputers using LEASH—

Local Executive AccessSecure Hookup. Thetechnology only workedwithin a radius of 500 feetfrom the personal computerin his office. While Coffeywas speaking, Herbert hadgone to the AustralianDepartment of Defence file.He found the dossier onWarrant Officer Jelbart andreadit.“What doyouknowabout

Jelbart?”Rodgersasked.

“He’s a heavyweight,”Herbert said. He spoke loudenough for Coffey to hear.“He’s fifty-two, a careerofficer, divorced twice, nokids. He runs the coastalintelligence network and hasabackgroundinmappingandsignalrecon.Commendationsuptohiseyeballs.”“Bob,arethereanynuclear

submarines in the Darwinarea?” Rodgers asked. “I’mwonderingiftherecouldbea

leak.”“I was not given that

information.”“It could also be a

plutonium-powered satellitethat fell to earth,” Hoodsuggested.“I suppose,” Coffey

agreed. “But why wouldJelbart call me for either ofthose? My first thought wasthat there might be civiliancasualties resulting from anaccidentofsomekind—”

“Possibly Americancivilian casualties,” Rodgerspointedout.“Right. But wouldn’t they

go to an embassy first?”Coffeyasked.“Not necessarily,” Hood

said. “If they were negligentin some way and wanted tocover their asses, having aninternationally knownhuman-rights attorneyon sitewould be a nice cosmetictouch.”

“Gentlemen, before we goto war with Australia overthis, I’d like to check bothpossibilities,”Herbertsaid.Theintelligencechiefwent

to the United StatesDepartment of Defensesecure file and accessed thenaval intelligenceRedList—anup-to-the-minutelistingonthewhereaboutsandstatusofnuclear-capable craft. It wasthelistthatgavethePentagonthe first warning that the

RussiansubmarineKurskhadgone down in August 2000.The list also showed thestatus of the nine cruisemissiles that had beenremoved from the submarineand taken to the top secretNerpashipyardlocatedat themouthofOlenyaGubaBayinMurmansk. The list includedvesselswithnuclear-poweredengines and nuclearmissiles.Herbert told the others thatonly the Chinese People’s

LiberationNavyhadavesseloperatingintheregion,aXia-class ballistic missilesubmarine. There was nosuggestion of any problemsonboard.ThenhewenttotheNational ReconnaissanceOffice site to check onnuclear-powered satellitesandexplorationcraft.Herbertreported that the list ofdeorbiting hardwarewas freeofalerts.“I sure was hoping it was

oneofthem,”Herbertsaid.Hood did not have to ask

why.Absentanaccident,thatleft the probability of illegalnuclear activity, possibly thetransportation of weapons orrawnuclearmaterial.“Lowell, are there any

nuclear power plants in theDarwin region?” Rodgersasked.“Ialreadyaskedmyhost,”

Coffey told him. “She saidshe does not believe there

are.”“I’m with you, Lowell,”

Herbert said. “Nothingpersonal,butI’mbotheredbythe fact that they asked foryou instead of an officialrepresentative of the federalgovernment.”“Iam,too,”Coffeysaid.“Do we know that they

didn’tdothataswell?”Hoodasked.“IwastoldthatIwastheir

one-and-only,”Coffeysaid.

“Jelbert’s aide may nothave been in possession ofthat information,” Hoodpointed out. “For all weknow,theAmericanembassyhas been notified. We’regoing tohave to let thisplayoutuntilweknowmore.”“Thereobviouslyhastobe

a legal issue involved,”Herbertsaid.“SomethingthatrequiresLowell’sexpertiseininternationalaffairs.”“That does seem to make

sense,” Hood said. “Lowell,how longuntil you reach theairport?”“About fifteen minutes,”

Coffeyreplied.“Maybe we’ll know more

bythen,”Hoodsaid.“Lowell,letusknowwhatyoufindoutassoonasyoucan.”“Ofcourse,”hesaid.Hoodwishedhimwelland

hung up. He looked at theothers. “Bob, is there anyhistory of nuclear trafficking

inthatregion?”“Theanswer is, ‘possibly,’

”Herbertsaid.“Jeez, I remember when

intelligence agencies used todeal in probablies,” Rodgerssaid.“When you were a

greenhornin’Nam,theydid,”Herbert said. “We still hadhuman intelligence resourcesin every backwater den youcould imagine. Then theelectronic intelligence guys

cameinandsaidtherewasnoreason to risk lives anymore.They were wrong. Satellitescan’tdobelowdecks imaginginafreighteroroiltanker.”“What about those

possibilities, Bob?” Hoodasked, getting them back onsubject.“We suspect that terrorists

androguestatesinthePacificRim have used commercialships and private vessels totransport nuclear weapons or

components,” Herbert toldhim. “But we have noevidence of that. For the lastfew years a bunch of naviesandairdefenseforcesaroundthe world, includingAustralia, have been placingradiation-detectionequipmenton their vessels. Thesegizmos measure gammaradiation or neutron fields,dependingonwhetherthey’relooking for raw radioactivematerial or weapons,

respectively.Buttheyhaven’tfoundanything.”“Which doesn’t mean

much,” Rodgers said.“Adequateleadshieldingwillhidethat.”Herbert nodded. “That’s

why we need more peoplewatching potential traffickersontheshippingandreceivingends. The CIA and the FBIare working on that, butwe’re nowhere near up tospeedyet.”

“All right,” Hood said.“The system has a lot ofholes. But you’re saying theAussies have the capacity topickuphotcargo?”“That’s right,” Herbert

said. “And if that’s whathappened, there are a lot ofreasons they might wantsomeone likeLowell to havealook.”Hood suggested that

HerbertandRodgersreturntotheir offices to see if there

was any other intelligencethey could dig up.HewouldnotifythemassoonasCoffeycalled.As they left, Hood looked

at the photo of Harleigh andAlexander on his desk. Hewishedhecouldrollbacktheclock ten minutes. Theresponsibility of fightingnuclear terrorism was anunimaginable burden. Theprice of failure would beappalling.

Still,whetherHoodwantedit or not, that responsibilitymight be his. Hopefully, thiswouldprove tobesomethingfar less dire than he couldimagine.

SEVENSydney,Australia

Thursday,10:01A.M.Itwasliketalkingtostone.When Lowell Coffey did

notgettheservice,respect,oranswers he was looking for,his inclination was to standand fight. Quietly, but withunshakable determination.Jaguar dealers or presidents,itdidnotmatter.Thiswasarareexception.

Coffey and Penny arrivedat the domestic cargoterminal. It was a vast, low-lying building that looked asif it had been built in the1960s. It was situated awayfrom themain terminal area.Penny parked the pickupamong rows of semis withcontainer rigs. They walkedto the front office,which satjust inside the main hangar.There they were met by apetty officer from the MIC.

He was a fresh-faced kidwhose name tag said Lady.Thatnamemusthavegothimteased a lot more than Date.Coffey judged him to beabout twenty-five. The pettyofficer checked Coffey’spassport, thanked him forcoming, and said he wouldshow the attorney to theaircraft. He removed a smallpoint-to-point radio from hisbelt. Lady was pleasant,efficient, and uninformative.

Unacceptably so. Coffeyrefused to follow the youngmanintothehangar.“PettyOfficerLady,before

I board the aircraft, I wouldappreciate someinformation,” Coffey said.“Specifically, I’d like toknow why I’m going withyou.”Hehadtospeakloudlyto be heard over the forkliftsthatweremovingbarrelsandcontainers.“I’msorry, sir,” theyoung

manreplied.“Ican’t tellyouthat.”“ThenIcan’tgowithyou,”

Coffeyinsisted.“No,sir.ImeanIcan’ttell

you because I don’t know,”Lady said. “What I can do,sir, is put you in touch withmy CO if you’d like. But Icanassureyouthathedoesn’tknow anything more than Ido. This is a Level Alphaoperation.Informationisonaneed-to-knowbasis.”

“Well,Ineedtoknow,andso do my superiors,” Coffeysaid. He held up his cellphone and wiggled it backand forth. “What do I tellthem?”“Sir, I wish I could help

you.Butthatinformationisatthe other end of a two-hourflight,”Ladysaid.Hehelduphis own radio. “What shall Itell the pilot, sir? He iswaitingtotakeoff.”If the kid hadwiggled the

radio, the attorney wouldhave turned around and left.But he did not. He wasrespectful. And he hadeffectively called Coffey’sbluff.The American turned to

Penny.“It lookslikeI’llbetaking

a two-hour flight,” he said.“I’llletyouknowassoonasIhave some ideawhat’sgoingon.”“Don’t worry about it,”

Pennysaid.“Ido,”Coffeysaid.“I just

hope this isn’t an elaborateEllsworth plot to keep mefromgivingaspeech.”“He’s a duck-shover,” she

said, “but if that turns out tobe the case, just E-mail methe speech. I’ll read it foryou.”Coffey thanked her and

indicated for Petty OfficerLadytoleadhimtotheplane.“Duck-shover?” he said,

turningbacktoPenny.“Mydaddroveataxi,”the

woman shouted ahead.“That’swhattheyusedtocalldriverswhocutothertaxisoffor muscled them out of theway.”“I love it!” Coffey called

back, waving as he headedtowardthebackofthehangarand the door that led to thefield.TheLockheedP-3Cwas a

big, gray, cigar-shaped four-

enginepropplane.Itwas116feet in length with a wing-span of nearly 100 feet.Coffey had only been in apropplaneoncebefore,whenhe traveled with the regionalOp-Center mobile office totheMiddle East. He had notliked the noise and vibrationthen. He did not think hewouldlikeitnow.Because this was a

transport mission, not travelto a combat zone, the P-3C

had gone out without atactical coordinator. TheTACCO’sstationwaslocatedin the rear of the aircraft.After Petty Officer Ladyturned Coffey over to thecrew, the captain gave himthe coordinator’s seat.Accordingtothepilot,itwasthe warmest, mostcomfortable place in theplane. The planewas taxiingbefore Coffey had evenbuckled himself in to the

threadbareredseat.Theattorneyfacedtheport

sideastheaircraftrumbleditsway into the air. He wassitting in a cubicle shapedlikehalfapentagon.Thesun-faded blue metal walls werecovered with displays,buttons, and old-fashionedswitchesanddials.Coffeysatwith his back to the openwindow as the sun burnedacross his neck and theequipment. An hour ago, if

Coffey had to guess all theplaces he could conceivablyhave found himself thismorning, the rear end of aRoyalAustralianNavypatrolcraft would have beennowhereonthelist.The strangeness of it all

was outweighed by Coffey’scuriosityastowhathewouldfind on the other end. Theattorney was thrilled by thefact that he was in the rightplace to do something about

whatever this was. Herelished the opportunity andthe challenge. It reinforcedone of his strongestconvictions: that anindividualdidnothave tobein the big, bulging belly ofpolitics to have a positiveimpactonsociety.Forthedurationofthe116-

minute flight, no one camebacktocheckontheattorneyor offer him coffee. Or apillow.Norwas the flightall

that comfortable. Coffeywondered if they had stuckhim back there just so hewould not bug anyone foranswers. Sitting there, hefound himself thinking aboutPaulHood’smanagerialstyle.Hood did not always have

information that peoplewanted tohear.Butheneverkept them out of the loop.Sometimes he was not atliberty to say what he didknow. But he always told

peoplethat.Stonewallingwasdehumanizing. Hood had hisflaws, but he always treatedpeoplelikepeople.The plane landed at

Darwin InternationalAirport.The airport consisted of onelarge central structure thatlooked like a shopping mallin Anytown, U.S.A. Thebuilding was all white.Coffey wondered ifeverything in Australia waswhite.Located less than four

miles outside the city, DIAwas both a commercialairport and a Department ofDefence airfield. It was usedprimarily by the RoyalAustralian Air Force.However, theMIC also flewreconnaissancemissionsfromhere.Coffeywasnottakentothe

terminal.Theplanepulledoffonto an apron where severalF-18swereparked.Thepilotwalked him down the aft

staircase to a waiting blacksedan.“Tellme,Captain,”Coffey

saidastheycrossedtheshort,windystretchoftarmac.“Didyou folks strand me backthere on purpose? Anunadorned yes or no willsuffice.”“Yes, sir, we did,” the

captainreplied.“Follow-up question,”

Coffey said. “Why did youleavemealone?”

“Becausewewere told to,sir,”thepilotsaid.Okay, Coffey thought. At

leastthatwashonest.The pilot turned him over

tothepettyofficerwhostoodbeside the car. The menexchanged salutes, and thenthepilotleft.Thepettyofficeropened the door, and Coffeygot in. There was a glasspartition between the frontand back of the car.Obviously, theydidnotwant

him talking to the driver,either.The car sped off, carrying

Coffey past a forest of tall,colorfulstonepolesthatstoodin a small, green plot besidethe building. Coffeyrecognized these from thetourbookhehadreadduringthe flight to Australia. Theywere Tiwi Pukumani burialpoles—a tribute to theAboriginalpeopleswhodweltin the Northern Territory.

Theywere used asmourningtotems during funeralceremonies. Afterward, theyremained standing above thegrave as a memorial to thedead. These particular poleswere carved to honor allnative dead. Coffey thoughtabouthowmovingitmustbefor a sculptor to work oninterpretive likenesses ofdeceasedindividualsfromhistribe or village. The processmade more sense to Coffey

than a marble workerimpersonally hacking namesintostone.Also, theburialpoleswere

notwhite.Theywerebrightlypainted,acelebrationoflife.As the sedan headed

toward downtown Darwin,Coffey looked out at thegleamingwatersoftheTimorSea. He found it ironic thatsince leaving Sydney he hadencountered a pilot, a driver,andaseriesof totems.Allof

themweremute,butonlyoneofthemhadanyeloquence.The one that wasmade of

stone.

EIGHTTheCelebesSea

Thursday,12:12P.M.If anyone had been

watching the two vessels, itwould have seemed like achance encounter. A passingship or plane, even a spysatellite, would see it as anoffer by a decommissionedcutter to lend assistance to ayacht. The two ships stayedtogether briefly, less than

fifteen minutes. Then thecutterpulledaway,itscaptainwaving grandly to a fellowseafarer.In fact, the encounter was

anything but innocent. Oraccidental.Forty-seven-year-old Peter

Kannaday,ownerandskipperof the Hosannah, wassupposed to have made therendezvouswiththeprivatelyownedcutterwhennightwasupon the sea, and no one

could have seen themtogether.Buttheexplosiononthe sampan had opened acrack in his hull.Actually, ithad blown an oar, pieces ofhull,andthebodyofapirateagainst the bulkhead of theyacht. They were what hadcaused thebreach.The crackwas less than a meter longand was well above thewaterline. But where it hadhitwasveryinconvenientforthecaptain. Inconvenientand

extremely dangerous. Theyhad to stop and repair it.Fortunately, there had beenno other ships in the area.That was one of the reasonsKannaday had selected thisrouteinthefirstplace.TheAustralian sea captain

watched as the red-hulledcutter moved away slowly.The diesel-electric motorsgrowled loudly as the 200-foot-long ship crawledforward under a perfect blue

sky. The cutterwas formerlyowned by the Republic ofKoreaNavy,boughtfromtheUnitedStatesin1950.Nowitwas thepropertyofMahathirbin Dahman of Malaysia,who used it as part of hisglobal waste-disposaloperation.Theship’scaptain,Jaafar, had said thatDahmanhad been very concernedabout the risks of a daylightpickup. Jaafar had assuredhimthatitwouldbeallright.

Dahman decided to trust hismanonthescene.Jaafarwasright.Everythingwentwell.Kannaday did not think

thathisownbosswouldbeasunderstanding. It botheredKannaday that he had toworry about that. The shiphadasecurityofficerforthis.Onewhohadbeenappointedbythebosshimself.Kannaday turned from the

deck and went below. Hepulledahand-rolledcigarette

fromhisshirtpocket.Helititand took a few quick drags.Thefivesecurityofficershadgone down ahead of him.They were in the process ofreturning their automaticweapons to the gun racks.They were always on highalertduringatransfer.The rest of the crew was

going about their business ofsailing the yacht back toAustralia.The yacht belonged to

Kannaday, and somemembers of the crew hadbeen with him for nearlysevenyears.Theywereloyal,thoughnotnecessarilytohim.They liked the untaxedmoneytheymadeandthejobwas easy. Most of the timetheHosannahpretendedtobeconducting coastline tours orfishing runs. Theywanted tobe seen in asmanyplaces aspossible. Crew membersposed as paying customers.

Betweenthoseessentiallyidlecruises, the crew wereveterans of countlessindependent smugglingoperations. They hadtransportedpeople andgoodsall across the southernhemisphere,fromAustraliatoSouthAmerica.Thesecuritypeopledidnot

work for him. They workedforJohnHawke,whoworkedfor Jervis Darling. A thickmist of distrust circulated

between them andKannaday’s veteran crew.Kannaday’s men had neverhadtodefendtheirvesselandtheir cargo. But they couldand would, if necessary.Hawke’s team had neversailedayacht.Yeteachteambelieved they could do theother’s job better. Seamenalways felt that way.Unfortunately, what hadhappened the night beforestoked the frustration in both

camps. The seamen felt thesecurity team should haveseen the sampan comingbefore dark. They had radarand sonar, installed in theradio room by Darling’stechnicians. Unfortunately,the sampan was so small itliterally slipped under theradar. Kannaday’s crew feltthat once the threat wasidentified,thesecuritypeopleshould have anticipated thattheremight be explosives on

board. They could havechanged course to avoid thethreat, as they always didbefore going to workexclusively for Darling.Unfortunately, the schedulesof Darling and his partnersdid not allow time for flight.They were to load and off-load thematerials as soon aspossible.The miserable irony was

that except for theexplosion,everything had gone

perfectly.Thesecuritysystemand defensive response hadworked.Anhour before theyweresupposedtomeetJaafar,thesophisticatedmarineradarhad picked up a blip.Darling’snephewMarcushadreported it toKannaday,whohad watched the seven-inchcolor monitor in thecommunications room. Theyhad observed the sampan’sapproach on the night-visionsecurity camera attached to

the mainmast. They decidedthat the crew were piratespreparingtoboard.Asecurityteamwent on deck and tookthemout.Soasnottohitfuelsupplies or stockpiledammunition, they aimed atthe men, not at the sampan.Though they tookprecautions, a replay of thesecurity video showed whathad happened. Bullets struckexplosives one of the pirateshad been carrying. Perhaps

thepirateshadintendedtotryto cripple the yacht andforestall pursuit. In any case,the handheld explosive hadblown up and damaged theyacht. There was no way tohave seen that. No way tohave anticipated it. And,unfortunately, no way toprotectagainstit.Theyachtwasdividedinto

ten rooms.Six of thosewerefor the crew, one was formunitions, one was for

Kannaday, and one was forcommunications. The tenthroom, the room that wasdamaged,wasfortheircargo.Kannaday walked down thecarpeted central corridor tothe roomwhere repairs werestill ongoing. Fortunately, allof theinternalwallshadheldsecure. Kannaday stoppedbeside thirty-one-year-oldJohn Hawke, his securityofficer.Hawke was a contrast to

the tall, prematurely silver-haired Kannaday. Thesinewy, five-foot-nine-inchHawke was what the peopleof his native Cootamundra,SouthAustralia,usedtocallaMong—amongrel,thesonofa Canadian father and anAborigine mother. However,no one who knew Hawkeused the disparaging term.The taciturn sailor wore awommera tucked in his sashbelt. The traditional Dharuk

weapon was a hookedwoodenstickusedforhurlingdartswithforceandaccuracy.The dart was placed in ahollowedendand thenflung,like a jai alai ball.Kannadayhad seen Hawke use theweapon on sea birds forpractice. Their eyeswere hisfavoritetarget.Theirsquawkswere like sylvan music tohim,producingtheonlysmileKannadayeversaw.Hawke’s own eyes were

palegraysetinafaceofdarkrust. His hair was black andcurlyandworninashoulder-length ponytail. He movedwiththesteady,fluidgraceofamanwhohadspentmostofhis lifeonaship’sdeck.Theoddest thing about him wasthat he was almost alwayswhistling.Exceptforwhenhewas on deck at night, hewould whistle nativemelodies.No one ever askedhim why, and no one asked

himtostop.Notonlywasheaformidablepresence,buthehad been handpicked byDarling.Right now Hawke was

standing outside the cargodoor.Hewaswearingaradioheadset. He was speakingwith the threecrewmemberswho were inside the room.Kannaday offered Hawke adrag from his cigarette.Hawkedeclinedwithasingleshakeofhishead.

“How is it going?”Kannadayasked.“Mr. Gibbons says they’ll

have the outer hullsufficientlyrepairedtogetussafely to the cove,” Hawketoldhim.“Good,”Kannadayreplied.

“Thank the lads for me. I’mgoingtoreporttothechief.”Hawke did not respond.

Kannaday had not expectedhim to. If something did notneed to be said or indicated,

Hawkedidnothing.Kannadaymoved past him

down the corridor. Heshouldered by the securitypersonnelwhowerereturningfrom the munitions room totheircabin.Thelabhadbeenmade from the forward port-side guest cabin. The radioroom was assembled in therear starboardguest cabin. Inthe center of the yacht wasthe saloon. Walls had beenerected in the center of the

dining area. The securityteam slept in hammocksslungintheport-sidesection.Kannaday’screwslept in thestarboardsection.Kannaday’sowncabinwasastern.Exceptfor transfer times oremergencies, the securityteam remained below. To alloutward appearances, theHosannah was simply apleasureyachtoncharter.Kannaday knocked on the

door of the communications

shack.Without waiting for areply, he slipped his largeframe through the smalldoorway of the windowlesscabin. The rush of air fromthe belowdecks ventilationductfilledtheroom.Theventwas located port side of acrawl space that ran thelengthof theyacht.Thatwaswhere emergency supplieswere kept. Itwas alsowherenonlethal contraband such asdrugs or political refugees

werekept.The green-haired

communications officerlooked up from his cot.Marcus Darling was thechief’s twenty-five-year-oldnephew.The heavyset youngman had an advanced degreein electronics and thearrogance that comes fromnepotism.Mostofthetimehelay here or on deck readingscience fiction and fantasynovelsorwatchingDVDson

his laptop. Occasionally, hetook the flare guns from thecompartment above hisstation and checked them. Incaseofanaccident,hewasinchargeof all formsof rescuesignaling. But what the kidreally wanted to do was runone of the boss’s movie-special-effects facilities inEurope or the United States.Uncle Jervis told him thatafter he put in a year on theyacht,hewouldsendMarcus

whereverhewantedtogo.Marcus was the one who

had built the Hosannah’ssecure radio system threeyearsbefore.Atthetime, theyoung man was still incollege, and Jervis Darlingwas just beginning to planthis operation. Marcus hadhacked a classified NATOweb site to get a list ofcomponents the organizationused in their field-communications setup. The

heart of the system was adigitalencryptionmodulethatcould be interfaced withanalog radios.Run through apersonal computer, the DMcontinually modulated thefrequencies whilecommunicating the changesto a computer on thereceivingend.Itwasvirtuallyimpossible to decrypt thecommunication without thecomputersoftware.Marcus set aside the

science fiction novel he wasreading.Herosefromthecotas Kannaday shut the door.The radio operator was oncall all day, every day, andthiswaswhere he slept. Theroom was a tight squeezewith the radar equipmentwheretheportholeusedtobeandtheradiogearonthewallacross from the cot.Kannaday backed against thedoor while Marcus movedtoward the desk. It was

actually a wide shelf builtdirectly into the wall. Thedesk ran the length of thecabin. The youngman easedinto the canvas director’schairinfrontoftheradio.“Ididn’thearanyshooting

thistime,Peter,”Marcussaid.“We get things right on

occasion,”Kannaday replied.He had long ago given upexplaining himself or tryingtoget thekid to refer tohimas Captain Kannaday.

Fortunately, Marcus did notdo it when other crewmembers were around. Thiswas just the young man’sprivatedig.“Don’tbemodest,”Marcus

said.“Youandyourcrewgetthingsrightmostofthetime.”“There’s a ‘but’ in your

voice,”Kannadaysaid.“You’ve good ears,”

Marcus said. “The ‘but’ youhear is thatUncleSalty likesthings to be right all of the

time.He doesn’t likemoviesthat flop, magazines thatdon’tmake a profit, and realestatethatlosesvalue.”Salty was the Australian

media’s nickname for JervisDarling. It was inspired bythe big, stealthy saltwatercrocodile of the NorthernTerritory. Kannaday had noidea whether Darling likedtheepithetornot.“This isadifferentkindof

business,” Kannaday said.

“There has to be leeway fortheunexpected.”“I suppose that’s true,”

Marcus said as he activatedthesystem.Hepickedup theheadsetandhungtheearpiecearound his left ear.“Unfortunately, we can’treallyafford that leeway,canwe?”“Whatdoyoumean?”“Failurecanresult inmore

than a financial loss foreveryoneconcerned,”Marcus

said.As much as Kannaday

disliked giving Marcus hisdue,thekidwasright.Failurein thisenterprisecould resultin death or the kind of jailterm that would make deaththe preferred option. On theother hand, like all the menon board, Kannadayobviously felt that the riskwas worth it. Kannaday wasearning 75,000 dollars aweek.Hismenweretakingin

6,000 each. Darling put themoney in an escrow accountintheCaymanIslands.Attheend of each two-year stint,the money would be theirs.Theyhadsixmonthstogoonthis leg. And they did nothave to do any other kind ofsmuggling for this employer.No drugs, no guns, noterrorists.Theyalreadyknewthehandfulofplayers in thisgame, so there were rarelypersonnel changes and very

fewsurprises.Theonly thingthat made no sense toKannaday was what was inthis for Jervis Darling. Thecaptain did not understandwhy amultibillionairewouldbe interested in taking a riskofthismagnitude.Marcus contacted Jervis’s

personal secretary, AndrewGraham. Andrew was at theDarling compound inCairns.The secretary said he wouldtransfer the call to Jervis

Darling’sprivateline.Marcushanded Kannaday theheadset.Kannadayplacedtheentire unit over his head.Marcus did not get up, soKannaday leaned on themetal desk.He looked at thethermometer-likespectrometer on the wall infront of him. One cable ranfrom the base of the unit toMarcus’s computer. Anotherran to a battery pack on thedesk.Thedeviceateupa lot

of electricity, but they couldnot afford to be without it.This room adjoined thelaboratory. If there were aleak, software in Marcus’scomputer would notice aphotopeak on its internalgraph. That would cause analarmtosound.Theconnectionwouldtake

about five seconds. Theywere five very long seconds.Kannaday drew hard on thecigarette. Most of the time,

the sixty-two-year-oldDarling was a soft-spokenman. But that wasmisleading. The Australiannative could communicatemore with a delay or withsilence than most peoplecould with speech. Darlinghadbeenveryquietwhenhewas toldabout theexplosion.HehadtoldKannadaysimplyto “take care of it.” Thecaptain had been chilled byDarling’s monotone, by the

way he pronounced “take”and “care” as distinct wordsinstead of running themtogether. Hopefully, word ofa successful transfer fromDahman’sshipwouldmollifyhim.“Goahead,”Andrewsaid.“Sir, the transfer has been

completed,” Kannaday said.They never used Darling’sname over the air. Unlikelythough it was, there wasalways a chance that the

signal could be interceptedandinterpreted.“All right,” Darling

replied. “We will talk aboutthis when you arrive . . .Captain.”There was a click.

Kannaday felt as though hehadbeenpunchedhardinthegut. Darling had hung up.Kannaday had not expectedabsolution, but he had beenhoping for neutrality.He didnotgetthat.Therehadbeena

pause between “arrive” and“Captain.”Kannaday did notknow whether that meant Itwas your responsibility toprotecttheship,orEnjoy thetitle while it’s still yours.Kannaday removed theheadset.“Did Uncle Salty take a

bite?”Marcusasked.“Without evenopeninghis

bloody mouth,” Kannadayreplied.Heopenedthedoor.“Don’t worry,” Marcus

said. “Maybe my uncle willlet it go at that. If you don’tcatch the first wave, oftenyou won’t catch it at all.WhenIwasakid,Isawhimdothatononeofhismovies.His starwas scratchingawayat a part like she waschippingforgold.Threedaysinto the shoot, the directorwas already six days behindschedule. Uncle Saltycouldn’t yell at his big-namestar, so he went after one of

her wardrobe mistresses. Heshowed up on the set onemorning and chewed her outfor being slow. Chucked amicky, big time. UncleSalty’s star worked a lotfasterafterthat.”“I’llmakesuretowarnmy

dresser,” Kannaday said.“Thisisnotamotionpicture.Your uncle cannot afford tolet things slide. He cannotwrite off a failure on histaxes.”

“That’s true,”Marcus saidas he returned to his cot. Heshrugged. “I was just tryingto give you some hope.Forget I said anything.”Marcus picked up his novelandresumedreading.Kannaday left the

communications room. Heshould have known betterthantoengageinanykindofdialogue with Marcus. Notonlydidthekidliketotweakhim, but Kannaday believed

that Marcus and Hawke hadsomething going. It wasnothinghecouldpindown.Itmight not be anything morethan simpatico. But everytime Kannaday came uponthem together, it looked asthough the twomen had justfinished setting a bear trap.Hawke was typicallyimplacable, but Marcus wasalways watchful, cautious,guarded.Kannaday went to his

small cabin in the aftermostsection of the yacht. Thehardwood floorboard creakedslightly.Heshutthedoorandstared out the tiny rearporthole. He did not see theseaor theskyor theglareofthe sun on the bulletproofglass. He was only aware ofone thing: How wouldDarlingreactwhentheywereface-to-face?Kannaday knew too much

about this operation for the

magnate simply to dismisshim without the rest of hispay. Besides, Darling wouldhave to get himself anotherboat. If he tried to take thisone, the new captain of theHosannah would have toexplainwhathappenedtotheold captain. There would bean inquiry. Anyway,KannadaydidnotbelievethatDarlingwouldkillhim.Therewere rumors about pastactivities of that sort, but

Kannaday’s crew was notstupid. If somethinghappened to Kannaday, theywouldnotwait around.Theywould take the yacht to seaand lose themselves at thefirst crowdedport.Kannadayalso did not think Darlingwouldriskthesetuphehad.Of course, there might be

larger issues for Darling toconsider. Issues that mightoverridetheseotherconcerns.Darling might feel as if he

needed to teach an objectlesson to the men on this orother operations. Thataccidents could not betolerated.That possibility worried

Kannaday. There was onlyone way he could be sure itdidnothappen.Thatwastostrikefirst.AndKannadayhadanidea

justhowtodoit.

NINETheCelebesSea

Thursday,12:33P.M.The cutter had proceeded

northwestatseventeenknots.Itreachedthedesignatedareaquickly. Fortunately, thedelay had not impactedJaafar’s scheduled drop-off.International Spent FuelTransport, a division ofDahmanWasteManagement,had clearance at the site for

noon until three-thirty everytwo weeks. There were 112visits to this site each year.Thenextshipwouldnotvisithere until the followingmorning. The InternationalNuclear RegulatoryCommission assigned theslots so that each shipwouldhave a comfortable windowfor getting in and out of thearea. The time slots werecreated to minimize thechance of collisions. And if

an accident occurred on oneship,itwouldnotthreatenthecrewofanother.Jaafar watched from the

bridgeashiscrewworkedthewinchon theforwardsectionof the cutter. The eightcrewmen all wore radiationsuits. They worked slowlyandcarefullyasthefifty-footcrane removed a concreteblockfromtheforwardhold.The block weighed three

tonsandwasroughlythesize

of a compact automobile. Itwas designed to contain justthree ten-gallon drums ofwaste. Each radioactive rodwassealedinsideamixtureofabsorbent lithium chloride,potassiumchloride,andalkalimetal chloride salts. Thesewere packaged inside cesiummetal containers withinreinforced ceramic and steeldrums. Once the concreteblock was in the water, itwouldbeloweredslowlytoa

ledge feet below. A fiber-optic camera on the linewould guide the winchoperator.Hewould take carenot to nick or damage anyotherblockwhileplacinghis.Each week, the INRC sailedthrough this region to makecertain none of the blockswereleaking.This area of the Celebes

Sea was one of twelveoceanic regions where theINRC permitted radioactive

waste to be deposited. Theseabed herewas geologicallystable, and fishermendidnotregularly sail these waters.Any leaks would not have ahighimpactonanypeoplesoreconomy.Ofcourse, securitywas a relative state of mind.The waste would be highlyradioactive for ten thousandyears. But it had to bedisposedofand,fornow,thiswasoneofthebestplacesforthat. Especially since

scientists were discoveringthat even the strongestcontainers buried on landwere subject to erosion frommicrobacteria.Manyof theseorganismshadbeenburiedinvolcanic flows millions ofyears ago and remaineddormantinsidetherocks.Justa whisper of radiation frommaterials such as cobalt 60caused them to be revivedand eat through rock andmetal.

The olive-skinned, black-bearded Jaafar watched withpride as his men went abouttheir task. The thirty-seven-year-old had worked closelywith the physicists hired byMahathir bin Dahman. Theyhad designed a safe andefficient process for off-loading waste. The walls ofthe bridge were decoratedwith documents from theINRC commending theDahmanoperation.

Jaafar remainedathispostuntil the operation wascompleted. He radioed thehomeofficeinKualaLumpurto tell them that everythinghadbeensuccessful.Thenhewentbelowtothankthecrewandhavelunch.And to enjoy, as always,

onedelicioussnack.The irony of those INRC

citations.

TENDarwin,Australia

Thursday,12:05P.M.Royal Darwin Hospital is

one of the finest, mostmodernfacilitiesinAustralia.Aten-storywhitestructure,ithas a unique mission.Because the population itserves lives across a vastregion, with varied racialbackgrounds and difficultclimatic conditions, the

hospitalmustbereadytodealwith almost any kind ofillnessorinjury.Medically,theywereready

for Lee Tong.Psychologically, no one wasready for him. Or what hebroughttoAustralia.The staff car rolled up to

the front entrance of thehospital.As it did, anofficerstepped from the lobby. Hewas a big man with hair thecolor of straw. Coffey was

not up on his RoyalAustralian Navy chevrons,but thismanhad thecarriageofahigh-rankingofficer.ThedriverranaroundandopenedCoffey’s door. The pettyofficer saluted as the othermanapproachedthecar.“Mr. Coffey, I’m George

Jelbart,” the man said in averythickAustralianaccent.“Good afternoon, sir,”

Coffeysaid.“Thank you for coming,”

Jelbart went on. “I hope theride was not toouncomfortable.”“Itwasfine,exceptforthe

curiosityburningaholeinmyhead,”Coffeyreplied.“Please forgive the

secrecy,”Jelbartsaid.“You’llunderstand why that wasnecessary.”“I’m sure,” Coffey said.

“Thing is, I hate calling myboss and telling him that Idon’t know why I’m going

someplace. It looks bad, usbeing an intelligence agencyandall.”“I understand. Again,

you’ll see why it wasnecessary.”The men entered the

hospital lobby. They walkedpast the casualty area towardthe elevators, andwentup tothe fifth floor. There, towardthe end of an L-shapedcorridor, two leading seamenstoodateaseoneithersideof

a door. They each wore asextant patchon their sleeve.When Coffey asked, Jelbarttold him that the badge wasfromthenavy’shydrographicsurvey branch. Both menwore handguns and no-nonsenseexpressions.Hydrographic survey and

maritime intelligence, Coffeythought. Science andcounterespionage wereworking together on this.That reinforced what he had

been thinking all along. Heonly hoped that the situationwas not as bad as heimagined.The men saluted as

Warrant Officer Jelbartarrived. He returned thesaluteasheopened thedoor.Directly inside was a leadscreen made up of threeverticalpanels.Itwassimilarto the ones Coffey had seenin X-ray laboratories. Thescreen did not surprise him,

but it did sadden him. Ahumanbeingwaslyingontheothersideofthescreen.Therewasasmallwindow

inthecenter.Jelbartgesturedfor Coffey to look through.The attorney stepped up andstudiedthepatientinthebed.He was a dark-skinned,muscular-looking man withan intravenous needle in hisarm and an oxygenmask onthe lower half of his face.Therewerebandagesoverhis

bare chest, shoulders, arms,and portions of his face andscalp. Several monitors werehooked to his arms andtemples.“We think he’s from

Singapore,”Jelbartsaid.“Why?”Coffeyasked.“It’s his general

physiognomy,” Jelbart toldhim. “Also, he’s wearingclothes usually worn bydockworkers at KeppelHarbor.Hissharkandanchor

tattoos look like the designsthey do there as well. Atleast, the portions thatweren’tburnedaway.”“Isee,”Coffeysaid.“How

didhegethere?”“He was picked up by an

RAN patrol boat,” Jelbartsaid. “They found himclingingtoafewplanksfromwhat may have been asampan. That’s what thewood and curve of thewoodsuggested. He had third-

degree burns over twentypercent of his body and abullet hole in each leg.Ironically, the burnscauterized the wounds.Otherwise, he wouldprobably have bled to death.Hewasout there foreightornine hours before they foundhim.”“He’s lucky they found

himatall,”Coffeysaid.“Lucky is a relative term,”

Jelbartsaid.

“Howso?”“Our patrol boats are

equipped with radiationdetectors,” Jelbart went on.“Theywatchforanyonewhomight be trying to smugglenuclear weapons through theregion. They got a readingfromourfriend.”“From him or from the

wreckage?”Coffeyasked.“Both,” Jelbart replied.

“The doctors don’t think hereceived a lethal dosage.

There are tests, of course,though I understand the bestsign will be if he actuallywakesup.I’mtoldyouknowBrianEllsworth.”“Yes.”“He is downstairs in the

morgue with some localsecurity officials and thewreckage,” Jelbart told him.“We bathed the victim, butwedon’twanttocleanuptheplanks until they’ve beenanalyzed.”

“So you’re keeping itisolated,”Coffeysaid.Jelbartnodded.“Has anyone contacted the

authorities in Singapore?”Coffeyasked.“Yes,” Jelbart replied.

“We’re hoping they can helptoidentifythisindividual.”“Buthewillbe toosick to

transportback toSingapore,”Coffeysaidknowingly.“That happens to be true,”

Jelbart told him. He faced

Coffey.Hisvoicewasbarelyabove a whisper now. “Butyou’re right,Mr.Coffey.Wedon’t want him leaving herejust yet. If this man wasinvolved in the transport ofnuclear materials, we don’tknow who else in Singaporemightbeinvolved.Itcouldbemembers of the government,the military, or privateindustry. We don’t wantanything to happen to himuntilwecanquestionhim.”

“You know that you can’tholdthismanifheaskstobereleased,” Coffey said. “Hewas found in internationalwaters and committed nocrimes that you’re aware of.For all you know, he was avictim.”“Iunderstand that,”Jelbart

said. “Now let’s talk aboutreality. This region is theworld’s best-traveled routefor nuclear traffic. Yourgovernment has been at war

with potential nuclearterrorists here and in Africaand theMiddleEast.But it’sbeen on our shoulders to tryto stop the goods in transit.That’snoteasy.Withouttraceradiation or knownperpetrators,wehavenorighttoboardshipsintheopensea.The coastline is anotherproblem. Watching that eatsupalotoftimeandresources.I don’t know what we’regoing to find out about this

man. Air and sea patrols aresearchingtheregionwherehewas found. They’re lookingformoreofthewreckage.Sofar,nothinghas turnedup.Afew extra hours in the watermay have diluted theradiation and the wreckagesufficientlytomakedetectiondifficult.”“What about other vessels

that may have been in theregion?”Coffeyasked.“We’re checking charters,

radio transmissions, evencellularphonecalls thatweremade before dawn,” Jelbartsaid. “According to thedoctor,thevictimwasinjuredabout four or five A.M.Perhapsanothervesselsaworheard something. But then,we assume they would havereportedit.”Coffeynodded.“Ofcourse,

iftherewassomethingillegalgoing on, this man’sshipmateswouldhavesteered

away fromother vessels,” hesaid.“Most likely,” Jelbart

agreed. “There’s one otherscenariowehavetoconsider.The accident occurred neartheRyderRidge,aregionfornuclear waste disposal. It’sremotely possible this manandhisshipmatesweretryingto salvage some of thatmaterial.”“In a sampan?” Coffey

asked.

“Isaid‘remotelypossible,’not ‘likely,’ ” Jelbart pointedout. “Which brings me backtowhat I believe is the case.That they were transportingnuclearmaterialinsomeformand were attacked. Maybe itwas a deal gone wrong.Maybe they pushed theirengineanditoverheated.Butwe need to find out more,which means holding thismanuntilsuchtimeashecanspeaktous.”

Coffey looked at theunconscious victim. “Whatare you asking me to do?Ignorehisrights?”“Involving you was Mr.

Ellsworth’s idea,” Jelbartsaid. “I don’t know what hewants you to do. But I’mtelling you, Mr. Coffey, thishas me scared. We have inthe past interceptedtroublesome cargo.Components for nuclearweapons. Fake passports for

the transit of rogue nuclearscientists. Plans of nuclearpowerplantshereandabroad,including the routes they useforthetransportationofspentfuel.But this is thefirst timewe have encountered clearevidence of radioactivematerialsclosetoourshores.”“Thepoint is,youdid find

it,”Coffeysaid.“Byluck.”“Nonetheless, you know

where to look now,” Coffey

said. “By examining thewreckage, you may evenknowwhat to look for.Whatkind of ship, where it camefrom. This man may notknow anything. You can’ttreat him as if he’s a terrormastermind.”“Sir, we can’t afford to

treat him as if he isn’t,”Jelbartreplied.“DoyouwanttoknowwhatI’maskingyouto do, Mr. Coffey? I amasking you to consider the

rights of the twenty millionpeoplelivinginAustraliaandthe countless millions livingaround the globe. I’m askingyou to consider their right tolive lives free of nuclearterrorism.”“People should live free

from any form of terrorism,”Coffey said. He noddedtoward the man in the bed.“That includes state-sanctionedterrorism,physicalorpsychological.”

“No one is going to hurthim,” Jelbart said. “Which issomething else you shouldconsider.Whatever treatmentthisman receiveswhilehe isourguestwillbepreferabletowhattheywoulddotohiminSingapore. If thegovernmentwants information, they willbeat or drug him to get it. Ifsomeone wants to silencehim, they will do that, too.”Jelbartlookedathiswatch.“Itold Mr. Ellsworth I would

bring you to him. I suggestwe go downstairs now. Therepresentative fromSingapore is also due anymoment.”The men returned to the

elevator.Coffeywastorn.Intheory,

he could disagree withnothing the warrant officerhadsaid.Inpractice,hecouldnot shake a quote by CalvinCoolidge that he hadmemorized. It was

commemoratedinaplaqueinoneof the lecturehallsat theUCLASchool ofLawwhereCoffeyhadbeena student. Itsaid, “Men speak of naturalrights,butIchallengeanyoneto showwhere in nature anyrights existed or wererecognized until there wasestablished for theirdeclaration and protection aduly promulgated body ofcorrespondinglaws.”Jelbart was wrong. Bend

the law, and the rights of allpeoplesuffered.But then, Coffey was a

good lawyer. As such, hecould not help butwonder ifthere was a loophole in thisinstance. Nuclear terrorism,eventhethreatofit,removedpart of what made him wanttoprotectthisman.It took the word human

fromhumanrights.

ELEVENDarwin,Australia

Thursday,12:17P.M.The RAN Iroquois

helicopter carrying FemaleNaval Defence TechnicalOfficer Monica Loh ofCOSCOM, the CoastalCommandof theRepublicofSingapore Navy, landed onthe helipad at the RoyalDarwin Hospital. The padwas typically used by the

Rescue Birds—helicoptersthatbroughtpatientsfromtheregions surrounding Darwin.Formerly an officer with theExplosiveOrdnanceDisposalGroup, the five-foot-seven-inch Loh walked severalpaces ahead of the twoshorter male Naval Defencetechnicians who hadaccompanied her. The vesseltowhichLohwasattached,a360-tonminecountermeasurevessel, was still at sea.

Warrant Officer GeorgeJelbart had dispatched thehelicoptertogetMajorLohtothe Darwin hospital asquicklyaspossible.BrianEllsworthhad senta

scanned photograph andfingerprints of an injuredseaman to the Police CoastGuard at the Tanjong PagarComplex in Singapore.Ellsworth had wanted anyinformation the PCG mighthave on this individual. He

was Lee Tong, a registeredformerseamanontheLordoftheOceancontainership.ThePCG wanted to know whyEllsworth needed thisinformation.He told them,atthe same time invitingsomeone from COSCOM tojoin the investigation. SinceFNO Loh had experience inthatareaofthesea,aswellaswith explosive devices, shewas sent toDarwin. The lasttime she had been involved

with Australian officials wasthree years before. That waswhen the two nations hadjoined with Malaysianauthorities to raid awarehouse on the Malaysiancoast.Theybrokeup aDVDpirating ring that theAustralian Film and VideoSecurity Office said wascostingHollywoodproducersover twenty-five milliondollarsayearinlostrevenue.Everyone wants to be in

show business, she thoughtbitterly at the time. To carryout the raid, Loh’s superiorshad pulled her off acoinvestigation with theHome Affairs Ministryinvolving Lebanon’sHezbollah guerrilla grouprecruiting SingaporeanMuslims. These individualswerebeingusedtospyontheAmerican and Israeliembassies in Singapore.Fortunately, the Singaporean

Muslimsdecidedtheriskwasnot worth the rewards. Theyquit the Lebanese terror unitbefore carrying out theirmission.Lohandhertwoaideswere

metbyapairofRANleadingseamen and escorted to theback of the hospital. Theywere informed that a serviceelevator would take them towherethe“items”werebeingstored.Itfeltstrangetobeonland.

Lohwas used to the rockingof the MCMV, where shespentmuchofhertime.Eventhe helicopter had felt morecomfortable than solid,unmovingasphalt.Itwasalsounusual for Loh to be in thesunshine. While the bulk ofthe twenty-eight-person crewsearched for mines, sheconducted signal intelligenceoperations in a segregatedareaof the ship.She listenedfor communiqués that might

suggest smugglingoperations. If she detectedanything unusual, theappropriatepoliceormilitaryunitwassenttoinvestigate.The fact that just the

opposite was happening heredid not surprise her. Thethirty-four-year-old Loh didnot share the viewpoint ofmany of her fellow femalenavalofficers.Theyregardedthe RSN nomenclature asdismissive, since male naval

officerswere simply referredto as naval officers. Loh didnot agree. She sincerelybelievedthatmenhadcreatedthe distinction for a reason.So that they would havesomewhere to turn whenthingsgotdifficult.Likenow.Loh’s father, Vendesan, wasan officer with Singapore’sCriminal InvestigationDepartment. His specialtywasgathering intelligenceonthe powerful secret societies

that ran the nation’sgambling, prostitution, anddrug rings. Her father wasvery smart. But wheneverVendesan was baffled, hediscussed the situation withhiswife.Monicawouldoftenlie in bed, listening to theirconversations. Her mother,Nurdiyana, was a school-teacher.Moreoften thannot,the woman would havesensible solutions to herhusband’s problems. It was

the same with the FNOs.When roaring and maneshakingfailed, theRSNlionssent in the smarter, cagierlionesses.Not that Loh’s father was

like that. He respectedwomen. And he respectedintellect. Chinese, Malay,Tamil, and English were allofficial languages inSingapore.Hespokethemall.At his insistence, Loh hadlearned them in school. He

himself had taught herJapanese.“Arms can subdue, but

oftenatgreatcost,”herfatherhad once told her. “Butlanguages can infiltrate andcontrol. If used correctly,they give you power overgroupsandindividuals.”Her father had been proof

of that. He had survivedforty-fiveyearswith theCIDbeforeretiring.TheSingaporeansandtheir

escorts entered the spaciouselevatorandrodedownthreefloors.Thedoorsopenedonametal desk with a securityguard seated behind it. AseniormemberoftheDarwinPolice Force was standingbesidehim.Theofficertippedhis hat toLoh as shewalkedpast. If she were out ofuniform, she would havefound thatsweet. Inuniform,it made her uncomfortable.She would have preferred a

salute. They walked a fewsteps to the morgue. Thehospital guard buzzed themin. The two leading seamendidnotenter.The morgue was about

twenty by twenty feet. Therewere refrigerated cabinetswith stainless steel doors onthe left-hand side. On theright side were shelves withchemicals, tools, andelectronic equipment. Thereweretwodoorsintherear.In

the center of the roomwas arow of gurneys.Dark apronscoveredseveralof them.Lohassumedthatthesewerelead-lined and that the remains oftheboatwerebeneaththem.There were four other

people in the brightly litroom. One of them walkedover briskly and introducedhimself. He was BrianEllsworth, a short, rotund,balding man. Dressed in ablack three-piece suit, the

paleofficiallookedasthoughhe were dressed for his ownfuneral. Ellsworth introducedWarrant Officer GeorgeJelbart, attorney LowellCoffey III of the NationalCrisisManagementCenter inWashington, D.C., and Dr.Maud Forvey, a physicist atthe Northern TerritoryUniversity.Loh introducedherselfand

hertwoaides.“Iwanttothankyouallfor

coming,” Ellsworth said.“Frankly, we aren’t sureprecisely what we’vestumbledupon.Wehopeyoucanhelp.”“You received the data

from the Police CoastGuard,”Lohsaid.“Yes. We did, just now,

thank you,” Ellsworth said.“Wehavepeoplecheckingtosee if there is additionalinformationaboutMr.Tong.”“Iwouldliketovisithim,”

Lohsaid.“We’ll take you to his

roominaminute,”Ellsworthsaid. “First, if you don’tmind, we’d like to know ifthere isanythingyoucan tellus about the wreckage. Weunderstandyou’vebeenatseafortenyears.”“That’sright,”shesaid.“Mr. Jelbart believes it’s

fromasampan,butwearen’tcertain,” Ellsworth said. “Bythe way, Dr. Forvey has

checked the flotsam forradioactivity. It is extremelylowlevel,perfectlysafeforabrief exposure. Just don’thandle any of the pieceswithouttheproperattire.”Loh walked over to the

gurneys. Dr. Forvey put onthick yellow gloves. Sheraised the end of one of theleadcovers.TheSingaporeanofficer looked at the charredpiecesofplanking.“That’s Foochow pine,”

shesaid.“Are you certain?”

Ellsworthasked.“Absolutely. The Chinese

use it to make mu-chisampans.”“Do you ever see these in

Singapore?” Warrant OfficerJelbartasked.“Occasionally,” Loh said.

“They’re mostly used forrivertravel.”“Why is that?” Ellsworth

asked.

“Themu-chisampanshavea very low profile and canpass easily under mostbridges,”Lohinformedhim.“Are they motorized?”

Jelbartasked.“Theycanbe,”shereplied.“Obviously this one was,”

Ellsworthsaid.“Thequestionis, why take one of them tothemiddleoftheCelebesSeaatnight?”“Piracy,” Loh replied.

“That’s what sampans are

used for in the South ChinaSea.”“That would make sense,”

Jelbartsaid.“The lowprofilewould make it extremelydifficult to spot on thehorizon and difficult to pickuponradar.Iftheywaitedfornight-fall, they could quietlyoartheirwaytoaship.”“That’s exactly what they

do,”Lohtoldhim.“What about using the

sampans for smuggling?”

Ellsworthasked.“That is uncommon,” Loh

said. “There is not a lot ofstorage capability. Theywould not be very efficientwhenweighteddown.Doctor,could you raise the apron alittlehigher?”Dr. Forvey did so. Loh

examined thewreckage for alongmoment.“There is something else,”

Lohsaid.“Idon’tbelievethatthe explosion of a diesel

engine caused thiswreckage.”“How can you tell?”

Ellsworthasked.“The engine would have

beenlocatedintherear,”shesaid. “The curve of theseplanks suggests they camefrom the front section.Somethingwouldhavehadtoexplodeclosetotheplankstodothiskindofdamage.Also,the foxing along the sides ofthe wood is unusual. Petrol

explosions produce sharp,splinteringcracks.Thiswoodwaspulverized.”“Suggestingwhat?”Jelbart

asked.“Thatapowerfulexplosive

device was on board,” Lohsaid. “There have beenreportsoverthelastfewyearsabout a band of pirates whoplace explosives on the hullsof ships.Thepirates threatento destroy the vessels unlesstheyturnovertheircargo.”

“Do we know anythingabout these pirates?” Jelbartasked.“No,” Loh replied. “They

always attacked in the darkandstayedoutofrangewhenmaking their demands. Anyhostages they took werehooded or killed. It isconceivable they could haveused a sampan for theseattacks.”“Howdidtheycollecttheir

plunder?”Jelbartasked.

“The cash and jewelrywere put in a dinghy orsometimes a bag, which oneof the pirates would swimovertocollect,”Lohreplied.“Thatwouldnothavebeen

a convenient way to movenuclear materials around,”Dr. Forvey noted. Carefully,she lay theheavyapronbackacross the battered pieces ofwood.“Thatassumesthiswasthe

same group of pirates,”

Coffeysaid.“Theonlywaywe’regoing

to find that out is by talkingto the survivor,”Lohsaid.“Iwould like todo thatassoonaspossible.”“He’s unconscious,”

Ellsworthtoldher.“Then we’ll have to wake

him,”Lohreplied.“Officer Loh, that’s

something we will have todiscuss with his doctors,”Ellsworthsaid.

Loh glared at him. “Youcan discuss it with hisdoctors,” she suggestedfirmly.“Iamheretofindoutwhya sampanandoneof itsoperators were exposed toradiation.”“We can try to do both,”

Coffey suggesteddiplomatically.Loh turned and walked

toward the door. There wasnothingtohuntdownhere.The lioness was moving

on.

TWELVETheCelebesSea

Thursday,1:08P.M.The yacht was about to

cross south into theMoluccaSea when Captain KannadaysummonedJohnHawketohiscabin. Fifteen minutes later,the security chief knockedandentered.Kannaday was seated at a

smallrolltopdeskagainst theport-side wall. It was an

eighteenth-century piece.There were laminated chartsmarked with grease penciland a laptop with nauticaldata. When Kannaday sathere,itmadehimfeellikethecaptainofanold-timefrigateor whaling ship. How manyof those men also dealt incontraband? he oftenwondered.Backthenitwouldhave been slaves and armsandopium.Hawke shut the narrow

door behind him. The brightlightfromtheportholemovedwith theslowswayof thehepryacht.Onemomentthesunshone brightly on theofficer’s long face. The nextmoment he was in sharp-edged darkness. Hawke didnotblinkinthedirectlightofthe sun. He removed hisheadset and hung it over hisshoulder.There was a deck chair

besidethebed.Kannadaydid

not invite him to sit. Thecaptain swiveled his ownchairtowardthenewcomer.“You took your time

gettinghere,”Kannadaysaid.“I was busy with the

repairs,”Hawkereplied.The man had a voice like

sea spray. It was soft andfeathery,acombinationofhismother’s drawling Aborigineaccentandhisfather’slyricalCanadian inflection.Considering the setback they

had suffered, it was alsodisturbingly confident anduntroubled.“What is the status of the

lab?”Kannadayasked.“Theholehasbeenwelded

shut,” Hawke replied. “Theareaisfreeofleakage.”“Leakage of seawater or

radiation?”Kannadayasked.“Both,” Hawke replied.

“However, damage to theprocessing equipment hasbeenextensive.”

“Are you saying thematerialscannotbeprocessedbythetimewereachCairns?”Kannadaysaid.“That is correct,” Hawke

informed him. He waited amoment,thenasked,“Isthereanythingelse?”“Yes.Youdon’tseemvery

upset,”Kannadaysaid.“I cannot changewhat is,”

Hawkesaid.“Thechiefdidnotwantus

ever coming into port with

the cargo,” Kannadayremindedhim.“Theonlyotheroptionisto

dump the drums,” Hawkesaid. “We have alreadyradioed ahead for newequipment. Itwill bewaitingat the compound when wearrive.Wewillsailin,collectthegear,thensailout.”“Are you certain there are

no other options?”Kannadaydemanded. “Nothing we canjury-rig?”

“The destruction wasextensive. You can get aradiation suit and go to thelaboratory and look foryourself.” Hawke removedtheheadsetfromhisshoulder.He held it forward. “Or youcan ring Dr. Mett and askhim.”“I’m asking you,”

Kannadaysaid.“Asking? It sounds as if

youareaccusingme,”Hawkesaid.

“Perhaps you’re feelingguilty,” Captain Kannadaysaid. “What is the problem,exactly?Hawke’s unhappy gray

eyes were fixed on thecaptain. He replaced theheadset. “Even crudereprocessing requires nitricacid to dissolve the spentelements,” Hawke replied.“All of our containers wereshattered in the explosion.We also need a functioning

centrifuge to separate theremaining materials intodaughter products. The blastdented the swing arms.Theywill not turn correctly. Ourpartner is expecting threepounds of enriched uraniuminpelletform.Threehundredand fifty pellets, roughly. Ifwecannotdistillthematerial,wecannot turn it over toourpartner,norhetohisclients.”Hawke paused. He wasbeginning to seem restless,

annoyed. “I feel obligated toadd, Captain, that the crewfeelswe are lucky to still beafloat.”“Iagree,Mr.Hawke.AndI

don’t much care for luck,”Kannadaysaid.“Wetookeveryreasonable

precaution,” Hawke pointedout.“Apparently not,”

Kannadaysaid.“Ourhullwasbreached.”“Onceagain,didyouorder

me here to take some ofmyskinoff?”Hawkeasked.“No, Mr. Hawke,”

Kannaday replied. “The truthis, I asked you here forsomething else. I’d like yourresignation as head ofsecurity.”The shifting light fell full

upon Hawke’s face. After afewmoments, his expressionchanged. He no longerappeared to be impatient.Heseemed almost amused by

Kannaday’spronouncement.“You expectme to fall on

my sword for whathappened?”Hawkeasked.“Thoseareyourwords,not

mine,”Kannadaysaid.“But that’s what you’re

asking.”“Wewereunprepared.The

men who attacked us werenot novices,”Kannaday said.“There must have beenreportsofpreviousraids.”“Quite possibly,” Hawke

agreed. The amusementvanished as swiftly as it hadcome.Hewasgrowingangrynow. “But whenever ourcomputerboyshackaboutforclassified information, theyrisk leaving a trail. Everytimewepaysomeonetolookup police records on aparticular sea lane or harbor,we bring someone else intoourcircle.Itismoreefficientandultimatelymoresecuretodeal with a rogue or two if

andwhentheyshowup.”“That’s an excuse, not an

answer,” Kannaday replied.“Iwantyourresignation.”“And if I choose not to

giveit?”“Then you will be

dismissed,”Kannadaysaid.“With or without the

chief’s approval?” Hawkeasked.“When we sail into the

covewiththosedrumsofrawnuclear waste on board, the

chief will not dispute what Ihavedone.”“Are you so sure,

Captain?” Hawke walkedforward.“Iworkforhim,notforyou.”“The chief dislikes

failure,” Kannaday said.“He’llbackme.”“Because you’re the

captain?”Hawkepressed.“Because I’m looking out

for his interests,” Kannadayreplied.

“I see. This decision hasnothingtodowithyourbeinga full-blood?” Hawkedemanded.“That’s irrelevant,”

Kannadaysaid.“Because you say so?”

Hawkeasked.“Because it’s true!”

Kannaday replied. “I havenever judged you by yourbackground.”“But when you have your

audience with the chief, you

will tell him that I wasinattentive anduncooperative,” Hawke said.“White shorthand. Those arethe usual charges againstnativeAustralians.Youmighteven get him to believe you.HehasneverbeenafriendtoAboriginalsortheirissue.”“Your background has

nothing to do with mydecision,”Kannaday insisted.“You failed in yourresponsibility. That is not

something we can afford.Youwillbepaidfortheworkyou have done thus far.That’s a considerable sum, Ishould add. With aresignation, you can runsecurity for anotheroperation. This won’t affectyourcareer.”Hawkedrewthewommera

fromhissash.Thefour-inch-long darts were in a closedcanvas sack that hung besideit. Kannaday was not

concerned. There was notenough room to use them inhere. And the stick wasneithersolidnorthickenoughtouseasaclub.“Irefusetoresign,”Hawke

said. There was steel in hisjawline, in his voice. “Now.How will you enforce yourdecision?”“I have weapons, too,”

Kannaday said. “And I havethe men to use them. Morementhanyouhave.”

“Youhavesailors,”Hawkesaid.“Ihavekillers.”“Half of them are

Aboriginal and half of themare white,” Kannaday said.“How do you know theywon’t turnagainsteachotherinashowdown?”“My people are loyal to

me,”Hawkesaid.“Yourpeople?Yourkillers

still work for the chief, andthey will want to get paid,”Kannadayassuredhim.“Now

get out. I have to inform theIndonesians that we will notbemaking the rendezvous inthemorning.Then I’mgoingto turn over securityoperations to one of mypeople,Mr.Henrickson.Youmayhavefreerunoftheshipas long as you agree not toworkanymischief.”“Iwill not resign,”Hawke

said.“Then you are dismissed,”

Kannadaysaid.Heglancedat

the wommera as he rose.“And if you’re thinking oftakingmeonpersonally,I’vetangled with monkeys likeyou my whole life. Up anddowntheislands, inbarsanddownalleys,onandoffboardship.”“Monkeys,” Hawke said

contemptuously.“Yes,” Kannaday said.

“Annoying little creatures.NowleavebeforeIthrowyouout.”

“Liketrash,”Hawkesaid.Kannaday had had enough

of this. Everyone feltoppressed these days. Hereached for the securitychief’s shoulders. As he did,Hawke jerked the wommeraas though hewere cocking ashotgun. The top quarter ofthe stick flew off.Beneath itwas a scalpel-sharp five-inchsteel blade.Hawke thrust theslender knife forward. Hepressed it into the soft flesh

just below Kannaday’slarynx.Thebladewaspointedup. Hawke forced Kannadayto the balls of his feet.Kannadayhadnotknownthewommera had a concealedblade. He felt stupid. Thatwas worse than feelinghelpless.“Don’t ever assault me,”

Hawke said. “I’m not yourdog...ormonkey.”Kannaday saidnothing.At

moments like these it was

best to listen. That providedinformationaswellastime.“Maybe you’re telling the

truth,” Hawke went on.“Maybe you hate me formyself, not for mybackground. Or maybe youwere just protecting your asslike you’ve done before. Foryour information, I didconduct research beforesigning on. I looked up yourpersonal history. I knowaboutthelawsuityourformer

partnerMr.Marchfiledwhenyou stole this ship bychanging national registries.He could not get you intocourt because he could notfind you. I know about thecounterfeitersyoubetrayedinAuckland to save yourselffromasmugglingcharge,andI know about the wife youabandoned in Sydney. Thechief needed someone to runthis route, and you were theperfectbastard.ButIknewit

would bewrong to trust youtoofar.”Hawke leaned into the

wommera. The captain felt apinchathisthroat.Hebackedagainst the rolltop desk.Hawke followed him. Thickdrops of blood fell slowlyonto Kannaday’s trousers.The captain had anticipatedthatHawkemightattackhim.He kept a .45 in his deskdrawer forprotection.Buthewasupagainstthedrawerand

couldnotreachit.“YouaskedwhyIwaslate

just now,” Hawke said. “Iwas speaking with my men.They may be mixed, Mr.Kannaday, but theyunderstandloyalty.Theyalsounderstand necessity. If theycannot trust their fellowsunder fire, they will notsurvive. So here is myproposal. I will allow you tokeep your ship and yourcommand. If the chief

dismissesyou,wewillrefuseto sail with anyone else. Hewillnotwanttoloseusboth.”Hawke moved in closer. Hedid not press the bladefurther. “We can all ride outthisunfortunateincident.Thekeytoyourpersonalsurvival,Captain,isnottofindagoat.Itistobealliedwithahawk.Someonewhocanwatchoveryou.”“You have a sword at my

throat,” Kannaday rasped.

“You haven’t left me anyoptions.”“Did you leave me any?”

Hawke demanded. “Howdoesitfeel?”The blood was running

thicker now. Kannadaythought about trying to grabtheshaft.Hawke seemed to read the

captain’smind.“Think this through,”

Hawke warned. “No oneneeds to know about our

exchange,” Hawke told thecaptain. “When you see thechief, you can tell him youwere injured in battle. Hemay even respect you morefor it. Iwill tellmymen thatyou never threatened me. Iwill say that we simplyagreed on what you wouldtellthechief.Youcanwearaturtleneck to conceal thewound.”“I see. Andwe just go on

aswewere,”Kannadaysaid.

“We do,” Hawke replied.“Youdon’thavetolikemeorour arrangement. But this iswhatnecessitydemands.Youwilllivewithit.”Hawke backed away. He

relaxed the blade slightly. Amoment later he removed itentirely. That was intended,no doubt, to be a show oftrust. Or perhaps ofconfidence. The two wereoftenrelated.Kannaday removed a

handkerchieffromhispocket.He dabbed it against theshallow wound. He steppedaway from the rolltop desk.The captain could reach the.45now.Hawkehadattackedhim. Kannaday had thewound to prove it. And theweapon.The sheath of the

wommera was attached by aslender leather thong.Hawkereplacedthecapandreturnedtheweapon to his belt. Then

he turned away and walkedslowlytowardthedoor.Kannaday could easily

reach the gun. Hawkeobviouslyknew that, too.Hehadtosuspectthatthecaptainkeptaweaponinhisquarters.But to stop Hawke nowwould mean shooting himfrombehind.Tokillhimthatway would probably causeeven his own sailors to turnon him. They wouldunderstand discipline and

self-defense but notcowardice.Hawkepausedbythedoor.

Heturnedbackandfacedthecaptain full. “Is thereanything further youwanted?”“No,”Kannadayreplied.Hawke lingered a moment

longer. Then he reachedbehindhim,twistedtheknob,andlefttheroom.Kannaday’s shoulders

dropped.Hehadnot realized

how tense he was until theydid. He checked thehandkerchief and saw that itwas thickly stained withblood. He pressed it back inplaceandwent toget a first-aid kit. He kept one in thelocker at the foot of his bed,alongwithhisprivatestoreofscotch.Assoonashepatchedthe cut, he would open thebottle.Kannadaywasshaken.The

captain was also angry at

himself for underestimatingHawke. The man had poise.Andcourage.Andapurpose:ToendthisencounterleavingKannaday feeling somethingless than a captain. And aman.Kannadaysatonthebedto

cleanandbandagethewound.He gazed into the mirror ontheinsideofthelid.Thegashwas a quarter inch long andbleeding slower now. But itwentdeep.Rightdowntohis

dignity.AsKannadayuncappedthe

antisepticcream,hereasonedthat he had not come fromthis empty-handed. If he hadnot confronted Hawke, therewas no guarantee the manwould have stood by him.Still, Kannaday promisedhimself this much. If JohnHawkefailed tobackhimupwith Jervis Darling, honorand pride would not savehim. Kannaday would take

himdown anywhere and anywayhecould.Evenifthatmeantshooting

himintheback.

THIRTEENWashington,D.C.

Thursday,11:09P.M.“I feel like I’m in Oz,”

Coffey said into his cellphone.“Youare,”Hoodreminded

him.“Imean the other one, the

Emerald City one,” Coffeyreplied. “The one where anout-of-towner walks aroundwith a strange collection of

personalities, looking forsomething that’s really toughtofind.”Hood was alone in his

office.BobHerbertandMikeRodgershad justgonehome,but their teams were stilllookingforintelligence.Theywereseekinganyleadsaboutradioactive materials missingor currently being traffickedthrough the region.Theyhadnot yet turned up anythingnew or relevant. As Herbert

had reported before leaving,governments or componentsthereof were often involvedin this trade. Unlikeindividuals, nations likeChina and the Ukraine werevery good at covering theiractivities.“I’m standing down the

hallfromthepirate’shospitalroom,” Coffey went on.“Three people just wentinside. One was BrianEllsworth. You can read

about him in my files. TheothertwoareWarrantOfficerGeorge Jelbart of the MICand Female Naval DefenceTechnical Officer MonicaLoh of the SingaporeanCoastalCommand.”Hoodenteredthenameson

his computer as Coffeyspelled them. He forwardedthe information to BobHerbert. Hood knew that thedesignation female had beenpart of the title in Singapore

for decades. The militaryserviceswerefullyintegrated,and discrimination was notpermitted. Nonetheless, highcommand liked to keep theircombatunit leadersweightedtowardmen.Thiswasaneasyway to keep track of thebalance.“Is the patient conscious?”

Hoodasked.“No,whichiswhyIdidn’t

go in with them,” Coffeysaid. “Ellsworth said they’d

notifyme ifhecamearound.Meanwhile, I’m using thesecure phone I borrowedfrom Jelbart. Switch to codeDPR1P.”“Holdon,”Hoodsaid.He entered the code for

AMICintohisdeskunit.Op-Center telephones werepreprogrammed to decryptcalls from over two hundredallied intelligence servicesaround the world. TheAustralian Maritime

Intelligence Centre was oneof these. The only thingrequired to secure the linewas an access code for theindividualAMICphone.“Done,” Hood said. “So

what do you make of allthis?”“I honestly don’t know

yet,” Coffey admitted. “Thewreckage isdefinitely thatofa sampan, and it is definitelyradioactive. It was probablydestroyed by explosions that

occurredonthesampanitself.Apparently,pirateshavebeenworking the Celebes Seasporadically for years. Theyuse explosives to hold crewshostagewhile the vessels arerobbed.”“Sothiscouldhavebeena

premature detonation,” Hoodsaid.“It’s possible,” Coffey

agreed.“But that doesn’t explain

the radioactivity,” Hood

added.“Exactly.Asfarasanyone

knows, these pirates havenever dealt in nuclearmaterial. That’s makingeveryone around here prettyjumpy.”“Why?” Hood asked.

“Nuclear traffickinghasbeengoing on for years in theregion.TheMICknowsthat.”“Theyalsoknowthatthere

isn’tmuch theycandoaboutit,” Coffey said quietly. “If

word gets out about this,there will be pressure to dosomething. Only no oneknowswhat, exactly. It’s thesame problem the UnitedStates has faced for years.How do you monitor everypoint of access? It’s toughenough catching drugshipments. Radioactivematerials are even moredifficult.”Coffey was right. There

was not much that anyone

could do about it.A terroristcould use a lead-linedfountainpenorpocketwatchor even a rabbit’s foot on akey chain to slip plutoniuminto a country. Just a fewgrams of weapons-gradematerial would be enough tokill thousands of people orcontaminatetensofthousandsofgallonsofwater.“Has the press been all

overthis?”Hoodasked.“Not yet. The government

is trying tokeep thisasquietas possible,” Coffey said.“Patients and visitors arebeing kept away from theman’s room,but this isabighospital. Someone is certainto hear that somethingunusual happened.The gameplan is to deny that anythinghotwasinvolved.”“Is there anything else we

cando?”Hoodasked.“I’llletyouknow,”Coffey

replied. “Right now it looks

as though someone’smotioning for me. I thinkthey want me in the room.Paul,I’llcallyoubackwhenIcan.”“I’ll be here another hour

orso,”Hoodsaid.“Thenyoucan get me on the cell or attheapartment.”“Very good,” Coffey said

andhungup.Hood placed the phone in

the cradle. He sat back andthought about what was

happening on the other sideof the world. It was strangehow events like this causedthe globe to shrink.Conceivably, what Coffeyand the others were dealingwithcould impact theUnitedStates within hours. Nuclearmaterial could be transportedclandestinelybyseaandthenloaded onto an aircraftanywhere in the region. Theplane could be flown to asmall airfield in Washington

orNewYorkorLosAngeles.A small amount of nuclearmaterialcouldbewalkedintothe terminal and left in awastecan.Ordroppedonthefloor under a bench. Thehuman toll would beextraordinary. A largeramount of nuclear mattercould be attached to amakeshift explosive. Perhapshomemade plastique or cansof spray paint triggered by acar flare. The human toll of

the dirty bomb would beunthinkable.All of that could be in

progress right now, Hoodthought.Therealizationcamewith a keen sense ofhelplessness.There were always crises.

ThatwaswhyOp-Centerhadbeenchartered.TheyweretheNational Crisis ManagementCenter.Butthepersonalityofthese disasters had changedovertheyears.Thespeed,the

scope, and the frequency ofthem were terrifying. Andthough more resources werebeing applied to combatthem, those resourcestargetedexistingpatterns andlikely perpetrators. Amethodology had not yetbeen created to anticipatewhat Bob Herbert called“kamikaze genocide”—thepiecemeal extermination ofWesterners by suicideattacks.

Several years ago, whenOp-Center was combatingneo-Nazis, Herbert saidsomething that had stayedwithHood.“When the brain doesn’t

have enough information,only your gut can tell youwhat to do,” the intelligencechiefsaid.“Fortunately,sincesome depraved sons ofbitchesblewupmywifeandmylegs,myguthasbeenableto digest some pretty sick

thoughts.”Hood suddenly felt

energized. He and his teamwould figure this out. Theywould figure out everythingthat came along. Everydeviant variation, everymonster.Theyhad to. Itwasnecessity but also somethingmore.It was stubborn, blessed

Americanpride.

FOURTEENDarwin,Australia

Friday,12:47P.M.“Madam,wearenotgoing

to inject the patient withanything!”Thespeakerwasamanina

white tunic. Probably theattending physician. He wasstandinginatightcirclewithEllsworth, Loh, and Jelbart.Ellsworth was the one whohad motioned Coffey over.

Theman’sstridentvoicewasthe first thing Lowell Coffeyheard as he approached thecloseddoor.“Doctor,” said Loh, “we

haveasituation thatneeds tobe resolved as swiftly aspossible—”“And Ihaveapatientwho

needsrest,”heinterrupted.“You have one patient

now,” she said. “How willyou feel when this ward,including the hallways, is

linedwithbeds?”The doctor looked at

Ellsworth.“Issherightaboutthat?Isitpossible?”“Such a scenario does not

appear imminent,” Ellsworthreplied crossly. He waslookingatLoh.“There is radioactive

material abroad,” Lohpersisted. “We have to knowwhether this man wastransportingit,receivingit,ormerely stumbledupon it.We

have to find out if there isradioactive material still atsea, poisoning the fish thatmay feed some of yourpatients. Or poisoning someof your future patients.Doctor, we need to knowwhathappened.”“If I do as you ask, you

may kill him,” the doctorsaid,shakinghishead.“Thenyou will never get youranswer. And there is noguarantee that he will say

much,orevenanything,ifwewakehim.”“That is a risk worth

taking,”shereplied.“Easy for you to say,” the

doctorsaid.“Before we even consider

whether to take this ratherextremestep, let’s findout ifwe’re free to do so,”Ellsworth said. He turned toCoffey.Ellsworthwasvisiblyupset. Coffey could notdecide which was worse for

the Australian official: theresponsibility of having tomake a controversialdecision, or the fear of whattheymightdiscover.“Lowell,this is your bailiwick. Whatdo you say, keeping inmindthat we are not entirelycertain of our guest’snationality? Have we therighttodoanythingtohim?”“Apart from administering

medical care,” the doctoradded.

Coffey glanced at thephysician’s name tag. “Dr.Lansing, if this man is aChristian Scientist or aBuddhist, even that could beconsidered a violation of hisrights.”“You’ve got bronze for

brains!” the doctorexclaimed. “The patient wasshot twice and had third-degreeburns!Hewouldhavebled to death if we didn’tpatchhimup!”

“That may be,” Coffeysaid. “However, theInternational Resolution onOceans and the Law of theSea says that absent avictim’sabilitytochoose,thedispensation of care is adecision to be made by hisfamily or by the rankingrepresentative of his nation,inthatorder.”“And if we don’t have

those?”Jelbartasked.“In that case, the host

nation calls the shots, isn’tthattrue?”Ellsworthsaid.Coffeynodded.“That would be us,”

Ellsworthsaid.“Correct,” Coffey said.

“But the host nation is alsoliableforcitationinanycivil-rights violations that mayarise from the execution ofthat decision. And the hostnation is required to exercisewhat is called ‘humanitariancaution’ in administering

curativedrugsortechniques.”“Which means we don’t

give him norepinephrinecocktailstotrytowakehim,”Dr.Lansingsaidwithfinality.“Not necessarily,” Coffey

said.“Ifthismanissuspectedof what is classified as a‘high crime’ involving theinternational transport ofdrugsorothercontraband,thequestioning of him byresponsible authorities ispermitted.”

“Go question him!” Dr.Lansing said. “It appears Ican’tstopthat.Justdon’taskmetowakehim!”“I cannot believe you are

debatingthiswhentheremaybe radioactive waste spillinginto the sea,” Officer Lohsaid.“And I can’t believe your

nationcanespeoplenearly todeath for spray-paintinggraffiti,buttherewehaveit,”Dr.Lansingcharged.

“Doctor, the IROLS isratherspecificonthequestionofinterrogation,”Coffeysaid.“It doesn’t say ‘ask,’ it says‘question.’ The regulationspresumethattheindividualisawake.”“Ifheisnot?”Dr.Lansing

asked.“Then frankly, the

peremptory issue is one ofsummum bonum, thesupreme good,” Coffey said.“Will the public welfare

benefit from takingreasonable securitymeasures? The onlyguidelines that apply arewhetherthereisjustcauseforthepursuitoftheinformationand,ifso,thatthequestioningbedoneinahumanemanner,withoutcoercionorthreats.”“I’d say a radioactiveman

is reason enough to infer thepresence of dangerousnuclear material,” Jelbartsaid.

“And you do have theweight of at least one othernationbehindyourdecision,”Coffey said, nodding towardLoh.“Whoa. Just one?”

Ellsworthaskedhim.“Officially, yes,” Coffey

said.“Will the United States

back whatever decision wemake, emphasis on thewe?”Ellsworthpressed.“You’ve got sound legal

grounds,andmyofficeagreesthat there are real securityconcerns,” Coffey said.“That’s as close to a yes asthis attorney can give yourightnow.”Dr. Lansing looked from

Coffey to the others. Heshook his head unhappily.“Attemptingtowakethismanmaykillhim.Youunderstandthat?”“Wedo,”Lohsaid.“I’mabsolutelyopposedto

it,”Lansingsaid.“Iwantthatknown.”“Noted,”Ellsworthsaid.“Ialsowanttotellyou,not

as a doctor but as aninterested observer, that theonemantowhomthismattersmost can’t say a bloodyword! I don’t think that’sright.”“Why do you assume he

would be opposed?” Coffeyasked.“Goodpoint!”Jelbartsaid.

“Maybehewouldwantus tosnatchwhoeverdidthis.”Lansing looked from

Ellsworth to Jelbart. “I haveother patients.Which of youtwo is going to sign theconsentform?”There was a long moment

of silence. Jelbart turned toEllsworth.“Isthisgoingtobea military or governmentmatter?” the warrant officerasked.That is a good question,

Coffey thought. If this wereclassified as amilitary issue,the armed forceswould havea legal leg up to launch amilitary response. Thetransport of nuclear materialwould automatically beclassified as a security threatandnot simply illegal traffic.IfEllsworthsigned,Canberrawould be obligated thoughnot bound to pursue adiplomaticresolution.Coffey was not surprised

when Jelbart answered hisownquestionamomentlater.“I’ll sign the form,” the

warrant officer said. “Let’ssee what our guest can tellus.”Dr. Lansing summoned a

nurse.He turned Jelbart overto her while he went to themedical supply closet on theopposite side of the corridor.OfficerLohwentsilentlyintothehospitalroom.“Thank you, Lowell,”

Ellsworthsaid.“You’re welcome, Brian,”

Coffeyreplied.The government official

looked pale. He went to thewater cooler on the oppositewall.“Would you like some?”

Ellsworthaskedashefilledacup.“No,thanks,”Coffeysaid.Ellsworth drained the cup

and refilled it. He drainedthat, too, then crumpled the

paper cone and tossed it inthetrash.“Is there anything you

haven’t told me?” Coffeypressed.Ellsworthshookhishead.“Is there anything else I

cando?”Coffeyasked.“Yes. Would you mind

sticking around?” Ellsworthasked.“IknowyouhavethatconventioninSydney.Butwereally could use a third-partyvoice.”

“What would you havedone if I had gone againstyou?”Coffeyasked.“I didn’t think you would

have,” Ellsworth replied,sounding somewhatdefensive. “I feel that wehave the jurisdiction to dothis.”“You didn’t answer me.

Whatwouldyouhavedone?”Coffeyasked.“We would have done

exactly what we are doing,”

Ellsworth admitted. “Wedon’thaveachoice.Thisisascarybusiness,Lowell.Ithasto be dealt withaggressively.” He looked atCoffey and smiled slightly.“Butit’sgoodtohaveyouonourside.”Coffey smiled. It was

strangetohearEllsworthtalkabout dealing with thingsaggressively. Just a minuteago he had frozen when itcame to taking responsibility

for drugging their guest.What the chief solicitormeant,ofcourse,wasthathemust aggressively authorizeothers to take action andresponsibility. It was astrangenewworldforpeoplelike Brian Ellsworth. Menwho enjoyed the perks ofpower without the shoulder-bendingweightofliability.In the meantime, though,

LowellCoffey found himselfin agreement with Ellsworth

ononepoint,atleast.Thiswas a scary business.

Andhehadafeelingitwouldget a lot more terrifyingbeforeitwasthrough.

FIFTEENDarwin,Australia

Friday,12:59P.M.FNO Loh stood between

Warrant Officer Jelbart andDr. Lansing. The three worerubber gloves and surgicalmasks. The Singaporeannaval officer watcheddispassionately as thephysician injected a clearsolution into the patient’sintravenous needle. He had

already turned off a valve tothe drip in the patient’s thinbut sinewy left arm. BrianEllsworth andLowellCoffeystood behind the lead-linedscreennearthedoorway.The balding physician

shook his head. “This poorchap isgoing togetadoubledose of wake up,” Lansingsaid.“Howso?”Jelbartasked.“I’ve had to shut off the

flowofpainkillers.Morphine

inhibits the uptake ofnorepinephrine,” the doctorinformedhim. “In a perverseway,though,thatmayhelptosave him. I’m giving him amoderate dosage oflevarterenol. I’m hoping thatthe combination of pain andstimulant will be enough towake him without damaginghim.”“Why would he be

damaged? What does thisnorepinephrine do?” Jelbart

asked.“It is an energizer,”

Lansing told him. “Thispatient is suffering fromhypotension.”“Shock,”Jelbartsaid.“That’s right,” Lansing

replied. “The sudden jumpfrom systemic underactivityto overactivity could easilydrivehimtocardiacarrest.”“Isee,”Jelbartsaid.“What

about the radioactivity?Howhasthataffectedhim?”

“It’s too early to say,” thedoctor replied. “Therewouldnot be many symptoms thisearly,andwestilldon’tknowwhat the original exposurelevelswere.”“Then how can you treat

him?”Jelbartasked.“He’s still alive,” the

doctorsaiddryly.“Sowecaninfer that the dose was notlethal.”“True,”Jelbartsaid.“There are standard

responses, regardless of theexposure,” Lansing went on.“I’ve given him Melbrosinpollen, a natural radiation-sickness therapy. We cantreat the results, the nauseaandweakness.Butthisbooststhe capability of the bonemarrow to produce red andwhite blood cells. It won’taffect the pharmacologicaltreatments he’s receiving forhis wounds. If there is goodnews inanyof this, it is that

theburnsappeartohavebeencaused in the explosion, notasaresultoftheradiation.”“How can you tell?”

Jelbartasked.“The body responds

differently,” the doctorreplied. “You see a moreextensive form of blisteringwithradioactiveburns.”“What about the levels of

radiation the patient himselfisgenerating?”Jelbartasked.“They are extremely low,”

Lansing assured him. “Wewon’tbecontaminatedinanywayifwestayforlessthanahalf hour or so.Andwewillbehereforfarlessthanthat,Iassure you. That lead screenis primarily for the nurseswhowalkbyallday.”Theman in the bed began

tomoanas thedrugs enteredhis system. FNO Loh leanedtowardhim.“Don’t bother talking to

him yet,” Lansing cautioned.

“He won’t hear you. This isonly the pain talking. You’llknow he’s conscious whenyou see his eyes begin tomoveunderthelids.”Loh stood up again. She

tugged on the hem of herjacketandabsentlyranahanddownthefront.The room was warm, and

there was the faint odor ofantiseptic. It smelled sanitaryrather than fresh. To FNOLoh, dirty mop water on the

deckofapatrol ship smelledfresh.Salty sea air, richwithfuel from the engine room,smelledfresh.Thissmellwasvoidoflife,ofcharacter.The young woman looked

atthepatient.Hewasstartingto breathe more rapidly. Shefeltapinchofsadness.Ittooksuffering and horror to puthiminwhatwasprobablythecleanestbedhehadeverbeenin. Whatever his nationality,therewerethousandsofother

youngAsianmenandwomenjust like him.Maybe hewasrunning from something.Maybehedidnotwant tobelike his father. Perhaps hewas running to something.Perhaps he had seenEuropean or Americanmovies or television showsandwantedtolivelikethat.Theofficerfeltcompassion

for him, but she also feltcontempt. Itwas not a crimeto want to escape from

terrible oppression andpoverty.Todesiremoneyandfreedom.Yettherewereotherways to earn money. Legal,honorable ways. Service inthe military was one.Working on a farm wasanother. Apprenticeship in atradewasyetanother.Peoplelike himwere devious ratherthan smart, indignant ratherthan industrious, violentrather than strong. Theydeserved the disaster they

ultimately brought onthemselves.The patient’s eyes opened

slightly. They crinkled withdiscomfort. His dry lipspartedandmovedwordlessly.Hebegan to shift about, thenstartedthrashingweaklyashemoaned. Loh leaned close tohis ear. She lightly touchedhis unbandaged cheek andforehead.“Don’t move,” Loh said

softlyinMalay.Sherepeated

it in Chinese and then inEnglish.“Who—?” he said in

Malay.“Youaresafe,”shesaid.“I

am Monica. You are in amedical facility. Where areyoufrom?”The patient writhed and

opened his mouth in silentpain.“Where are you from?”

Lohrepeated.“Singapore,”hesaid.

“What is your name?” sheasked.“Name,” he said drowsily.

“Lee.”“Leewhat?”shepressed.“Tong,”hereplied.“LeeTong,whatwereyou

doingatsea?”sheasked.“It hurts,” the patient said.

Heclosedhiseyes.Tearsfellfromthesides.“Myskin,myfeet...onfire.”“We will make the pain

stop when you answer my

questions,”Lohsaid.Shewasglad the doctor could notunderstand her. He wouldonly waste time withmisguided pity. “What wereyoudoingatsea?”“Theyfiredatus,”hesaid.“Whodid?”Lohasked.“Theysawinthedark,”he

wenton.“The boat you were

attacking?”sheasked.“Yes,” he replied. “They

hit...plastique.”

“Your plastique?” sheasked. “You had plasticexplosivesonboard?”Henodded.“Lee Tong, were you

tryingtotakesomethingfromtheothervessel?”Lohasked.Hebegantopant.“Did you attack another

vessel?”Lohdemanded.“Ithurts...helpme!”“Did you attack another

vessel?”sheshouted.“Yes—”

Dr. Lansing was checkingtheheartmonitor to the rightof the bed. “Ms. Loh, hisblood pressure is rising, twoten over sixty.His heart rateistwotwenty.”“Meaning what?” Jelbart

asked.“He’s approaching

ventricular tachycardia,” thedoctor said. “That can causehemodynamic compromise—clots,airbubbles,death.”“You’re saying you

haven’t got much time,”Jelbartsaid.“I’m saying he hasn’t got

much time,” the doctorreplied.“It’stimetostopthis,Ms.Loh.”Lohrefusedtomove.“Lee

Tong, what did you wantfrom the vessel?” shedemanded.He did not answer. He

simplymoaned.“Didyouwanttohijackit?

Did you want to steal

something?”thenavalofficerasked.“Money,”hereplied.“Youjustwantedmoney?”

sheasked.“Jewelry,” he said.

“Goods.”“Whatkindofgoods?”she

pressed.“Electronic,”hereplied.“Nothing dangerous?” she

asked.“Nonuclearwaste?”Heshookhisheadweakly.They were just pirates,

then, she told herself. Pirateswhopicked thewrongvesseltotrytoboard.LeeTongbegantocry.He

struggled against the strapsthat held him to the bed. Anurse came over to helprestrainhim.“Officer Loh, this has got

to stop,” Dr. Lansing said.“Nurse, he needs a beta-blocker to stabilize. PushmorepropranololIV.Therestofyou—out.”

Loh ignored thephysician.“Lee Tong, were you in theCelebes Sea when thishappened?”“Yes,”hereplied.“Can you describe the

vessel you attacked?” sheasked.“Too dark,” he said. He

began to shiver and becomemoreactive.Hiseyesopenedsuddenly. He forced out araw, hoarse, inarticulatescream.

“That’s enough!” thephysiciansaid.Dr.Lansingmovedinfront

of thewoman.He turned themorphine drip on again.Almost at once the patientbegantocalm.Loh maneuvered around

thedoctor.“Canyoudescribethe boat?” she asked. “Did itsink?”“Did not sink,” the man

said as he drifted off.“Explosion. . .keptgoing. .

.”LeeTongrelaxedandsank

backintothebed.“Why did you do that?”

Lohaskedthedoctor.“Becausehisheartratewas

approachingtwohundredandthirty-five beats a minute,”the doctor said. “In hisweakened condition, wecould lose him. Now stepaside,Ms.Loh.Letmedomyjob.”The naval officer moved

back.Asthephysicianmovedinwithhisnurse,JelbarttookFNO Loh by the arm. Hewalked her around the leadscreen and into the corridor.The other men gatheredaroundher.“What did he tell you?”

Ellsworthasked.Loh looked at the others.

She tooka shortbreath.“Hisname is LeeTong, and he isSingaporean. He was at seawith other pirates, and they

attempted to rob a vessel atnight. They only wantedthosegoodstheycouldspendorfence.Thatistypicalofthebreed. Judging from theradioactivity, it appears theyhappened upon a vessel thatwascarryingnuclearwaste.”“What kind of ship?”

Jelbartasked.“I don’t know,” she said.

“But these people do notroutinely attack the kind ofvessels that would transport

nuclearmaterials.”“Legal nuclear materials,”

Coffeypointedout.“That is correct,” she said.

“The pirates obviously triedto stop the ship and wererepulsed by weapons fire,probably by a team withnight-vision capability. LeeTongsaidtheywerecutdowninthedark.”“By professionals,” Jelbart

said.“It appears so,” Loh

agreed.“Inthecourseof thatexchange, the pirates’ ownplastique was detonated. Itmust have punched a hole inthe target vessel and sprayedthesampanwithradiation.Hesaid that the ship is stillafloat.Perhapsitwascrippledin the explosion and is atanchor not far fromwhere itwas attacked. I’m going tosearchforit.”“Beforeyouleave,”Coffey

said to Loh, “I am obligated

topointsomethingout.”“Yes?”shesaid.“Whatever the patient told

you cannot be used infashioning a legal caseagainsthim,”Coffeytoldher.“Mr. Tong did not have anattorney present, and he wasunder the influence ofmedication.”“He is also guilty of

piracy,”Lohrepliedflatly.“Perhaps,” Coffey

admitted. “And if you are

inclined to prove that, youwillhave todo it someotherway.”The woman’s aides were

standingat the farendof thecorridor. Unschooled andvery young, they both knewvirtuefromcriminalbehaviorbetterthantheseolder,highlyeducated men beside her.Knowledgeandliberalityhadcrowdedcommonsensefromtheirbrains.“Gentlemen,Iamreturning

to my patrol ship,” she said.“It is probably not acoincidence that this eventoccurredwhereitdid.”“What do you mean?”

Ellsworthasked.“You’re thinkingabout the

130-5site,aren’tyouOfficerLoh?”Jelbartasked.“I am,” Loh replied. “I

would like to go there andlookforevidenceofaconflictor perhaps the target vesselitself.”

“Excuseme,butwhat’sthe130-5site?”Coffeyasked.“It’s the point of

intersection at one hundredand thirty degrees longitude,fivedegrees latitude,” Jelbartreplied. “That’s where Japanand China are permitted todumptheirnuclearwaste.”“But Officer Loh just said

these pirates wouldn’t haveattackedavesselofthatsort,”Ellsworthsaid.“Theywouldnothave,”the

Singaporean agreed. “WhatI’m afraid of is somethingelse.”“What?”Ellsworthasked.“That they attacked a

vessel that may have justdone business with one ofthosevessels,”Lohreplied.

SIXTEENWashington,D.C.

Thursday,11:55P.M.Paul Hood was about to

leavewhenthephonebeeped.It hadbeennearly fivehourssince he turned over therunning of Op-Center to theevening shift. That was theonly time he got to catch upon E-mails, intelligencebriefings, and personalmatters.

He snatched it up and satontheedgeofthedesk.“Evening, Paul,” Coffey

said.“Good afternoon,” Hood

replied.“So?Didyourpatientwakeup?”Coffey told him he had.

Before the attorney briefedhim, Hood conferenced inMike Rodgers and BobHerbert. Both men were athome. Rodgers was upwatching old action movies,

asusual.UsuallyJohnWayneor Charlton Heston. Herbertwasgettingreadytoturnin.Nothing Coffey said

surprisedHood.“Do you have any

information about the bulletstheypulledfromthepirateorthe wreckage?” Rodgersasked.“Yes, I wrote that down,”

Coffey said. “Jelbarthadoneof his men come over andtake a look at them. He just

receivedword that theywerefrom a .380 double-actionsemiautomatic. The initialforensics tests said that thebullets were remanufacturedwith a tungsten-polymercoating—”“Whichmeans that they’re

doubly difficult to trace,”Rodgerssaid.“Howso?”Hoodasked.“Remanufactured,meaning

thattheshellandcasingcamefrom different places,”

Rodgers said, “and designedsoasnottoretainevidenceoftheriflingfromthebarrelthatshotthem.”“Bullets without

fingerprints,”Herbertsaid.“More or less,” Rodgers

replied.“Would it take

considerable financialresources or a speciallaboratory to createammunition like that?”Hoodasked.

“Notnecessarily,”Rodgersreplied. “Depends on whatscale they’re making thesethings. A few dozen, even afewhundredcouldbedoneinashackwitheasilyobtainablegear.”“So that’s pretty much a

deadend,”Hoodsaid.“Thereisonethingthatwe

need to talk about,” Coffeysaid. “Brian Ellsworth, thechief solicitor for theAustralian Maritime

Intelligence Centre. He isverykeen tohave theUnitedStates as a part of thisinvestigation.”“Officially, you mean,”

Rodgerssaid.“That’s what I mean,”

Coffey said. “I’m here as anindependent adviser, not as arepresentative of Op-CenterortheUnitedStates.”“What is Mr. Ellsworth

lookingfor?”Hoodasked.“A formal commitment

that we are a part of thisinvestigation,” Coffey toldtheothers.“Whyshould thatmatter?”

Herbert asked. “There isn’t aconvenience the Australiansneed or a challenge thatscaresthem.”“They could certainly do

this by themselves,” Coffeyagreed.“Atthesametime—”“Theywould prefer not to

go it alone,” Hoodinterrupted. “Especially if

they need to put pressure onSingapore for access tointelligence or backgroundinformationonthispirate.”“On Singapore, Malaysia,

China, anyone who could beinvolved in this,” Coffeyreplied.“Frankly, I don’t think the

pirateisgoingtomattermuchanymore,” Herbert said. “Heand his guys were justunlucky.”“Possibly,” Hood agreed.

“I’m curious what they’ll doif they discover that anyAustralians are involved inthis.”“I’m sure that’s another

reason Ellsworth wants usinvolved,” Coffey said. “Ifthere is an Australiancomponent to this, we canhelp pressure anyone inCanberra who might be indenial. That’s one thing theydon’tdoverywell,Bob.Self-examination. There’s a very

strong blue-wall componentin their thinking. It’s themagainst the Rim, fighting forEuropean values in an Asianworld. They don’t likeattackingtheirown.”“Isanyonegoingouttothe

site of the attack?” Rodgersasked.“Loh and Jelbart are both

going on separate vessels,”Coffey said. “I’ll be joiningtheAustralians.”“Lowell, if these pirates

had attacked a vesselinvolved in the legitimatetransport of nuclearmaterial,therewouldbearecordofthetransit. Isn’t that correct?”Hoodasked.“Yes,” Coffey said. “Also

a report would have to havebeen filed about the attack.The International NuclearRegulatory Commissiondemands that an accident orattack involving any nuclearvessel, military or civilian,

must be reported to both thehome and destination port.Thathasn’thappened.”“How do you know?”

Rodgersasked.“Because the INRC must

put out a bulletinimmediately, warning ofpotential dangers to shippingor possible radioactivecontamination,”Herbert said.“The Australian Departmentof Defence, the Departmentof National Emergency

Services, and theCommunicable Disease andPublic Health Center areamong those institutions thatwouldbenotified.”“And have not been,”

Hoodsaid.“Right,”Coffeysaid.“Are the public health

peopledowntheretakinganyspecial precautions?” Hoodasked.“They’re going to increase

coastlinepatrolsoffthemajor

cities,”Herbertsaid.“They’llbe looking for radioactivity,ofcourse,aswellasanyshipsthat look as though they’vebeendamaged.”“Bob,is thereanythingthe

National ReconnaissanceOfficecandotohelplookforthe mystery ship?” Hoodasked.The National

Reconnaissance Office wasthe highly secretivegovernment agency that

controlled and processedsatellite imagery as well asother electronic surveillancecapabilities.“We’re talking about a

very large area with a greatdeal of shipping,” Herbertsaid. “We don’t knowwhichway theother shipmayhavegone or exactly where thesampanwas.I’dliketotrytonarrowthesearchareabeforewe ask the NRO to tie upresources.”

“Isn’t this what thoseresources are for?” Coffeyasked.“Actually, no,” Herbert

replied. “Those satellites arefor watching Chinese navalmaneuvers,missile tests, andpicking out terrorist activityin the hills and jungles ofIndonesia. All of that affectsAmerican military andforeign policy on a dailybasis.”“Isee,”Coffeysaid.

“You don’t sound happy,Lowell,”Hoodsuggested.“Well,Iwashopingtogive

the Australians something,”Coffeysaid.“Does it have to be

practical or can it bepolitical?”Herbertasked.“I suppose both is out of

thequestion?”Coffeysaid.“Only since the days of

Julius Caesar,” Herbert said.“WillMr.Ellsworth accept agestureofsolidarity?”

“Mostlikely,”Coffeysaid.“What did you have inmind?”“Goingovertheremyself,”

Herbert said. “It would beawkwardsendingMikeintoasituation that is alreadybristlingwithsoldiers.”“And I’m not sure the

Pentagon would approve,”Rodgersadded.Hood had to agree with

that. Though Rodgers wassecond-in-command at Op-

Center,hewasstillasoldier.The Australian press mightassume that the unscheduledarrival of a military adviserwas a prelude to a regionalmilitary buildup. Extremeideas tended to grow in thefertile ground ofunprecedented situations.They could not afford thatkind of attention, not justfromforeigngovernmentsbutfrom the White House. Op-Center’sneedsmightconflict

with the administrationsshort- and long-termplans intheregion.“Mike,whataboutsomeof

your special ops people?”Hoodasked.“If I sent Maria off on

anothermission now,Darrellwouldstartawarofhisown,”Rodgerssaid.DarrellMcCaskeywasOp-

Center’s liaisonwith theFBIand various international lawenforcement groups. He had

recently married formerSpanish Interpol agentMariaCorneja. Shortly thereafter,Rodgersofferedheraspotonhis new intelligence-gathering unit named Op-Center Reconnaissance,Intelligence On-Site. ORIONhad been assembled to putspies on the ground, wherethe crises were happening,instead of relying onelectronicsurveillance.Mariaaccepted the assignment and

was immediately sent toAfrica along with her newteammates David Battat andAideen Marley. McCaskeyhad not been happy aboutthat.“The other operatives are

outoftown,tyinguppersonaland professional mattersbefore moving down here,”Rodgers said, “and I haven’thad any face time with myAsianintelligenceman,YuenChow.”

“Where is he now?”Hoodasked.“Athome inHongKong,”

Rodgers said. “He’ll be herenext week. We’re stillrunning security on him. Hespent sevenyearsworking inthe movie business inShanghai. It’s tough findingoutwhichof theseboysmayhave had ties with theGuoanbu in Beijing or theTriadsinHongKong.”“Or both,” Herbert said.

“Frankly, I’d want some ofthat take-no-prisonersmuscleinmycorner.”“So would I,” Rodgers

said. “But I would hatehaving to hire a shadow tomake sure my spies weren’tdouble-dealing.”TheGuoanbuwasshortfor

the Guojia Anquan Bu, theChinese Ministry of StateSecurity. They were aruthless intelligence servicewith irrevocable ties to

Chinese nationals around theworld. TheGuoanbu thoughtnothing about imprisoningpeople at home to gain thecooperation of familymembers abroad. The Triadswere the equally amoralgangsterswho had organizedinHongKongoveracenturybefore.They took theirnamefrom a three-sided good lucksymbolthatstoodforheaven,earth,andman.“So that leaves us with

me,” Herbert said. “I can goto Darwin and lend a handcollecting and crunchingintel.”“Lowell?”Hoodasked.“Itsoundslikeagoodidea

tome,”Coffeysaid.“Run it past Ellsworth,”

Hood suggested. “In themeantime, Bob, why don’tyougetready—”“I’ve been making the

reservations on-line as wespeak,” Herbert told him.

“AirNewZealandtoDarwin.I’ll be there Saturdaymorning.”“By way of how many

cities?”Rodgersasked.“Five,” Herbert replied.

“D.C. to New York to LosAngeles to Sydney toDarwin.”“Screw that. I’ll call over

to the travel office at thePentagon,”Rodgerstoldhim.“I’msurewecanhitchyouaride and get you there with

lesshassle.”“What, on one of those

butt-cold, avalanche-loud,flying metal rib cages thatyou guys call airplanes?”Herbertasked.“Actually, I was going to

requisition Air Force One,”Rodgers said. “But I don’twantyougoingsoft.”“Gentlemen, I’m going

home,”Hoodtoldthem.“AndI’vegottogohitcha

ride with Jelbart as soon as

he’s finished with Ellsworthand Officer Loh,” Coffeysaid.“What are they talking

about?”Hoodasked.“Whether we’re going to

have two investigations or acoordinated operation whenwe get out to sea,” Coffeyreplied.“Jeez,” Herbert sighed.

“This is how the world willbe lost. There will be askirmish that bloodies

someone’s nose followed byaworldwar that has nothingto do with that. We’ll killeach other debating how tofind some son of a bitchinsteadofjustlayingwastetohimandhiskind.”“Yousaiditbefore,”Hood

reminded him. “It’s eitherpracticalorpolitical.”“Well, let’s see if we can

makeitboth,”Herbertsaid.“How?”Hoodasked.“By understanding,”

Herbertreplied.“That’s it?” Hood asked,

amused.“Yes,” Herbert said.

“Understanding that the onlyway to get rid of me is bydoingthisthingright.”

SEVENTEENCairns,Australia

Friday,7:00P.M.Thetranquillityofthecove

wasjustwhatPeterKannadayneeded. Like any long-timesailor,hisemotionalstatewasstronglyaffectedbythesea.Thesunwasgoingdownas

the Hosannah entered themouthofthecove.Theeffectwas likea candleon the sea.There was a long, rippling,

waxy-yellow streak on thewater. It ended in a burningyellow wick on the horizon.Kannaday watched it fromthe stern as they entered thecove.Directly abovehim theblue-greenskieswerealreadyspottedwithearlystars.To all other sides of him

was Darling Cove. The inletwas located in the northernreaches of the Great BarrierReef. Over 2,000 kilometersin length and up to 125

meters thick, the reef isseparated from the mainlandby a shallow lagoon. Themassivestructurewasbornatthe end of the IceAgewhenoceanic polyps began tothrive in the region. Thepolyps created protectivemulticolored shells thatsurvived when the animalsthemselves perished. Coralbuilt upon coral for over10,000 years, providing ahome for each new

generation of tentacledcreature. It also became ahavenforcountlessspeciesoffish, giant turtles, humpbackwhales,mantarays,dolphins,and dugongs—marinecousinstotheelephant.The helmsman steered the

yacht into the calm, wide-mouthed inlet. Kannadaylooked down at the stained-glass blue water. Then hewalked forward as sweet,warm air washed over the

deck. It carried the hint ofgrapes from the Darlingvineyard located to thesouthwest.Immediatelytothenorthwest was a limestoneformation scooped from ahundred-meter-high cliff byancient storms. The rockglowed rust orange in thetwilight.The high reef concealed

the cove from the open sea.To access the inlet a sailorhad to know to come around

thereefwelltothenorth.Themouth itself was less than ahalf kilometer across. It wasjust about 200 meters to thefar shore. There was a longstone wharf ahead and deepstretchesoftawnywhitesandonallsides.Twomotorboats,a motor yacht, and a pair ofsailboats were at anchor.Security cameras wereconcealed in the200-foot-tallkarri trees that ringed thecove. Kannaday knew that

microphones were hidden inthe treesaswell.They rarelyheardmorethanthewind,thesoft breakers, or the cry of alostdolphin.Forboaterswhohappenedby,thereweresignsat the entrance to the cove.The oak boards, floating onmoored buoys and mountedto posts, announced that thiswas the private property ofDarling Enterprises. Therewere no postedwarnings, nothreats.Anyonewhoknewof

Mr. Darling knew to keepout.Thosewhodid notwerearrested within two minutesof entering the cove. Guardslived in a small cabin justbeyond the beach. Most ofthe time they surfed theInternet or playedtiddledywinks. Darling heldtwice-yearly competitionsamongthestaffwithasizablepurse.ItdidnotescapeKannaday

that the object of that game

wastogatherallthedifferentchips in one cup.A cup thatwas controlled by JervisDarling.Kannaday took another

momenttowatchthesunset.This was the ninth or tenthtime he had sailed into thiscove. The quiet, majesticbeauty of this place thrilledKannaday for a moment. Italways did. But this time italsomadehimangry.Hefeltas thoughhe should own the

seas he had just traveled.Kannadayhadayacht,andhewas on the way to havingenough wealth to keep himcomfortablefortherestofhislife. Instead, all he couldthink about was thedispleasureof JervisDarling.Amanwhosenamealoneona placard was enough tofrightenwould-betrespassers.Kannadayresented theman’spower and feared hisdisapproval.Thecaptain also

hatedhisownresentmentandfear.The yacht would be

anchoring ina fewmoments.Kannaday would take amotorized dinghy. He wouldbe met there by a Humvee.There was no need to radioahead. The guards wouldhave seen him. As the yachtslowed, Kannaday wonderedif Jervis Darling fearedanything. The billionaireprobably feared failure. Also

death, most likely. Andalmostcertainlyinthatorder.A man like Darling wouldonly accept defeat at thehandsofGodhimself.IfonlyIcouldhaveGodas

an ally, Kannaday thoughtbitterly. Instead, he had JohnHawke.The security officer was

belowdecks with his men.Theywereprobablywatchingactionmovies onDVD.Thatwas all they ever did. There

was no curiosity about theworld, no desire for self-improvement. Perhaps thatwas why Kannaday hadassumed Hawke would takehisofferandgo.Itwaseasy.Men like Hawke liked

thingseasy.Kannaday walked to the

port-side winch that held thedinghy. He waited as one ofthe crewmen lowered it toclear water. The hum of themotor echoed through the

cove. Kannaday’s stomachbegantoburn.Even though John Hawke

had physically threatened thecaptain, Kannaday did notfear him. Fear did not comefromknownthreats.Itdidnotcome from fear for one’sphysical well-being. For amanofthesea,theadrenalinekick that came with dangercarried the captain throughmoments like those. Evenwhen he had the knife at his

throat hewas not fearful.Hehad been focused onsurviving,whichwas not thesamething.Fear came from one thing

above all. It came from theunknown. It grew from theanticipation of somethingdebilitating. A loss offreedom. The inability torealizeone’svision.Darling represented that

kindofpower.Kannadaywasnot looking forward to this

meeting. He consideredcallingHawke’sbluff.Wouldthat little man have thecourage to seize the yacht?And would Darling acceptHawke as commander if hedid?Sun-bronzed first mate

Craig McEldowney ambledover. The big, thirty-nine-year-old New Zealanderstopped beside Kannaday.Thetwohadbeentogetherfortwoyears.Theyhadmetina

bar in Surabaya, Java,whereMcEldowney was washingglasses. The former dock-worker had just served fiveyears’ hard labor for stealingshipments of tobacco andselling it at a discount to thelocals.“It’sgoingtobeallright,”

McEldowneysaid.“Thechiefisn’t going to blame you forwhathappened.”“Who will he blame?”

Kannadayasked.

“Nobody,” McEldowneyreplied.“Captain,thesethingshappen. Just like they did tome.”Kannaday grinned.

McEldowney was a decentbutdullwittedman.Thatwaswhyhehadbeencaught.Kannaday left his first

mate in charge and swungdown the aluminum ladderinto the blue-gray dinghy.The rungs were damp withsea spray.Hehad toholdon

tight to keep from slipping.He reached the sturdy littleboatandsatontheaftbench.He released thewinch cable,switched the engine on, andsped toward the wharf. Theguards were already drivingdown the sloping, woodedpath. The crunch of woodchips and the growl of theHumvee engine added to thenoise.This is how chaos is built,

Kannadaythought.Onenoise

atatime.The question before

Kannaday was simple. Whatwas the best way to preventhis own situation frombecoming more chaotic?Unfortunately, only one manhadtheanswer.And that answer was

unknown.

EIGHTEENTheCelebesSea

Friday,7:33P.M.When Lowell Coffey was

eight years old, somethingwonderful happened. Hisfather took him to see thecircus in Sherman Oaks.What was most memorable,however, was not the showitself. What Coffeyrememberedbestwasstickingaroundtoseethecircusbeing

broken down. Thedeconstruction had been amesmerizingsight,awe-someinitsscopeandcomplexity.The departure of the

Singaporean and Australianships from Darwin remindedCoffeyofthat.Bannersflyingand large vessels setting out.Insteadofroustabouts,sailorswereputting thebigmachinein motion. Instead ofelephants, there werehelicopters and motorboats

being moved into position.Insteadofthesmellofhorsesand sawdust, there weredieselfuelandoceanair.Thescope and logistics of bothwerememorable.Therewere,however, two majordifferences. After the circuswas packed and moving, theyoung Lowell Coffey hadgone home with his father.The boy had felt sad anddisconnected. This morning,the adult Lowell Coffey had

gone with the seagoingconvoy.He felt plugged intoa great and powerfulenterprise. It wasinvigorating.Foraboutthreeminutes.Unfortunately, the adult

Lowell Coffey was alsodesperately nauseated. Hewas sick from his high,hammering forehead downthroughhisvacantgazetohissloshing stomach. Even thejoints of his knees felt as if

they were rolling in theirsockets.Andtheattorneywassittingdown.Coffey was on the small,

claustrophobic bridge of theMICcorvette.George Jelbartwas in command and seatedina swivelchair tohis right.Themedic had given Coffeytwodimenhydrinatetablets,ageneric formofDrama-mine.It did not make Coffey feelbetter, but at least he got noworse. There was only one

exception.WheneverWarrantOfficerJelbartswiveledinhisseat, Coffey tasted his ownbreakfast for a moment.There was something verydisorienting about theofficer’s side-to-sidemovement.Theswift,modernwarship

haddepartedDarwinminutesafterLoh’spatrolboathadsetout. Ellsworth did not jointhem. He had gone back tohis office after intensive

dockside discussions abouthow to manage this jointinvestigation. Since this wasLoh’splan,itwasagreedthatshe and her crew wouldconduct the initial phase.Jelbart would lend whateversupport was necessary interms of equipment,manpower, or technicalcapabilities. Coffey had toldthem that Op-Center’sintelligence chief, BobHerbert, was coming to

Darwin. Herbert would beprepared to assist withanalysisofwhatevertheydidor did not find at sea.Ellsworth had been happy tohear about the NCMC’sinvolvement.Hewasgratefulfortheintelligenceresources,of course.ButEllsworthwasmore interested inAmerica’ssupport. This could turn outto be an isolated incident, inwhich case everyone wouldbe relieved. If it were

something else, though, themore weight Ellsworth hadbehind him, the happier hewouldbe.Jelbart removed the small,

compact headset he waswearing. He hung it aroundhisneck.“Howareyoudoingthere,Mr.Coffey?”heasked.“The situation has

stabilizedsomewhat,”hesaidwithaweaksmile.Helookeddown.Unlikethehorizon,thefloor of the bridge was not

moving. Attorneys weremeant to be in quiet wood-paneled offices where theonly movement was thependulum of a grandfatherclock.“You’ll get used to it,”

Jelbart promised. “By thetimewe get back toDarwin,itwillfeelunnaturaltobeongroundthatdoesn’tmove.”Coffey had to take that on

faith. Right now it did notseemplausible.

The radio operator leanedin. He was located in acubicle just off the maincontrolcenter.“Sir?” he said. “Incoming

fromFNOLoh.”Jelbart slipped the headset

back on. He adjusted themouthpiece. “Jelbart here,”hesaid.“We have reached the

targetarea,”shesaid.Jelbart glanced at the

control panel. There was a

small black monitor to hisright.Ithadanelectronicgridoverlay in light blue. Shipswere red dots. Jelbart hadpreviously explained toCoffey that this was anadjustable global positioningdisplay.Theycouldpullbackas far as fivehundred squarekilometersormoveinastightas tensquarekilometers.Theareacurrentlybeingdisplayedwas twenty squarekilometers.

Jelbart turned to his right.“Helm?”“Yes, sir,” said one of the

twomenseatedthere.“Coordinates ten-five-nine

west, three-four-two north,”Jelbartsaid, readingfromthegrid. “Backwater standby, oncommand.”Thehelmsmanrepeatedthe

coordinates, acknowledgedthe command, and set thecourseaccordingly.Coffey looked up.Hewas

confused.“Icanseethemoutthe window,” he said. “Whydon’tyoujustfollowthem?”“We have been,” Jelbart

told him. “But if somethinghappens to officer Loh’svessel and we lose visualcontact, we want ourcomputer to know exactlywheretheyare.”“I see,” Coffey replied. It

was an unpleasant thoughtbutapracticalone.The Singaporean patrol

boatcametoacompletestop.Jelbartorderedthecorvettetohalf speed. He camealongside the other vessel,keeping 300 meters to port.After amoment, the corvettestopped. With one axis ofmotion removed, Coffeyimmediately felt a littlebetter. Able to look out nowwithout feeling sick, theattorneywatchedtheprowoftheSingaporeanvessel.Usingfishing nets, sailors had

lowered several black boxesinto the water. They lookedlikelaptopcomputers.“What are those?” Coffey

asked.“They’regrannies,”Jelbart

replied. “Gamma ray andneutron irradiation saturationdetectors. I learned aboutthem in the physics courseMIC gave its personnel.Impressivelittleunits.”“What do they tell us?”

Coffeyasked.

“Thekindsofmaterialsweare searching for give offthree kinds of radiation,”Jelbartsaid.“Alphaparticles,beta particles, and gammarays. Gamma rays are themost powerful. Even milddoses can cook your insides.That’s the first thing youwanttodetect.”“Ifthesampanencountered

gamma radiation, the sailorwould not be alive,” Coffeysuggested.

“Possibly. He may nothave been exposed to themotherlode.It’sgoodtokeepawatchoutforit.That’salsothe reason I gave thebackwaterstandbycommand.Incasewehavetogetoutofhereinahurry.”“Ilikethatoption,”Coffey

said.“Neutron irradiation tells

you something about theelements involved and thesize of the nuclear sample,”

Jelbartwenton.“OfficerLohchecked with the INRC todetermine the size of thedrums deposited out here.There is always traceradiation, however tightlythesethingsaresecured.”“That’sreassuring,”Coffey

said.“The levels are not

dangerous unless exposure iscumulative,” Jelbart added.“That’s one reason to put itouttoseaordeepincaves.”

“Whatabouttheecologicalimpact?”Coffeyasked.“The fish are tested

regularly. As long as theyaren’t affected, I don’t thinkanyoneintheareacaresverymuch,” Jelbart said. “Thepoint is, given the time thelastvesselswerehereandtheamount they off-loaded,Officer Loh knows exactlywhatthereadingsshouldbe.”“Whatwas the last ship to

come out here?” Coffey

asked.Thecomputermonitorwas

located in front of Coffey.Jelbart swung toward it. Hisswivel was quick andunsettling. The attorneylookeddownandtookaslow,deep breath to try to get hisbalanceback.“The last vessel to visit

here was a Chinese freighterwith four twelve-gallondrums of material from anuclear power plant outside

of Shanghai,” Jelbart said.“Before that it was a cutterownedbyInternationalSpentFuel Transport out ofMalaysia. They depositedthree ten-gallon drums ofmaterial from a Japanesenuclear power plant. No onewas out here for ten dayspriortothat.”“How will we be able to

tell them apart?” Coffeyasked.“Theyeachhaveaspecific

drop point,” Jelbart replied.“ThecoordinatesLohsentusrepresenttheChinesesite.”“I see,” Coffey said. “I’m

still unclear about one thing,though.What does she hopeto find? Ifoneof these shipswere damaged, wouldn’tsomeonehavebeennotified?”“Possibly,” Jelbart said.

“Whatconcernsusisthatoneof the vessels may havetransferred their cargo toanother ship. That other ship

may have been the one thepiratesattacked.”“What do you do if that

scenario pans out? Go afterthevessel?”“I don’t know,” Jelbart

replied.“You don’t know?

Wouldn’t that be a logicalstep?”Coffeyasked.“Perhaps,”Jelbarttoldhim.

“Itcouldalsotipoffwhoeverhas the nuclear material. Itmightbemoreprudent to try

to find thatmaterial, then goback and clean up the relayteamitself.”“Doesn’t the MIC have

simulationsandplaybooksforthis sort of thing?” Coffeyasked.“We have search patterns

and seizure protocols, yes,”Jelbart replied. “When itcomes to trackingradioactivecargo, we’re in unfamiliarterritory.JustasAmericahasbeen. The only nuclear

materials we’ve actuallyhunted were two warheadsmissing from the SovietUnion’s Strategic RocketForces. One was from afacility in Kazakhstan, theotherfromBelarus.”“Did you find them?”

Coffeyasked.“The Russians eventually

did,” Jelbart replied. “Therewere indications that thewarheadshadbeenpurchasedbyIndonesianrebels.Perhaps

they were, but delivery wasnever made. The weaponshadactuallybeenmovedtoacave in theUkraine. Russianengineersandphysicistshiredby a retired general were inthe process of dismantlingthem.”“Lovely,”Coffeysaid.“We try to rebuild Eden,

but the snakes are alwaysthere, more persistent thanever,”Jelbartsaid.“They’vehada lotof time

to study us from theunderbrush,” Coffeyobserved.“Too true,” Jelbart said.

“The other thing about thismission, Mr. Coffey, is thatwe have a partner.” Henodded toward theSingaporean vessel. “Wedon’tknowhowporous theircommand center might be.We don’t know how manysecrets we’ll be comfortablesharing.”

“I wonder if she feels thesame,”Coffeysaid.“Almost certainly,” Jelbart

said.“Thoughwithherit’sasmuch a cultural issue as apolitical one. TheSingaporeans areaggressivelyprivate.”“That’s an oxymoron. I’ll

have to think about it,”Coffeyremarked.“You’ll see what I mean

when you spend more timewith FNO Loh,” Jelbart

promised.It also sounded racist.

Coffey hated even benigngeneralizations like that. Hewould try not to hold thatagainstJelbart.Ten minutes after the

search had begun, Lohradioed that the Chinese sitewas registering theanticipated levels of ambientradiation. She provided thecoordinates for the next site.Thepatrolboatmovedon.

Sodidthecorvette.And so, once again, did

Coffey’sstomach.

NINETEENOverthePacific

OceanFriday,2:57A.M.

Once in a very rare whilelifesurprisedBobHerbert.Mike Rodgers was able to

gettheintelligencechiefonaTR-1 long-range strategicreconnaissance aircraft. Theplane was headed fromLangley Air Force Base in

Virginia to Taiwan with astopover at the AustralianDefence Force Basic FlyingTraining School inTamworth, New SouthWales.There, theUSAFwasgoingtopickupthreeofficersfor hands-on experience insurveillance upgrades. TheRAAF would give Herbert alifttoDarwin.TheTR-1wasleaving at one-thirty A.M.,which meant the intelligencechief had to hustle. Herbert

drove himself from hiswaterside home in Quantico,Virginia. There was literallyno traffic at that time of themorning.Hemadetheeighty-miletripinonehour.Therewasasmallofficers’

station on board the sixty-two-foot-long aircraft. It waslocatednear the cockpit.Thecrew removed the seat, andHerbert was able to tuck hiswheelchair into the area.Therewasapowersourcefor

the chair batteries and awireless Internet jack for hiscomputer. Herbert felt oddlylike a cyborg, a part of thebig, sleek spy ship. Happily,the aircraft was not as noisyas transportshehadbeenon.In fact, it was as quiet as acommercialjetliner.Lifewas good, at least for

the moment. And since amomentwasallanyonecouldcount on, Herbert tried toenjoyit.Hedid,forawhile.

Herbertsubmergedhimselfin research and coffee. Thecoffeewasprovidedbyaveryconsiderate navigator. Theblack coffee did more goodthan the research. Themoment of contentmentpassed.Using the plane’s secure

communicationslink,HerbertdonnedhisWASTEMscreenname. The profile he hadcreatedwas for a thirty-year-old white female, one who

advocated militia uprisingsandasuspensionofrightsforeveryone who was not a“pure-blooded American.”Herbert had made her afemale to attract malesociopaths, men who werelookingforsomeone tosharetheir mental illness with.Through WASTEM, theintelligence officer had beenable to break up asupremacist group thatarranged tours to Libya.

There, for 50,000 dollars,group members could watchprisoners being tortured. For75,000 dollars they couldparticipateinthetortureusingwhatevermeans theywished.For 150,000 dollars theycouldcarryoutanexecution.Herbert had his wife’s

pictureattachedtotheprofile.Not only was Yvonne a fox,but she would haveappreciated having aposthumous hand in

destroying cults of hate. Acult like the one that hadclaimedherlife.As usual, WASTEM had

dozens of E-mail messages.Most were from men andwomen who wanted to goshooting with her or sponsorher at their training camp inthis wilderness or thatmountain range. ThoughWASTEM’s interestsincluded the acquisition of“red rain,” a euphemism for

radioactivematerials,noneoftheE-mailsofferedtosellherany. He spent some time inthe Anarkiss chat room,where sickos went forromance. As one of the few“women” in the room,WASTEM was alwaysextremely popular. If anyoneseemed to have informationhemightwant, he offered togo privatewith them. Peoplewithsomethingtohidespokemorefreelyinachatroomfor

two.Unfortunately, no one had

anyleadsonnuclearmaterialbeing trafficked through theFarEastortheSouthPacific.Herbert’s next stop were

chartsoftheshippinglanesinthat region. He got a list oftankers,fishingvessels,oceanliners,andpleasureboatsthathad been through the area inthe past seventy-two hours.When he got the names, heswitched to his generic

BOB4HIRE screen name.Claiming to be an insuranceinvestigator, he E-mailed thevarious shipping companiesand charterhouses. He askedifanyofthemhadreceivedareport of an explosion in theCelebesSea.Whilehewaitedfor theanswers,hecontactedthe National ReconnaissanceOffice. He asked for an IDlistingofalltheshipsthathadaccessed global positioningdata around the time of the

explosion. That informationwas supposed to beconfidential, stored in codedfiles known only to thevessels and the satellites.However, the NRO hadaccess to the satellitedatabases, thanks to theConfidential Reconnaissanceand Code Satellite. CRACSwas one of a newgenerationof satellites that spied onother satellites. Usingsophisticated background

radiation detectors, it readincoming and outgoingsatellite pulses thatmomentarily blotted out thecosmic radiation. CRACSendedupwithasilhouetteofthe communication fromearth. The satellite was ableto translate the pulses intonumbers. That, in turn, gavetheNROthecodewordsusedby the earth-based planes orshipstocontactthesatellite.What Herbert was looking

forwas an inconsistency.Hewas hoping to find a vesselthat might have been closeenough to hear the sampanexplosion but did not reportit. If he found that, chancesweregooditwastheshipthepirateshadtriedtowaylay.The data came in slowly

over the next several hours.During that time Herbertreveledintherelativecomfortand privacy of his littlesection of the airplane. He

was facing the starboard sideof the aircraft, and therewasa small window to his right.He leaned forward andlooked down. The viewinspired him. Not because itwasabig,beautifuloceanbutbecauseitremindedhimhowpeople had fought andsuffered and perished toexplore it. Nothing camewithout hard work andsacrifice. That fact kept BobHerbert from slipping into

bitterness for what his ownpublicservicehadcosthim.He received replies from

twelve of the twenty-two E-mailshehadsentout.Noonehad reported any explosionsintheregion.Healsolearnedthat there had been at leastonevesselintheregionatthetime of the explosion. ItwasnamedtheHosannahandwasapparently owned by agentleman named ArvidsMarch.Therewasareference

to a court case that Herbertcould not access. The vesselsailedunderaTasmanianflagand listed six ports ofregistry.HerbertsearchedtheTasmanian phone directoryon-line.Hecouldnot findanentry forArvidsMarch.Thatdid not surprise him. Shipsfrom one country were oftenregistered in another for taxreasons.Mr.March could befrom anywhere. Or it couldbe a fake name for a fake

enterprise. Herbert did a fullInternet search for him andcame up empty.He searchedunder A. March and foundover ten thousand references,from “I love a March” to ahip-hop group Ides aMarch.He sent an E-mail to Op-Center asking them to seewhat they could find outabouttheman.Aquickcheckturnedupnothing.Obviouslynot a publicity-seeker orpublicfigure.

ThenHerberttookabreak.A think break. He had spenthours on this search and hadverylittletoshowforit.Thatwasfrustrating.Worse,itwasdangerous.Herbert knew toowellwhatcouldhappenwhenpeople went into a situationwith zero intelligence. Thatwas how the embassy inBeirutwashit.Herbert went back to his

computer. The rogue boatwasoutthere.

Hewantedtofindit.

TWENTYCairns,Australia

Friday,7:58P.M.Itwas the largestprivately

owned collection ofprehistoric fossils in theworld.Jervis Darling had

developed a love and deepappreciation for prehistoricanimals forty years before.Wheninhisearlytwentiesheread an article on the

AustralianMuseuminoneofhis first magazines,AustralianInsider,hehadnotrealized what a successfulreign the dinosaurs had onearth. Each new generationevolved into a more refinedversion of the last. Thecarnivores became perfectpack hunters as well asindividual predators. Theherbivores bonded in familyunits with complex forms ofchildcare.Theyhadsurvived

over 100 million years. Thatwas 100 times longer thanhumankind and its ancestorshad walked the earth. It wasprobably 100 times longerthan humans would continuetowalktheearth.Unlesshehadhisway.Darling began buying

fossils, from the smallest,oldest marine trilobites to acomplete land-rangingallosaurus to a soaringpteranodon.Hedidnot settle

for plaster casts, as so manymuseums did. Only the realthing.Hehadthemdisplayedin two large rooms on hisestate, along with muralsshowingtheanimalsandtheirworld. It was ironic, hethought. The Australianmedia had nicknamed himSalty after the northwestcrocodile.Thatwasaninsult,though not for the reasonsthey thought.Darlingdidnotmind being compared to a

carnivore. But he aspired tobe one of the all-time greatones, like tyrannosaurus orgorgosaurus.Not a relativelysmallcontemporaryoffshoot.The moon shone through

the large, arching skylight.Small lights illuminated themounted skeletons, murals,and exhibit cases.Dressed injeans and a flannel shirt, thesix-foot-four-inch Darlingstood in the middle of thecathedral-like structure. The

bald-headed media titan didnotendeachdaywithastrollthroughhiscollection.Hedidso today, however. Hereminded himself thatsometimes creatures perisheddue to things outside theircontrol.Thedinosaurswereaperfect example. Apparentlytheyall diedout slowly afteran asteroid struck the earth.The collision threwincalculable tons of dust intothe atmosphere, blotted out

the sunlight for years, andcreated a worldwideecological disaster. Theequivalent of a prehistoricnuclear winter. According tothe geological record, theseimpacts and globalextinctions occurred withsomeregularity.Portions of the earthwere

overdue for a similarcleansing,hereflected.Itwasa concept Darwin wouldnever have imagined. A

mixture of natural selectionandmassextinction.Footsteps echoed along an

adjoining corridor. A fewseconds later, Andrewstepped through the doorconnecting the mansion withthe wing that housedDarling’s collection of IceAgefossils.“Mr. Darling, Captain

Kannaday is coming up thewalk,”theexecutivesecretaryinformedhim.

“Bringhimtothekitchen,”Darlingsaid.“Yes,sir,”Andrewreplied.Therewas no hesitation in

Andrew’s voice. If Darlinghad instructed his aide toescort Kannaday to hisprivate observatory, to thegarage, or to a guest-roomcloset, Andrew would havedone so without question.Descended from people wholivedhereduringtheIceAge,AndrewJutaGrahamwasone

of the few people whomDarlingtrustedabsolutely.Darling followed his

secretary into the hallway ofthe30,000-square-footestate.Thiswastheeastwing,whichheld the public area ofDarling’s home. Themuseum, the dining hall, theballroom,thescreeningroom,the gym, the indoor andoutdoor swimming pools.Hemade his way through thediningareatothekitchen.He

asked the cook and herassistant if they would mindwaitingintheirquartersforafew minutes. They left atonce.Darlingwent to one ofthe three refrigerators andremoved a large bottle ofsparkling water. He leanedagainst a butcher-blockcounterand faced thepicturewindow.Heopenedthewaterand took a swallow as hestared off at rolling grounds.Hewondered suddenly if the

dinosaurs ever drank fromsparkling springs. Theyprobably did. And did theynoticeadifference?Ofcourse,hedecided.But

it would not have meantanything to them. They didnot have the brainpower tolook past the initialstimulation. In that respectthe dinosaurs were like theterroristsDarlingwasdealingwith now. Locked intonarrow patterns of

information processing.Impulsive instead ofreflective. What made themdangerous also made themeasytomanipulate.Adooropenedbehindhim.

Itwas thedoor that led fromthe rearof the estate throughthe servants’ quarters.Darling set the water on thecountertop and turned. Hisback was to the window asAndrew left and Kannadaymade his way through the

appliances. Spotlights froman outdoor patio shoneoutside the window. Crispwhite light washed over theskipper.Hewas dressed in ablack pull-over and khakis.Even though Kannadaywalked briskly, with hisshoulders pulled back, helookedtired.Heextendedhisbigrighthand.Darlingshookthehandandheldit.“Your palm feels warm,”

Darlingsaid.

“Iwasondeck,inthesun,Mr.Darling,”Kannadaysaid.“Palmsup?”“I’m like a solar battery,

sir,” Kannaday said.“Sunlight hits a spot andshuttlesallaroundme.”“Ah.Wouldyoulikeacold

beverage?”Darlingasked.“Thank you, no,”

Kannadayreplied.Darling released

Kannaday’s hand slowly.“Wine,”hesaid.

“No,thankyou.”“I wasn’t offering,”

Darlingsaid,laughing.“Iwasjustwondering ifgrapeseverfermentedinprehistory.”“I would imagine they

did,” Kannaday said. Heseemed stung by havingrejectedanoffer thathadnotbeenmade.“Quiteright,”Darlingsaid.

“The liquid may havecollected in a pool. Adinosaurmighthavelappedat

it.Perhapsheevenbecamealittle inebriated. Quite athought,wouldn’tyousay?”“Itis,”Kannadayreplied.“I wonder what a

prehistoric vintage woulddemand in the MahoganyAuctionRoom,”Darlingsaid.“An unthinkable sum, Iwould imagine. Can’t youjust picture it? Scientistsbidding against connoisseursto buy a mud-crusted andfossilizedpuddle.”

Darling chuckled at thethought. Kannaday smileduncomfortably. The man hasno imagination, Darlingthought. Then again, he wasat something of adisadvantage here. BecauseDarling was silhouetted bythe patio lights, Kannadaycouldnotseehimclearly.Hecould not tell fromDarling’sexpression whether he wasjoking or being serious. Thatwas how Darling wanted it.

He wanted his guest offbalance and open.Vulnerable.Darling crossed his arms

and regarded the captain. “Iunderstand that replacementgear isbeingsentover to theyacht.”“Yes,sir.”“Iwantyoubackat seaas

soonaspossible.”“Of course,” Kannaday

said.“Before you go, though,

I’d like an explanation,”Darlingsaid.“First, I promise that

nothing like this will happenagain,” Kannaday said. “Weshouldhaveforeseenit.Yoursecuritychiefagrees.”“Hawkeagrees?”“Absolutely,” Kannaday

said.“And how will you guard

against future attacks?”Darlingdemanded.Hismoodsoured quickly. “A sampan

full of sea rats drew closeenough to put a hole in thesideofyourvessel!Howdidthathappen?”“Sir, the men in the

sampan did not cause theexplosion,” Kannaday said.“Wedid.”“How?”“By accident. We hit the

pirates hard, fast, anddecisively,” Kannaday toldhim. “The attack triggeredexplosivesthatwereonboard

theothervessel.”“Whydidyoulet themget

so close?” Darling asked.“You have a good radarsystemonboard.”“Thesampandidnotcreate

a blip that wasdistinguishable fromporpoises or flotsam,”Kannadaysaid.“Wefailedtoidentify it until the securitycamerapicked it up.By thenitwasnearlyuponus.Atthatpointwedecidednottostrike

untilwewerecertain thatwewere facing an enemy,”Kannadayreplied.“Why?”Darlingasked.The question seemed to

surprise Captain Kannaday.“Sir, are you suggesting weshould have attacked whatmay have been an innocentvessel?”“Preemptive strikes reduce

risk,”Darlingtoldhim.“Iwouldhavethoughtthat

a stealthy passage was more

important,” Kannadayreplied.“The best way to assure a

low profile is to eliminatepotential witnesses,” Darlingpointed out. “Now, you sayMr. Hawke agrees thatadequate security precautionswereinplace?”“Hedoes,”Kannadaysaid.“OramIhearingacaseof

‘You watch my back, I’llwatchyours’?”Darlingsaid.“Excuse me?” Kannaday

asked.“I don’t knowMr. Hawke

very well,” Darling said. “Idoubt anyone does. A goodsecurity chief does not sharehis thoughts. But I cannotbelieve Hawke would agreethat a disastrous operationwas,infact,acompetentone.Itisanindefensibleposition.”“Sir, forgive me for

repeating myself, but whathappened wasunforeseeable,” Kannaday

insisted.“And I say that what

happened was preventable!”Darlingyelled.Kannadaysaidnothing.“As for Mr. Hawke, you

would not misrepresent whathe said. That would be easyto check. So we have acontradiction.”“Mr. Darling, you’ve lost

me,” the captain saidhelplessly.“Hawke has apparently

agreed to back yourexplanation, that this was afreak occurrence,” Darlingsaid.“Why?”“Becauseitwas.”“DoyoulikeMr.Hawke?”

Darlingasked.“No,sir.Idon’t.”“Youdonot likehim,you

did not hire him,” Darlingsaid. “This was your chanceto blame him and get rid ofhim. Why hasn’t thathappened?”

Darling watchedKannaday’sface.Theblanketglow of the spotlight leftnothing in shadow. Thecaptain did not break eyecontactormovehismouth.Itwasunnatural.Kannaday was concealing

something.It took a longmoment for

the captain to speak. It musthavefeltfarlongerthanthat.“You’re right,” Kannaday

saidat last.“Icalledhimout

for this. I demanded that hesurrenderhispost.”“And what was his

response?”Carefully, the captain

rolled down the neck of hissweater. There was a whitesurgicalbandage taped tohisthroat. In the center of thebandagewasanuglyredspot.Jervis Darling was notsurprised to see it.Kannadayhadtohavebeenwearingthehigh collar for some reason.

Hadhebeeninjuredinbattle,hewould not have sought tohidethewound.“Hawkeput ablade tomy

throat.”Darlingsnickered.“Youlet

him surprise you just as thepiratesdid.”Kannadaydidnotreply.“Hawke letyousurvive so

youcouldabsolvehisteamofblame,”Darlingwenton.“Onthe one hand, I should notcare about that. I am only

concerned about results. Theproblem, Captain, is that Ilikepeopletomeetorsurpassmy expectations. You havefailedinthatregard.”“Once!” Kannaday said.

There was frustration, notanger, in the captain’sgravellyvoice.“We’vehadasingle slip in more than adozenverydifficult,perfectlyexecutedmissions.”“You had two slips,

Captain Kannaday,” Darling

pointedout.“Firstthepirates,thenHawke.”“All right,” Kannaday

agreed. “I made twomistakes. I accept thatresponsibility.”“Wherein lies the

problem,” Darling said.“Errors can be repaired.Restoring trust is anotherissue.”“Mr. Darling, I feel like a

catboat in a bloodyhurricane,”Kannadaysaid.“I

needtofinishthisjob.ThenIhave to look ahead to theotherjobs.Icanlivewiththeway things are between meandJohnHawke.Myegocanhandlethat.ButhowdoIfixitwithyou?”“You are the captain,”

Darlingsaid.“Figureitout.”“Sir, I’m trying very hard

to do that,” Kannaday said.“In the future we will attackor avoid any ship that comesclose. We’ll push the

Hosannah to make up asmuch lost time as possible. Iwill work out my problemswithJohnHawkeifyoulike.”“CaptainKannaday,Idon’t

‘like’!” Darling sneered.“You suffered a mutiny onboardyourvessel!”“It was a disagreement,

Mr.Darling.”“ItendedwhenMr.Hawke

dictatedshipboardtermsfromthe hilt of a blade,” Darlingpointed out. “That, sir, is a

mutiny.”Kannaday was about to

respond. Instead, his mouthclapped shut and he lookedaway.“And you did nothing

about it,” Darling went on.“Washisknifeatyour throatallday?”“No,sir.”“How did he pay for his

crime?” Darling demanded.“What did he say when thewind changed and you put a

knife at his throat? You didwanttodothat,didn’tyou?”“Idid,sir.”“I wish you had,” Darling

said. “You cannot work formeand forMr. Hawke. Theway back, Captain, is to fixthat.”The silence in the kitchen

was such that Darling couldhear the water fizzing in thebottle.Kannaday held Darling’s

gaze a moment longer. “I

understand, sir. Was thereanythingelse?”“No,”Darlingsaid.Kannadaynodded.Thenhe

turned to leave. As thecaptainmadehiswayaroundthecounter,Andrewappearedtoescorthimfromtheestate.Andrew had been just out ofearshot the entire time.Kannaday respected thesecretary’s devotion, hisdiscretion, and above all hisloyalty. If only everyone in

Darling’s service were likethat.Darling walked to the

counter. He picked up hiswater and tookaquick swig.He did not really carewhetherKannadaywon backhis respect or not. All thatmatteredwashavingsomeonetake charge of this mission.To see the rest of it throughwithout event. Tomake surehe was not bothered on anyfuture aspects of the

operation.Darling finished the water

and wondered who thatlieutenant would be. JohnHawkewas a confidentman,and strength was a greatmotivator. Peter Kannadaywas a frightened man. Fearcould move a man as well,often in strange andunexpectedways.Whichisthegreaterasset?

Darlingaskedhimself.The big, successful

prehistoric predators hadenormous power and guile.Sometimes,though,astartledvegetarian like a stegosauruswould swing its spiked tailandfellamightytyrannosaur.Therewerecountlesscrackedskullsinthefossilrecord.The tactics never changed.

Onlythecombatantsandtheirweapons.Darling put the empty

water bottle on the counter.He left the kitchen to briefly

attendtohisotherbusinesses.The safe ones. The ones thathadlongagolosttheirabilityto challenge and gratify him.The ones that covered theworldandreportedonit.A world that he would

haveahandinreshaping.

TWENTY-ONETheCelebesSea

Friday,9:44P.M.Monica Loh’s patrol boat

hovered about the secondnuclear waste site. This waswhere the Japanesegovernment was allowed todeposit material. Tokyo wasalso free to assign space toother nations, provided theyadhered to the InternationalNuclear Regulatory

Commissioncodes.The officer did not like

coming to the Japanese site.Shedidnotlikegoingtoanyplace controlled by theJapanese. It was a purelypsychological reaction but astrongone.Peopleofsmallernations in this region wereinevitably caught in thebackwash of history createdby China and Japan. TheChinese were ambitious,organized, and insensitive.

Withoverabillionpeople tofeedandmanage,Lohdidnotblame them for theirtotalitarianefficiency.Shedidnot have the same sympathyfor the Japanese. They weregreedy rather thanambitious.They were domineering, notjustorganized.Andtheywerecruel rather than insensitive.When the Chinese turnedoutward it was for land andresources to control. TheJapaneselookedforpeopleto

subjugate.Singapore had its own

formsofoverkill.Lawswerestrictandpunishmentstricter.Dissentwaspermittedaslongas sedition and abusivelanguagewereavoided.Workwas hard, wages were low,and the government did notdoenoughtoeasetheburdenoflaborers.Theship-buildersand oil refiners were thebackbone of the economy.The government could not

affordtoalienatethem.Sincethe bulk of the populationwasofChineseheritage,theyunderstood the rules. ButSingaporeans had, at heart, agentle nature. TheirdiscomfortabouttheJapanesecame partly from historylessons and partly from aclash of natures. Theyexperienced iton the seas, intheharbors,inthebanks,andon the stock exchanges.Whenever FNO Loh was

around Japanese sailors,militaryorotherwise,shefeltas though she was on highalert. Even touristsmade heruneasy. They seemed to becollecting memories insteadofenjoyingthem.Lohwatchedfromthedeck

as the sailors lowered theirgear into the water. Theywere justa fewmetersaheadof her, port side. Theyworkedinsilenceastheyhadbeentrainedtodo.Talkwasa

distraction in militaryoperations.Still,everyoneofthe officer’s senses wasstimulated. She smelled theoil and salt of the sea. Sheheard the slapping of thewaves against the hull of thepatrol ship. Spotlightsfastened to the rail playedacross the water. The netcontaining the equipmentseemed to lose pieces as itdescended into the darknessbetween the bright, patchy

crests of sea. A strong,temperatewindpushedatherfrom the northwest. Thoughthe woman’s world was thesea, she had always felt akinship with the wind. Itmoved across the ocean, justlike she did. It was silent.And it had changing moodsthat were only noticed bythosewhogotintheway.Thestars were partly hidden byhigh, wispy clouds. Theyreminded Loh of a waitress

she had once seen inBangkok. The woman hadworn a white gown withsequins that sparkled in thelight. Now that Loh thoughtof it,sheknewas littleaboutthatwaitressasshedidaboutthe heavens. The world wasfullofmysteries.Loh was relaxed as the

menandwomenworked.Shedid not care whether theyfoundthesitetobecorruptedorintact.Evennoinformation

was information. She woulddeal with whatever theydiscovered. Though not apracticing Buddhist, Lohbelieved in the four nobletruthsittaught:thatexistenceissuffering; that thecauseofsuffering is desire; thatsufferingeventuallyendsinastate of peace known asnirvana; and that the road tonirvana, the so-calledeightfoldnoblepath, consistsof the qualities of right

resolve, right speech, rightaction, right livelihood, righteffort, rightmindfulness, andright concentration. All ofthose skills did not comeeasily.Andtheyrequiredonethingaboveall.Patience.Loh had learned that

qualitybywatchingherfatherworkonhiscases.Intheend,the perpetrator would becaught.Itonlyremainedtobeseenhow,when,andwhere.

After a few minutes, theyoung male specialist incharge of naval underwatersystems jogged over to FNOLoh.Hesaluted.“Ambient radiation levels

are below normal at the siteof the last deposit,” he said.“Unless the coordinates areincorrect.”“There is no reason to

believe they are,” she said.“Go down and seewhat youcanfind.”

“Ma’am,”he said, salutingandturning.Ittookjustfiveminutesfor

theunderwaterunittogetintothe sea. They carried afluoroscopic scanner. If therewere anything hot inside thestencil-dated concrete block,it would show up as a redpatternontheviewfinder.Tenminuteslaterthethree-

person team reached the site.The block that had beendeposited registered as cold.

It contained no radioactivematerials. FNO Lohunhooked the point-to-pointradio from her belt. Shecontacted Warrant OfficerJelbartontheothervessel.“Then the materials were

off-loaded somewherebetween the source and thedrop-offpoint,”Jelbartsaid.“That is apparently the

case,”Lohagreed.“And it’s possible they

were given to the vessel that

wasattackedbythesampan,”Jelbartsaid.“That is also likely,” she

said.“We’ll get the name and

registryoftheshipthatmadethis drop,” Jelbart told her.“Thenwe’ll have a talkwiththecaptain.”“Thatisworthdoing,”Loh

said. “But I am betting youwill not find the ship or thecrew.”“What do you mean?”

Jelbart asked. “The ship hastoberegistered.”“That is true,” she said.

“Butthatvesselprobablyhasmultiple registries. I amguessing they were notifiedwhen the sampan attackedtheir fellow ship.While theywere still at sea, the vesselwouldhavebeenrechristenedandthehullrepainted.Idoubtvery much that we will findit.”“Then we’ve learned

nothing,” Jelbart said.“Exceptforthefactthatthereis a great deal of nuclearwaste somewhere in ourcorneroftheworld.”“That is not nothing,”Loh

said.“Wewillfindit.”“I like your attitude. Any

suggestions?”Jelbartasked.“Justone,”shesaid.“Have

patience.”

TWENTY-TWOCairns,Australia

Friday,9:45P.M.PeterKannadayreturnedto

theyachtashakenman.During the meeting with

Jervis Darling, the captainhad experienced somethingextremely disturbing. For thefirst time in his forty-sevenyears, Kannaday’s natural,healthy suspicion hadblossomed like a nightshade

intopoisonousparanoia.Andit had happened for ashockingly simple reason.Beingbuffetedbytwoforces,Jervis Darling and JohnHawke, was troublesomeenough. What botheredKannaday more was thethought that those forcesmight not be workingindependently. Hawke hadbeen hired by Darling. Theycould be working togetherthrough Marcus Darling.

Perhaps the elder Darlingwanted Kannaday to turn onHawke so that Hawke couldeliminatehim.Thenhecouldseize the yacht. Kannaday’screwwouldnotturnagainstasecurity chief who haddefended himself. FromJervis Darling’s point ofview, this was easier andmore secure than purchasinga yacht and leaving a papertrail.Or there could be otherreasons.PerhapsDarlingwas

doing this out of nothingmore than utter contempt foraneasygoingman.Ormaybebreaking people was howDarlinggothisjollies.Thesesuspicionsturnedthe

captain’s natural force, hismomentum,insideout.Ithadturned healthy caution intodeadlyfear.Kannadayhadtofindawaytogetridofthat.Kannaday also had to get

rid of John Hawke. Even ifHawke andDarlingwere not

working together, the captainhad not been given anywiggleroomonthataccount.Kannaday hoped that

getting the mission backunderwaywouldhelprestoresomeofhisbalance.TheHosannah leftDarling

Coveat9:05P.M.Repairs tothe laboratory had beencompletedby10o’clock.Thenew equipment had beensecuredandtested.Theyachtwas ready to make their

delayed rendezvous with afishingvesselfromMalaysia.But no sooner had they setout than Kannaday’s radiobeeped. It was MarcusDarling reporting some veryodd radio traffic in theCelebes Sea. CaptainKannadaywent below to seehim.JohnHawkewasalreadyin

the radio shack. It was thefirst timeKannadayhadseenhim since returning from the

Darling estate. The securitychiefhadbeenworkinginhiscabin when Kannadayreturned.Their eyes barely met.

Hawke said nothing toKannaday, and the captaindid not acknowledge thesecurity chief. Kannadaystood behind the radiooperator. Hawke was to theleft, where the porthole usedto be. Marcus had anAltaVistatranslationfileopen

on his laptop. The programautomatically translatedincoming messages intoEnglishtypescript.“I picked up a

communication from aJapanese trawler,” Marcussaid.“Hewasaskingifitwassafetopass.”“Asking who?” Kannaday

asked.“A Singaporean patrol

vessel, judging by the namesandranks,”Marcusreplied.

“Whywould he ask that?”Kannadayasked.“The trawler is at one

hundred and thirty degreeslongitude, five degreeslatitude,”theyoungerDarlingtold him. “Obviously, thepatrol ship is there as well.Andtheworstnewsis,itmaynotbealone.”Kannaday felt a chill. “Go

on.”“The ship from Singapore

is apparently talking to

another ship,” Marcuscontinued.“I can’thearwhatthe other ship is sayingbecause the message isblackedout.”“Then how do you know

the Singaporeans are talkingto another ship?” Kannadayasked.“Because there are short

blackouts after everyconversation with thetrawler,” Marcus told him.“They are of roughly the

same duration as the initialconversation. It’s as if theboatreceivingthemessageistranslating and relaying theconversationwordforword.”“Why wouldn’t another

ship just listen in?” Hawkeasked.“Because as soon as the

other ship turned on theirradio,someonelikemewouldknow they were there. And,more importantly, I’d knowexactly who they were,”

Marcussaid.“Isee,”Kannadaysaid.“Is

thatamilitarytactic?”“Military or police, yes,”

Marcusreplied.Militaryandpolicevessels

did not go to that site onroutine visits. The area wasmonitored by civilian vesselsof the International NuclearRegulatoryCommission.“We need to find outwho

isthere,”Hawkesaid.“Why?” Kannaday asked.

“The dumping grounds arenotonanyofourroutes.”“They are on Jaafar’s

route,”Hawkepointedout.“Why should that worry

us?”Kannadayasked.“Heisanally.”“BynowJaafarhasgotthe

name of his ship repaintedandisflyingadifferentflag,”Kannaday said. “Thosechanges would have beenmade at night or under atarpaulin. It is very unlikely

that anyonewould have seenhim.”“Then what are one and

possibly twomilitary vesselsdoing at the waste site?”Hawkeasked.“I have no idea, and I’m

not sure it concerns us,”Kannadaysaid.“If they discover that

Jaafardepositedemptydrumsof nuclear waste, it couldcome back to us,” Hawkesaid.

“They would have to findhim first, which is unlikely,”Kannaday said. “If Jaafarthinks someone ison tohim,he will go into hiding. Wecan warn him on our securechannel.”“Iwanttoknowwho’sout

there,”Hawkerepeated.“And do what, exactly?”

Kannadayasked.“Go after those vessels, if

necessary,”Hawke said. “Doto them what the pirates

wantedtodotous.”A preemptive strike,

Kannaday thought. JustwhatDarling might havesuggested. Maybe Hawkewas sincerely concernedabout the patrol ship. Ormaybe he was simply tryingto provoke a confrontationwith Kannaday. In eithercase, the captain decided tolethimhavehisheadon thisone.“How do you recommend

we conduct reconnaissance?”Kannadayasked.“We need a satellite

overview,” Hawke replied.“Weneedtoseewhoisthereandwhatthey’redoing.”“Marcus,canyoudothat?”

Kannadayasked.“We can do that through

ColonelHwan,”Marcussaid.“Who is that?” Kannaday

asked.“ColonelKimHwanismy

uncle’s man at the North

Korean ReconnaissanceBureau,” Marcus replied.“TheNKRBcollectsstrategicand tactical intelligence forthe Ministry of the People’sArmed Forces. They alsoeavesdrop on business rivalswhen my uncle needs themto.”“How long will it take to

get informationfromColonelHwan?”Kannadayasked.“We won’t know until we

contact him,” Marcus said.

“He may be able to get theinformation through normalchannels. If not, he mighthavetogoto theChineseforaccess to one of theirsatellites.”“Doit,”Hawkesaid.Hawke did not bother to

askKannaday.Thecaptainletthat go, too. Kannadaywondered if hewas afraid tostop him or letting him rununtilhehitareef.Herealizednow how complacent he had

grown as a commander.Maybe he should questionthis more. Just to flex hismuscles.“You’re certain there’s no

wayanyonecaneavesdroponour message or trace thesignal?”Kannadayasked.“It’s extremely unlikely,”

Marcus replied. “My unclehas a direct line to ColonelHwan’s cell comm. We’llpatch into that and send E-mails directly to him. Hwan

can respond to themimmediately. No one wouldhave any reason to monitorthosecommunications.”“And if someone does?”

Kannadayaskedstubbornly.“Everymessagewesendis

coded and untraceable,”Marcus told him. “We’ll besafe.”“Allright,”Kannadaysaid.

“Goahead.”Marcus accessed the main

transmitter in Darwin. He

turned to his laptop andaccessedthecodebookonthehard drive. He looked upHwan’s code name.Once hehad that, he took theappropriate diskette from asmall safe under the radiostand. He plugged that intothedrive.“Ready,”Marcussaid.Hawke dictated asMarcus

typed. The security directorhad not reacted to Kannadaygiving the final okay to

contact Hwan. Hawke askedthe North Korean colonel tofindoutwhowasatthewastesite and, if possible, why.While they waited for anacknowledgment, Kannadaywatched for any sign ofbonding between the twomen. A glance. Hawkemoving closer to Marcus.Somethingthatmightindicatecollusion. Both men wouldbenefit by Kannadaymakingamisstep.Hawkecouldseize

theHosannah. Marcus couldrun certain aspects of themission, show his uncleleadership chops. They didnot seem tobe connecting inany meaningful way. Thecaptain felt somewind inhissails.Many paranoids do have

enemies, Kannaday reflected.But he wondered whether,more often than not, it wasthemselves.“What do we do in the

meantime?”Marcusasked.“We continue to the

rendezvouspoint,”Kannadaysaid. “Is everything set withtheMalaysiancrew?”“Ireceivedaradiomessage

while you were with theboss,” Marcus said. Heaccessed the notes on hiscomputer. “They’ve beencrisscrossing the area sincewemissedourappointment.Itold them we had anequipmentproblem.Theyare

awaitinganewETA.”“Tell Captain bin Omar

we’ll be there at one A.M.,”Kannaday said. “And thanksfor being vague about whathappened.”“I didn’t have much

choice,” Marcus said. “Itwould not have instilledconfidence to tell them thetruth.”Thatwastrue.KannadayaskedMarcusto

let him know when he had

any information. Then hewent to thedecktochatwiththe crewmen who wereposing as passengers. Therewasagreatdealofseatrafficoffshore. Kannaday knewmany of the local skipperswho ran pleasure boats.Ironically, if they sawKannaday, if they waved tohim, it helped him stayanonymous. No one thought,Where is Captain Kannadayandwhatisheupto?

Kannadaywalkedthedeck.The sea air was unusuallymisty.Thedroplets felt goodon the captain’s face.He feltslightly better than he didbefore.Hawkehadadifferentprojecttofocuson.ThatkeptthepressureoffKannaday. Italsodidsomethingelse.It gave him time to figure

out what to do about thesecuritychief.

TWENTY-THREE

Washington,D.C.Friday,7:17A.M.As mayor of Los Angeles

and as head of Op-Center,Paul Hood had taken callsfrom heads of state. Duringtimesofcrisishehadspokencalmly over the phone withhis counterparts in othernations. Even when lives

wereatriskorlost,Hoodhadbeen able to speak withoutagitation to operatives in thefield.He had talkedwith thewives and mothers of policeofficers and firefighters whohad lost husbands and sons.Hehadcalledandvisited thefamilies of the Strikers whohad perished in the Kashmirconflict.But Hood was somewhat

unnervedwhenhegotaroundtoaccessinghispersonalcell

phone messages. DaphneConnors had called at six-fifteen that morning. Fromthe sound of her voice shehad just woken up. Orperhapsshewasjustgoingtosleep.Sheoftenwenttoclientparties that continued lateintothenight.Shereportedina low, smoky voice that shehadadreamabouthim.Ithadsomething to do with astagecoach driver and atavernownerintheoldWest.

Only Hood was running thesaloon and Daphne wasrunningthestage.Maybe that was true. Or

maybe it was a pretext tophone.Ineithercase,thecalltroubled him. Or rather, itwas the tone of Daphne’svoice. He had not heard abedroom voice in years. Hisformer wife, Sharon, hadneverhadone,really.Andtheone night he spent with Op-Center’sformerpressliaison,

Ann Farris, was followed byawkward silence and forcedfelicity.Daphne’s voice was very

feminine, very seductive. Itgot into Hood’s ear, into hismind, into all his nerveendings in a way that madehim very uncomfortable. Italso made him wonder withdismay whether hisdiscomfort was actually withDaphne. Itmightbewith theidea of anyone getting close.

Maybehismarriagehadgonejust theway hewanted it to.Built around a core ofemotional and physicaldetachment for the sake ofstability. Itwasas ifhewererunningacitygovernmentorfederalagency.Hood did not like that

thoughtatall.Hechosenottothinkaboutit.Hehadarrivedat the office a half hourbefore,andhewasstillgoingthrough the report from the

evening unit. It appeared tohavebeenanuneventfulnighteverywhere except in theCelebesSea.Hoodlistenedtoa call fromLowellCoffey toHood’s evening counterpart,CurtHardaway.The call hadbeen recorded digitally onHood’scomputer.Coffey reported that the

Singaporean patrol ship haddiscoveredanemptyconcreteblock at a nuclear disposalsite. The block should have

contained radioactive waste.Radiation detectors on boardCoffey’s ship, an AustralianMIC corvette, supported thefindings.“The Singaporeans are not

tryingtoputanythingoveronus,” Coffey assuredHardaway. “We are going totry to locate the vessel thatmadethisdrop.Theshipthatwasscheduledtohavebeenatthe 130-5 site is owned byMahathir bin Dahman of

Malaysia. Warrant OfficerJelbarthasheardofDahman.He is involved with wastedisposalonaglobalscale.”Hood made a note of the

name.“Jelbart is not hopeful of

tracking themissingmaterialfromhere,”Coffeycontinued.“If the ship sold the nuclearmaterial, the vessel willalready have gotten a face-lift.Iftheywerejustpawns,itwillbedifficult toget timely

interviews with anyone whomayhavebeeninvolved.TheMalaysian government is notknownforopening itsbooks,so to speak. Especiallywhenit comes to the country’sleadingcitizens.”Coffey then asked

Hardaway if theNROwouldhave a look at the region.Perhaps they saw something.Hardaway had left Hood anote saying that he hadcheckedwith theNRO.They

did not routinely watch theCelebes Sea. The only timetheywould turn a satellite totheregionwasiftheylearnedtheChineseorRussianswerealsodoingso.LiketheUnitedStates, those nations oftentested their satellite systemsusing targets in out-of-the-way sectors. New spacecameraswereoftencalibratedand focused using targets onshipsorsubmarines.Hood archived the

messages,thenputinacalltoBobHerbert.Theintelligenceofficer would have beenairborne for a littleunder sixhours. That was just enoughtime to make him cranky.Herbert enjoyed being in thefield. But once Herbertstarted downloading missiondata into his brain, he wasanxious to act on it.Waitingkilledhim.The pilot of theTR-1 said

thatHerbertwassleeping.He

asked ifHoodwanted to talktohimanyway.Hoodsaidhedidnot.Hewas sureHerbertwould check in when hewoke.AsHoodhungup,hegota

call fromStephenViens.ForseveralyearsVienshadbeenthe Satellite Imagingsupervisor at the NationalReconnaissanceOffice.Viens had been a college

chum of Matt Stoll, Op-Center’s chief technical

officer.Becauseoftheircloserelationship, Viens hadalways given Op-Center’sneeds toppriority.Vienswasnow Op-Center’s internalsecurity chief. He still hadfriendsattheNRO,however.Whenever they came acrosssomething that might be ofinteresttoOp-Center,theylethimknow.“Paul,Ijustgotacallfrom

Noah Moore-Mooney at theNRO,” Viens said. “Bob

Herbert had put out an APBon activity in the CelebesSea.”“Curt Hardaway said

there’s nothing going onthere,”Hoodsaid.“Therewasn’t,”Vienssaid.

“Untilafewminutesago.”“What have you got?”

Hoodasked.“Our Shado-3 satellite

watches Chinese satellites,”Viens said. “When theymove, it tracks them. They

just saw one shift fromTaiwanese shipping lanes inthe South China Sea to anareaoftheCelebes.”“Whatarea?”Hoodasked.“The coordinates are one-

hundred and thirty degreeslongitude, five degreeslatitude,”Vienstoldhim.“That’s where Lowell

Coffeyis,”Hoodsaid,“alongwith Australian andSingaporean naval vessels.WhythehellwouldChinabe

watching two small navalships?”“How would they even

know the ships were outthere?” Viens asked.“Flyover?”“Maybe,”Hoodsaid.It was unlikely that the

Chinese would be dealing inthird-party nuclear material.Theyhadenoughoftheirowntosell,muchofittoPakistan.“Stephen, when you were

at the NRO, did you come

across any cooperativesatelliteuse?”Hoodasked.“Youmean would another

nation have access to theChinese satellite?” Viensasked.“Right.”“AlliesliketheVietnamese

or North Koreans askedBeijing for intelligence,”Viens said. “But Chinacontrolledthehardware.”“All right, Stephen,

thanks,” Hood said. “Let me

know if you get any otherinformationaboutthis.”“Willdo,”Vienssaid.Hood hung up. He looked

at his computer clock. Heneeded to call someone.Someone who had not beenreturning his calls. But rightnow it was the only personwhomightbeabletogethimtheinformationheneeded.Hoodpickedup thephone

andplacedoneof thosecallshe was comfortable making.

One he was good at. Onewherethefateofnations,andnot the fate of Paul Hood,wasatrisk.

TWENTY-FOURTheCelebesSea

Friday,10:33P.M.RajaAdnan binOmar and

hisradiooperatorstoodinthesmall dark cabin of thefishing boat. The radiooperator was standing besideashortwavesetonashelf.The radio operator’s legs

werebentslightlytohelphimstand on the rocking deck.Bin Omar was at the wheel.

Both men were dressed inheavy black pullovers. Theirheads were uncovered, theirhair and beards wellgroomed.Awetwind hissedagainst the windows. Itpunched through the oldwoodof thecabinwalls.Thetwomenwereaccustomed toit. So were the two otherfishermen aboard the thirty-footer. One of themwas binOmar’s twenty-seven-year-old son. They were below,

putting fish in large icelockersandrepairingthenets.They had caught more fishduringtheirzigzaggingdelay.When they were finished,they ripped thenylon strandson purpose so they wouldhavesomethingtodo.Incasethey were ever boarded, binOmar wanted them to bebusy.Idlemenlookedguilty,even if they were not. Thelockerswerestoredinaclosetatthesternofthevessel.Two

of them were made of lead.They were not designed toholdfish.Automatic weapons were

alsostoredbelowincasetheywereneeded.The radio operator

removed his headset. “Theyare just over two hours fromus.Theyapologizedagainforthedelay.”“Did they give you a

reason?”binOmarasked.“Mr.M said only that the

problem was mechanical innature,”theoperatorreplied.“Ah,”saidbinOmar.“The

excuse that cannot bedisproved.”“Perhaps they will tell us

morewhenwe are together,”theradiooperatorsuggested.“They will have to,” bin

Omar said. “Our employerswill certainly wish to knowmore. But it is not ourproblem. We are merelymessengers.”

For the first time in morethan a year of dealings,CaptainKannaday had failedto make a rendezvous. Thesixty-two-year-old fishermanwas unhappy about that. Hedisliked the unexpected,whether it was a storm, asurprise inspection by harborpoliceinPontianKetchil,oradelay. It was particularlydangerous in the smugglingbusiness. Whether they weretransporting drugs, weapons,

or nuclear material, seamendid not like being out in theopen sea. Here, they wereequally vulnerable to patrolshipsandpiratevessels.Bin Omar hoped that

Captain Kannaday had areasonable explanation.Though processed nuclearwaste was not the easiestmaterial to obtain,Kannadaywas not the only supplier inthe region. Until today, hehad simply been the most

efficient.And thegroupwithwhom bin Omar wasassociated, the Kansai Unit,demanded reliability. TheAsian group also demandedaccountability. Bin Omarwould have to explain thedelay.Despitethat,binOmarwas

at peace. His wife and otherchildrenwerehomeandwellcaredfor.Andhewasalwaysateaseonthesewaters,whichhis family had sailed for

hundreds of years. Forwhateverthefateoftheangrymenandthemadcivilizationstheybuilt,heknewonethingfor certain. The bin Omarswould sail these seas forcenturiestocome.

TWENTY-FIVETokyo,Japan

Friday,9:34P.M.Shigeo Fujima was

standingonthebalconyofhisapartment smoking acigarette. The Japaneseintelligence officer was tiredandhadcomehomeearly.Hewanted to try to relax thisweekend.Fujimahadworkedon several situations back toback. There was Chinese

involvement in the attack onVatican clergy in Botswana;increasing Chinese financiallinks with Taiwan; and therapid growth of the Chinesespace program, which wasabouttoputamanintoorbit.Chinese expansionism onearth, with a workforce ofone billion people, was adirect threat to Japanand theentire Asian Rim. Especiallywith the Japanese economysohardhit by theworldwide

recession.Fujima livedwith hiswife

and two daughters in aspacious apartment nearYoyogi Park. They had beenliving here for nearly sevenmonths. The elder Fujimadaughter,Keiko,attended theInternational Trade andIndustry Inspection Institute,whichwas just a five-minutewalk from the apartment.Their younger daughter, ten-year-old Emiko, attended the

Children’s Play InternationalSchool, which was a six-minute walk from theapartment. They were luckyto get the 2,000-square-foot,two-story place, though theFujimas’ good fortune cameat a price. They lived herebecause the Japaneseeconomy was in turmoil. Acommercial photographerusedtolivehere.Whenretailsales began to struggle,advertising was cut back. If

agencies ran advertisementsat all, they used text andcomputer-generated imagesrather than photographs. Thephotographer was evicted.The Fujimas moved in fromanapartmentthatwashalfthesizeandnearlyasexpensive.“These are sad times,” he

muttered to himself as heflicked his cigarette towardthestreet.Theyweredifficultfor the economy and theywere barely manageable in

areas of world security. Hewas lucky to be home thisearly. To be able to havedinner with his wife. To seethe kids before they went tobed.AssumingKeikogotoffthe phone and Emikounplugged herself from thecomputer, that is. He smiledas he turned back to theapartment. He could notreally expect them to changetheir routine for him. Thingswere not as they were when

he was a boy. If he had notgone to his father when hecamehomefromhis jobasatrain conductor, he wouldhavebeenbeatenwithastrap.“Maybe it’s good to have

things so predictable here,”he thought aloud. His life atthe office was anything butthat.Suddenly, Keiko came

running from her room. Herlong raven hair framed hervampire-paleface.

“Father, there’s a man onmy cell phone,” the teenagersaid. “He wants to talk toyou.”Sheheldoutthepurplephone.“Someonecalledformeon

yourphone?”Fujimaasked.“Yes.HecutinwhileIwas

talking with Kenji. He saidit’s urgent. He soundsforeign,” she added. “HisJapaneseisterrible.”Fujimatookthephoneand

thanked her. He turned back

to the balcony. “This isFujima,”hesaid.“I’m sorry to call this

number,” said the voice ontheotherend.“Itwastheonlyonelistedinthedirectory.”Keiko was right. The

man’s Japanese was awful.But the voice was familiar.“Whoisthis?”Fujimaasked.“It’s Paul Hood at Op-

Center,” he said in English.“I’msorry.Iwasusingagod-awful translation program on

the computer. My phoneticJapanese is not particularlygood.”“Neither is your timing,

Mr. Hood,” Fujima said.“Thiscallisextremely—”“Unorthodox, I know,”

Hood said. “My apologies,Mr. Fujima. But we need tospeak.”“I was just about to have

dinnerwithmywife,”Fujimatold him. “And this is anunsecuredline.”

“Iknowthat,Mr.Fujima,”Hoodreplied.“SoIhopeyouwill understand when I tellyouthatmaterialsaremissingfrom your backyard.Materials that should havebeenleftatthe130-5site.”“Isee,”Fujimasaid.Hood

was referring to radioactivewaste. Suddenly, dinner didnot seem so important.Fujima used his shoulder tohold the phone to his earwhilehe litanothercigarette.

“Pleasegoon,Mr.Hood,”hesaidashedrewhardonit.“Wearelookingforitwith

the help of Singapore andAustralia,” Hood went on.“Butsomeoneiswatchingus.They’re using a Chinesesatellite,andwedon’tbelieveit is theChinese.We think itmay be the traffickers. Weneedtoknowwhomighthaveaccess to that platform. Ithoughtyoumightbeable togetthatinformation.”

“I can tell you that rightnow,” Fujima said. “SouthKorea conducts navalmaneuvers in that region.NorthKoreahasfullaccesstothree satellites in the region.Thesatelliteyou’reinterestediniscalledtheFongSai.”“Who would run that

operation for the NorthKoreans?”Hoodasked.Fujima heard his daughter

yelling frombehind. “Father,myphone!Thatmanhad the

operatorbreakin!”Fujima covered the

mouthpiece. “A moment,Keiko,” he said. He returnedtoHood.“Themanyouwantis Colonel KimHwan of theNorth KoreanReconnaissanceBureau.He’saverylow-profilefellow.”“Do you have any contact

information for him?” Hoodasked.“We have his office

telephone and E-mail,”

Fujima said. “I’m sure youhavethatonfile.”“Ifnot, I’ll letyouknow,”

Hoodsaid.“Is there anything we can

do?”Fujimaasked.“Notat themoment, thank

you,” Hood said. “We havepeopleonthesceneandmoreenroute.Ifanythinghappens,we’lltalkagain.”“You had best use my

home phone,” Fujima said.He gave Hood the

unpublished number. “It willhelptokeeppeacehere.Youhavea teenagedaughter, as Irecall.”“Ido,”Hoodsaid.“Goand

haveyourdinner.Again, I’msorrytohaveinterrupted.”“Notatall,”Fujimasaid.The intelligence officer

clicked off the phone andreturned it to his daughter.TheyoungwomanhitRedialand disappeared into herroom. She closed the door

with her foot. Fujima shookhis head and ran a handthrough his short black hair.It was damp with sweat.Anxiety never showed in hisstoic expression, his darkeyes,hisstrongmouth.Whenhewasworried,heperspired.Fujimacontinuedtosmoke

his second cigarette. Hewondered whether he shouldgo back to his office atGaimusho, the Ministry ofForeign Affairs. He felt he

shoulddosomeresearch intothe 130-5 site. Perhaps get aschedule of the drop-offs,collect background data oftheshipsandtheircrews.ButOp-Center was probablydoing that already. It wouldbebetter if he rested tonight.That way he would be freshfor whatever happened thefollowingweek.The slender thirty-five-

year-old intelligence officerturnedashiswifecamefrom

thekitchen.Shetoldhimthatdinnerwouldbereadyinfiveminutes. He thanked her,winked,andsaidhewouldbein shortly. She smiled back.Then Fujima leaned on therailing and looked down atthestreet.“What a world it is,” he

said.Fujima’s father would

never have believed it. Thenationthathaddroppedapairof nuclear bombs on Japan

was asking him for help tofindmissingnuclearmaterial.And Fujima had given thataid. In the space of onegeneration, loyalties hadshifted that dramatically.Yetthat was not the mostastonishing part. What wasremarkablewas thatwarlordsandroguegroupscouldworkin the shadows to createHiroshima-level destruction.And not to end awar but tostartone.

“What a world,” Fujimasaidagain.For themoment, however,

Fujimawasgoingtoleavetheresponsibility for it tosomeoneelse.Dinnerandhiswife were waiting. Hisdaughterswouldjointhem.Heintendedtoenjoythem.That,afterall,waswhathe

wasfightingfor.

TWENTY-SIXWashington,D.C.

Friday,8:57A.M.It was time for Bob

Herbert’swake-upcall.After Paul Hood hung up

with Shigeo Fujima, hebrought up the dossier onColonelHwan.Whilehereadthe file, Hood had hisassistantBugsBenetput inacall to thecockpitof theTR-1.Hoodwaspatchedthrough

to his groggy intelligencechief. As Bob Herbertanswered,itoccurredtoHoodthat in all the years they hadbeenworkingtogetherhehadneverhadtowakeHerbert.Itseemed like the man wasalways on the job orsocializing. The first-timeexperience was disturbing.Clearly, the Mississippinative was not at his mostalert or Pride-of-the-Deep-Southcharmingwhenyanked

fromadeadsleep.“Sorry to get you up,”

Hood said after Herbert hadgrumbled something into theheadset.“The world better be

ending,” Herbert said. Thosewerehisfirstcoherentwords.“Itisn’t,thoughitmightbe

roughed up pretty bad if wedon’t do something,” Hoodinformedhim.“Now that I think of it, I

don’t give a damn about the

world,”Herbertsaid.“Justus.TheU.S.”The intelligence chief

soundedasifhismouthwerefull of sand. Hood waited amoment.“Are you sure you’rewith

me?”Hoodasked.“I’m here,” Herbert said.

“But damn, I wish I hadcoffee.”“Sorry about that,” Hood

said.“It’s okay. What’s on the

table?”“A North Korean colonel

named Kim Hwan,” Hoodsaid.“Haveyoueverheardofhim?”“Colonel Kim Hwan,”

Herbert muttered. “Yeah. Icame across his name in thefiles I brought. He’s asurveillanceguy,Ithink.”“Right,”Hoodsaid.“Is he with us or against

us?”Herbertasked.“He may have used a

Chinese satellite to have alook at what we’re doing intheCelebesSea,”Hoodsaid.“How do you know that?”

Herbertasked.“I asked Shigeo Fujima,”

Hoodsaid.“The prick finally took

yourcall?”Herbertasked.“Hehadno choice,”Hood

replied. “I had the operatorcut in on his daughter’s cellphone.”“Nice,” Herbert said.

“Well, Fujima would knowwho is running what in thatpart of the world.” Theintelligence chief wassounding much more alertnow. “So Colonel Hwan isagainstus.Why?”“That’s what we need to

find out,” Hood said.“Coffey’s team found anempty concrete block at thebottom of the Celebes Sea.The block was supposed tohavenuclearwasteinside.”

“North Korea getswhatever nuclear materialthey need from China,”Herbert said. “Why wouldthey be interested inunprocessedwastematerial?”“That’s the go-for-broke

question,”Hoodsaid.“SouthKoreadoesn’tneed

to go buccaneering for iteither,” Herbert said. “Wesupply them. So Hwanwouldn’thavebeenwatchingto see what the enemy does

either.”“Makessense.”“That suggests a third

party,”Herbertsaid.“Which is where we run

into problems,” Hood said.“I’ve got Colonel Hwan’sdossier on the computer. It’sprettythinstuff.He’sacareerman, no family, completelyofftheWesternradar.”“Does he attend seminars,

go to retreats, travel in aprivate capacity?” Herbert

asked.“We don’t have that

information,”Hoodsaid.“AsIsaid,he’snotevenabliptoourintelligenceallies.”“Thatworriesme.”“Why?” Hood asked. “It

could be he isn’t aheavyweight.”“It could,”Herbert agreed.

“Moreoftenthannot,though,those are the realprofessionals, the ones whomanage to stay hidden and

anonymous.Letme think forasecond.”While Hood waited for

Herbert, he scanned thedossier. They did not evenhave a picture of the man.That seemed to supportHerbert’s interpretation. Alow-watt intelligence officerwould not mind beingphotographed. Hood camefrom the worlds of politicsand finance. Voters werewooed according to complex

demographics. Banking andinvestments were done withprecision.Crisismanagementwas different. It unnervedhimtoconsiderhowoftentheonly barricade betweensecurity and disaster wasseat-of-the-pants thinking bymen likeBobHerbert. In thesame breath he thanked Godthat he had men like BobHerbertaroundhim.“Okay,”Herbertsaid.“Did

Hwangotoschool?”

“Youmeancollege?”“Yes,”Herbertsaid.Hood scanned the dossier.

“He did. Hwan studied inMoscowandtheninLondon.Why?”“Nearly seventy-five

percentofthepeoplewhoarerecruited for intelligenceservice jobs studied abroad,”Herbert told him. “Othercultures and colloquiallanguages are familiar tothem. If Colonel Hwan

studied in London, heprobablyspeaksEnglish.”“How does that help us?”

Hoodasked.“We can talk to him,”

Herbert informed Hood.“What time is it in NorthKorea?”“JustaftertenP.M.,”Hood

said.“Spies collect information

during the day anddisseminate it at night,”Herbertsaid.“Hwanprobably

gets up early to readintelligencereports thatcameinduringthenight.”“Why does that matter?”

Hoodasked.“He’llprobablybeathome

now, sleeping,”Herbert said.“Can you get me thatnumber?”“I’m sure Matt can dig it

from a computer systemsomewhere,” Hood said.“Why?”“Because sometimes a

classic, low-tech approach isthebestone,”Herbertreplied.“I’m not following you,”

Hoodadmitted.“How did I behave when

you called me just now?”Herbertasked.“You were cranky.

Disoriented,”Hoodsaid.“Exactly,” Herbert said.

“It’s the old POW gambit.Youdragaguyfromhiscellor cot during the middle ofthenight.Hisguard isdown.

Hishead is fuzzy.Youdon’teven have to beat him. Youhammer him with questions.A man who is scared andtired will respond to force.Hismouthwillengagebeforehisbraincanpreventit.”“SoyoucallColonelHwan

and wake him up,” Hoodsaid. “He’s not a prisoner ofwar.He’sprobablynotgoingto be very scared in his ownhome.Whatmakesyouthinkhe’lltellyouanything?”

“Because I’m aprofessional, too,” Herbertreplied.

TWENTY-SEVEN

TheCelebesSeaFriday,11:09P.M.Lowell Coffey was

belowdecks in the captain’scabin.Theattorneywaslyingon the small bed with hisarms at his side andhis eyesshut. Though it was blackoutside, theshadewaspulledover theporthole.Coffeydid

notwanttoopenhiseyesandseetheswayingofthestars.Itwas bad enough that he hadtofeeltheconstantmovementof the corvette, hear thewaves brushing the hull. Hehad come down here a halfhour before, after Jelbart andLoh had both decided toremain at the site.Therewasno point of going to Darwinor Singapore until they hadsome idea where their nextstop would be. They could

notdo thatuntil they locatedthe vessel that had depositedthe empty concrete block. Itbothered him that the navalmight of two nations had towait for some slipperycivilian ship to turn up onsomeone’s radar. He felt asuseful as Scylla andCharybdisafterOdysseushadsailed through the Strait ofMessina.There was a rap at the

narrowmetaldoor.

“Comein,”Coffeyblurted.Theattorneysatupslowlyontheedgeof thebed.Evenso,he had to stop and prophimself on an elbow as hisstomachremainedhorizontal.A young sailor entered

carrying a large radiohandset. “Sir, there’s a callforyou.”“Thank you,” Coffey said

weakly as he extended hisfreehand.The young seaman gave

him the unit, then left andshut the door. Coffey laybackdown.“Yes?”hesaid.“Lowell,it’sPaul.”“Hey, Paul,” Coffey said

weakly.“Wow,” Hood said. “It

sounds like I’m wakingeveryonetoday.”“No,youdidn’twakeme,”

Coffey said. “I’m just tryingnot to make any excessivemoves. That includes my

vocalchords.”“It’sthatbad?”“Whatever the opposite of

waterbabyis,that’sme.”“Isee,”Hoodsaid.“What’s been happening?”

Coffeyasked.“Your ships are being

watched,”Hoodsaid.ThatopenedCoffey’seyes.

The attorney rolled onto hisside. He ignored thecomplaints from his belly.“How?Bywhom?”

“By a Chinese satellite,”Hood told the attorney. “It’sapparently being time-sharedby the North Koreans. Wehave an idea who may berunning the actualsurveillance,thoughwedon’tknowwhomayhaveorderedit. Bob is looking into thatnow.”“You know, it could be

nothing at all,” Coffey said.“It may be a plannedreconnaissance. I’m sure the

North Koreans routinelywatch the military activitiesof other nations in thisregion.”“They do, but military

traffic is uncommon in thatsector,” Hood said. “This isnot someplace they wouldhave targeted without areason.”“Thatreasonbeingwemay

have been seen or heard orrattedout,”Coffeysuggested.“Inamannerofspeaking,”

Hood replied. “We don’tknow yet how it happened.What’sthelatestoverthere?”“Jelbart and Loh are still

trying to find the ship thatmade the drop-off here,”Coffey replied. “The onlything we’re sure of is that itdid not leave theway it wassupposedto.”“Howdoyouknowthat?”“The ships that come here

are required to file anitinerary with the

International NuclearRegulatory Commission,”Coffey told him. “FNO Lohcalled Paya Lebar Airbaseandaskedforanair forceF5Tiger II flyover of the route.The jet didn’t find any shipthere. Jelbart informed theINRC and asked for theirhelp.Theywereuseless.”“Whatdoyoumean?”“Roughlyhalftheshipsare

spot-checked on theirway tothis site, when they are

carrying nuclear materials,”Coffey told him. “They areboarded and checked forradiation leaks, security,general seaworthiness. Theships are not checked aftertheyleavethesite.”“So no one knows if they

have even made the drop,”Hoodsaid.“Correct.”“That’sinsane,”Hoodsaid.“I agree. So do Warrant

Officer Jelbart and FNO

Loh,” Coffey said. “Theproblemisthatmaintainingafleet is expensive.The INRCisfinancedbygrantsfromtheUnited Nations,environmental groups, andduespaidbynations thatusethe waste fields. That givesthem about fifteen milliondollars a year to oversee allinternational nuclearshipments, not just wasteproduct.”“That’sall?”Hoodsaid.

“Yes,andthatdoesn’ttakeinto account whatever kick-backs are beinghandedout,”Coffeyadded.“That’s a helluva low

priority we give the securityof nuclear material,” Hoodsaidwithdisgust.“That’s true, Paul. But to

be honest, people who wantto smuggle nuclear materialare going to do so whetherthe INRC increases itsactivitiesornot,”Coffeysaid.

“That does not mean wehave to make it easy forthem,” Hood pointed out.“We wouldn’t even haveknown about this incidentexcept for the attack by thesampan.”“Noteverythingisaswell-

ordered as law and finance,”Coffeysaid.“Funny you should say

that,” Hood said. “I’ve beenthinking about the nature ofourbusiness,anditshouldbe

morestructured.Weliveinahigh-tech world. We canwatch someone key in a cellphone number from outerspace. Losing ships andradioactive waste areinexcusable.”“Only in hindsight,”

Coffey said. “When Iwas incollege, I interned with acriminal lawyer. I used togoto prisons with him tointerview clients. Once wehadperpetrators lockedup, it

waseasytokickourselvesinthe ass and realize what weshould have done to savelives. These people we’redealing with now, thesmugglers and terrorists, arefull-time sociopaths.Howdoyou competewith that?Howdo you stop someone fromputting botulism in an ATMdeposit and poisoning themoney supply? How do youprevent someone from fillingaglasswaterbottlewithacid

and carrying it into ajetliner?”“I don’t know,” Hood

admitted. “But we have tofigure it out. We’re talkingabout hundreds of thousandsoflives!”“The numbers aren’t the

issue, Paul,” Coffey said.“I’ve watched hostagenegotiatorswork. To them, asingle captive is their entireworld. Anyway, the problemis not how we apportion

resources.Theproblemisus.We still have the equivalentofamoralgagreflex.”“Andthatis?”“We’re civilized,” Coffey

said sadly. “Hell, I’m socivilizedIcan’tevenbeatseawithoutfeelingmygutsinmythroat. Our quarry does nothavethatdisadvantage.”“You may be right about

that,abouteverything,”Hoodsaid. “But I know this. Ifwewant to stay civilized, we’re

goingtohavetofindawayofidentifyingwho’swithusandwho’sagainstus.”“Ideally,yes,”Coffeysaid.

“Thequestionishow.”“That’s something Op-

Center is going to have tolook at a lot more carefully,Lowell,” Hood said. “Weneed more comprehensivehuman intelligence andpreventativeinterference.”“You mean profiling and

spying on your neighbor,”

Coffeysaid.“Webecomethesociopathswebehold.”“I’ll trust our civilized

nature to keep that fromhappening,”Hoodsaid.“If nothing else, that puts

youonthehighroad,”Coffeysaid. “Right now all thatseems to get you is a bettervantage point from which towatch all the fighting anddestruction.”“I hate to say this, but

you’re sounding like Bob

now,”Hoodnoted.“Frustration will do that,”

Coffeysaid.“Only if you let it,” Hood

said.“Meanwhile,I’llletyouknowwhenIhearfromBob.”“Okay,”Coffeysaid.“You

know, maybe it’s just thenauseatalking.I’lltrytoholdtightertomyoptimism.”“Thanks.Wecanusesome

ofthat,”Hoodsaid.The attorney clicked off

the phone. For a moment he

felt likehedidwhenheusedtolistentoaclosingargumenton behalf of a defendant heknew was guilty. He feltvirtuous in theory but craftyinpractice.Coffey sat, this timemore

slowly. He felt a little betternow,provingthatseasicknesswastosomedegreeastateofmind. As long as he did notpayitattention,hewasfine.Too bad all our problems

don’t go away when we

ignorethem,Coffeythought.He rose cautiously and

openedthedoor.Theseamanwas waiting outside. Coffeygave him the phone andthanked him. Then theattorney followed him to thebridge. He walked closer toport side so that when thevesselrolled,hecouldsimplylay a shoulder against thewallandslideforward.Themorehethoughtabout

it, the more Coffey realized

whathisproblemwas.HehadjoinedtheNational

CrisisManagementCenter tohelp keep it honest, as itwere. To keep it frombecoming unaccountable, incase the leadership evermoved in the direction of J.EdgarHoover’sFBI.Despitehis own protests andresistance, however, Coffeyknew that Hood was right.More needed to be done toprotect lawful people and

nations. And that protectionhad tocomefromplaces likeOp-Center. Bob Herbert hadonce described it as thecowcatcher that guarded therushing locomotive. Op-Center was uniquelyequipped to position itselfbetween progress anddisaster. It had men likeDarrell McCaskey, MikeRodgers, andBobHerbert toshare experience in policework, the military, and

intelligence. There weretechnical geniuses like MattStoll and the seasoned staffpsychologist Liz Gordon. Ithad communications experts,politicalprofessionals,andanauthority on satellitereconnaissance. Coffey knewinternational law. And PaulHoodwas a skillfulmanagerwhoknewhow to synthesizeallthesetalents.If Hood were looking for

order,Coffeywasholdingtoo

tightly to it. Not all theanswers were found in lawbooks. Sometimes they werefound in people. And heknew that thiswasa teamofgoodpeople.Hood was right when he

said he would trust in theircivilized qualities to keepabuses from happening. Thatthought made Coffey proud,and that pride was what hadliftedhisspirits.The challenge was great.

Buttherewasonethingmoreimportant than that.Something they could notaffordtoforget.Thechallengewasfarfrom

hopeless.

TWENTY-EIGHT

OverthePacificOceanSaturday,2:22

A.M.Surprise was a wonderful

butdangerousthing.Whether giving or

receiving,surprisewasshort-lived,explosive,anddirected.Wielded deftly, it was anintelligence operative’s

greatest tool. It was alsovaluable as “incoming.”Knowing there might bedanger behind a door oraroundacornerorevenattheotherendofa telephonekeptan agent sharp. Beingunreadyforitcouldbelethal.BobHerberthad learned thatinBeirut. Since then, he hadnotroublerampinguptohighalert.That zero-to-sixty

acceleration was one of the

qualities Bob Herbertcherished most aboutintelligencework.Hedidnothave to know what time itwas. He did not necessarilyhave to knowwhere hewas.All Herbert needed to knowwas who or what the targetwas. Once he had that goal,exhaustion, discomfort, andeven lust slipped away. If hehad not gotten into theintelligence game, BobHerbert felt that he would

have made a helluva chessgrandmaster.MattStollgotthecolonel’s

home phone number forHerbert. Stoll did not evenhave to slip into the NorthKorean People’s Armyclassified phone directory.The number was attached toan intelligence research fileincluded with the NorthKorea Advisory GroupReport to the Speaker of theU.S. House of

Representativesfrom1999.“I’ve learned tosearchour

own government databasesbeforegoing toothers,”Stollsaid.If thenumberdidn’twork,

Stoll said he would take thenext,longersteptogetit.Herbert would have

preferred verification upfront. But he also wanted toget this done as quickly aspossible. He had sufferedthrough a traditional bomb

attack. If theBeirut terroristshad possessed nuclearmaterial,heandthousandsofothers would not be alivetoday.While he waited, Herbert

booted his wheelchaircomputer. He plugged thephone into a jack with twocables. He jacked one backintotheaircraftcommsystemand the other into hiscomputer. He activated thetranscription interface, a

program that wouldsimultaneouslycreateatypedrecording of theirconversation. Herbert alsopracticedspeakinginasdeepa monotone as possible.Herbert was not sure of thenationality of the individualwhohadspokentoHwan.Hewanted his voice to be asgeographically neutral aspossible. Accents were lessabout the spin given tovowels and consonants than

aboutcadenceandpitch.Thedeeperandflatteravoice,thelessidentifiableitwouldbe.Herbert’s headset was still

jacked into the aircraft’ssecure phone line. He inputColonelHwan’snumber.Thephone beeped several timesbeforesomeoneanswered.“Hwan,”saidamanwitha

high,nasalvoice.Therewasalongmoment before themanspoke. That meant he hadliftedthereceiver,thenhadto

get into position to use it.Probably because he was inbed.“Weneedmorecoverage,”

Herbert said. His voice waslike a bow being drawnacross a bass cello. And hisgoal was to keep theconversation in the thirdperson singular. Herbertneedednames.“I’minbed,”Hwansaid.“Weneeditnow,”Herbert

replied.

“Youcannothave itnow,”Hwan replied. “And who isthis?YouarenotMarcus.”“Marcus took ill. You

knowhowitishere.”Hwansaidnothing.“He’s been working too

many hours, like everyoneelse on this damn project,”Herbertadded.Again, Hwan did not bite.

PerhapstheNorthKoreandidnot know what the projectwas.

“I’m Marcus’s backup,Alexander Court,” Herbertsaid.Courtwas theauthorofa novel Herbert had seenlying in the crew bay. Heliked the sound of the name.Good pseudonym. “Whatabout it, Colonel? Can wecount on your help just onemoretime?”“Alexander, remind Mr.

Hawke that I agreed to givehimonelook,”Hwansaid.“Icannot afford to do more at

this time.Don’tmakemegotohissuperior,Mr.Court.”“Maybe you should go to

the boss,” Herbert pressed.“Hawke has beenmaking allourlivesmiserable.”“Isuggestyoucomplainto

himyourself,”Hwansaid.“He would never take my

calls,” Herbert said. He waspushingHwan,tryingtogetaname.“I doubt he would take

mine either, even if I knew

how to reach him,” Hwansaid. “Good night, Mr.Court.”“Colonel Hwan, will you

reconsiderifthebosshimselfcalls?”Herbertasked.“It would depend on what

he has to offer,” Hwan said.“If he iswilling to partwithone of his Sisters, I mightconsiderit.”Hesaidthatwithalaugh.“Which one?” Herbert

asked.

“Hischoice,”Hwansaid.Theconnectionwascut.Herbert sat still for a long

moment. He felt drained. Hehad not gotten everything hehad hoped for, but he hadgotten something. Anuncommon first name,Marcus. A surname, Hawke.The fact that Hwan hadattached a “Mr.” to itsuggestedstronglythatitwasnot a code name, “hawk”withoutthee.And theywere

all working for a secretive,tough-to-reach figure whohad more than one sister.Possibly young, apparentlywealthy.He unplugged the phone

andloggedontotheInternet.HeforwardedthetranscripttoHood and Coffey. Then hedidawordsearchofMarcus,Hawke,sisters.The words showed up in

the same place, but in eachcase they were unrelated.

There was an on-linebookstore with author NigelHawke, a biography ofMarcusAurelius,andanovelcalledTheLostSisters.Therewere sports pages with aHawke’s Bay soccer team,the tennis-playing Williamssisters, and a basketballplayernamedMarcusFowler.“It was too much to hope

thatImightcatchabreak,”hemuttered.Herbert checked Marcus

andHawke separately. Therewere over four thousandreferencesforeach,toomanyto check. He decided to addgeography to the search. Heentered Marcus, Hawke,sisters, Malaysia, thenreplacedMalaysiawithNorthKorea, North Korea withIndonesia, then Indonesiawith Singapore. He still didnotgeta single link foreventwooftheentries.ThenHerbert increasedhis

geographical search. Heincluded Australia, followedby New Zealand. What hefound in New Zealand wasunexpected.Asurprise.Agoodone.

TWENTY-NINETheCelebesSea

Saturday,12:04A.M.Peter Kannaday remained

on deck as the Hosannahsailed swiftly toward itsrendezvous. He used to lovethis feeling of his yachtslashing through thewater. Itmade him feel powerful andfree.Hehadseldomdonethisat night due to the risk ofcollision. But with the radar

and sonar equipmentDarlinghad paid to install, darknesswasnolongeraproblem.Kannaday leaned against

the port-side railing, his legsspreadwidetohelphimkeephis balance. He was pouringblack coffee from a thermos.Hishairwasthickwithsweat,and the strong wind chilledhisscalp.Theperspirationonhisheadandneckwaspartlyfromthehotcoffeeandpartlyfromasensethathewaslost.

Hewasnolongerthecaptainof his fate or even his ownship. The professionalseaman was not accustomedtofeelingadrift.Or frightened. But he was

that,too.Kannaday had spent his

life on the ocean. Below itssurface was nothing butmystery. He had alwaysaccepted that. And it wasneveraproblemaslongashestayed above the water. Yet

he was just becoming awareofhowmuchoftherestoftheworldwashiddenfromview.Someofitwasmundane,likehot coffee inside a thermos.Some of it was morethreatening.Likeaknifeconcealedina

wommera, he thought. Orradiationinaleadcase.EvenJervisDarlingathisestate.Also hidden were the true

loyalties of men. Especiallythosewhoservedwithhim,it

seemed.The captain had been

awake fornearly fortyhours.Tiredashewas,however,hewould not go to sleep. First,there was a job to finish.Captain Kannaday did notwant to rest until the cargohad been delivered and hehad reported that to Darling.He was also determined tostay on deck. If the yachtwere approached by any ofthe military patrols

investigating the 130-5 site,hewanted tobeonhandandreadytotalkwiththem.The second reason

Kannadayhadstayedondeckwasmoreimportant.Andalsomorepersonal.Itwasbecauseof John Hawke and hissecurity team. Perhapsexhaustion was influencinghis perception to somedegree.Butoverthepastfewhoursitseemedasthoughthekingdoms of the two men,

like their crews, had becomeclearly defined. The securitypersonnel and belowdecksbelonged to Hawke. Theupper deck and the seamenbelonged to Kannaday. Thecommunications center wasneutral. No one had actuallysaidasmuch.Itwasallinthelooks, in the attitude of thecrew, in the places men didanddidnotgo.Theybondedlikepocketsofalgaearoundarock.

Kannaday wondered howmuchof the tensionwas dueto the strain between himselfand Hawke. Most, hesuspected. He doubtedHawke would have saidanything about theirconfrontation. Perhaps themen had heard it. Or maybethey sensed it. A sailor whocould not sniff a change inthe wind, feel a shift in therolling deck, did not surviveforlong.

But some of the tensionalso had to be due to theircargo.The eventsof thepasttwo days had reminded themjust how dangerous it was.Kannaday had visited thelaboratory once to watch theentire purification process.Those spent nuclear reactorfuelrods,blackandglittering,were among the deadliestmaterialsonearth.Theywereterrifying, beautiful, andcuriously sensuous, like a

rattle-snakeorablackwidowspider. If someone wereexposed to one, death wouldbe extremely unpleasant.Kannaday had read up onradiation sickness beforeaccepting this assignment. Abrief exposure to low-dosageradiation,between50and200rads, would cause mildheadaches. The sameexposure to 500 or so radswould cause headaches,nausea, exhaustion, and hair

loss.With exposure to 1,000rads,individualswouldsuffervomiting, diarrhea, andcomplete exhaustion withinan hour of exposure. Thecellsofthebodywouldbeginto break down, and a painfuldeath would result withinthirtydays.Fortunately, the scientists

who had been processing aprevious delivery in thelaboratory had been wearingprotective garments.And the

few particles of radium tornaway by the blast had beencarried outward by smokefrom the resultingblaze.Thelab workers assuredKannaday that any exposuretheirownpeoplehadsufferedwaswellunderfiftyrads.Thecrew took showers to cleanoff whatever particles theymay have picked up. Therewerenoreportsofillness.Still, itwas clear now that

the potential for catastrophe

was ever present. And thenature of the dangermagnified the fear of thecrew. There was no defenseagainst this foe. Oncereleased, itwas invisible andunstoppable.Kannaday took another

swallow of coffee. So, if thecargo is so deadly, why areyousoscaredofDarling?heasked himself. And Hawke.Both men are physical, andoneisnotevenhere.Theyare

farfrominvulnerable.To the contrary. They had

one weak spot, he felt. Bothwere certain of their powerover him.He had learned onthe sea that nothing wascertain. Seemingly smallstorms could explode in amoment. An apparentlysmoothsurfacecouldhideanundersea tremor that spat uphundred-foot waves.Overconfidencemakesamanvulnerable.

There might be somethingKannadaycoulduse in all ofthis.Thenotionofthehiddenweapon. Something thatwould work against Hawke,and even against Darling, ifnecessary.He would have to think

aboutthat.Firstcamethejob.Marcus signaled him on

the point-to-point radio. Hehad just received a messagefrom bin Omar. TheMalaysian ship was twenty-

two miles to the northwest.They would come alongsidethe Hosannah within thehour. Kannaday called thelaboratory for an update.They were nearly finishedprocessing the materials.Theywouldbe ready in timefor the exchange. Kannadaythanked them, then wentbelow. He wanted to informHawkeinperson.Maybe it was the caffeine

talking through a hazymind,

butKannaday felt thatwas abold step. The idea of goingto the lair of the oppositionmade him feel energized. Itmade him feel stronger. Itwasthesamereactionhehadwhen he stood alone againstMarcus and Hawke in theradioroom.Ormaybetheeventsofthe

pastfewdayshadtaughthimsomething. After all theseyears of sailing, Kannadayhad thought he understood

what it took tobeaman.Hebelieved it meant awillingness to take onmuscular challenges. To riskthe elements and battle thesea, to master a sailing ship.Exertion made the male,dangermadetheman.Thatwaswhat he thought.

Hewasbeginning to see thathecouldnothavebeenmorewrong. Being a man meantdoing things that did notcome naturally, where the

riskwas inchallengingone’sownbeliefsand traditions. Inhis case, fighting back withmindinsteadofsinew.Theexertionstillmadethe

male. But it was theknowledge gained that madetheman.And Kannaday was

beginning to realize thatknowledge, hidden inside,was what made men mostdangerous.

THIRTYWashington,D.C.

Friday,10:07A.M.Paul Hood was just

finishing a phoneconversation with MikeRodgers when Bob Herbertcalled.The general was on his

way back from a breakfastwith Senator Dan DebenportofSouthCarolina.Theseniorsenator was going to be

taking over the chairmanshipof the CongressionalIntelligence OversightCommittee from the retiringsenator, Barbara Fox. Hoodwouldnotbesorrytoseehergo.Foxhadneverunderstoodthat crisismanagement couldnot function according to arule book. Op-Center couldnotalwaysgetapprovalfromtheCIOCforoperations.BobHerbert had a nickname forthe constant clash between

Op-Centerand theCIOC.Hecalled it the “bility breach.”Hood demanded flexibility.Fox insisted onaccountability. Those twothingsdidnotgotogether.Debenport was a former

Green Beret who had donetwotoursofdutyinVietnam.ThatwaswhyHoodhadsentRodgerstochatwithhim.Hehoped the two military menwould hit it off. That wouldnot only help Op-Center, it

would also help Hood. EvenwhenhekeptSenatorFoxoutof the loop, dealingwith theCIOC took more time thanHoodcaredtogiveit.From the sound of things,

Senator Debenport waswilling to give Op-Center agreatdealof leeway in termsofthekindofoperationstheycouldmount.Buttherewasacaveat.“Wecanhave thefreedom

we want because Senator

Debenport doesn’t want theUnitedStates to stumble intocrises that could have beenavoided,” Rodgers said. “Todothat,however,hewantstowork closely with us. Hewants tomakesurethere isaflow of information betweenhim,Op-Center, the FBI, theCIA,andtheNSA.”“I’mnot sure there’s anet

gain for us,” Hood saidunhappily.“Added bureaucracy, you

mean.”“That,plusthesenatorwill

be in a better position tointerfere with operations,”Hood said. “He can tell usthat we have more elbowroom. But if he disapprovesofsomething,hecanshuttheactiondown.Itmaynotevenbeintentional.Hemighthaveother things to do when aplan reaches his desk. Hemay red-light an operationuntilhehasachancetostudy

it.”“We still have autonomy,

Paul.”“Until he says otherwise,”

Hoodreplied.“True,”Rodgerssaid.“But

I’llbeabletotalktohim.Heand I have a lot of friends,colleagues, and experiencesincommon.That’smorethanwehavewithSenatorFox.”“I can’t argue with that,”

Hoodsaid.That was when Herbert

phoned. Hood immediatelytook the call. He could notconference Rodgers inbecause the general’s phonewas not secure. He did,however, plug the callthrough to Lowell Coffey.The attorney was on thebridge of the Australiancorvette.“Okay, Bob,” Hood said.

“Whathaveyougotforus?”“I talked briefly with

ColonelHwan,”Herbertsaid.

“I got your transcript andput some people on it. Nicework.”“Thanks. I’ve been doing

somecheckingmyself.Ifyouread the transcript you knowthat he gave me a man’ssurname: Hawke, I believewith an e. And someoneelse’s first name, Marcus. Ididn’t find any link betweenthem.But thenhementionedthebossoftheproject.Hwansaidthatwhathe’dreallylike

is one of the big man’ssisters. Now, the colonel’snotmarried,butIdon’tthinkthat’s what he was talkingabout.Ifoundout there isanisland group east of NewZealand. It’s called theChathamIslands.NorthoftheChathams is an island groupcalledtheSisters.”“I’ve heard of those,”

Coffeysaid.“Therewassomeissue about native rights andfern-tree preservation on the

main island. Let me askJelbart what he knows aboutthem.”Herbert chuckled when

Coffey left. “And here Ithought the lawwasboring,”he said. “I didn’t realize thatthe mind-swelling topic offern trees was part of themix.”“A battle is a battle is a

battle, whatever the prize,”Hoodsaid.“Iguess.”

“Isthatallyouwereabletoget from the colonel?” Hoodasked.“That’sit,”Herbertsaid.“I

pushed, but I get the feelinghegivestheseguysaslittleofhis time and effort aspossible.”“Which suggests what?”

Hoodasked.“That he’s doing it for the

money, not for the cause,whatever that is,” Herbertsaid.

“Colonel Hwan is on thepayroll,buthisgovernmentisnotpartoftheproject,”Hoodsaid.“Yougotit.”Coffey came back on the

line. “Gentlemen, eitherwe’re way off target, orwe’ve got one hell of abombshell,”theattorneysaid.“I’m not sure which is

better,”Herbertsaid.“Jelbart says that none

other thanMr. JervisDarling

owns several of the smallerislands in the Sisters chain,”Coffeysaid.“The media big shot?”

Herbertasked.“That’s the one,” Coffey

replied. “Jelbart is putting ina call to Darwin to checksomethingelse.”“Forgetit,”Herbertsaid.“I

beathimtoit.”“I’mlost,”Hoodsaid.“Ijustwenton-lineanddid

awordsearch,”Herbertsaid.

“DarlinghasanephewnamedMarcus.”“You’ve got to be kidding

me,”Hoodsaid.“WhywouldamanwithDarling’sbillionsandallhismediaholdingsbeinvolvedwith something likethis?”“Boredom?” Herbert

suggested.“I don’t believe that,”

Hoodreplied.“What is the name of the

guy who owns the ship that

was supposed to have madethe drop at 130-5?” Herbertasked.“Mahathir bin Dahman, a

Malaysian billionaire,” Hoodsaid.“Another billionaire,”

Herbertsaid.“He’s involved with

everything from wastedisposal torealestate,”Hoodsaid.“Thisissmellinglikewhat

they call executive action

over at the CIA,” Herbertsaid.“Which is what?” Hood

asked.“It started with the idea

that businessmen from themilitary-industrial complexwere involved in the JFKassassination,” Herbert said.“They wanted to speed upU.S.involvementinVietnam,along with the increasedmilitary buying that wouldentail. When Kennedy held

the course, they got togetherandhadhimoffed.Orso thetheorygoes.”“So there’s an apparent

executive action involvingnuclear smuggling,” Hoodsaid.“Itcouldbe,”Herbertsaid.

“The executive action profilesays that men like DahmanandDarlingcan’tbebotheredwiththeinconvenienceofthedemocratic process. Overtimetheybegintofeelthey’re

entitled to power. So theytake it by any meansnecessary. That includesformingstrategicalliances. Ifwe have a union here, thequestion is who approachedwhom?”“That’s a big if,” Coffey

said.“You’remakingalotofassumptions about someprettypowerfulandreputablemen.”“Youbit,”Herbertsaid.“Pardon?”

“They count on thatreaction to avoid suspicion,Lowell,”Herbert said. “Paul,haveLizGordonprofiletheseguys. I’ll bet she comes upwiththesamescenarioIdid.”“Even if she did, it would

still be supposition,” Coffeypointedout.“Maybe, but we aren’t in

court,”theintelligenceofficerreminded the attorney. “Ifwe’re going to find themissing nuclear waste, we

have tomakea feweducatedguesses.”“Bob,Iagreethatwehave

topursuethis,”Hoodsaid.“Ialsothinkwe’regettingaheadof ourselves. Lowell, let’sassumeBobpeggedthisright.You’reonthescene.Whatdoyousuggest?”“To begin with, I can’t

imagine that the AustraliangovernmentisgoingtomoveagainstJervisDarlingwithoutoverwhelming evidence,”

Coffey said. “And I meanairtight, overwhelmingevidence.”“Certainly Darling would

be counting on that, too,”Herbertremarked.“If he’s involved,” Coffey

remindedthem.“You know, gentlemen,

I’m thinking,” Herbert said.“Whydon’twe step right upandaskhim?”“Just like that?” Coffey

asked.

“It worked with ColonelHwan,”Herbertsaid.“He’s not Jervis Darling,”

Coffey said. “My dad dealswith movers and shakers inHollywood. They’ve gotlayers of people betweenthemselves and the eventstheycause.”“Layers only work if you

go through them,” Herbertsaid.“I’llgoaroundthem.”“Beforeyoudo,maybewe

should have some real

ammunition,”Coffeysaid.“Suchas?”Herbertasked.“I’m wondering if there

might be a paper trail fromDarling to Dahman,” Coffeysaid.“Probablynot,”Hoodsaid.

“But there could besomething else. Something Imight be able to help with.This could be an executiveaction,asBobsuggests.Oritcould be as simple as therebeing a hole in Darling’s

pocket. One that he’s tryingto fill. While we’ve beentalking I’vehada lookathisstock reports. A lot of thosemediacompaniesaren’tdoingas well as they once were.And he’s a majorityshareholder.”“I like that,” Coffey said.

“Atleastit’sastartingpoint.”“Meantime, Lowell,”

Herbertsaid,“maybeyoucanget your local friends to dosome recon to help me. See

what kind of boats Darlingowns, where they are,possibly check his phonerecords.”“I’d like to hold off on

that,”Coffeysaid.“Why?”Herbertasked.“Because there’s the very

realpossibilitythatanall-outinvestigation will bump intopeople who are sympathetictoJervisDarlingorareonhispayroll,”Coffeysaid.“So?”

“Bob, Lowell’s got apoint,”Hoodsaid.“Wedon’twant him throwing thoselayers of intermediaries at usuntil we’ve had a good lookaround.Lowell,doyou thinkyou can talk to Jelbart orEllsworth about this withoutsendinguptoomanyflares?”“Jelbart, certainly,”Coffey

said.“Bob, what about

Dahman?” Hood asked. “Dowe have any Malaysian

sources?”“Not really,” Herbert

admitted. “That’s somethingyou should ask Lowell’sfriendFNOLohabout.”“I can do that,” Coffey

said.“Sheseemstrustworthy.Though I’m not sure weshould open two fronts.There’stwicetheopportunityforleaks.”“I’mnotsurewecanavoid

them,”Herbert replied. “Thisrope apparently has two

ends.”“That’s true,” Hood said.

“Whichmeans if you tug onone, you’ll get to the other.I’m with Lowell on this. Ithink we should concentrateour resources on theAustralianendfornow.”“Paul, trashman Dahman

may be the easier end of theropetograb,”Herbertsaid.“But if we do get him,

Bob, that will give Darlingtimetogeneratealibisandred

herringstokeeptheheatfromhim,” Hood said. “Darlingscares me more. He’s gotunlimited access to interestsin the West, Bob. Heprobably gets a free passthrough customs in mostplaces.”“Billionaires with private

jetsoftendo,”Coffeypointedout.“IfDarling’sgonebad, for

whateverreason,he’stheonewe have to worry about,”

Hood said. “If Dahman isinvolved, we can sweep himup later. Lowell, have thattalkwithJelbartandgetbacktous.”“Willdo,”Coffeysaid.“Bob, will you hang on a

second?”Hoodasked.“Ineedto talk to you aboutsomething.”“Sure,”Herbertsaid.As Coffey got off, Hood

hit the Mute button. Hewanted Herbert to think he

was conducting otherbusiness.Infact,hewantedtotakeamomenttothinkaboutwhat he was going to say.Unless Bob Herbert himselfdid the closing, he did notrespond well to havingtrapdoors shut on thosedark,complex, undergroundtunnels that ran through hismind.Hood tapped off theMute

button.“I’mback,”hesaid.“Whathappened?”Herbert

asked.“DidIhonkyouofforsomething?”“No,” Hood replied. “Just

the opposite. When you feelstrongly about something, Idon’tlikeclosingthedoor.”“Boss,Ifeelstronglyabout

everything,”Herbertsaid.“Iknow,”Hoodsaid.“But

Lowellwaspissingyouoff.Iwantedtogethimonhisway,then come back to whatyou’rethinking.”“He pissesme off because

he’s a left-wing elitist,”Herbertsaid.“Buthemayberight about this. I’mnot sureI’m right about going afterDahman.”“And I’m not sure you’re

wrong,” Hood admitted.“What if you went toMalaysia? Did somechecking?”“Frankly,I’denjoythehell

outofit.Iftimewerenotatapremium, I’d push for it,”Herbert said. “But since we

don’thavetheresourcestogoinwithme, I’m not sure it’sthebestuseofmytime,butIappreciate thecounterproposal. Did youthinkI’daccept?”“Iwasn’tsure,”Hoodsaid.

“Ithoughtyoumight.”“My independentSouthern

soul?”Herbertcommented.“Somethinglikethat.”“Well, I’m thinking you

might be right about thatone,”Herberttoldhim.“Igot

into the spy game because Iwanted to be Peter Gunn.Remember him? The TVprivateeye?”“Vaguely,” Hood said. “I

was a Gunsmoke andBonanzamanmyself.”“An ensemble guy,”

Herbertsaid.“I never looked at it that

way,butIsupposeso,”Hoodadmitted.“IwantedtorunthePonderosa.”“Gunn was a loner,”

Herbert said. “He alwaysknewwhat tosaywhetherhewas talking to a thug, a cop,orawoman.Justthesmartest,most confident repartee. Hewas tough. He could take abeating or give one. And henever lost. That’s what Iwantedtobelike.”“But?”“But I don’t have Gunn’s

writers,” Herbert said. “Ilearned there is a big fatdifference between fiction

and reality. Just between usspies, I didn’t get quite asmuchinformationasIwantedfromColonelHwan.”“Yougotwhatweneeded.”“Barely,” Herbert said.

“Whenthathappens,Itendtopush a little too hard on thenext one. Thanks for reelingmein.”“You reeled yourself in,”

Hoodsaid.“You’re wrong, but we’ll

leave it at that,”Herbert told

him.Theintelligencechiefhung

up. Hood sat back. It wasfunny. He never knew thatHerberthadjoinedtheCIAtobe like a TV character. Hewondered if things like thatshould be in a person’sdossier.Hefoundittouching.He was glad they had thatconversation. Not just forHerbert’s sake but for hisown.Therewere timeswhenHood had his doubts about

decisions. That came fromnot being a specialist likeHerbert, Coffey, or Rodgers.There were other times, likenow, when he was sure ofhimself. He thought back tosomething his mother’smother had said in her lateryears. Grandmother Aprilwas a dressmaker wholearned her trade in Phoenixwhen Arizona was still aterritory. After the familyrelocatedtoLosAngeles,she

gotworkinthemovies.Hoodwent with her to the studioone day and watched as shewasmakingaballgownforamovie.Sheaskedforaboltofgray. Her eleven-year-oldgrandson asked why shewantedsuchaboringcolor.“Sometimes red and blue

can’tfunctiontogetherunlessyou have a neutral colorbetween them,” hisgrandmotherhadreplied.She was right.Which was

whyhe felt prettygood rightnow.Sometimes people needed

that,too.

THIRTY-ONETheCelebesSea

Saturday,12:36A.M.Coffey asked to see

Warrant Officer Jelbart inprivate.With permission, themen walked over to thecaptain’ssmallreadyroom.Itwas little more than a closetwith a desk and chair, but ithad a door.Coffey closed it.The men remained standing.Jelbart had known that the

American was on a call toOp-Center. But Coffey hadspokenquietly,andthebridgewas filled with the usualconversation and radiocommunication,aswellastheconstant rumbling of theenginesfarbelow.Jelbartdidnot know what Coffey haddiscussed.Jelbart was stunned when

the American told him. Hedidnotdoubttheaccuracyofthe intelligence, but he

refused to accept theconclusion.“Mr.Coffey,whywoulda

man in Salty’s positionbecome involved with anyblack-market activity?”Jelbartasked.“Excuse me. Salty?”

Coffeyasked.“Yeah. Nicknamed for a

crocodile,”Jelbartsaid.“AndmayIsay,theshoefits.”“Interesting,” Coffey

observed.“Crocodilesarenot

discriminating about theirprey.They’resurvivors.”“What you’re getting at

won’t fly,” Jelbart said. “I’msure they would be muchmore selective if they hadbillions of dollars to plantheirmenu.”“Perhaps.”“Mr. Coffey, forgive me,”

Jelbartsaid.“Butdoyouhaveany idea what you’resaying?”“I do. Which brings us

back to your question,Warrant Officer. Let’sassume the information iscorrect.Whywouldaman inMr. Darling’s position doanythinglikethis?”Jelbart shook his head. “I

cannotbegintoimagine.”“Try,”Coffeyurged.“Boredom, maybe? A

challenge?” Jelbart said.“God knows he’s got all thepower,money, and influenceheneeds.”

“Is his power base verysolid?”Coffeyasked.“Lord, yes,” Jelbart

replied. “For many ordinaryfolks, Jervis Darlingembodies the spirit ofAustralia.Hehasproven thatanyone can build an empire.Politicians fight for hisendorsement and photoopportunities.”“What about his personal

life?”“The business press

doesn’t like him, but thesociety pages love him,”Jelbart said. “He and hisyoung daughter goeverywhere. Usually withsome established actress orpolitical matron on his arm.Nosupermodelsorfluff.”“What happened to Mrs.

Darling?”“DorothyDarlingdiedina

hang-gliding accident fouryearsago,”Jelbartsaid.“Youmay also be interested to

learn,Mr.Coffey, that JervisDarling has never been thesubject of personal litigation.Andithasnothingtodowiththearmyoflegalfirmsonhispayroll.”“Tell me something,

Warrant Officer. Are youunder his spell, too?”Coffeyasked.“No,” Jelbart replied. “But

I admire the quality that mycountrymenseeinhim.”“Andthatis?”

“Noblesse oblige,” Jelbartsaid.Coffeyfrownedslightly.“I know that sounds

strange to you Americans.But Mr. Darling presentsclass and benevolence inbalance,”Jelbartwenton.“Itmakes him nonthreatening.Andthatmakeshimbeloved.Sort of like Walt Disney orThomas Edison. Amanwhostarted by creating small,special-interest magazines

about archaeology, geology,prehistory. Merging themsynergistically to create richharbors for upscaleadvertisers. Using his profitsto buy real estate, start abank, develop the Internet.He’s a local hero. Peopledon’twanttoknowabouthisflaws.”“Is all of this a way of

saying we can’t investigatehim?”Coffeyasked.“Orthatyouwon’t?”

“I don’t know.” Jelbartexhaled. “Your evidence isnotoverwhelming.”“I’mawareofthat,”Coffey

told the officer. “But we doknow thatnuclearmaterial ismissing. We don’t knowwhere it is. Should we holdoff until someone explodes adirtybomb?”“I’m not suggesting that,”

Jelbartsaid.“You just don’t want to

involve Jervis Darling,”

Coffeysaid.“Yeah.That’swhatIdon’t

want.”“And we won’t,” Coffey

said. “Certainly not at thisstage.Hopefullynotever,ifitturnsoutthatourinformationisincorrect.”“What worries me is how

do we verify thatinformation? And then whathappens if it is correct,”Jelbartsaid.“I’m confused. If Mr.

Darling is proven to be areasonable suspect, then Iwould think the law takesover,”Coffeyreplied.“In which case even solid

evidencemay not be enoughto bring him down,” Jelbartsaid.“Attorneyscanbattlethevalidity and admissibility ofproof,youknowthat.”“Ofcourse.”“Even if it does implicate

Darling,hisfallwilldomorethan shake his empire,”

Jelbart said. “Hisinvestments, his reach, areeverywhere.”Coffey said nothing.

Jelbartshookhishead.“All of that aside, Iwould

have to sell an investigationtoCommodoreAtlan,who isthe commander, MaritimePatrol Group. He wouldprobably want to take it toone ormore of theministersfordefence.Darlingwillbeavery tough target to sell and

alsotokeepquiet.”“Do you need the

authorization of CommodoreAtlan to look into nucleartrafficking?”Coffeyasked.“Right now, all I am

authorized to investigate isthe destruction of a sampanthatwasheduponAustraliansoil,”Jelbartsaid.“Thisisanissue of nuclear materialsmissing from internationalwaters.WhenIfilemyreport,the CDRMPG will make a

determination aboutAustralia’sriskand,thus,herlevels of involvement.Ironically, if Mr. Darling isinvolved, they will be lessinclined to believe thatAustraliaisatdanger.Hehasalwaysbeenapatriot.”“Maybe Australia isn’t at

risk,” Coffey agreed. “Whatabout Japan?Or Taiwan?OrtheUnitedStates?”“Do you want the truthful

answerortheoneyouwantto

hear?”“Thetruth,”Coffeysaid.“We are surrounded by

nationswhoaredistrustfulofour Western culture, fearfulof our freedoms, andcovetous of our prosperity,”Jelbart replied. “We movevery, very carefully in thisregion because of that. Ourneighborslookforanyexcuseto run us down to theirpeople.Sowetendtostayoutofmattersthatdonotdirectly

concern us. I’m no coward,Mr.Coffey—”“Ineversaidthatyouwere,

nordidImeantoimplyit.”“I wanted to be up front

about that,” Jelbart said. “I’dtake on Satan himself if heswung his pointy tail at theGoldCoast.Butallweknowfor certain is the following:thataMalaysianboatdidnotmake its scheduled drop ofnuclear materials; that aSingaporean sampan was

apparently and inadvertentlyinvolved as a third party inthe off-loaded materials; andthataNorthKoreanofficeriswatchingour investigationofthe site. Your ownintelligence, based primarilyonabriefphoneconversationwiththeofficer,suggeststhatan Australian citizen might—might—be involved. Mr.Coffey, that is far fromcompelling.”“It doesn’t have to be

compelling. We are notwritinganovel,”Coffeysaid.“We are investigatingpossiblecriminalactivity.Weare obligated to followreasonableleads.”“Well, thereyou’vehit it,”

Jelbart said. “Idon’t find thelead reasonable. I’m notgoingtorecommendacourseofactionbasedonsomedillytheory. Marcus is not acommon name, but MarcusDarling is not the only one

whoownsit.JervisDarlingisnot thesole landowner in theChathamIslandSistersgroup,nor even the largest investorthere.”“It’s the two of those

together that make this areasonable lead,”Coffeysaidpatiently.“Tape recordings or

fingerprints are reasonable.This is speculation,” Jelbartsaiddismissively.“Fine, call it ‘speculative’

or‘possible’oreven‘remote.’ Pick whatever word youlike,” Coffey said. “But it’snot impossible. Op-Center isgoing to look into Darling’sactivitiesregardless.Willyoubepartofthat?Orwouldyouprefer that we come back toyou if or when we find amore solid connection? Atwhichpointyouwill have toexplain to your governmentwhy you did not pursue apossible lead about nuclear

smuggling.”“Mr.Coffey,Idon’tgivea

ripe fig about saving face,”Jelbart replied. “What I docare about is mindlessactivity.I’mtoobusyforthat.If you want my helpinvestigating Jervis Darling,give me one reason whysomeonelikehimwoulddealinnuclearwaste.”“Maybe he wants to blow

up one of his own holdings,get himself international

sympathy,”Coffeysuggested.“Maybehewants toblowuparival’sholdingsandputhimoutofbusiness.”“Talk about concocting

novels,”Jelbartsaid.“You asked for ideas,”

Coffey said with an angryshrug.“I’manattorney,notatheorist. But I can tell youthis. If you’re wrong, therecouldbeaveryheavypricetopay. Are you prepared toacceptthat?”

Jelbart stood in the smallroom.He listened to thepurrof the ventilator fan above.Theairsmelledmetallic.Partof that was due to theperspiration that had beguncollectingonhisupperlip.“Iassumeyouaregoingto

brief FNO Loh and tell herabout the other chap, theMalaysian,”Jelbartsaid.“We decided to wait on

that,” Coffey said. “DirectorHoodfelt that itwouldbean

overreaction to involveSingaporeatthisearlystage.”“Why?”“ThinkSalty,”Coffeysaid.

“The animal, not the man.Tug the tail, and the headmightbiteyou.”“What if I wanted her

involved?”Jelbartasked.“Forwhatreason?”“Triangulation,” Jelbart

said. “We don’t do anythingin the military without athree-point tag. Anyway, she

will give us another set ofeyes. Yours and mineobviously see thingsdifferently.”“Fairenough,”Coffeysaid.

“If you insist on herinvolvement, then we wouldhavetogoalongwiththat.”“I insist,” he said. “When

youagree to that, I’ll contactmysuperiors.”Coffey regarded the

officer. “I need to knowsomething, Warrant Officer.

Which is it that’s movingyou?Respectorfear?”“Neither,” Jelbart said. “I

said what I said so you’dknowwhoDarling is. IwantLoh involved to protect theRAAFandmycareer.Asforme personally, I would feelthis way if you wereinvestigating a slushy in theship’s galley. I believe infairness and the right toprivacy,Mr.Coffey.”“As do I,” Coffey said.

“But we live in a dangerousworld,WarrantOfficer.AndIalso believe in the rights ofpeopletolivewithoutfear.Inthis case, fear of beingirradiated.”“I cannot argue with that,

Mr. Coffey. Do you want toinform Op-Center before orafterwechatwithLoh?”“After,” Coffey said.

“Asking permission isn’t asimportant as havinginformation.”

Jelbartdidnotknowifthatwere meant as a dig or ifCoffey were simply beingfrank.Therewasafirmraponthe

door. Jelbart moved aside toopen it. CommunicationsSpecialist Edie Albright wasstandingtherewitharadio.“FNOLoh,”shesaid.“Thank you,” Jelbart said.

“There’s timing for you,” hesaid toCoffeyashe took theradio and raised it to his

mouth. He hit Send. “Jelbarthere.”“Warrant Officer, our

shore patrols report nosuccess in finding theMalaysian vessel from the130-5 site,” the woman said.“Theyregrettosaythetrailisverycold.”“I’m not surprised. They

had a big head start in abigger sea,” Jelbart said.“FNOLoh,Mr.CoffeyandIwould like to have a private

conversation with you. Isyourlinesecure?”“It is. What is this in

referenceto?”sheasked.“Mr. Coffey has

information about someonewhomay be involved in thisoperation,”Jelbartsaid.“Mr.JervisDarling?”“Yes,”Jelbartsaid.Hefelt

as though he had beenpunched in the back. “Whatmadeyousaythat?”“We have been watching

himsincehekilledhiswife,”shereplied.

THIRTY-TWOTheCelebesSea

Saturday,1:00A.M.TheMalaysianfishingship

moved slowly toward theyacht. Kannaday watchedfrom the deck. The fishingvessel had only one light on,a lantern attached to theprow.If theywerespottedorpursued, the captain coulddouse the light and run darkon a different course. He

would try to get behind themuch largeryacht so thathismovementswouldbeblockedfrom radar.Theyachtwas atminimal lighting, whichmeant itwas dark save for alight at the bow, one at thestern, and one amidships atthebaseofthemainmast.But Kannaday did not

expect any problems. Notfrom sea or air patrols,anyway. There was nothingon the radar. The only

problem might come fromHawke. Kannaday had comeup with a plan to deal withthe security chief. He hadworked out everyconvolution. There were twochancesinthreethatitwouldgo his way. He liked thoseodds.Still, the captain was

anxious.Kannadayhadneverhad to deal withinsubordination. Ego wasneveran issuewithhiscrew.

They were paid to do a job,and they did it. Moreover,unlike the incident in hiscabin, thiswasgoing tobeapublic confrontation. Belowdeck, only Kannaday’s pridehadbeenatrisk.Ondeck,hisabilitytocommandwouldbeinjeopardy.Kannaday stood at the

port-side railing.Hewatchedas the shipping vessel pulledwithin fifteen meters of theyacht. Neither boat went to

anchor. The captains wantedtobemobile.FourHosannahsecurity men came frombelowdecks. Each man wascarrying a small barrel.Hawkewas behind them.Hehad been watching theloading of the mini-launch.TheHosannah had two,bothsuspendedfromtherear.Thevessel would be loaded withthe valuable cargo and thenlowered. The Hosannahwould takenothing in return.

Payment on delivery wasworked out through othermeans. Kannaday did notknow what they were.Overseas bank transactionsmostlikely.Kannaday walked over to

his crew. “Mr. Hawke, I’dlikeyoutogowiththem.”“Ialwaysdo,”hereplied.“Not with our crew, with

the Malaysians,” Kannadaysaid.Hawke turned to face

Kannaday. The lantern wasbehind Hawke. Kannadaycouldnotseehisexpression.“Why would I want to do

that?”Hawkeasked.“To ensure the security of

the cargo. To reassure thechief,”Kannadaytoldhim.“Did he order me to do

that?”“I’m asking you to go,”

Kannaday replied. Thecaptain made a point ofasking rather than ordering.

Hehoped thatwouldmake itgo down easier. He alsorefusedtosaywhetherornottheordercamefromDarling.Hawkewouldnotdarecalltofind out. That would appearopenlymutinous.Hawkehadto know that Darling wouldnotbesympathetictothat.How and why was not

important. What matteredwas to get Hawke into thelaunch. Kannaday would logthe order and show Jervis

Darling that he was still incommand.Hawke was silent as the

men continued workingbehind him. He wasobviously considering thesame options Kannaday hadcontemplated.“What if I decline to go?”

Hawke asked. He movedcloser toKannaday.Hiseyesweresteelresolve.“Whywouldyoudothat?”“My post is here, on the

yacht,”Hawkereplied.“Your post is where the

captain sends you,”Kannaday said. “Patrols areout there. You know that.They may be looking for usand anyone we meet. Orwouldyouprefer that I radiothe chief? Tell him that youdo not consider the cargo tobeworthprotecting?”“I’ll send some of my

security team,” Hawkereplied. “We do not need

themhereatthemoment.”“Theyarenotascapableas

theirleader.”“They are capable

enough,”Hawke insisted.Heturnedtogo.“Would you prefer that I

callthechiefandtellhimthatyou are afraid to go?”Kannadayasked.Thecaptainwas speaking loud enoughnow that the other crewmemberscouldhear.Hawke did not even look

back.“Dothat.”“Mr. Hawke, you will go

aboard that fishing vessel oryou will go below,”Kannadayordered.“I have work to do,”

Hawkereplied.“Your work is finished,”

Kannadaytoldhim.“Not until we are back at

the cove,” Hawke shot back.Hewasstilllookingahead.Kannaday felt as if he’d

been hit by a swinging spar.

Hawke had defied him infront of the crew. Thesecurity officer hadembarrassed him in front ofthe Malaysians, who werewatching with night-visionglassesfromthedeckoftheirvessel. They would carryword to their boss, whowould relay it to Darling.Kannaday’s brain, spirit, andflesh were all affected by adisorienting sense ofhumiliation.Reason left him.

His ego winked off, thencame back like a nova. Hisflesh grew hot and prickly.Kannaday felt as though thedignity had been baked fromhim. He wanted it back. HehadconsideredthepossibilitythatHawkewould refuse theorder. But he had notimagined exactly how itwouldfeel.Nonetheless, there was

only one thing forKannadaytodo.

Without hesitation,Kannaday reached for theback of the security officer.He placed a strong hand oneach of theman’s shoulders.Hedidnotgrabjustthefabricof Hawke’s sweater. Hisfingers dug deep, wrappingtightlyaroundthemeatoftheman’s shoulders. Kannadaytookalongstepback,pullingHawkewithhim.Thecaptainimmediately turned anddipped and slammed Hawke

onto the deck. The securitychief lay on his back. Hewhipped the wommera fromhissashandpointedthebladeup.Kannadaywantedtodropontheman’schestandpoundhim senseless. But he forcedhimself to step back.Kannaday did not want togive Hawke the opportunitytokillhiminself-defense.Hawke rose quickly. “You

bloody bastard! No one putshishandsonme!Noone!”

Themenwerelessthantenfeet apart. Hawke walkedforward slowly, holding thebladewaisthigh.Thecaptainstood firmly on the gentlyrolling deck. His legs werewideandhisfistswerelowathis sides. His eyes were onHawke, who was nowwalkingintothelight.Therewasnogoingback.“Come at me again, damn

you!”Hawkesaid.“Back off, Hawke. You

disobeyedanorder!”“You’re not fit to give

them!”Hawkesaid.“Then relieve me of my

command,Mr.Hawke.”Thelaunchwasloadedbut

did not lower into thewater.The crew had stoppedworking. Everyone waswatching the altercationbetween the captain and thesecurityofficer.“I’llmakeiteasyforyou,”

Kannaday said. He stepped

forward, took the wommerablade, and placed it againsthisheart.“Useit!”Hawke glared at the

captain. Kannaday did notknow what the securityofficer would do. It was notas if the authorities of anynation or maritime groupwould care that a smugglerhadmutinied.Hawke pushed the tip

throughKannaday’sshirt.Hecontinuedtodriveitforward.

Kannadayknewhecouldnotback down. Not witheveryonewatching.Not afterhe had given Hawke thisopportunity.Hawkestopped.Hedidnot

remove the wommera bladefrom Kannaday’s chest. Theknifehurt, dull and tight likea muscle cramp. But thecaptainrefusedtoshowpain.“I do not participate in

gestures,” Hawke said. “Ourcustomers can see to the

securityoftheirownvessel.Iwas hired to look after thisone.”“In that case, your job is

done,” Kannaday said. “Youmaygobelow.”Hawke hesitated. The

captain realized there wasonly one way to end thisimpasse.Kannadaytookastepback.

The blade slipped from hischest.Thecaptainignoredthelaceration and the bleeding

beneath his shirt. He turnedandaddressedthecrewatthestern.“Mr. Neville, take the

cargo to the fishing vessel,”Kannaday said to the launchpilot. Neville was one ofKannaday’smen.“Yes, sir,” the seaman

replied.The men lowered the

launch into the water.Kannaday walked to therailing and watched as the

small boat settled into thesmooth sea. The four menclimbed down an aluminumladder and boarded her.Neville turned on a smallspotlight at the front of theboat. A moment later theypulled from the yacht andheaded toward the fishingvessel.Kannaday turned back to

finish up with Hawke. Hisrage was gone but not hisanger.Ithadbeenturnedinto

strength of purpose. Thecaptaindidnotknowwhathewouldsayordo.Fortunately,he did not have to decideright now. John Hawke wasgone.Sowerehismen.Kannaday began walking

toward the mainmast. As hedid, he casually pulled ahandkerchieffromhispocket.Heshookitoutandslippeditunder his shirt.He pressed itagainst the wound. The cut

was bleeding moderately. Abandage should take care ofit. Hewould tend to it whenhewentbelow.Hewishedhisproblem with John Hawkecouldbeaseasilyresolved.Kannaday was exhausted,

but he dared not rest. Whenthe launch returned, theywould head back to Cairns.The trip would take nearlyfour hours. Hawke wouldsurely attempt some form ofretribution during that time.

The security chief could notlet the public rebuke stand.Not if he wanted to retaincredibilitywithhismen.Andnot if he wanted to maintainhis own self-respect.Kannaday knew damn wellwhat that was like. He wasgladhehadbeenable to turnthisaround.Suddenly, Marcus Darling

emerged from belowdecks.The radio operator hurriedtoward the captain. It was

strange to see the youngerDarling hurry anywhere.Nothing in life had everseemedimportanttohim.“Whatisit?”Marcusasked

breathlessly as heapproached.“Whatiswhat?”Kannaday

asked.“Mr. Hawke said you

wanted to see me,” Marcussaid. “He told me it wasurgent.”Kannaday felt as if hehad

been stabbed again, this timein the back of the neck. Hissense of satisfactionevaporated like sea mist atmorning. He looked at theyoungermanandswore.Already aware that it was

probably too late, Kannadayran around Marcus Darlingand headed toward the stair-well.Hawkewantedtheradioroom for a reason. Andwhatever that reason was, itwould not be in Kannaday’s

bestinterests.

THIRTY-THREE

TheCelebesSeaSaturday,1:01A.M.MonicaLohhadnever felt

comfortable conversing withoutsiders. To her, that meantanyone who was not amember of her immediatefamily. She had always beenable to prove herself withactions. She felt confident in

any situation where physicalor command skills wererequired. She was proficientat judo, skilled withhandguns, and emphaticallyprepared to carry out orders.That was what an officer oftheSingaporeanmilitarydid.Conversation was a

different matter. FNO Lohcould never anticipate everyquestion, and she hatedsaying, “I don’t know.” Thatwas a sign ofweakness. She

was particularlyuncomfortable talking withmen. Rarely was theconversation simply what itseemedtobe.Sheusuallyfeltthat they were talking downto her or tolerating her.Sometimestheywerelookingat her body and not evenlistening. She could alwaystell. Thoughts relaxed them.Whenthemindwasengaged,onlytheireyeswerealert.Butwhen men were exposed to

physical stimuli, their entirebody became tense,predatory.Fortunately, Jelbart and

Coffeyhadnotbeenwithherwhen she told them aboutDorothy Darling. Theconversation was only aboutwhat she knew, which wasnotmuch.Loh told them how the

thirty-five-year-old womanhad gone to Singapore withher young daughter Jessica-

Ann.TheywenttothefamedJurong Birdpark early onemorning, two hours before itopened to the public, thenwent off by SUV into thesurrounding hills. Mrs.Darling was a pilot and anavid fan of hang gliding.WhileherdaughterpicnickedwithMrs. Darling’s personalsecretary, RobinHammerman, Mrs. Darlingand her longtime flightinstructor from Cairns drove

their car higher into therange. They brought apowered hang glider—atandemunitthatlookedlikealarge motor scootersuspended from a traditionalhang glider. The unitwas anearly, homemade model. Itdid not have the ballisticparachute system that camewithlaterdesigns.Loh told themen how the

engine of the hang glidercaught fire shortly after

liftoff. While Jessica-Annwatched, the blazing hanggliderbrieflycircled thehillsbefore plunging into a densewood.“Thathadtohaveleftsome

serious psychological scars,”LowellCoffeysuggested.“The girl described the

sightasared-and-blackbird,”Loh said. “She said therewere screeches coming fromit.”“Jesus wept,” Jelbart

murmured.“Was this information

contained in an officialinvestigation report?” Coffeyasked.“Ionlyread theAustralian

newspaper reports, whichwere rather graphic,” Lohtoldhim.“Many of the local rags

tend to be that way,” Jelbartadmitted. “I don’t likereadingorrepeatingthatrot.”“I did hear that Mr.

Darling’sbankaccountswereflagged and watched,” Lohsaid.“Bywhichnation?”Coffey

asked.“Australia,” Loh said.

“According to thosenewspaper accounts, whichI’veread,theman’swifewasallegedly having an affairwith the flight instructor.Prosecutors wanted to seewhoDarlingmighthavepaidtosabotagetheengine.Ifthey

found anything that wouldhave given them anactionable crime, they couldhavemadeacaseforintenttocausedeath.“The murder investigation

was the start of the search,but the end was somewhatsurprising,” FNO Lohcontinued. “There was notenough of the engine left toexamine, and investigatorsdid not uncover any sort ofpayoff from Mr. Darling to

whoever may have executedthis crime. But they did findevidenceofunusual financialactivity.”“Unusual in what way?”

Coffeyasked.“Mr. Darling was putting

more money into Singaporebanks at a lower interest ratethan he could get inAustralia,”Lohsaid.“Andhewaskeepingitinliquidassetsonly.”“Was that in the

newspapers, too?” Coffeyasked.“No,”shereplied.“Thenhowdoyouknow?”

hepressed.“I briefly dated a banker.

He liked to impressmewiththenamesonaccountshewasmanaging,”shesaid.“Hence the ‘brieflydated,’

”Coffeysaid.Loh did not respond. But

the American attorney wascorrect.

“This banker bloke toldyou that the governmentwaswatching Darling’saccounts?”Jelbartasked.“Hedid,”Lohreplied.“He

didnottellmewhattheymayhave found out, if anything.I’m not sure he would haveknown.”“Soyoudon’t reallyknow

the extent to which thegovernment is investigatingDarlingorwhatelsetheymayhavefound,”Jelbartsaid.

“No,”Lohsaid.“If they had evidence

connecting Darling to thedeathofhiswife,theywouldhavegoneafterhim,”Coffeysaid. “Australia andSingaporehaveanextraditionarrangement.”“Ican’timaginehimbeing

careless enough to leave anykind of trail,” Jelbartremarked.“As American presidents

and corporate CEOs have

demonstratedwith regularity,powerful people often feelbulletproof,” Coffey pointedout. “Though Iam intrigued,FNO Loh. You seem prettycertainthatJervisDarlinghadhiswifemurdered.”“By all accounts, he is a

possessiveman.”“And are all possessive

menkillers?”Coffeyasked.“I believe most people

would be killers if theythought they could get away

withit,”sheanswered.“I’m not sure I agree, but

that’s not important,” Coffeysaid.“FNOLoh,doyouhaveaccesstothegovernmentfilesonDarling?”“I don’t know,” Loh

admitted. She found herselfover-enunciatingthewordsasshe forced them from hermouth.“ButI’llfindout,”sheadded.“Whenyoudo, ask if they

have anything on Mahathir

bin Dahman, a Malaysianbillionaire,” Coffey said. Hespelled the name for her.“Have you ever heard ofhim?”“Again, only what I have

read in the newspapers,” shesaid. “He is heavily involvedin the development of realestate.”“Any scandals?” Coffey

asked.“None of which I am

aware,” the officer reported.

Thatwas a somewhatmilderformof“Idon’tknow.”Itdidnotcomeoutanyeasier.FNOLoh wished she did not feelas thoughshehad to impressthesetwomen.Theycertainlywerenotpushingher.“All right,” Coffey said.

“Anything you can find willbemorethanwehavenow.”“Have you heard anything

more about the sailor fromthesampan?”Lohasked.“ThelastreportIhadfrom

thehospitalwasaboutninetyminutes ago,” Jelbart said.“Thepatientwassedatedandnotspeaking.”“Dotheyhaveanyonewho

can speak Malay in case hedoes say something?” sheasked.“The intercom is on, and

thereisavoice-activatedtaperecorder at his bedside,”Jelbart said. “Anything hesays will be recorded andplayed for someonewho can

translate. I’ll make certainyouhearitaswell.”“Thankyou,”shesaid.Loh

had to admit that for men,thesetwoseemedallright.“The question is, what do

we do while we wait?”Coffeyasked.“If I may make a

suggestion,”Lohsaid.“Please,”Coffeyreplied.“I will contact Singapore

forthosefiles.Butwehaveasaying in the military: ‘Do

notwait.Advance.’”“I’msurethatreadswellin

atextbook,”Coffeysaid.“It works in practice, Mr.

Coffey,” Loh replied. It feltgood to say that withcertainty. “I believe that weshould try tocollectourownintelligence about Mr.Darling.”“I’m a coastal police

officer, not a spy,” Jelbartsaid.Thewarrantofficerwasnot complaining. It sounded

to Loh as though he werefrustrated. And a littleconcerned. “I’m also afraidthatthemoreAustralianswhoknow about this, the greaterthe odds of Darling findingout.We’re still talking abouttheories, and highlyspeculativeonesatthat.”“Our top spy will land in

Australia a few hours fromnow,” Coffey said. “He’llknowwhattodo.”“I can tell you what we

havetodo,”Lohreplied.“Canyou?”Coffeyasked.“Yes.” It felt good to be

able to answer this one, too.Because the answer was notonly right, it was obvious.“We should not waste timefollowingthe130-5trail.Itisalreadycold.”“What should we do?”

Coffeyasked.“Make sure that Jervis

Darlingisunabletokill,”shereplied.“Again.”

THIRTY-FOURWashington,D.C.

Friday,12:31P.M.“Boss, would you please

authorize the uploading of abenevolentsystemicvirus?”The man in the doorway

was portly Matt Stoll. Theyoung computer genius wasstanding there with his armsathissidesandhisexpressiondeadpan. Unless there was acrisis,PaulHoodhadlearned

to take nothing the technicalwizard said seriously. Stollwas not just a proudlyarchetypical nerd, he was aproudly archetypical nerd onsteroids. It was not enoughfor him to be smart. Hewasaggressively intelligent, stilldriven by the curiosity andprecociousness that musthavemadehimanelementaryschoolterror.“A benevolent virus,”

Hood said, playing along.

“What did you have inmind?”“Something that would

allow users of NationalOnLineOperationstoenjoyafunctioning Internetprovider,” Stoll said. “Everytime I open an attachment, Iget booted. Every time Idownloadaphotograph,Igetbooted. Every time I try toaccess data, I’m told that thesystemisbusy.”“Matt, am I wrong in

believing thatwe domost ofour on-line work throughU.S.Governet?”“You are not incorrect,”

Stollsaidinhischaracteristicmonotone. “I am talkingaboutasystemIuseathome.However,ourcomputersherehavethejuicetoreallyspruceuptheservice.”“Permanently?” Hood

asked.“No. For just an hour. To

show those NOLO

incompetentswhattheycouldhave if they upgraded theirsystems and paid moreattentiontocustomersthantotheirstockprices,”Stollsaid.“I’ll tell you what,” Hood

replied.“No.”Stoll seemed unfazed.

“Theyareanevilempire,sir.This isacrisissituation. It iswithin the parameters set bytheNCMCchartertoinvolveourselves.”“The charter also specifies

the process by whichexecutives other than thedirector, deputy director, andacting directors may requestoperational status for aproject,”Hoodsaid.“Writeareport and submit it to theCIOC.Ifthecommitteebacksthis, you will have my fullcooperation.”“I could have done it

without telling you,” Stollpointed out. “You wouldn’thave known about it unless

you saw it on the news orread it in an intelligencebriefing.”“Possibly. Why didn’t

you?”Hoodasked.“Becausetheindividualwe

are investigating, JervisDarling, is a majorstockholder in NOLO-Australia,” Stoll said. “I didnotwantanymovesagainstaholding controlled by him tobe traced back to me or toOp-Center. It might raise

flags.”“Thankyou,”Hoodsaid.“You’re welcome,” Stoll

replied.The technical officer

stepped from the doorwayand left. The encounter wasstrange but notunprecedented. Tellingsomeonethedamagehecoulddo was Matt Stoll’s way ofcomplaining. He was a techguy and a perfectionist. Hehad vented about cable

networks, long-distancephone carriers, and otherhigh-techsystemsinthepast.It was like Mike Rodgersbeefingaboutthebureaucracyat the Pentagon or BobHerbert venting about whathe could do with one-tenththebudgetallottedtheCIAortheFBI.Stoll was right about one

thing, though. “NOLOcontondere,” as it wasreferredtointhestockpages,

wasan ineffectualdisaster. Itmademoneybecauseitwasamonolith,nothingmore.Ifhestarted thinking about that,Paul Hood would get pissedaswell.The phone beeped. It was

LowellCoffey.“Paul, there has been a

strange twist since our lastconversation,” he said.Coffey proceeded to tell himabout the discussion withFNOLoh. “She spoke to the

militaryintelligencepeopleinSingaporewholiaisewiththeprime minister’s Office ofStrategic Information,”Coffey went on. “TheyconfirmbusinesstiesbetweenDarling and Mahathir binDahman.He’sinvestedintheMalaysian’s buildingprojects, commercial aircraftplants, and water-processingfacilities.”“Do you know what the

paper trail looks like?”Hood

asked.“If you’re asking whether

this is public knowledge ornot, it is,” Coffey replied.“Darling puts money inMalaysian banks, and binDahman draws on that asneeded.”“Isthereapublicrecordof

Darling’s holdings?” Hoodasked.“No,” Coffey said. “The

government has learned thatDarlinggetsprivatestockfor

his money. Nothingactionable,though.”“It’s a lot of stock, I’m

sure,” Hood said. “Animproportionate amountcompared to what otherinvestorsget. I’llbet thatbinDahmantakesabighiteverytimeDarlinginvests.”“Hedoes,”Coffeysaid.“This could suggest that

bin Dahman is using realestate and privately heldbusinesses topayDarlingfor

services rendered,” Hoodsaid. “Such as providinghimwithnuclearmaterials.”“It makes sense,” Coffey

said. “What’s your view onDarling himself? He’s got ahelluvareputationdownhere.He’s got a mega-fortune.Whywouldheriskallthattodosomethinglikethis?”“I’ve been wondering

about that,” Hood said.“Maybe it’s tied intosomething you said aminute

ago. He got away withmurderandlikedhowitfelt.”“You mean Leopold and

Loeb, the sequel?” Coffeyasked. “Bored rich man getshis kicks planning the deathofmillionsofpeople?”“You answered your own

question.”“Yeah,” Coffey replied.

“Jelbart and I were talkingabout this as a power grab,but youmayhave somethingthere.Youdon’tevenhaveto

runthatonepastLizGordon.It’ssimplebutneat.”“It’s a starting point,

anyway,” Hood replied.“Meanwhile, what’s yournextstep?”“We’re sailing back to

Darwin towait forBob, thenI guess it’s on to Cairns,”Coffey said. “We’reobviously going to have totakethisinvestigationdirectlytoDarling.”“Iagree,”Hoodsaid.“And

whenyoudograbhim,Iwantyoutodomeafavor.”“Sure,”Coffeysaid.“Tell him he runs a lousy

on-line service,” Hood said.“TellhimforMattStoll.”Coffey was confused, but

Hood told him not to worryaboutit.Hood hung up. He felt

more involved than heusually did in evolvingsituations. For one thing,unlike Mike Rodgers or

formerStriker leaderColonelBrett August, Coffey waskeeping him plugged intoevery development in thefield, however small. Foranother,thediverseresourcesof three nations wereavailable to him. It was astrue in crisis management asit was in mathematics: onepoint was simply one point;two points defined a line;three points created a plane,and a plane was something

you could stand on. TheUnited States, Australia, andSingaporecreatedaplane.There was something else

that gave Hood comfort aswell. For all his clout, JervisDarling was still a business-man at heart. He was apotentially twisted one, yes,but a corporate tycoonnonetheless.Unliketheroguegenerals andmegalomaniacalpoliticiansHoodandhisteamusually faced, he understood

this breed. He could sit intheir chairs and imagine thedecisionstheymade.But therewas still a storm

inthedistance.OnethatPaulHood could not anticipate.One that Op-Center and itsallies might not be able tocontrol. Ithad todowith thecircus, of all things. BobHerbert once told the CIOCthat a crisis was like the bigtop.“You can’t afford to grab

the ringleader and lose theother attractions,” Herberthad said. “While we’re allpacked shoulder to shoulderin the grandstands, thoserampaging elephants andrunaway clown cars willcrushusflat.”HoodhopedthatifDarling

were involved, he knewwhere the nuclear materialswere headed and who washandlingthem.Otherwise,thetoll in the grandstand could

stillbecatastrophic.

THIRTY-FIVETheCelebesSea

Saturday,2:02A.M.Peter Kannaday did not

knowwhattoexpectwhenhereachedtheradioroom.He could not imagine to

whom Hawke might bebroadcasting. Jervis Darling?The Malaysian fishing ship?Someone else? Kannaday’smind leapt to conspiracies.Perhaps Hawke had pirates

following them in order toseize the Hosannah. Ormaybe an aircraft was enroute to remove him. OrKannaday.AsKannaday swungdown

the stairs he learned howwrong he had been. Hawkewas not even in the radioroom.Heandhis thugswerewaiting for thecaptain in thehall. Two men grabbedKannaday, one hugging eacharm. A third got behind him

and grabbed Kannaday’swindbreaker. He grasped itnear theneckandput akneeagainst Kannaday’s lowerback. That prevented thecaptain from bending. Afourth man forced a rag inKannaday’s mouth. Thecaptaintastedoil.Ithadcomefrom the enginecompartment. The menturned Kannaday so he wasfacingintothecorridor.Hawkewasstandingthere.

The security man passedunder the recessed light. Hisarms were at his sides. Forthe most part his expressionwasas inscrutableasalways.Except for the eyes. Theywerevolcanic.Kannaday struggled for a

moment before settling intotensecompliance.Hewasnotafraid.ThoughKannadayhada pretty good idea what wasabout to take place. He wasgoing to die. He was

resigned,thoughstilldefiant.Hawke stepped in very

close. He put the heel of hisleft palm againstKannaday’schin and began to push upslowly. The captain’s headwent back. Kannaday’s gazeshifted from Hawke’s angryeyesto the lowceilingof thecorridor. He felt themusclestensealonghisshouldersandupperarms.Thepressurewascuttingoffhisair.Hetriedtodrawbreatharoundtheragin

his mouth. Nothing wasgetting through.He began tofeel claustrophobic, panicky.If Hawke pushed back anyfarther,hisneckwouldsnap.Kannaday resisted. He

begantostruggleagain.“You want to breathe,”

Hawkesaid.“Letmehelp.”Hawke released

Kannaday’s chin.He steppedbackandpunchedthecaptainhard in the gut. Kannadaycould not help but breathe

then. He sucked air throughhisnose andaround the rankcloth. Hawke moved in onhim again. He hit Kannadaywitharoundhouserighttothejaw.Itstrucksohardthatthecloth flew halfway from thecaptain’s mouth. Kannadaysnatchedmoreairthroughhisnose and mouth as he tookanother blow to the belly, ahard left. Hawke stepped inashedelivered it, twisting atthewaist.Atthesametimehe

drew the other elbow back,tucked tight against his ribs.That gave the twist extrasnap. Hawke knew how todrive the blows in. He knewhowtomakethemhurt.When he was younger,

Kannaday had been in anumber of dockside brawls.Butthosealwaysendeduponthefloorandconsistedmostlyofgrapplingandclawing.Hehad never been given abeating. Kannaday’s jaw

throbbed, and his ears werepounding. He was nauseatedfrom the blows to theabdomen. His shouldersburned from the strongfingers of the man behindhim.A left uppercut rocked

Kannaday’s head back. Hecould actually feel his brainbumpthetopofhisskull.Histeethbitthroughtheclothandsnapped on his tongue. Hetastedblood.Theboneofhis

lower jaw literally rang, andthe ringing spread to hislimbs. If the men had notbeen holding him up, hewould have fallen.Kannaday’s jaw continuedringing as Hawke followedtheuppercutwitharightbackfisttothemouth.Kannaday’shead slumped to his rightshoulder. His hurt tonguefloppedoverdislocatedteeth.Hiseyelidssagged.Hawke stepped in again.

He grabbed Kannaday’saching chin and squeezed.Thepainforced thecaptain’seyestoopen.“This is just the beginning

ofyourtutorial,”Hawkesaid.He kneed Kannaday very

low in the belly. Twice. Thegag fell entirely from thecaptain’smouth now. So didthick drops of saliva mixedwith blood. Hawke ignoredthe bloody spittle drippingonto his hand. He slapped

him hard with his left hand.Against the right ear. ThenHawke cocked his left armand jabbed a fist square intoKannaday’s right eye. Hedrewhisfistbackandhithimin the mouth. Kannaday felthislipssplit.“Now, Captain,” Hawke

said. “Do I have yourattention?”Kannaday’s head was

drumming. His face felt hotwherever skin touched bone.

He had only a greasy viewfrom his right eye. All hecouldhearwashisownrapidheartbeat and strainedbreathing.Hawke was still holding

thecaptain’schin.Hemovedhis mouth close toKannaday’sleftear.“I asked you a question,”

Hawkesaid.Kannaday’s chestwas still

bleeding from the woundinflicted earlier by the

wommera.Hewasdizzyfromthe loss of blood and dazedfromthebeating.Allhecouldmanagewasaweaknod.“Good. Here is how the

rest of this enterprise willplay out,”Hawke said. “Youwill stay in your cabin untilwe reach Cairns. Then youwill go to the chief and tellhim that the mission wassuccessfully completed.When he askswhy you lookthewayyoudo,youwill tell

himwehadadisagreement.”Kannaday attempted to

speak. He could not evenmove his mouth. It felt asthough everything had beenpulped together: tongue,teeth, lips. Instead, he justshookhishead.Hawke kneed him again,

thistimeinthegroin.Bloodyspittle flew fromKannaday’sbrokenlips.Hawkecontinuedtoleanclose.“We can keep this going

for as long as you want,”Hawketoldhim.“Intheend,youwilldowhatIask.”Kannaday managed to

exhale something thatsounded like the word heintended.“Why?”“Why?” Hawke asked.

“Because if you tell him thatyou walked into anotherambush,hewillregardyouasan ineffective commander.Hewilldisposeofyou,andIwill get your job. Only I do

not want it, Captain. I likehavingonemanon theplankin front of me. I am onlyinterested inmoney.”Hawkemoved back slightly. “Ourfriend Marcus willcorroborate your story. Helikesthewaythingsarenow,having to report to UncleJervis every now and then. Ido not think he would enjoyservingarealcaptain.”Hawke had spoken slowly

and clearly. Kannaday had

heardall thewords.But theywere confusing. The captainhad never known a man tofight for anonymity and asubordinateposition.“Iwouldliketotakeyouto

your cabin,” Hawke said.“My men will see that youare cleaned and patched up.But I want to make certainthat we have anunderstanding this time,Captain.”Hawke’s voice seemed to

be echoing now. Kannadayhad to fight to pick up thewords.“G-good,” Kannaday said.

Itwastheonlywordhecouldmanagewithoutusinghislipsor tongue. He was not sureanyoneheard.Hefelthimselfdrifting.Hisgoodeyeshut.Hawke was still holding

Kannaday’schin.Hepinchedhard. “Good?” Hawkerepeated.“Thenyouagree?”Kannaday nodded once.

Hawkereleasedhischin.Thecaptain’s head dropped sothat his right ear was facingthe ground. A moment laterhe felt his legs being lifted.Hewasbeingcarriedastern.Therewassomethingoddly

comforting about beingsemiconscious. Kannadaywas living from second tosecond. He was preoccupiedwith pain. He had noresponsibility other than toride it out. The moments

when thehurt subsided, evenslightly, were almosteuphoric. A part of him wasactually grateful to the menwhowerecarryinghim.AMarshall Plan for Peter

Kannaday, the captainthought with lightheadeddetachment. First we breakyoudown,and thenwebuildyoubackup.Awareness came in short

flashes.Kannadaywas in thehall. Then hewas in his cot.

Thenhewasbeingbandagedandwipeddownwithadampcloth. It felt refreshing buthurt at the same time. Herealized that he was passingout and then waking as themen ministered to hiswounds.Finally, everything was

silent and still. The painwasthere,butitseemeddistant.Ashe lay there,Kannaday

heardasoftbuzzbehindhim.He recognized the sound. It

wastheengineofthelaunch.Thecrewmustbeheading tothe fishing vessel. Ormaybethey were returning. He hadno idea how much time hadpassed. Perhaps he had beendown here longer than hethought. In any case,Kannaday needed to get ondeck to make sure thedeliverywentasplanned.Hewasstillthecaptain.Eventhemutinous Hawke had saidthatmuch.

Hawke, Kannaday thoughtsuddenly. Dreamlikememoriesofthebeatingcameback to him. So did the ragehe had felt when Hawke’smenfirstgrabbedhim.The captain should have

killed the mutinous bastardwhenhehad theopportunity.He would get the gun fromhis desk and kill him now.Marcus had betrayed thecaptain, too.Kannaday couldnot kill the boss’s nephew.

But he could lock theprivilegedlittlebastardintheradioroomuntiltheyreachedCairns. Jervis Darling wouldunderstandthat.The captain sat up. As he

did, his head imploded. Theact of moving had reignitedthe beating. Hot pricklesraced from Kannaday’sforehead to his temples anddownhisneckintohisspine.His flesh caught fire, and hewas immediatelysickenedby

theiron-rust tasteofbloodinhismouth.Kannadayshoutedand shot back onto the cot.He breathed quickly,squeezing his eyes shut andwhimperingashetriedtorideoutthepain.No one came to him. No

one spoke. He listened pastthe blood that was surgingthroughhisears.Hewasalone.

THIRTY-SIXTheSouthPacific

Saturday,7:44A.M.Before Lowell Coffey

turned in for the night, hephoned Bob Herbert. CoffeybroughtHerbertuptodateonthe latest developmentinvolvingJervisDarling.Theveteran intelligence officerwasnotsurprisedbytheideathat Darling might beinvolved in this undertaking.

Itwasnotthepower-corruptsbromide that influencedHerbert. It waswhatHerbertcalledthebig-shotsyndrome.The idea that coin itself wasno longer the coin of therealm. Resources were. Hehad tracked the phenomenonfromhischildhood,whenthepeople who had colortelevisionsetswerebigshots.You went to their house towatch Bonanza or Star Trekor King Leonardo cartoons.

Less than a decade later, oilbecame the prizedcommodity.Everyonewantedit. The Arabs had it. Theybecamebigshots.Kidsintheearly eighties who had AtariPac-Man cartridges orCabbagePatchDollswerethetalkoftheclass.Shortlyafterthat, the Japanese had thetechnology everyone wanted.Enter the new generation ofbigeru shotsu. Money wasirrelevant. People would pay

whatever it cost to get whatthenewestgrandpanjandrumwaspeddling.With the collapse of the

Soviet Union, high-gradenuclearmaterials became thehottestcoinintheworld.JustlikethekidwithaPlayStation2, the person who hadenriched uranium orplutonium or a nuclearweaponitselfcouldbeastar,ifonlyforamoment.Herbertremembered thinking how a

few years back atom bombshadbrieflybeenthecodpieceof India and Pakistan. Oneblew up a plain and hoggedthe headlines, the other blewup a mountain and did thesame.Grossnationalproduct,religion, starvation, anddisease just did not matterthen.For thosefewdays,bigbooming bombs was it.Megatonnage made you theTom Cruise of theinternationalstage.

Someone accustomed towealthandcontrolwouldfindnuclear material irresistible.With it, he was a player.Knowing where it was, hewas safe.Without it, he wassimplyanobserverwhocouldbe erased along with everyother pawn on thechessboard. That woulddefinitelynotappealtoamanlike Jervis Darling. He likedtobeabigshot.Unfortunately,Darlingwas

a big shot. Herbertdownloadedgigabytesofdataand read up on him. Darlinghad security, influence,money. He controlledinternationalcorporationsthatcouldbeused to shiftmoneyand hide people and deeds.He also had the world’slargest private collection ofprehistoricfossils.“The guy likes to remind

himself what happens togiants who don’t adapt,”

Herbertmused.Worse than that, Darling

was a beloved big shot. Hewas the Australian dreammadeflesh.The hours raced by as

Herbertsatinhislittlecubiclein the heart of the plane. Astheengineroaredandtheskybrightened, Herbertconsumeddataasifhewereapigeon at an outdoor bakesale. He flitted from file tofile, snagging a crumb of

information here, anotherthere. Everything Herbertread confirmed his initialsuspicion: that this kind oftradewassomethinginwhicha man like Darling wouldinvolvehimself.After the intelligencechief

finishedaninitialread,hesatback in his wheelchair. “Sohow do we find out forcertainwhetheryou’rebehindthis disgusting littletransaction?” he wondered

aloud.They would continue to

look for the people who hadactually made the presumedtrade.ButHerbertknew theymightnotfindtheradioactivebread crumbs they werelooking for. Already, oneboat had been destroyed andanotherhadvanished.Forallthey knew, they could bedealing with submarines oraircraft as well. Perhaps thematerials had been dropped

somewhereelseforpickupatsome later date. The canvasofpossibilitieswashuge.“No,”hesaid.“Lowellhad

therightidea.”TheyhadtogoafterJervis

Darlinghimself.Directlyandquietly. If he had been in amovie, Herbert would haveput on thick glasses andpretended to be apaleontologist with a rarefossiltosell.FNOLohwouldbe his assistant. Darling

would be suspicious, ofcourse, and quiz them aboutdinosaur genera. Herbertwould have boned up on hisprehistoricanimals,andwhathe did not know, his eruditeaidewould. TheywouldwinDarling’sconfidence.But thiswasreal,andthey

needed a quick,comprehensive solution. OnethatwouldidentifyDarlingasa participant. It would also,hehoped,stopthetrafficking

itself.As the TR-1 banked into

the light of the new day,Herbertsawaflashoforangeon his computer monitor. Amoment later he felt thedelightful heat of the sun onthebackofhisneck.And he got an idea. One

thatwouldnotrequirehimtopronouncepachycephalosaurus.

THIRTY-SEVENWashington,D.C.

Friday,7:44P.M.PaulHoodsteppedintothe

parking lot. It was a drearyandovercastevening,but thecool air tasted sweet. Italways did after he spent aday in Op-Center’swindowless, forced-airunderground offices. Hewalked to his new ToyotaMaxim for the forty-five-

minutedrivetohisapartment.An apartment that was asempty as hell without thesounds of video games andringing phones and thedistinctive thumping ofAlexander holding thehandrailandwallandleapingdown half a flight of stairs.But it was feeling a littlemore like home now. Asmuch as leaving dirty shirtson the couch or renting theDVDs you wanted to see or

eating chicken salad directlyfrom Styrofoam take-outtrayscouldmakeaplacefeellikehome.Hoodwas just getting into

the car when his cell phonebeeped.ItwasMikeRodgers.The twomenhadnotspokensince Rodgers met withSenator Debenport. Thegeneral had spent the dayinterviewing potential fieldoperatives as well asintelligence personnel who

mightbeabletohelphimputtogether his new HUMINTunit. Rodgers had wanted tosee all four candidates inpublicinsteadofinhisoffice.It was important to see howtheyblended inwith crowds,how anonymous they couldappear when they were notpartofagroup.“How did the interviews

go?”Hoodasked.“They were informative,”

Rodgersreplied.

“Hold that thought,”Hoodsaid. Rodgers would knowwhatthatmeant.AsHoodsatbehind the wheel he put hisheadseton.At the same timehe tucked thecellphone intoa scrambler built into thedashboard. It looked like atypical hands-free setup.However, the framecontained a chip that sent aloud screech along with theconversation. Only a phonewith a complementary chip

could filter out the sound.The chip in the car onlyworked with numbers thathad been specifically keyedintothecellphone’smemory.“Ready,” Hood said. Hestarted the car and drovetowardthesentrypost.“Ijustwanttosayupfront

that this is not like puttingtogetheramilitaryspecialopsteam, where someone candemonstrate marksmanshipon a firing range or hand-to-

hand combat in the gym,”Rodgerstoldhim.“Theentireprocess is a bit of aboondoggle.”“Howso?”“Becausegoodintelligence

people, by nature, don’t talk.They observe and listen,”Rodgerssaid.“AsIsatthere,Ikeptwondering if thesilentinterviewee was moresuitable than the one whovolunteeredinformation.”“Interesting,” Hood said.

“Guessyougobyyourgut.”“Pretty much,” Rodgers

admitted. “Silence anddisinterest have pretty muchthesamesound.Ontheotherhand,DavidBattattalksalot.Maria Corneja doesn’t.AideenMarley is somewherein the middle. Falah Shiblispeaks five languages butsays less thanMaria. It is allinwhatyourguttellsyou.”“How is Shibli?” Hood

asked.

“Very well,” Rodgersreplied.“He’sagreedtoserveas needed, though he’sdecided he would prefer toremain in theMiddle East. Igot the sense that he’s doingundercover work for theMossad.”FalahShibliwasa twenty-

nine-year-old Israeli ofArabicdescent.Hehadspentseven years in Israel’s toughDruze Reconnaissance unit,the Sayeret Ha’Druzim,

before joining the police inthe northern town of KiryatShmona. Shibli had workedwithOp-CenterintheMiddleEast.Hewouldbeavaluableresource for Israeliintelligence, since he couldmove freely among Arabpopulations.Hood waved at Sergeant

Ridpath in the booth. Thenon-com waved back andpushed the button that raisedthe heavywooden bar.Hood

drove from the lot. “So howdid the new people impressyou?”“There’s one guy I really

liked,” Rodgers said.“Sprague West. Fifty-five-year-old former Marine,Vietnam vet. He put in aquarter century with theNYPD, the first ten of thoseundercover.HeinfiltratedtheBlack Panthers, drug rings,broke up prostitution. Mykindofguy.Andcool,Paul.”

“Silent?”“Yeah,” Rodgers admitted

withachuckle.“Whereishebased?”“Here,” Rodgers said. “He

moved to D.C. when he leftthe force to be near hismother.”“Does he have other

family?”Hoodasked.“Twogrowndaughtersand

three ex-wives,” Rodgerssaid. “They weren’t happywithwhathedidforaliving.”

“Great. We can start asupportgroup,”Hoodsaid.“The nontalker and the

man who loves to listen,”Rodgers said. “It could beinteresting.”“Incredibly dull, more

likely,” Hood said. “What’syour game plan with Mr.West?”“I’veinvitedWesttocome

to the office on Monday,”Rodgers said. “We’ll talkmore about specific

assignments. His mom diedlastyear,andhewouldliketogetbackinthefield.”“Sounds perfect,” Hood

admitted.“Meanwhile, what’s

happening with Lowell?”Rodgersasked.Hood brought Rodgers up

to date. When he wasfinished, the general wassilentforamoment.“Any thoughts?” Hood

asked.

“Only about the Aussiesand Singapore,” Rodgerssaid. “They’re tough nuts.Good partners to have in abiggame.”“How big a game do you

thinkthisis?”Hoodasked.“I don’t think there’s a

global conspiracy withDarling at the head, if that’swhat you mean,” Rodgersassuredhim.“Whynot?”“Men like Darling are

autocrats, not oligarchs,”Rodgers said. “Defendersband together for mutualprotection. Aggression is asolitary activity.Even duringWorldWar II, Germany andJapan stayed a world awayfrom each other. And theywould have gone toe to toeeventually.”“So what’s the scenario

youenvision?”“Apart from the perverse

challenge?” Rodgers said. “I

see world capitals beingattacked and crippled,economies paralyzed. Youwant toseewhere the targetsmay be? Look at whereDarling has the fewestinvestments.”“Ihave,”Hoodsaid.“He’s

still investedheavilyathomeand in South America. Buthe’sshiftedalotofhisassetsfrom Europe and the UnitedStatestothePacificRim.”“There you go,” Rodgers

said. “He’s looking to roughup a London orWashington,Paris or Bonn. Change thefinancial and geopoliticaldynamic. Does he have anychildren?”“Ayoungdaughter.”“The heir to his efforts,”

Rodgers said. “What fatherdoesn’t want to give hisdaughter the world? Youwere ready to resign fromOp-Center for your kids, foryourfamily.”

“True. But I would drawthe line at killingmillions ofpeople,”Hoodsaid.“Would you?” Rodgers

asked.“Idon’tfollow.”“We’ve gone to war to

protect our way of life, topreserve our view of thefuture for our children,”Rodgerssaid.“When we’ve been

attacked,”Hoodsaid.“That’sanimportantdistinction.”

“Maybe Darling believesthat his world has beenattacked, or at the very leastthreatened,” Rodgers said.“He may feel that Australiahas been minimized by theUnited States and theEuropeanUnion.Hemayfearthe growing political,financial, and militarystrengthofChina.Maybe thestates around China are alsoafraid, and he has rallied theoligarchy to fight back.

MaybeBeijingis their target.Wejustdon’tknow.”“All good points, though

instinct tells me this is moreofachallengetoDarlingthanapoliticalissue.”“That could be,” Rodgers

agreed.“Itdoesn’tchangethefactthathehastobestopped.Fortunately, as I said, thepeople on site are probablythe best we could ask for.Andwe’ve got good ones inreserve, if needed. It won’t

comefree,orevencheap,butwe’llfixthis.”Hood thankedRodgers for

theassessment.Thenhehungup and cracked the windowslightly. After being inside,he wanted to feel more ofwhathissonAlexandercalled“real”air.This was not a job for

people who had families. Orliked to be able to sleepnights. It was one thing toworry about a corporate

bottom line or a projectdeadline. It was far differenttoworryaboutlives,whetherit was one life or tenthousand. Then again, Hoodwas inevitably encouraged,even inspired, by people likeMike Rodgers and BobHerbert. Men and womenwho had vast experience,perspective, and somethingelse. Something easilymisplaced in the day’s slushof ominous data and

frighteningtheory.Hope.Optimism.Andtheresolvenevertolet

themgo.

THIRTY-EIGHTCairns,Australia

Saturday,9:45A.M.JervisDarling had gone to

bed after receiving a signalthat the transfer had finallybeenmade.Itwasthreeringson his cell phone, twice insuccession. Because Darlinghad installed an FDS, a file-disabling security chip, therewas no record of who hadcalled. If someone had been

watchingtheyacht,therewasnowaytheycouldtriangulatethe call. Ordinarily,communicating with theyacht did not concern him.Buttherehadbeendisturbingnews reports about thesampanattack in theCelebesSea.Therewereunconfirmedreports that radiation wasdetected on the wreckage. Ifthat were true, naval patrolsmight be monitoringcommunications in the

region. They could besearching for radioactivity aswell as looking for anyonewhomighthaveheardorseenthe explosion. If theHosannahwerepickedupforanyreason,hisnephewknewto play dumb.Marcuswouldsay thathehadbeenhired torun the radio shack by theyacht owner. Period. Jerviswould then telephone theperson in charge. He wouldprotest the presumption that

his nephew was in any wayinvolved with nucleartrafficking. Peter Kannadaywould take the fall for it.Yachts were easy enough toacquire. Blame was whatCaptainKannadaywas beinghiredtocarry.The Hosannah was not

coming directly back toCairns.Itwouldsailthecoastfor several hours after dawn,likeanypleasureboat.WhenKannadaywassuretheywere

notbeingfollowed,hewouldbring her in. That shouldhappen around ten in themorning.Darlingspenttheearlypart

of Saturday morning as healways did: having breakfastwith his eight-year-olddaughter. The meal ofsalmon, scrambled eggs, andraisintoastwasJessica-Ann’sfavorite. It was served in alarge atelier adjoining JervisDarling’sbedroom.Theroom

had been built for Darling’swife to pursue painting. Itwas too badDorothy did notstick to that as her principalhobby.AsJohnHawkeputitafter investigating heractivities, “Your wife hasbeen working with a newbrush.” Because a man isoccupied, that does not givehis wife license to amuseherself with someone lessbusy. Jervis and DorothyDarlinghadexchangedvows,

notcontingencies.Dorothy’s wooden easel

and tray of paints were stillstoredinacornerofthesunlitroom. There was anuntouched canvas stretchinginitsframe.Jessica-Annsaidshewanted topainton itoneday. She liked coming here.The blond-haired girl hadbeen one of her mother’sfavoritesubjects.Shesaidthesmell of the paint made herfeel as though her mother

werestillhere.Darlingcouldnot deny his daughter thatcomfort.Despite the loss of her

mother four years earlier,Jessica-Annwasanoutgoing,cheerful, and open younglady. Darling had seen to itthat she did not want forcompanionship or activities.He also made sure that theyspent as much time togetheras possible. Darling had noreservations about taking her

to meetings at home andabroad.Ifhewereleavingthecountry, he would simplypack up a tutor or two totravelwiththem.Darling did not want to

pushhisdaughter intoanyofhis businesses. For all heknew,shemightwanttobeapainter, like her mother. Shealready liked to draw. Sheenjoyed sketching birds andinsects. She imagined whatthe faces might be on the

butterflies and fireflies shesaw around the estate. Thatwould be fine with Darling.HewantedtoexposeJessica-Ann to all the possibilities.When the time came, shealone would decide what todo with her life. And shewouldmakethatdecisioninaworld that did not revolvearoundEuropeorAmerica.Jessica-Ann came to the

table in a brilliant yellowjumpsuit. Her long hair was

piledunderacapsportingthename of the latest boy bandshe was into. Darling had apermanent skybox at all thearenas and stadiums inAustralia. Jessica-Ann got tosee every concert that touredDown Under. Her highcheekbones had a healthyflush, and she wore her big,perennial smile. The younggirl had just gone for amorning squash lesson attheirprivatecourt.Shetooka

moment to mime for herfather the proper way toserve.“Let me ask you

something,” Darling said asshe slid into one of thecushioned iron chairs.“Would you rather playwithperfectformandloseorwithbadformandwin?”“I’d rather win,” she said

without hesitation. “It wouldbe even better to do it withbadform,becausethatwould

showIhadamazingtalent.”“Ilikethewayyouthink,”

Darling said as Mrs. Cooperserved their breakfast.Smelling the fresh salmon,Jessica-Ann’s Siamese catSpokane ambled over. Theoverweightcatwasnamedforthe first city outside ofAustralia that Jessica-Annhad visited. The cat movedaggressively along her leg,and Jessica-Ann slipped it athinsliceofsalmon.

Darling and his daughtersaw each other regularlyduringtheweek.Butthiswastheir special time. Businesswas not permitted to intrude.Thus, it was not until nearlytenA.M. thatDarling took acall from the Hosannah. Hewas drinking coffee andhavinghisfirstlookattheon-linenewsservices.Though itwas not the call he had beenexpecting, it was not asurprise.

PeterKannadaywasnotontheotherendofthephone.Itwas Darling’s nephewMarcus.Hewascalling froma landline. The yacht wasable to plug into it uponenteringthecove.“Youreceived thesignal?”

Marcusasked.“Idid.Whyareyoucalling

insteadofthecaptain?”“He’s in his cabin,”

Marcusreplied.“I repeat the question,”

Darling said. He could tellwhen someone was beingevasive. They tended toanswer directly and quickly,as though the answer hadbeenrehearsed.“Hehad a run-inwithMr.

Hawke,”Marcussaid.“IsMr.Hawkewithyou?”“No,” Marcus replied.

“ShallIgethim?”“That isn’t necessary,”

Darling told him. “Whathappened?”

“I’m not entirely sure,”Marcus replied. “We madethe rendezvous at therescheduled time. As thelaunch was setting out, Mr.Hawke came below withseveralofhismen.Heaskedme to tell Captain Kannadaythat Hawke was in the radioroom. Iwas to remain abovedeckuntiltheycameforme.”“How long were you up

there?”Darlingasked.“About ten minutes,”

Marcus told him. “Mr.Hawke cameup and toldmeitwasallrighttogobelow.”“Andthecaptain?”“Hawkesaidhehadretired

and was not to have anyvisitorsormessages,”Marcustoldhim.“Are you sure Captain

Kannaday is alive?” Darlingasked.“Iwenttothedoorandhad

a listen,” Marcus said. “Iheard movement but nothing

more.”“He hasn’t asked for

anything,”Darlingsaid.“Not that I’m aware of,”

Marcus replied. “He hasn’tusedtheintercom.”“So Hawke has been

runningtheship.”“Apparently,” Marcus

replied. “He brought us in. Iwasasleepmostofthetime.”“Is anyone coming

ashore?”Darlingasked.“Not yet,” Marcus said.

“Mr.Hawkeaskedmetocallin. I have no furtherinstructionsorinformation.”Darling poured himself

more coffee. It was alreadypreparedtohistaste,darkandsweet.John Hawke was smart.

Kannaday had obviouslydone what Darling hadsuggested. He had madenoises like a real captain.Hawkemust have threatenedKannaday in return. Perhaps

they had tied him up orbeatenhim.Butlockedinhisroom,Kannadaywasstill thecaptain. If there were ever afall to take, legally or withDarling, he would still haveto take it. But that wasKannaday’s problem.Darling’sproblemwasthatifheaskedtoseeKannaday,hewould find out whathappened. That Hawke hadpushed him to the wall andwon. Then he would either

have to replace him or sendhimbacktotheHosannah.IfDarling left him in charge,then he himself would lookweak. He could notknowingly leave a crippledcaptain in charge.Unfortunately, there was noone available to replaceKannaday except forHawke.But if Darling asked Hawketotakecharge,herantheveryreal risk that Hawke woulddecline. John Hawke

preferred the shadows to thelight. His refusal would alsomake Darling appear weak.As Hawke had justdemonstrated, he was notafraidtopushback.The next pickup was not

for another four days. Theyachtwasscheduledtocruisewith its “paying” customersuntilthen.“Whenyouseethecaptain,

tell him I’m pleased thateverything went as it was

supposedto,”Darlingsaid.“What if I don’t see the

captain?” Marcus askedanxiously.“Then deliver themessage

to the next in command,”Darling replied. “That istypicallyhowthingsaredone,isitnot?”“Of course,” Marcus

replied.Hehesitated.“Wasthereanythingelse?”

Darlingasked.“Actually, yes,” Marcus

said. “I’m not sure Iwant togobackonboard.”“Why?”“There’s bad air on that

ship,”Marcussaid.“First theattack, now this strangenessbetween the captain andMr.Hawke.”“That shouldn’t impact

your work or your jobperformance,” Darling said.“You’re insulatedfromallofthat.”“I don’t feel insulated,”

Marcus complained.“Everyoneonboardfeelsit.”“Dealwithit,”Darlingsaid

firmly. “Set an example forthe others. I need my radiooperator.”“Yes,sir.”“Now go back on board,”

Darlingtoldhim.“Rememberthatfearisitsownfuel.Haveapositiveattitude.”“I will, sir,” Marcus said

unconvincinglyandhungup.Darling placed the phone

initscradle.Heglancedathislaptop without seeing it. Hefelt confident with Hawkewatching things. He actuallyfeltsorryforPeterKannaday.Command was beyond theabilities of some people.Kannaday was one of thosemen. He was and wouldcontinue to be nothing morethan themasterof apleasureboat.Arichoneafteranotherfew years, but what didwealth matter without self-

respect?Darling wondered if

Kannaday would settle intohis role as a subordinatecaptain or whether he wouldtry again to take on Hawke.Darling did not know thecaptain, but he knew humannature. He knewmen.Whenit came to testosterone andreason,reasonusuallylost.Kannaday would lash out

again. Only this time itprobablywouldnot endwith

the captain being locked inhiscabin.Darling returned to the

computer to read the latestrumors about a radioactivesampan found in theCelebesSea.Accordingtothereports,no one knew who theunconscious sailor was orwhathappenedtohim.Thatwasgood.Even if he

were conscious, it wasunlikelytheseamanhadseenor heard anything useful.

Hawke would have madecertain of that. After all,Darlingthought,hediddohisbestworkinthedark.

THIRTY-NINEDarwin,Australia

Saturday,12:08P.M.At a few minutes after

eleven A.M., the TR-1touched down at theAustralian Defence ForceBasicFlyingTrainingSchoolin Tamworth, New SouthWales.Within tenminutes, arested and energized BobHerbertwaswheelinghimselfuparampintothebellyofan

RAAF Bell 204 helicopter.He had called ahead andspecifically requested thisvehicle.Andnotjustbecauseitwaswheelchair friendly. Itfit with the reconnaissanceideahewasformulating.TheBells were heavy-liftchoppers capable oftransporting troops or, moreimportantly, beingreconfigured for spray loadstohelpputoutfires.Ninety minutes and a

smooth but loud ride later,HerbertwasonthegroundinDarwin. Before leavingTamworth, Herbert had saidhe might need the helicopterfor a few hours more. Thepilot shut the rotor off andwaited as Herbertdisembarked. Lowell Coffeyand a gentleman in uniformwere there tomeet him. Theofficer looked a healthybronze. Lowell lookedsallow.

The officer introducedhimself as Warrant OfficerGeorge Jelbart. It was thefirst time a man had evercrouched to shake Herbert’shand.Heprobablydiditasacourtesy, to make direct eyecontact. ButHerbert felt likehe did when he was a kidbeing introduced to somefriendofhisfather’s.Hehalf-expected theofficer to touslehishairwhenherose.Astheybegan walking toward the

terminal,CoffeyshotHerbertafurrowed,Thatwasstrangelook. Herbert was gladCoffey had noticed. He wasnot sure how much wasregistering in the attorney’stiredmind. Itwas clear fromCoffey’s bloodshot eyes andpallor that his little oceanodyssey had not agreed withhim.“I won’t ask if you had a

pleasant flight because thosedaylong trips are never

enjoyable,” Jelbart said. Hehad to speak loudly to beheardoverthewind.“Butweappreciate your coming. Wehaveavanwaitingout front.Our offices are just a fewminutes’ drive from here.There are beverages andsandwiches waiting. Is thereanythingelseyou’llwant?”“Not a thing, thanks,”

Herbertsaid.“Mr. Herbert, the ADF

commander toldme that you

rang ahead to request thatspecificaircraft,”Jelbartsaid.“Yes. The RAAF registry

on the TR-1 listed it amongyour aircraft,” Herbert toldhim.“And you’ve asked it to

wait for you,” Jelbart wenton.“That’sright.”“May Iaskwhatyouhave

in mind?” Jelbart pressed.“We have a number ofhelicoptershere,youknow.”

“I do know that,” Herbertreplied. “But there wassomething special about thisone.”“Would you mind sharing

that information?” Jelbartsaid.“We’ll talk about it when

wegettotheoffice.”“Allright,”Jelbartsaid.“Tell me something,”

Herbertwent on. “Will FNOLoh be part of thisoperation?”

“She will,” Jelbart said.“ButIwanttoemphasizethatwhateverwedowillnotbeapartoftheofficialASEANorANZUS logs. This is anentirelyindependentaction.”ASEAN was the

Association of SoutheastAsianNations.Establishedbythe Bangkok Declaration of1967, ASEAN was asocioeconomic as well as defacto security arrangementbetweenIndonesia,Malaysia,

Singapore, the Philippines,Thailand, andBrunei.Signedin 1951, ANZUS was asimilar arrangement betweenAustralia, New Zealand, andtheUnitedStates.“Whydoyouwant tohide

what we’re doing?” Herbertasked. “Lowell, didn’t yousay that earlier, Ellsworthcouldn’twaittohavetheU.S.officially committed to thisinvestigation?”“Idid,”Coffeysaid.

“That was pre-Darling,”Jelbart said. “Any activitiesundertaken by those groupsare part of the public record.If this proves to be a deadend, Mr. Darling must notknow that he was beinginvestigated.”“Makes sense,” Herbert

said. “Darling’s got the cloutto hammer careers flat andeviscerate budgets. He couldprobablybringdownasittinggovernmentifhesethismind

andresourcestoit.”“Withoutquestion,”Jelbart

agreed. “FNO Loh agrees.Frankly, I’m uneasy evenusinghisnameinpublic.”“Then we won’t use it,”

Herbert toldhim.“HowdoesCaptainHookstrikeyou?”Jelbart smiled. “That

appeals.”“Good.”Herbert looked at

Coffey as they reached theterminal.The automatic doorswung in. “You’ve been

prettyquiet,Lowell.”“Yes.”“You’re also straw

yellow,”Herbertadded.“That, too,” Coffey

admitted. “Mr. Jelbart, yousaid I’d miss the swaying oftheboat.Idon’t.IstillfeelasifI’mmoving.”“That’s because you were

sittingandlyingdownontheboat instead of standing,”Jelbart said. He seemedrelieved to be talking about

something other than JervisDarling.“Nowyoutellme.”“I once went to a seminar

onhomeostasis,”Jelbartsaid.“It was mandatory forpersonnel who serve on theland,sea,andair.Welearnedthatthebodyhastenstoadapttonewstimuli,likeoceanrollor weightlessness forastronauts. It’s akin to thesurvivalinstinctorantibodiesrallyingagainstadisease.But

acclimationworks best if theindividual is doing what healways does in bothenvironments: walking,talking, eating, that sort ofthing.”“What you’re feeling,

Lowell, is not the sway butthe body’s countersway,”Herbertsaid.“I don’t understand,”

Coffeysaidquietly.“What happens in a new

environment is that thefight-

or-flight mechanism istriggered, and adrenalinefloods the bloodstream,”Herbert toldhim.“Whenyouwent to sea, resources werepumped into all of yourequilibrium centers. Yourheartratejumped,alongwithmuscle strength andmetabolism. It takes a whilefor that to return to normal.Over time, the on-off switchbecomes much easier tocontrol. Experienced seamen

likeMr. Jelbart go from oneto the other with no lapse atall.”Herbert had no idea

whetherCoffeyhadheard.Hewas looking straight aheadandshowingnoexpression.“I’m impressed you knew

that, Mr. Herbert,” Jelbartsaid.“We got the same lecture

when I joined the companyyearsago,”Herbert toldhim.“Only they didn’t call it a

seminar on homeostasis.They used the acronymWYFLH.”“What does ‘wiffle’

mean?”Jelbartasked.“Why You Feel Like

Hurling,”Herbertsaid.Jelbart shookhis head and

smiled. Coffey did not react.He was too busyconcentrating on putting onefootinfrontoftheother.The van had a civilian

driver, and no one spoke

about the mission during thebrief ride. Jelbart informedHerbert that Darwin was thenation’sgatewaytoAsia.Theairport had recently beenupgraded, and a four-billion-dollar railway had just beencompleted linking Darwinwith Adelaide and othermajor cities in southernAustralia. It certainly lookedthepartofanup-and-comingcity. Downtown Darwin wasmore metropolitan than

Herbert had imagined. Bothautomobile and pedestriantrafficwerethickonthewide,sun-drenchedavenues.Newlybuilt towers twenty andtwenty-five stories tall rosebehind the thickly treedstreets.Trendy,upscalestoresfilled the first-floor shops. Itcould be Cleveland orCharlotte or any othersmallish metropolis in theUnitedStates.Maybe that’s one reason

someone like Darling mightwant to shake things up,Herbertthought.Eventhoughhe had internationalcorporations, he might notappreciate the globalizationof his native land. That kindofresentmentwasnotlimitedto Third World nations andradical regimes. Even theCanadianshadtheirproblemswithAmericaninfluence.Thevanstoppedinfrontof

the Australian Central Credit

Union Building. The grouptook the elevator to the tenthfloor. They went directly tothe MIC offices, where theyweremetbyBrianEllsworth.The solicitor was solicitous,though he lacked the ruggedconfidence of WarrantOfficerJelbart.No, that isn’t it, Herbert

thought.Ellsworthisafraid.They retired to a warm,

sunny conference room andshutthedoor.Jelbartmoveda

chair aside, and Herbertrolled up to the circularconference table. He pouredhimselfwaterandtookahalfsandwichfromthetrayinthecenterofthetable.Itwastunasalad. He took a bite andlooked out the window. Hecould see the ocean fromhere. The tuna salad tastedvery fresh. Maybe it wascaughtandmadelocally.Thiswas really a small townwithbig-city aspirations and

modern-world problems. NowonderEllsworthwasscared.On paper, there weresolutions and options totwenty-first-centurycrises. Inpractice, Australians werestill fighting the JapaneseEighteenth Army for NewGuinea. They were strong,but not subtle. They werecourageousbutnotpatient.Jelbart took coffee, a

sandwich, and a seat. Coffeysat without eating. Ellsworth

remainedstanding.“Mr.Heberthasbeenfully

briefed?” Ellsworth askedJelbart.“Hehas,”Jelbartreplied.“Except for one thing,”

Herbert said. “ThewhereaboutsofFNOLoh.”“She went back to the

hospital for another look atthe sampan wreckage,”Jelbart said. “She will bejoininguspresently.”“I see,” Herbert said. “Do

youknow if shewas lookingforsomethinginparticular?”“She did not say,” Jelbart

replied.“Forgive me, Mr. Herbert,

but we need to move thisalong,” Ellsworth said.“There are several ministersand one prime ministerwaiting for the outcome ofour session. Warrant OfficerJelbart and I have beenauthorized to plan andexecuteastrategyforlocating

the missing radioactivematerial, aswell as to gatherevidence that will identifyandhelpprosecutethosewhowereinvolvedintheremovalandtradeofsaidmaterial.Forobviousreasons, thisstrategymustbedevelopedasquicklyas possible. We are anxiousforyourinput.”Herbert looked at

Ellsworth.“IthinkIfollowedthat,” the intelligence chiefsaid. He took a bite of

sandwich. “There are twoeffective ways of doing this.Oneway is to setupa sting.Weposeasmeninthemarketforhotgrease.”“Hot grease?” Ellsworth

said.“Fissionable material,”

Herbert said. “The stuff thatmakesthingspopandburn.”“Jesus lord,” Ellsworth

said.“We try to lighten up

Armageddon to keep from

beingchronicallydepressed,”Herbert admitted. “Anyway,the problem with that optionis itwould takeweeks to setupacrediblefront.Wedon’thavethatkindoftime.SoI’mgoing to suggest a quicker,lessorthodoxplan.”“And that is?” Ellsworth

askedimpatiently.“We smoke the bastards

out,”hereplied.

FORTYDarwin,Australia

Saturday,12:31P.M.Monica Loh stood in the

hospital room, behind thelead shield, looking in. Thedoor was shut behind her.The odor was different thanthe last time Loh had beenthere. It was musky, muchless antiseptic. That was notsurprising, given that thepatient had been lying here

since his arrival two daysbefore. He was catheterizedand taking only liquidnourishment, so there waslittle for nurses to do otherthan change his positioneverysixhours.The sailor was still

unconscious. According tothe doctor, part of that wastheresultoftheexplosionandpart of it was due to thepainkillers and sedativesbeing delivered

intravenously.Loh had asked the

physicianifthepatientwouldbe at all communicativewithoutthedrugs.“Hewouldnotbetalking,”

thedoctorreplied.“Hewouldbe moaning. Loudly. Theburns he received are quitesevere.”So there was no

informationhereandnocluesfrom the wreckage. She hadjust been downstairs. The

pieces of sampan had beenexamined for fragments ofanother boat. Perhaps thetarget vessel had beendamaged in the explosion.Therewasnothing.Theblasthad occurred locally, on thesampan. Forensics had evenpulledparticlesofalgaefromthewood.They had hoped itmightpointthemtoaspecificareaoftheCelebesSeawherethe sampan had been sailingin the hours before the blast.

Unfortunately, the organismsthe scientists had identifiedall belonged to colonies thatexistedthroughouttheregion.Ablankshipand,fornow,

a blank sailor. Word hadreached her while they wereat sea. There were over 500Lee Tongs listed at theSingaporean Office ofRegistry and Taxation. Morethan half of them were theright age to be this man.COSCOM was checking

them out. But the researchwould take days, possiblyweeks.Iftheycouldfindthisone, they might be able tolearnwhohespent timewithashore. Whether anyone elseon the sampan survived. Dr.Lansing had told her hewould joltTongawakeagainifshecouldprovethattensofthousands of lives dependedon the answers the piratewould give. But the piratehad not said much before.

Lansing and Ellsworth bothagreedtherewasnoreasontoimagine a second try wouldproducedifferentresults.Lohfelt it was certainly worth atry. If she thought that Tongwould survive, she wouldhave insisted that he betransferred to a hospital inSingapore. The doctors theremight be no less reluctant towake him than Dr. Lansing,but they would have nochoice. Criminals have few

rights in Singapore. Thegovernmentwouldputpublicsafety before the well-beingofapirate.Instead of working with

what might be scraps ofinformation from the source,they were going to makeplansbasedon ideas fromanAmerican spy. This BobHerbert could be a brilliantintelligence operative. Butwhatever he came up withwould still be exploratory.

Thatwas like sailingwithoutcharts. It was not somethingLohpreferredtodo.TheFNOcontinuedtolook

out at the bandaged, frail-looking Singaporean. Heseemedsoaloneintheclean,whitebed.Shebegantothinkjusthowalonehereallywas.She knew that people whowere born withoutopportunity, suchasa familybusiness or store or politicalconnections, had three

options: they could dwell inpoverty, turn to crime, oragree to indentures such asmilitary service or a lengthycontractual apprenticeship.Ironically, if this mansurvived, he would return toSingaporeinaworsepositionthan before. Chances weregood the owner of the boatwould not come forward topress charges. The piratewould go free. But only themost menial, lowest-paying

workwouldnowbeavailableto him because of his past.And because of that past, hewould be watched by thepolice. His activities wouldhave to be reported bylandlords and employers. IfTong were involved in afight, or stole food orclothing,orpickedsomeone’spocket, he would be dealtwithveryharshly.Caningandimprisonment,mostlikely.It would be better for

everyone if Dr. Lansingrevivedhim.FNOLohcouldaskhimafewfinalquestions,andhecoulddiehavingdonesomething beneficial forsociety.That is not for you to say,

Lohwarned herself. She hadgone frommaking subjectivejudgments to making moralones.She turned from the pirate

andwalked into the desertedhallway. Darwin police were

keeping nonessentialpersonnel away from thepirate’s room. They werecheckingtheIDsofeveryonewho stepped from theelevator. There were alreadyrumorscirculatingaboutwhathadhappenedontheCelebes.The Australian governmentdidnotwantanyonetoobtainconfirmation that nuclearmaterialswereinvolved.An MIC officer was

waiting to take FNO Loh to

themeeting.Theymadetheirwaytotheelevatorinsilence.Loh was still thinking aboutthepirate.Shewaswonderingwhat drove him to his trade.Confidence had to be one ofthose things. Everyone on asampan crew works in anextendedvoyage.Andonlyacrew that knew the sea wellwould attempt to sail it in asampan. Especially if theywerecarryingexplosives.That boldness might spill

over into the kind of vesselthe pirates would attack, shethought. They were likelongboat seamen who wouldnotshyfromchasingawhale.No ship would be too largefor them tackle. No crewwouldbetooformidable.That was a small thought,

but it could be a useful one.Maybe therewere others shehadoverlooked.Lohactuallyfelt a trace of satisfaction.Perhaps this poor man was

not as blank as she hadthought.Lee Tong’s misdeeds

might help them catch apotentialterrorist.

FORTY-ONEWashington,D.C.

Saturday,12:23A.M.PaulHoodcouldnotsleep.Dressed in Calvin Kleins

andanoldL.A.RamsT-shirtthathadbeengiventohimbyformer quarterback RomanGabriel,Hoodlayonhisbackin the queen-size bed of histwo-bedroom apartment. Hestaredattheceiling,watchingfor the occasional cone of

lightasacardrovepastoranairplaneflewby.Thewindowwas open a crack, and theblinds were raised. He hadmoved from a nearby hotelfour months ago, but he hadnot gotten around to puttingup shades. At least he wasremembering to stock theessentials.Thefirstnighthe’dhadnotoiletpaper.HehadtousetheWashingtonPost.The viewwas to thewest,

soHooddidnotgettherising

sun.Not that itmattered.Hewasusuallyawakebeforethesky was light. He hadprobably witnessed moresunrises than a generation ofroosters. And he probablyspentlesstimeinthesunthananyoneelseinWashington.The new, five-story-tall

buildingwascalledTheNew-port. It was located onTyburn Court in CampSprings, Maryland, a shortdrive from Andrews Air

Force Base. Hood had acorner apartment on the topfloor.Thatgavehimaccesstoasundeckontheroof,thoughhe had never been to it.Whenever the kids stayedover, Alexander slept on asofa bed in the living room,and Harleigh had the secondbedroom. To ease the blowfor Alexander of not havinghis own room, the livingroom was where Hood keptthe PlayStation 2 video

games.Theroomwasquiet.Itwas

not noise that keptHood up.Nor was it the situation inAustralia. Hood had beenthrough more than a dozencrisesoverthepasttenyears.He had learned how to ridethem out by focusing on theupside. Civilization wouldsurvive. It was simply amatter of the cost. That didnot make a crisis pleasant,only manageable. Besides,

thisproblemwasinthehandsof very capable people. Ifthey needed him, they knewhowtoreachhim.What troubled Hood, the

morethathethoughtaboutit,was the extent to which hewasneeded.NotatOp-Centerbut in his personal life. Likethe splashes of light abovehim, the patterns of PaulHood’s life changed less andlessasthedaysworeon.There was dust on the

gameconsole.Hehadnoticedit tonight when he walkedpasttheTV.Thekidshadnotstayedwithhiminoverthreeweeks.Ithadnotseemedthatlong.Hoodwas not angry ordisappointed. Itwasnotevenaquestionofhisbeingat thehouse more. Teenagers grewup. They got involved inactivities. They dated.Harleigh had two sessionswithapsychiatristeachweek.The girl was still suffering

from post-traumatic stressdisorder following herhostage ordeal at the UnitedNations.Shehadgottenovertheinitialphase,whenallshewanted todowas stay inherroom and see no one. Nowshe was back at school andbeginning to play the violinagain. She still went throughfrequent periods of lethargyanddepression.Shewasalsosuffering from occasionalheadachesandpsychosomatic

stomach ailments.All of thatwas being taken care ofslowlyandcarefully.Someofit was being addressedthrough psychiatry, some byHood and Sharon. Most,however, seemed to behappening because she washangingoutwithher friends.Perhaps that was to beexpected.Teenagers were like the

cars and planes outside,Hood thought. They pulled

awayand threw lessand lesslight on their parents. Thatwas to be expected andaccepted.What bothered Hood was

that he had come up withnothing to fill the emptyplaces. Now that he thoughtof it, maybe losing thoseactivities made him realizethat there were other holes.Perhaps Op-Center was partof thatproblem.Hehadbuiltaneffectiveteam,andhehad

notsetnewgoals.Maybe he should run for

the Senate, he thought half-heartedly. He had enjoyedcampaigning and givingspeeches when he ran formayor of Los Angeles.Maybe he should win anelection, have himselfappointed to the CIOC, andworkon theothersideof theintelligence fence. Thatwould be a challenge.Especially if Mike Rodgers

werenamedtoreplacehim.It was something to

consider. Especially sinceHood was one of the publicheroes of theUnitedNationshostage crisis. He had savedchildren, including his owndaughter. Voters wouldrespondtothat.The more Hood thought

about that, themore the ideaappealed to him. Maybe hecould even run for president.Afewspyagencyalumnihad

managed to reach the OvalOffice.Therealquestionwashow

muchhetrulywantedthat.OrtheSenate.Oranythingelse.And then late-night

common sense poked him inthe ribs andwhispered inhisear. The hollowness is notabout whether you areneeded,ittoldhim.Itwasnotaboutwhathedidforaliving.It was about how Hood wasliving. His former wife was

dating.Shewasworking andmeetingnewpeople.NotPaulHood. Traffic patterns hadchanged, but he had not. Hewas waiting for the kids tocometohim.HewaswaitingforcrisesandcrisismanagersatOp-Centertocometohim.When they did not, he foundhimself lamenting how dullhis life was. How sparse thelightsontheceilingwere.Running for office again

wasnotabadidea,Hoodhad

to admit. But it was not adecision that shouldbemadein the small hours of thenight. Not with a head asclouded as his heart wasempty. Not when there weresmallerstepsHoodcouldtakefirst.Suchas?heaskedhimself.Such as calling Daphne

Connorsbackandaskingheron a second date, he toldhimself as he shut his eyesandreplayed thepleasuresof

thefirstdateontheinsidesofhiseyelids.

FORTY-TWOCairns,Australia

Saturday,5:57P.M.Queensland North Rural

Fire Brigade Deputy CaptainPaulLeylandlovedhislife.The brown-eyed Leyland

stood on the wide balconythat surrounded theobservationtower.Helookedoutattheworldandlivesthathadbeenentrustedtohimandhis team.Hefelt theway the

ancient mythic gods musthave felt. They each had aparticular responsibility,whether it was war, fertility,theunderworld,orthehearth.ForDeputyCaptainLeyland,there was no greaterresponsibility than tosafeguard this land, itspeople,andthefutureofboth.And there was no greaterrewardthandoingitwell.Leyland had a bald head

that seemed to glow ember-

orange in the fast-fadingsunlight.Partofthatwasdueto the tautness of his flesh.Part of it was the constantperspiration. Leyland hatedhats. Feeling the sun on hisbare scalp was one of life’sgreat delights. Thatwaswhyhe preferred to be out hereinsteadofsittinginthetower.Therewasanoldjokeaboutabaldheadbeingasolarpanelfor the sexually active man.For Leyland, the part about

the solarpanelwas true.Thesungavehim life.As for thesweat, he had thick redeyebrows and a woollymustache to protect his eyesand mouth. He rehydratedhimself regularly from acanteen tucked in his utilitybelt.Heusedavintagemetalcanteen instead of a plasticbottle like the kids whoworked with him. Leylandlikedthefeelandtasteof thehot,metallicwaterwhenever

hetookadrink.The five-foot-seven-inch

former Royal Australian AirForceMaritimePatrolGrouppilot had been working forthe QNRFB for six of hisforty-two years. He hadrecently passed up apromotion to senior deputycaptain because he did notwant to go to an office orfirehouse. Hewanted to stayout here, with his devotedLittle Maluka, in the Cairns

Observation Tower. Nearly170 feet in the air, he couldsee across the AthertonTableland for limitlesskilometers ineverydirection.Thewindfromtheoceanwasasconstantastheblazingsun.Leyland could smell a firebefore he saw it, even whenthewindwasblowingagainstit, which was a good thing.Withitsrusticfarms,volcaniclakes, waterfalls, and rain-forest region, theuplandarea

outside ofCairnswas one ofthe nation’s leading touristattractions. The KurandaScenic Railway and theSkyrail Rainforest Cablewaycarried five times as manypassengers each year as allthe commuter railroads thatserved Queensland. PaulLeyland, his live-in crew oftwo, and LittleMaluka werethe Kadoovas, as they calledthemselves. The derangedones who put the safety of

their territory before theirownwell-being.The observation tower

stood on the top of a 500-foot-high hill. There was apaved, two-lane road and alanding pad for helicopters.Thetoweritselfwasmadeofunvarnished wood. Brick orcinderblockwouldhavebeensafe fromsparks in theeventofafire.Buttheywouldhavebeen problematic on the hill.Because of the moisture, the

ground was constantlyshifting. The mortar wouldhave cracked and left thestructure unstable. A metaltower would have becomeunbearably hot. For LittleMaluka and the others,anyway. Leyland could takeanything. In fact, the Cairnsnativerelishedextremes.Inside the tower was

communication equipmentand a two-meter-diameteralidade. The revolving,

horizontaldischadamaponits face as well as uprightmarkers for angularmeasurement. It could see inalldirections from the tower.The topographic device wasused to pinpoint the exactlocation of a fire. ForLeyland, the alidade was theworld in miniature. Lookingatitmadehimfeelevenmorelikeagod.The other members of his

team, John “Spider” Smolley

and Eva Summers, were inthesmalllogcabinatthebaseof the tower. Little Maluka,their koala mascot, wasbesidehim.Usuallyhewasinhislargepenbesidethecabin.At sunset, however, he likedto relax on the wind-cooledobservation platform. Thekoala had been badly injuredduring a blaze and nursed tohealth. When the smallmarsupialwaswellenoughtoleave, he had decided not to.

Why should he? Eva madesureLittleMalukahadalltheeucalyptus leaves he couldeat.Leylandwastheonewhonamed him. Maluka wasAboriginefor“thechief.”The cabin was air-

conditioned, and there was aTV set with a DVD player.The twentysomethings spentmost of their time watchingtelevision or talking on theradio. But they came to lifewhen they had to. They

risked their lives withouthesitation. The three of themwereusuallythefirstonesonscene, working withvolunteers to evacuateresidents, constructfirebreaks,andcoordinatetheactivities of firefighters whoflew in fromotherareas.Yetneither ofLeyland’s deputiesfeltquiteashedid.That thislandwasHeavenandhewasSaintPeter.Ifthered-tonguedDevil showed up at their

gates, itwasasacredduty tobeathimback.LittleMalukawaslyingon

his soft back besideLeyland’s boot. His eyeswereshut.Therewasreddishwhite scar tissue around hisbig black nose and on hislegs. The grayish fur wouldprobably never grow backthere. But that was all right,Leyland thought. Itmade thelittleguylooktough.Notthatakoalaneededtolooktough.

It had no real enemies hereexceptformen.Forcenturies,they had hunted koalas forfoodandfur.Nowtherewerelaws to prevent that. Thefirefighter raisedhis foot.Hetouchedtheanimal’sexposedbellywith his toe. The koalagrunted, but he did not openhiseyes.“You’re tough, all right,”

Leylandmuttered. “You lazyslushy. Is that how you gothurt? Sleeping while the

woodsburned?”“He’s not a slushy,” a

female voice said over theradio.ThatwasEva.Shewason

the main radio in the cabin.Leyland always kept hisportable radio open. In anemergency,thesecondortwoit took to turn it on could bedecisive.“You’re right. Little

Maluka could not work in akitchen,” Leyland replied.

“At least kitchen help doesthe dishes. This boy doesn’tdoanythingexceptpurrlikeafatcat.”“When the RFB starts a

koala brigade, he’ll be thefirst to enlist—hold on,” shesaid, interrupting herself. “Ihaveincoming.”Small, high-powered

binoculars hung fromLeyland’s neck. He snatchedthemupanddidaquickwalkaroundthetower.Ifsomeone

wascallinginafire,hemightbe able to spot it. He sawnothing.“Captain, I’m putting the

call through to you,” Evasaid.“What is it?” Leyland

pulledtheradiofromhisbelt.Heput thecuppedupperhalfagainst his ear. It wasshieldedsothathecouldhearif hewere in a chopper or aloudroaringfire.“I don’t know what this

is,”shesaid.“Theywon’ttellme.”“Whowon’ttellyou?”“They won’t tell me that

either,”shereplied.“Better not be a

smoodger,”Leylandsaid.“He doesn’t sound like

he’s kidding,” Eva assuredhercommander.“Hereheis.”While Leyland waited, he

stuck out his lower lip andblew perspiration from hismustache. It was something

hedidwhenhewasannoyed.He was not accustomed togetting secret calls. Hescannedthecanopyoftreestothe northwest. Firesoccasionally started in thecampgroundthere.“Captain Leyland?” the

callerasked.“Yes.Whoisthis?”“Warrant Officer George

Jelbart,Maritime IntelligenceCentre,”thecallerreplied.“Is there a situation?”

Leyland pressed. The manwascallingfromahelicopter.He could hear the sound intheradio.“Thereisn’tafire,ifthat’s

what you’re asking,” Jelbartreplied.Leyland relaxed. He

loweredthebinoculars.“But we do have a

situation,” the officer wenton. “We are coming in todiscussitwithyou.”“We?”Leylandasked.

“We’ll discuss it whenwearrive,” Jelbart said. “Weshould reach the helicopterpad in about fifteenminutes.We’dlikeclearance.”“Whatkindofbirdareyou

flying?”“A Bell 204,” Jelbart told

him.“There’s room for you.

You’re cleared,” Leylandinformedhim.“We checked that before

we left,” Jelbart replied.

“Thanks for the backup,though.”The caller clicked off.

Leyland replaced the unit inhis belt. It automaticallyswitched back to base-audio.He was intrigued by the callbut also frustrated. Leylandhatedbeinginthedarkaboutanything. He would havepressed for information, buthealsodislikedwastedeffort.If the warrant officer hadwanted Leyland to know

more,hewouldhavetoldhimmore.“Eva,haveSpiderclimbup

to keep an eye on things,”Leyland said. “I’m going tothehelipad.”“Right away,” she said

after givingSpider theorder.“What’sgoingon?”“We’re having guests,”

Leylandreplied.“IntelligencechapsfromtheAussienavy.”“Sounds important,” Eva

said.“Isit?”

“When was the last timeanyone visited who was notwith the RFB?” Leylandasked.“Never, in the three years

I’vebeenhere,”shereplied.“And not in the six years

I’vebeenhere,”Leylandsaidashestarteddowntheladderinthecenterofthetower.“Idon’tfollow,”shesaid.“Noonecomesouthere if

it isn’t important,” Leylandsaid.

FORTY-THREECairns,Australia

Saturday,6:22P.M.Lowell Coffey could not

decide which was worse—riding in a boat or in ahelicopter. The naval vesselrocked its passengers thisway and that. The helicoptervibrated wildly and wasdeafening. Not that aqualitative comparisonbetween the corvette and the

Bell was going to help. Hisfight-or-flight mechanism, orwhatever Jelbart and Herberthad decided it was, wantedhim to flee. The only reasonCoffey mused about thedifferenceswas tokeep fromdwelling on the discomfortitself. Toward the end of theforty-five-minute journey, itwasanecessarydistraction.The relativemotionsbeing

equally unpleasant, Coffeydecided that the helicopter

wasmarginallyworse.Onthecorvette he could movearound. Here, he was stuckbetween FNO Loh and BobHerbert ina thinlycushionedbench designed for two. ThepilotandJelbartwereinfrontofthem.Herbert’swheelchairwas in the small cargo spacebehindthebackseat.Herbert had contributed

somethingelsetothemission.HisplantogatherintelligenceaboutJervisDarling.

For the first half of thejourney, theplanhadbeeninthe forefront of Coffey’smind. For one thing, he wasnot sure it was a workableidea.Butitwastheonlyideaanyone had. That made itinevitable by default. Foranother, he was not sure itwas a legal idea. But theywere not going to court. Notyet. As Jelbart had said, theobjective was to find themissing radioactive material.

Pinning it on Darling couldbedonelater.Coffeyalsowasnothappy

having to involve additionaloutsidersintheoperation.Hedid not doubt that thepersonnel of the QueenslandNorth Rural Fire Brigadewere as brave as any soldierwho ever shouldered a rifle.But Jelbart admitted that thelocals were fiercely loyal toJervis Darling. The magnatemade generous donations to

local sports programs,environmental groups,municipal organizations, andcharities. Since the reasonsfor the operation wereclassified, the firefightersmightnotwanttohelpspyontheir benefactor. And theycouldnotaffordtogothroughchannels. That would wastetimeandriskleaks.Thiswasgoing to have to beaccomplished through tactfulpersuasion. Bob Herbert

could be persuasive, but tactwas not in his repertoire.Jelbart was a native, but healso seemed to be a balls-ahead kind of guy. AndMonica Loh was both Asianand a woman. ExurbanAustralians were cheerfullymisogynistic as well asnaturally suspicious of alloutsiders. But they wereparticularly wary of whatmany called “the AsianEscalade.” In less politically

sensitive times it was knownas “the Yellow Peril.” TheliberalsoulofLowellCoffeyhated the term. Throughoutthe Western world, it wasapplied primarily to theJapanese before and duringWorldWar II. It was rebornwhen China fell toCommunism, and it grew inpopularity with the conflictsin Korea and Vietnam. ToAustralians, the fear was notso much about the threat of

militaryconfrontation. Itwastheveryreal lossof jobsandeconomicprosperitytoallthenations of the Asian PacificRim.MostAsian nations didnot have the kind ofcompensation packages thatwere available to Australianworkers. A company couldhire twenty Taiwaneseseamen or mill workers forthepriceofthreeAustralians.Manyoftheseworkerstoiledat home. But each year,

hundreds of illegalimmigrants slipped intoAustralia along the nation’s7,813 miles of coastline.They went to work forindustrialfirms,asfishermen,and in the food-processingindustries.Mostofthemoneythey made was sent home,doubling the hit to the localeconomy. That made aconsiderable impact in anation of twenty millionpeople.

The only diplomats on theteam were Coffey andEllsworth. Ellsworth hadstayed behind to act as aliaisonwithotherintelligenceagencies.Thatlefttheburdenon Coffey. Coffey, a manwhosemindwasbeingjostledas thoroughly as the rest ofhim.Thehelicopterslippedover

aridgeanddroppedtowardawhitelandingpadontopofahill. As it settled down,

Coffey decided that, in fact,he preferred the chopper tothe corvette. The ride was ahell of a lot shorter. Thechoppercametorestwiththeslightest bump. The pilot cutthe rotor, and Jelbart jumpedout.Amanwas approachingfromalongadirtpath.Therewas an observation towersome 400 yards behind him.While the pilot retrievedHerbert’s wheelchair, FNOLoh and Coffey joined

Jelbart. The Singaporeanofficer had been quiet andexpressionless throughout thejourney. Perhaps she feltuncomfortable being inAustralia.Or shemight havebeen focusedon themission.Orboth. Itcouldalsobe thatafter hanging aroundpoliticians and attorneys forhis entire professional life,Coffeywasunused topeoplewho were silent when theyhadnothingtosay.

Coffey waited by thehelicopter until Herbert wasin his wheelchair. Evenwithout his chair, theintelligence chief wassurprisinglymobile.Hisarmswere thickly knotted withmuscles. With remarkableease, he could cross an aisleorhopontoadesk to assaultsomeone on the other side.Those arms remindedCoffeyof the climbing roots of abanyan tree.Herbert’s strong

fingers could probably digholes in concrete. He swungunaided from the door-frameof the chopper intohis chair.It was an inspiring thing tosee.The fire officer was

nothing like Coffey hadimagined. He had expectedPaul Leyland to be astrapping and immaculateman. A GQ cowboy withoutback trappings. He wasnot.

Paul Leyland was notespecially presentable. Hisolive-green uniform wasrumpled and spotted withperspiration on the collar,under the arms, and behindtheknees.Hisskinwasrash-red,notbronze.Itlookedlikethere were patches of furstucktohisboot.Hewaswellundersixfeettall.Hewasnoteven wearing an outbackshadehat.Hisbaldheadwasbareandsweaty.

“I thinkwe’re going to beable to do businesswith thisguy,” Herbert said as theyapproached.“What makes you say

that?”Coffeyasked.“Two things. First, he

smiledwhenheshookOfficerLoh’shand,”Herbertsaid.“So? Maybe he just likes

theladies,”Coffeysuggested.“Exactly,” Herbert said.

“He’snotwearingaweddingband. He’s up in his tree

housemostoftheday.She’llbeanasset.”“That’s quite a leap of

faith,” Coffey said. “Jelbartsaid Leyland has a womanworkingforhim.”“Yup,”Herbertsaid.“That

strengthensmycase.”“How?”“She’s the only female

firefighter in thisdepartment,” Herbert toldhim. “He had to okay herbeinghere.Helikeshavinga

womanaround,anditdoesn’tmatterifshe’sforeign.Whichismy second point. It showshe’s got an open andindependentmind.”“I’mnotsigningoffonany

ofthat,”Coffeysaid.“Dinner at the 1789 in

Georgetown says I’m right,”Herbertreplied.“Does everything have to

be a war with you?” Coffeyprotested.“Not a war. Call it a

disputewithhaironitschest.You in or out?” Herbertpressed.“I’min,”Coffeysaid.The men left the landing

pad. They crossed dampgrasses to where the otherswerestanding.Thegroupwasbrightlylightedintheglowofthe footlights on the landingpad.Jelbartintroducedthem.“I understand you’re the

offsider running the team,”Leyland said as he shook

Herbert’shand.Coffey noticed that the

captaindidnotsmile.Herbertdid, however. From the sideofhismouth,atCoffey.“Actually,OfficerLohand

Iwillbeconductingactivitiesjointly,”Herberttoldhim.Both Jelbart and Loh

looked at the intelligencechief. Loh was impassive.Jelbart seemed somewhatsurprised. But he saidnothing.

“I see,” Leyland said. “Sowhich of you is going to tellme exactly what theseactivitiesare?Andwouldyoulike to go to the cabin to doit?” He pointed toward asmall structure near the baseof the tower. “It’ll begettingprettychillyouthereinafewminutes.Youmight bemorecomfortable.”“We’realittlesqueezedfor

time,”Herbertsaid.“Andwewon’tbeoutherethatlong.”

“All right,” Leyland said.“What’sonyourmind?”“Discretion,foronething,”

Herbertsaid.“Nothingweareabout to discuss can berepeated.”“I can keep a secret,”

Leyland said. “Just tell meone thing. Is what you wanttodolegal?”“In theory, and if

everything goes the way Ihope,”Herbertreplied.Leyland looked at him

strangely.“That’slikecallingamatch‘safe’untilyoustrikeit.”“Captain Leyland, I’m a

solicitor,” Coffey interjected.“Thesituationisequivalenttobreaking down the door of ahouse that’s on fire.Technically, you aretrespassing. But by everyother measure, it’s the rightthingtodo.”“You burble like a

solicitor,” Leyland said. “So

theanswerisno?”“Theansweris thatweare

investigating a nationalsecuritymatter,”Jelbartsaid.“An international security

issue,”FNOLohadded.“Correct,” Jelbart agreed.

“We can bat around the finepoints of ethical versus legallawifyoulike.Orwecantryto save a couple of millionlives.Whichwillitbe?”Leyland looked at the

group. “I’m out here to save

lives.I’mlistening,people.”“Thankyou,”Jelbartsaid.“Captain,doyouhaveany

kind of personal orprofessional relationshipwithJervis Darling?” Herbertasked.“We trapshoot twice a

week,”Leylandsaid.“That’s fantastic,” Coffey

said.“Thatwasajoke,”Leyland

told him. “No. I have nopersonal or professional

relationshipwithMr.Darling.Infact,theonlypartofhimIhaveeverseenisthearseendofhishelicopter.”“What about firefighting?”

Herbertasked.“Our squad doesn’t even

watch his estate,” Leylandsaid. “He has his ownsecurity and fire preventionservice.”“So I’ve been told,”

Herbert said. “Still, I’mhoping there’s a loophole

somewhere. I need a reasontogointotheestate.”“A reason to get on the

property or in the house?”Leylandasked.“In the house,” Herbert

said.“You mean like asking to

usethedunny?”Coffey inferred from the

context that dunny meantlavatory.“No,ithastobesomewhat

more substantial than that,”

Herbert replied. “AssumingMr.Darlingisthere,Ineedtobe inside the mansion forabouttenminuteswhileheison the outside. Would youhavealegalrighttocheckthegrounds for fire safetyviolations?”“Onlyiftherewereafire,”

Leyland said. “We havewhat’s called the right ofinquiry. We are allowed toinvestigate the cause of ablaze tomake sure it doesn’t

happen again. But don’t askme to start a fire. It hasn’trainedfortwoweeks.Itcouldeasilyspread.”“We wouldn’t ask you to

dothat,”Jelbartsaid.Coffey watched Herbert’s

expressiongofromhopefultoannoyed. Obviously, theintelligence chief thought hehadhiswayin.“Let me ask you this,”

Leylandsaid.“Isitnecessarythat you see Mr. Darling

himself?”“No. His presence is not

required,”Herbertsaid.“He may not even be

there,”Jelbartpointedout.“Then I have something

that may work, though it’sgoing to take a bush liar tosellit,”Leylandsaid.“We’ve got some of

those,” Herbert replied.“What’sonyourmind?”“I’m thinking that Mr.

Darling would rather deal

withusthanwithagroupthatcould really do him somedamage,”Leylandreplied.“Who?”Jelbartasked.“Come with me,” Leyland

added.He started toward thetower. “I’m going to showyou how to stamp yourpassport.”

FORTY-FOURWashington,D.C.

Saturday,7:31A.M.Matt Stoll was the only

otherpersonintheoperationslevel when Paul Hoodarrived. That was notunusual. It was a Saturdaymorning.Hoodcame inonSaturday

morningsnowbecausehehadnowhereelsetogo.HewouldgetanupdatefromHerbertor

Coffeywhereverhewas.Onethingonhis to-do listwas tocallDaphneConnorsandseeif she was free that night. Ifhe did not push himself, nooneelsewould.Stoll usually came in on

weekends to write or try outsoftwarehedidnotgettouseduringtheweek.Unlesstherewas a technology conventionin town, thecomputergeniusdid not have an active sociallife. He had no interest in

socializing with women whodidnotspeakhislanguage.“Shedoesn’thavetoknow

gate propagation in high-restemporal resolution, thoughthat would be heaven,” heonce said. “But she shouldknow how many megabytesthere are inherPCandwhatthat means. If I have toexplain it, then the sex isneververygood.”Hoodwasnotclearonwho

the sex was not good for or

why.Hewasgladhewasnotontheneed-to-knowlist.As it turned out, the

cherubic-looking Stoll wasnothere to tinkerwithanewprogram. He said he hadgotten a call from BobHerbert. The intelligencechief told him he neededsomethingveryspecific.“Bobwantsmetorighima

Hoover,” Stoll said in hisjoyless monotone.Excitement, whenever Stoll

showed it, was in the speedhis fingers moved on akeyboard. Right now he wastypingveryrapidly.“Which is what?” Hood

asked. He suddenly felt verysorry for any woman Stollhadevermet.“A Hoover is a data

vacuum,” Stoll replied. “Bobwants to use his wheelchaircomputer as a drop zone foranexternalsource.”“You mean we plug into

Bob, and Bob plugs intosomething else,” Hood said.“He serves as a conduit thatallows us to read the‘somethingelse.’”“I couldn’t have said it

better,”Stollsaid.“What is Bob planning to

pluginto?”Hoodasked.“Well, he called right

before his chair was loadedintoahelicopter,sohedidn’tgointoawholelotofdetail,”Stollsaid.“Apparently,Bob’s

goingto try toget intoJervisDarling’s estate.Hewants tojackintohisphonesystem.”“Why? I thought we

already hacked the Darlingphonerecords.”“We did,” Stoll said. “If

he’susinghisownuplinkforsecure calls, they wouldn’tshow up on his publicrecords. But if Bob plugs indirectly, he’s accessing theoriginpointofthecalls.Thatwillgivehimaccesstoallthe

numbers in the telephone’smemory.”“What if those numbers

aren’tprogrammedin?”Hoodasked.“Most phones retain the

information somewhere,”Stollassuredhim.“Theredialfunction usually stores ten totwenty numbers. It costs lesstobuildachipthateliminatesnumbers by attrition. Theyget scrolled from the systemrather than erased. Most

peopledon’tknowthat.”“What about incoming

calls?” Hood asked. “WeneedtoIDthem.”“If Darling’s phone has

caller ID or whatever theAustralian equivalent is,those numbers will also bestored,” Stoll said. “If hedoesn’t, we’ll have to settlefortheoutgoingcalls.”“Did Bob say how he

intended to get access toDarling’sprivateline?”Hood

asked.“Fortherecord,it’snotthe

line he needs to get accessto,”Stollsaid.“It’sthephoneitself. Bob can’t just spliceinto the fiber optics. Thatwould put him outside thescrambler. Any data he gotwouldbeuseless.”“I see. Okay. How does

Bob plan to jack into thephone?”“He didn’t say,” Stoll

replied.“I’msureDarlinghas

anofficephonewithmultiplelines. That would meanthere’s a data port. All Bobhastodoisplughiscomputerinto that. That will give usaccess.”“That’sallBobhastodo,”

Hood said. “I’ll give him acall.”“Hesaidhewasturninghis

phone off,” Stoll told him.“He doesn’t want it beepingwhilehe’sinwithDarling.Ifit helps, Lowell told him the

only legal risk would beinvasionofprivacy.Lowellisalso pretty sure Darlingwouldnotpressthatissue.Hesaid the reasons for theinvestigation would comeout, and the publicity wouldbebadforDarling,evenifhewereinnocent.”“The legal options are not

whatworriesme,”Hoodsaid.“If Darling’s into nucleartrafficking,he’sprobablyalsoin bed with some ugly

characters. They may notbotherwithlawyers.”“Idon’tblamethem,”Stoll

said.Hoodscowled.“I guess we could call

Lowell to try to stop him,”Stollsuggested.“No,” Hood said. “We

need facts to support ourtheory, and this is probablythe best way to get them. Itake it Lowell is not goingalong.”

“Right,”Stollsaid.“ItwasBob, a fire warden, a ladyofficerfromSingapore,andakoala.”“A koala? An animal?”

Hoodasked.“Yeah. Search me what

that’sallabout.”Stollsmiledas he finished writing hisprogram.“It’slikethecastoftheWizardofOz.Andthey’reinOz.Prettyironic,don’tyouthink?”Thatitwas.Rightdownto

the big, blustering wizardspewing fire. Only this Ozwasnodream.Stoll activated the

program.He rana testonanOp-Center phone line just tomake sure itwasworking. Itfunctioned perfectly. Theyhad all the numbers LowellCoffey had phoned the daybefore he left. Hood lookedaway and ordered the listpurged from Stoll’scomputer.

“I’llbetyoudidn’tpeekinthegirls’lockerroominhighschool,either,”Stollsaid.“As a matter of fact, I

didn’t,” Hood admitted. “Idon’t mind being a spy. Ineverlikedbeingavoyeur.”“Interesting.We’ll have to

discuss the distinction,” Stollsaid.“Icangiveittoyouintwo

words,” Hood said as heclapped a hand on Stoll’srounded shoulder. “National

security.”“Thevoyeuristic instinct is

adoorwaytointelligence,andintelligenceis thespy’sbasicunit of data,” Stoll said.“Unless you look, how doyou know Lowell’s notworking for the Chinese orsometerroristgroup?”“He believes too strongly

intheruleoflaw.Tellme,doyou routinelycheckonallofus?”Hoodasked.“Nope.I’mnotavoyeur.I

wasonlyaskingyou.”Hood felt like kicking

himself. He should haveknownbetterthantotakeoneof Matt Stoll’s infamousbuggy rides. They took youslowly around the parkwithout getting youanywhere.Hooddidnothavethetimeorfocusforthiskindofdiscussion.Stoll told Hood he would

not know anything else untildata started coming in.Hood

askedhiscomputerwizardtolethimknowthemomentthathappened, then left to go tohis office. It wasdisconcerting to see thecorridors so empty. It waslike a manifestation of hisown hollow life.Maybe thatwas something Bob Herberthad learned after losing hiswife. You mourn, but youdon’t sit still. You fill thatemptyhallwithanythingyoucan. Even if it isn’t

necessarilygoodforyou.Of course, there’s a

difference betweenrecreational and reckless,Hoodthought.Hewascertainthat Bob had considered therisks. He was also sure ofsomething else. Herbert wasprobablyenjoyingthehelloutof them. Hood only hopedthattheintelligencechiefwasawareofthegreatestdanger.Complacency.Aquiet, seasideestatewas

not war-ravaged Beirut or askinhead stronghold inGermany. Those were thekinds of environmentswhereHerbert was accustomed towaging war. They wereunstable regions whereinstinct kept the mind andbodyonhighalert.Hood had to trust that his

colleague knewwhat he wasgetting into. He also hopedthat Herbert would come upwith something else.

Something that quicklysketchedplansdidnotalwaysallow.Anexitstrategy.

FORTY-FIVETheGreatBarrier

ReefSaturday,10:03P.M.

Hehurt.Everywhere.Peter Kannaday suffered

painwitheverybreath.Itwasdull and warm and it waseverywhere. He felt itspiritually as well asphysically.Thecaptainlayon

his bed in a bruised heap,belly down, face to thewall.HehadsleptonandoffsinceHawke’s thugs had broughthim here. Kannaday’s eyesandmouth were open, but itwasdark.Hedidnotsee,norspeak, nor swallow. Hisstomach was rumbling fromhunger. His tongue wasswollen and dry. The onlyliquidhehadtastedlatelywashisownblood.Sometime during the night

Kannadayhadrousedhimselfbriefly to see if thedoorwaslocked. It was not. Hecheckedtoseeifhisgunwasstillthere.Itwasnot.Hewasfreetowalkthedeck,brokenand humiliated but unarmed.Hewouldprobablybeabletoradio Jervis Darling becausehe was free and he was stillthe captain. But what wouldhe say? That he had beenminimized, reduced to afigurehead? That he had not

been able to enforce hisauthority or hold what washis?Thathehadnoideawhattoexpectorwhattodo?Kannaday closed his

mouth. Even his neckmuscles hurt. He must havestrained them when hestruggled with the men whowere holding him.Hehad togetpastthepainandthink.Itwas clear that Hawke wouldnot kill him. He wantedKannaday as a buffer

betweenhimselfand the law.But Kannaday had no ideawhat Darling might do.Darling did not like dealingwith weak men. Kannadaywould be kept around nolonger than necessary. Thenhe would be dismissed or,more likely, eliminated.Darling was a man ofabsolutes.From the slow rocking of

the swells, Kannaday couldtell that they were close to

shore. No doubt Hawke hadreportedbacktothecoveandwas now following theircruising course along theGreatBarrierReef.Kannadayhadtimetoact,butnotalot.Kannaday forced himself

to move. He got his armsunder him and pushed up.Slowly. His upper armstrembled as he workedhimselfintoasittingposition.Heeasedhisbackagainstthewall at the side of the bed.

The solid support felt good.His head throbbed as bloodfought to reach it. He closedhis eyes and inhaled deeply.Miraculously, it did not feelasifanyribswerebroken.Heflexedhis fingers.Theywereswollen. Maybe he hadpunched someone. He couldnot remember.The last thinghe remembered clearly wasrunningdownthestairs.Thatmomentwassoimmediatehefelt as though he could go

back there. Do thingsdifferently.But itwouldstill comeout

thesame,Kannaday realized.Unlike Hawke, he had beenpredictable. On top of that,there was an unusualdynamic. Hawke was notafter something thatKannadayhad.Hewanted topreservethehierarchyexactlyasitwas.Butwithprivileges.And he had succeeded. Thefact that the rest of the crew

hadnot comedown to checkon him was telling. If thecookhadcomeby,Kannadaydid not hear him. But hedoubted it. Either the crewhadbeentoldtostayawayordidsofromfear.Kannaday’s body was

beginning to accept the painas a fact of life. It felt asthough he had strained everymuscleinhisarms,torso,andneck.Itwasthatkindoftaut,deep-muscle ache. Kannaday

knew that the more hemoved, the more it wouldhurt. But he had no choice.He had to get out of here.Somehow, he had to takecharge.Thecaptainwaitedanother

fewminutes before trying tomoveagain.Heshiftedtotheedge of the bed and put hisfeet on the floor. He roseslowly. Most of the damagehad been done north ofKannaday’s waist. His legs

felt all right. He felt a littlelight-headedashetookafewshuffling steps toward thedoor. The sensation passedafter a few moments. It wasnot pleasant, but Kannadayhad his footing.What he didnot have was something justasimportant.Aplan.Kannaday reached the

door. He turned and leanedhis back against it. Standingin the dark, he pondered his

next steps, both literally andfiguratively. As he did,something occurred to him.The events that had broughtKannaday here could beuseful.Afterall,hemadethesame mistake twice. He hadacted just as Hawke hadexpectedhimto.Hawke would probably

expect him to do it again.Especiallyafterthebeatinghehadtaken.Kannadaywentbacktothe

bed. He sat down. He triednot to think the way heusually did, as if he weregoing down a checklist ofthings to do before leavingport.He lethimselfcontemplate

all the scenarios that wouldsurpriseHawke.AndDarling,for that matter. Everythingfrom setting fire to theHosannah to taking thedinghyandvanishingintothenightsea.

Howfarareyouwillingtogo?heaskedhimself.More important than that,

Kannaday needed to find outexactlywhathewanted.Kannaday was doing the

jobhehadagreed todo.Thecrew had suffered a setbackbecauseofthesampanattack.Not a dramatic one, butDarling’s reputation forabsolute efficiency had beentarnished. Darling would beable to absorb the blow.The

gentry knew how to talk tothegentry.Hewouldexplainit all to Mahathir binDahman. Darling wouldblame it on the serfs. ButDarling would also want tomake the head villain pay.Darling had known preciselyhowHawkewouldrespondtoa threat or challenge.Hehadsent Kannaday back to behumiliated.Kannaday realized that he

was not interested in

recapturingDarling’srespect.He wanted to hurt Hawke,and he wanted to hurtDarling. The question washow to do that withouthurtinghimself.Orwasit?There is flaw in your

thinking, he admonishedhimself. The question itselfmade him vulnerable. It costhimtheadvantageofsurprise.Thequestionitselfheldthe

answer.

FORTY-SIXCairns,Australia

Saturday,10:04P.M.Theydid thingsdifferently

inAustralia.Bob Herbert had expected

tobeat theDarlingestatebyeightP.M.atthelatest.All theyhad todowas set

the trap around back, go tothe front, and knock on thedoor.ButLeylandandJelbartwere not so impulsive. They

insisted on taking severalpasses over the 500-acreestate in thehelicopter.Theyusedfirebrigadenight-visiongoggles to study the terrain.They wanted to know wherethe security posts were andwhere there were places thatcould serve as emergencyexits. The property washeavily fenced to keep outwildhareanddeer.However,they found two spots wherethebait couldcrediblybe set

inside.Thesecuritypersonnelwould know those spots andprobably go right to them.Jelbart wanted to time howlong it would take for theteamstodrivetheirgolfcartsto and from that area.Ordinarily, Herbert wouldhave admired theirthoroughness. But potentialnuclear terroristswereon therun. He wanted to capturethem. Herbert said so afterthey made their second slow

pass over the estate. A passthey would explain to JervisDarling or his security chiefwhentheycametovisit.“We won’t be able to

capture anyone if our ruse isexposed,”Jelbartpointedout.“We’ll be the ones beinginvestigated.”FNO Loh was sitting

between Coffey and Herbertin the backseat. “I cannotbelieve thatyourgovernmentwoulddisciplineyou.Weare

pursuinga reasonable lead inacaseofsomeurgency,”shesaid.“The government would

not bother us if we werepursuing the lead in areasonable fashion,” Jelbartreplied. “Wearenot.Weareinvading a citizen’s privacy.Thelawisveryspecificaboutthingslikethat.”“Specificandconstipated,”

Herbert said. “Remindme toquote the law to whatever

guys are looking to slipnuclear material intopopulated cities and poisonourwatersupplies.”“We’re not certain that’s

thecase,”Coffeysaid.“Certain enough to make

mewanttokickDarling’sassfor quick answers,” Herbertreplied.“And then what? If we

becomewhatwebehold,thenall of civilization goes tohell,”Jelbartpointedout.

“If we don’t, hell willcometocivilization,”Herbertshot back. “Don’t take thispersonally, Jelbart, but I’mgetting really sick of ourleaders reacting instead oftaking preventative action.Am I the only one whorealizes that this isn’t thetwentiethcenturyanymore?”“What do you mean?”

Coffeyasked.“Somehow, over the last

fortyorsoyears,theWestern

world evolved this screwed-upcoddlingmentality towardkillers and terrorists. That isgoing todestroyus,”Herbertsaid.“This isn’t about coddling

killers; it’s about individualvoices and dignity,” Coffeysaid. “And for the record, itcamefromus.FromAmerica.It came after the VietnamWar protests and civil rightsmovement proved effective.It came when police were

required to read criminalstheirrights.Noweveryoneonearth wants a share ofhumanity. And I don’t thinkthat’sabadthing.”“Thatmayhaveworked in

the sixties and seventies, butit’saluxurywecannolongerafford,” Herbert said. “Wedon’t stop eating tunabecause a few dolphins getsnared.”“Whatdoesthathavetodo

with anything?” Coffey

asked.“Yes, what are you

suggesting, Mr. Herbert?”Jelbartasked.“That we hunt down bad

guys aggressively,” Herbertsaid. He was yelling so thattheycouldhearhimover therotor.But it felt good to yellbecausehewasangry.“Oncein a while you may grab aninnocent. You apologize andmakeamends.Butthat’showyou protect the majority of

thepeople.”“So you think that we

should just do away withhuman rights?” Jelbartpressed.“No!” Herbert shouted.

“Theactionscanbeselective.I suggest we grantexceptional authority inemergency circumstances,like these.We have fanaticalracists and radical sociopathswith access to nuclear fuel.We’vegotmassmurderersin

ourhighschools.WhenIwasa kid, juvenile delinquentspacked zip guns andswitchblades.Onceinawhilethey flashed their weapons,and once in a really rarewhile they used them.Usually on other hoodlums.Usually shitting their pantswhentheydid.Nowwehavekids packing AK-47s andattitude. They’re cool killers,Warrant Officer. You’retrying to play soccer or

football or whatever the hellyoucallitagainstateamthatdisregards referees, fouls,out-of-bounds lines, clocks,andrules.I’mtellingyouthatif we don’t identify andneutralize them, the game isover.Withusthelosers.”Thecockpitwassilentfora

longmoment.Aftermakingafinal pass over the estate,Leylandspoke.“I see a tree we can use,”

he said. He made another

pass and showed it to theothers.“Maybe we should just

hang ourselves from it,”Herbert said. “Save Darlingorwhoeverisbehindthisplotfurtherinconvenience.”“Youknow,Mr.Herbert,I

sympathize with you,”Captain Leyland said as thehelicopter turned back to thelanding pad. “I look at everycamper or tourist as apotential arsonist. But that

does not make them one.Even if they’re smoking orcarrying matches, I can’t gohosingthemdown.That’stheprice we pay for freedom. Ifwe surrender that, we stillwon’t have security. Notreally.Wewillonlyhavelessfreedom.”“Only if you’re extreme

about it,” Herbert told him.“Look, we already have thefire. We have a guy whopicnicked at the spot that’s

burning.Hehasmatches.Weshould have the ability to sithim down and ask himquestionsbeforehecanwashaway the smell of thesmoke.”“Obviously we agree with

that to some extent, or wewouldn’t be doing this,”Jelbartsaid.“We’re doing it by

sneaking in the back door,”Herbertsaid.“Ipreferamoredirectapproach.”

“Like beating it out ofhim?”Coffeyasked.“No, like point-blank

askingtheguywhatthehell’sgoingon,”Herbertsaid.“Andifhisanswersdon’tmatchthefacts we do know, we takehim in. Ask him again. Andagain.”“The legal and political

fallout would be disastrous,”Coffeysaid.“Only if we’re wrong,”

Herbertsaid.

“That’s just it,” Coffeysaid.“Youcouldstillberightand lose. Those confessionswouldn’tbeallowedincourt.Itwouldcostthestatetensofmillions of dollars to defendagainst a wrongful arrestlawsuit,tonamejustone,andyou still wouldn’t have yourman.”“Then he has an accident,

as his wife did,” FNO Lohsuggested.“Bingo!” Herbert said. “I

like your style. That’s theprice of protecting thetwenty-first-centuryworld.The debate ended as the

Bell chopper set down.Leyland unfolded a detailedmap of the area. He showedJelbarttheroadtotheareaoftreestheycouldusetosetthetrap. Herbert half-listenedwhile Loh unloaded thewheelchair and helped himfrom the chopper. He wassickof talkingeneral.While

they were crisscrossing theestate, radioactive materialcouldbemaking itsway toaterrorist factory. Or it couldalready be en route toWashington or London orSydney. How stupid wouldthey feel looking forperimeter access if a dirtybomb was built with thismaterial and a few sticks ofTNT? How would they livewith themselves if 10,000people died from radiation

poisoning? Herbert had nointerest in finding out. HewouldratherriskthewrathofJervisDarling.When Leyland and Jelbart

hadagreedonaplacetocarryout the first part of theoperation, the brigadecommander summoned theganglykidnamedSpider.Theyoung firefighter was goingto help Jelbart with theinsertion. Then he wouldreturn to his post. That was

alreadyonemorepersonthanHerbert wanted to beinvolved.When Herbert worked for

theCIA,theobjectivewastostreamline operations, not topadthem.It was well after ten P.M.

when Herbert, Leyland, andLohslippedintothebrigade’sHumvee and headed towardthe front entrance toDarling’s estate. Loh hadborrowed civilian clothes

from Eva. Theywere a littleroomy, but theywould servetheirpurpose.Asthetrioleft,Jelbart and Spider alsodeparted.Theydroveoutinajeep to the tree they hadselectedintheflyover.Atreethat was on public land butoverhung the wall of theDarlingestate.Thetreewheretheywould

take Little Maluka, themascot of the QueenslandNorth Rural Fire Brigade, to

playhispartinthedeception.

FORTY-SEVENWashington,D.C.

Saturday,8:47A.M.Hood was in his office,

waiting for nine A.M. toarrive. That was when heplanned to call DaphneConnors at home. While hewaited,hisphonebeeped.Hehoped it was the advertisingexecutive. If Daphne calledhim,thatwouldmakehislifeawholeloteasier.

It was not DaphneConnors. It was LowellCoffey.“Well, we just sent two

teams on a very unusualmission,”Coffeysaid.“Whereareyou?”“At the observation post

cabin of the QueenslandNorth Rural Fire Brigade,”Coffeysaid.“Wehaveanewmemberoftheteam.”“Oh?”“A koala that was burned

in a fire,” Coffey said.“They’re sneaking him intothe Darling compoundthrough a back entrance.Then the fire captain, FNOLoh,andBobaregoinginthefront door to try to get himback.”“Who are Loh and Bob

supposedtobe?”Hoodasked.“Volunteers with the local

International WildlifeEducation and ConservationGroup,” Coffey told him.

“They’re going to positionthekoalaastheirlocalposterchild. Tell Darling what badpress itwould be if the littleescapee was hurt on hisproperty. While they’reinside,Bob isgoing to try tosplitfromtheotherstogettoDarling’sphone.”“Hashegotachance?”“You know I would never

bet against Bob,” Coffeyreplied. “But I have to admithe’s got me worried. Bob’s

prettypissedoff.”“Aboutwhat?”“Hewas getting pretty hot

about Darling, about thewhole idea of a guy in oursights being innocent untilproven otherwise,” Coffeysaid.“Hold on,” Hood said.

“I’m going to conference inLizGordon.”“Paul, I don’t know if it’s

thatserious—”“Exactly,” Hood said.

“Let’s talk to someone whowill.”Hood put Coffey on hold

and punched in Liz’s homephone. She was there,obviously still asleep. TheOp-CenterpsychiatristdidtheWashington bar scene onFriday nights. Not to party,she swore, but to research abook she was writing on thedynamicsofhumanflirtation.Maybethatwastrue.ButLizcertainly sounded hungover

when she answered thephone.Sherecoveredquicklywhen she heard it was PaulHoodontheline.Hebroughther up to date and thenplugged Coffey into theconversation.“Lowell, Liz is on the

line,”Hoodsaid.“Good morning,” Liz said

groggily.“Late evening here,”

Coffey said. “But goodmorning.”

“Right. Lowell, did Bobseem unstable, impatient?”sheasked.“He seemed fed up,”

Coffey replied. “He wasdisgusted out of proportionwith the situation we’refacing.”“How bad did he lay into

youpersonally?”Lizasked.“Excuseme?”“Didheinsultyou,criticize

you, work you over?” Lizasked. “Putting it bluntly,

Lowell,isthispayback?”“No!” Coffey said. “Even

if hehad, I canbeobjective.Givemecredit.”“Not my job,” she said.

“Was there any physicalmanifestation? Was hepounding things, playingrepetitively with anything onhiswheelchair?”“Hewasinthebackseatof

the helicopter,” Coffey said.“Icouldn’treallysee.”“Paul,washeairliftedfrom

theBeirutrubble?”Lizasked.“I believe he was,” Hood

said.“This could be

subconsciousmotormemory,the chopper sound andvibration triggeringunresolved hostility,” shesaid. “Bottom line, Lowell.Do you think Bob isdangerous?”“That may be an

overstatement,” Coffeyreplied. “Imean, youwant a

guy in that position to beaggressive.”“So the answer is no,” she

said.“Theanswer isno, hewas

sounding almost blood-thirsty,”Coffey replied. “Notquite,butgettingthere.”“But he was not violent,”

shesaid.Coffeysaidhewasnot.“Paul,” Liz said, “were

there any reports of Boboverreacting on his last field

operation? In Germany, Ithinkitwas?”“It was Germany, and no,

there was nothing,” Hoodsaid.“What this sounds like is

displacement,” Liz said.“Shiftingangerordesirefroman original target to a moreconvenient one. Possiblytriggered by the chopper,possibly by delayed post-traumaticstress.Allofittiedtogether by Bob’s natural

frustration with the systemandpossiblysomejetlag.It’sdifficult to ascribe exactcauses without talking toBob. But it doesn’t sound asifhe’llflipoutonyou.Peoplewho experience transferenceusually peak at the onset ofsymptoms. They’re lookingto dump. Something triggersit,andofftheygo.”“So we’ve seen the worst

ofit,”Hoodsaid.“Probably,” Liz replied.

“Unless someone sprayslighterfluidonthefire.Isthatlikelytohappen,Lowell?”“From everything I’ve

heard, Jervis Darling is apretty cool fellow,” Coffeysaid.“What about the people

Bob is traveling with?” Lizasked.“Leyland is pretty

lighthearted, andLoh is veryquiet and serious, almostcatatonic,”hereplied.

“That should help keephiminbalance,”Lizsaid.“So we’re okay to let this

playout,”Hoodsaid.“Giventhatnothingisever

guaranteed, I’d say yes,” Liztold him. “I don’t see himblowing.”“Not even if they’re

stonewalled?”Hoodasked.“Bob has a self-imposed

objective,whichistogetdatafrom a telephone,” Liz said.“Ifhefailstodothis,he’llbe

angry. But his training willprobably keep him in check.Hewillregroupandtryagain.The real danger is if he ispersonally exposed by JervisDarling.”“As a spy and not an

animal welfare worker,”Hoodsaid.“That’s correct,” Liz said.

“The assumed identity giveshimawayofkeepinghisrealfeelings inside. If that’sstripped away, he might

become the person Lowelldescribed. It’s part of thefight-or-flight mechanism,andBobHerbert isnotpronetoflight.”That was the truth. Hood

hadneverbeenabigbelieverinpsychiatry.Butifhepeeledaway the jargon, the thingsLizsaidmadesense.Hood thanked her and let

hergobacktosleep.ThenhetoldCoffeythathewasgoingto let this play out.Whether

or not they liked Herbert’sinquisitorial manner, therewas no avoiding the bottomline. While there was still atrail to follow, they had tofind out who made it andwhy.Hoodsighed.Henolonger

feltlikecallingDaphne.UntilHerbert was safe, he did notwantanydistractions.At least that was what

Hoodtoldhimself.

FORTY-EIGHTCairns,Australia

Saturday,10:49P.M.Monica Loh was

accustomed to the dangersshe faced at sea. There werestorms, collisions, hazardousrescues, even mines droppedby insurgents from hercountry and its neighbors.Disasters were rare, but sheand her crew were vigilantandconfident.

Thenavalofficerwasalertbutextremelyuneasyas theypulleduptothemassivefrontgateoftheDarlingestate.Shewas going into what theRepublic of Singapore Navyclassified as a search-and-discovermission.Yetshedidnot have all the informationshe needed to feel confident.Lohwasposingasananimalwelfare worker visiting fromSingapore. Beyond that, theyhad not come up with much

ofastoryforher.Nordidshehave a clear idea what shewas supposed to do, otherthan to go out back withCaptainLeylandandlookforthe koala. Leyland expectedthey would find the animalpretty much where Jelbartand Spider left him. Thekoala was apparently rathersedentary. Loh also did notknow what to expect fromJervis Darling or this manBob Herbert. The naval

officer admired Herbert’sideasandhiscourage.Buthealso seemed edgy andimpatient. Would Darlingnotice that? If so,at theveryleast, their mission wouldfail. Loh had not evenconsidered the ramificationsifshewereexposed.Shehadnot sought authorization forthismissionbecauseitwouldbeclassifiedasashore-basedoperation.That fellunder thejurisdiction of the Defence

Executive Command. Itwould have taken time tosecondhertotheDEC,ifthecommanding officer wouldhavepermittedthatatall.Thegroup was highly protectiveofallland-basedactivities.Leyland pulled up to the

gateandloweredthewindow.He looked around for anintercom but saw none. Thereason quickly becameapparent. Darling did notneed one. A jeep pulled up

behind the Humvee.SpotlightswereturnedontheHumvee. Two men got out.Both were armed with Uzis.One guard approached thedriver’s side of the Humvee.He shined a flashlight onCaptain Leyland. The otherguard walked slowly aroundthe Humvee. He checked ontop and below, probablysearchingforexplosives.“What are you doing

here?”theguardasked.

“I’mCaptainLeylandwiththe Queensland North RuralFire Brigade,” Leyland toldhim.Hetookaleatherholderfrom his shirt pocket andshowedthesecurityguardhisbadge. “These are volunteerswith International WildlifeEducation and ConservationGroup. We’re searching foran injured koala.We believewe spotted him from the air,outontheproperty.”“That was your chopper

sailing over before?” theguardasked.“Yes. Sorry for the

disturbance. But it’s ratherimportant that we find theanimal, and the night isgrowingabeard.”The guard shone his

flashlight on the occupants.Then he stepped from theHumvee and pulled a radiofrom his belt. He turned hisback on the occupants as hespoke quietly into the

mouthpiece. After a shortconversation,hecamebacktothewindow.“The groundskeeper said

he’ll go and look for it,” theguard told him. “You canwaithereor—”“I’m afraid that doesn’t

work for us,” Leyland said.“The koala is ill, you see. Itmay spread sickness to otheranimals on the estate. Dogs,for example. Mr. Darling’sdaughter plays with those

animals.”“Are you suggesting that

wesendapatrolout toshootthething?”theguardasked.“Iamnotsuggestingthat,”

Leylandsnapped.“Wedonotwanthimshot.Wewanthimreacquired for study. That iswhy these people are here.Thisisveryimportant.”The guard considered this

for a moment. He steppedawayagainandspokeintotheradio.Whenhewasfinished,

the guard informed Leylandthat Mr. Darling’s personalassistant Andrew Grahamwouldmeet themat thefrontdoor. Then the guardwalkedto the gate, swiped a cardthrough a slot on the door,and the gate slid aside.Leyland drove through,following the winding,cobble-stonedrivetowardthefrontofthemansion.Fromthesky,MonicaLoh

had neither been surprised

nor impressed by the size ofthe home. From the deck ofher patrol ship she had seenmany impressive oceansideandcliff-topestates.Thiswasjustonemore.Astheypulledup to the columned entrance,however, she felt as if shewere in the presence ofsomethingoddlyoutdatedandsupine. Loh was used tooversized ships and aircraft,but they all moved. Peopleworked on and around them.

There was a sense of life tothem.Notthisplace.Eventhemanwhocame tomeet themwas strangely inanimate. Hewas a thin man dressed in acharcoal sweater and blackslacks.Hisactionswerestiff,strangelyguarded.Onewouldnaturally be wary ofuninvited guests showing upthis late at night. But thatshould manifest itself asimpatience,annoyance.Therewasnoneofthatinthisman.

LohandLeylandgotoutofthe Humvee. The captainpulled Herbert’s wheelchairfrom the back and opened it.He stood beside Loh whilethe intelligence chief swungintotheleatherseat.“Mysickkoala’sgotmore

life than this pie-eater,”Leyland said as the manapproachedthem.“I was just thinking that,”

Lohsaid.“He’s being watched,”

Herbertsaidquietly.“By whom?” Leyland

asked.“I’m not sure,” Herbert

replied. He moved betweenthe other two and noddedtoward the top of one of thecolumns. “A small securitycameraismovingrightalongwithhim.”“I can’t believe the big

man himself would be doingthat,” Leyland whisperedback.

“I can, if he’s hidingsomething,”Herbertreplied.The trio fell silent as the

man neared. They could seehimclearlyinthecleanwhiteglow of spotlights clusteredtwo at either end of thefacade. He was a tallish,round-faced, dark-skinnedman. In soft, overenunciatedtones he introduced himselfas Andrew Graham. He saidhe would show the others tothe back, thoughhemade an

unhappy face as he lookeddownatHerbert.“With respect, sir, it is all

grass back there,” he said toHerbert.“Itmightbedifficultfor you to navigate. Wouldyoucaretowaitinside?”Herbert looked at Loh.

“Whatdoyouthink?CanyouhandleLittleMalukawithoutme?”“I handled an orphaned

Komodo dragon inBandung,”shesaid.“IthinkI

canmanage.”Herbert smiled. “If you

needhelp,beepme.”Lohsaidthesame,butwith

alook.Andrew contacted the

groundskeeperviacellphone.Theburlyyoungmanarrivedseveral moments later in agolf cart. While he droveLeyland and Loh around theside of the estate, Andrewhelped Herbert up the shortflight of steps into the

mansion.Loh was a veteran naval

officer. Her bearings weresurest when she was on thesea and, perhaps moreimportant,whenshewaspartofaunit.Her feeling of uneasiness

increased dramatically astheirkeyplayerwentintothehousealone.

FORTY-NINECairns,Australia

Saturday,11:12P.M.The first thingHerbert did

as he entered the long,marble-richfoyerwastolookfor security devices. Therewere motion detectors in thecorners and a keypad besidethe door. Obviously, theywerenotonnow.Therewereno cameras here, onlyoutside.Thatwasgood.Ifhe

wereleftalone,chancesweregood he could move aboutwithout being spied upon.Andrew released the chair assoon as theywere inside.Heextended a hand toward thelivingroom.Bothmenbeganmoving in that direction.Herbert felt as though hewere entering a museum. Itwasabsolutelyquiet,saveforthe squeakofhiswheels andthe secretary’s shoes. Largepaintings and statues were

barely visible in the vastroom ahead. Herbert couldbarelymake out other roomsinthedimlightbeyond.“May I get you a

beverage?” Andrew asked.“Sparkling water orsomething a bit morepotent?”“Thank you, no,” Herbert

replied.“Asnack,then?”“Nothing, thanks,”Herbert

said. “I was wondering,

though, if Imight impose onyou. Is there a phone line Icanuse?I’dliketosendanE-mail to my office inWashington.I’vebeenoutonthissearchallnightandneedtoget some informationovertothem.”“Of course,”Andrew said.

“Thatisnotaproblem.”“I’ll charge the call tomy

personal account. It won’tcostMr.Darlinganything.”“I’mcertainitwouldbeall

rightifyoucalledyourofficedirectly,”Andrewsaid.“That’sverykind,”Herbert

replied.They entered the living

room, and Andrew led theway to a study on the left.There were shelves filledwithbooks and tools suchasmagnifying glasses, whiskbrooms, and computerdiskettes. The secretarygestured toward a largemahoganydesk.Therewas a

phone tucked among dozensof shoe boxes, cigar boxes,andplasticbags.“Mr.Darlingusesthatunit

forhis laptop,”Andrewsaid.“You can plug into the dataportinback.”“Thank you very much,”

Herbertsaid.“Notatall.”Herbertglancedaround.“It

looks tome likeMr.Darlingdoesalittlescientificwork.”“He studies and collects

fossils,”Andrewsaid.“Fascinating,” Herbert

replied.“IalsothoughtIsawthe dome of an observatorydrivingup.”“Perhapsyoudid,”Andrew

said.“Is Mr. Darling also a

stargazer?”“Mr. Darling has many

interests,”Andrew replied asheturnedtowardthedoor.The intelligence chief

already knew that there was

an observatory from thedossier on Darling. He wassimply curious howforthcoming Andrew wouldbe.Theanswerwas:notvery.“Well, thank Mr. Darling

forme,”Herbertsaid.“I shall,” Andrew said as

he left the room. He did notshutthedoor.Herbert booted his

computer as he movedhimselftothenearsideofthedesk. His back was to the

door ashe raised the armreston the left side of his chairand unwound the cabletucked inside. He pluggedthat into the back of hiscomputer and into the dataport on Darling’s telephone.If the magnate did hobby-related research in here,chances were good he tookbusinesscallshereaswell.Herbert jacked in the six-

foot cord and keyed thenumberMatt Stoll had given

him.Thelinkwasestablishedquickly through the small,slender antenna on the topright of the wheelchair. Theantenna was attached to abooster on the back of thechair. Unlike standard cellphones,itcouldprocesshigh-speed transmissions. Herbertwatchedonhiscomputerasitbegan searching Darling’stelephoneforthenumberlog.“That is quite amachine,”

saidavoicefrombehind.

The voice was big andcarried a mild Australianaccent. Herbert did not haveto see the speaker to knowwho it was. The intelligenceagentsmiled.“It’saprettystandardDell

laptop,”Herbertreplied.Darling smiled. “Iwasnot

referringtothecomputer.”“I know,” Herbert replied.

“Goodevening,Mr.Darling.”“Good evening.” Darling

walked briskly toward

Herbert. He was wearing agray sweat suit that saidCairnsYachtClubacross thechest. His eyes remainedfixed on the chair.“Obviouslycustommade.”“Yes,” Herbert said.

“Designedbymeandbuiltbythe same people who madeFDRhischair.”The men shook hands.

“Andyouwouldbewhom?”“R. Clayton Herbert,”

Herbert repliedwith a smile.

Inside, though, he wasanxious.Hewasalsoannoyedathimself.Hedidnotwanttogive his full name if he didnot have to. Darling couldfindoutwhomheworkedfor.ButhealsodidnotwantLohor Leyland calling him Bobafter telling Darling that hewassomeoneelse.Heshouldhave given them a heads-up.It was one of those detailsyouoccasionallyforgotwhenworkingwithoutsiders.

“Andrew said you wantedto send some E-mails,”Darlingsaid.“Idon’twanttokeepyoufromthat.”“It can wait,” Herbert

assuredhim.The computer was still

downloading as they spoke.Stoll had told him that oncethe file was found, it wouldtake only a few seconds tosnare the numbers. First,however, it had to make itsway throughwhatever phone

software might be piled infront of the log. Speed-dialing, voice-mail programs,call-forwarding, all of that.The search could takeanywherefromafewsecondsto severalminutes. Stoll alsosaid the computer wouldchime twice when it foundwhat it was looking for. HewouldexplainthattoDarlingasareminderofsomekind.“In that case, I’d love to

hear about your work with

wildlife,” Darling said.“You’re a volunteer, Ipresume?”“Yes,” Herbert replied.

“Actually, I’m here on aholiday.Iwascalledintothissearch bymy friendMonica.She’sinvolvedwithIWECinSingapore.”“Isee.You’reAmerican, I

gather,”Darlingsaid.“Mississippiborn,”Herbert

replied. “I live outside ofWashington,D.C.,now.”

“Areyouingovernment?”“Personal security,”

Herbertsaid.“Fascinating field,”

Darling said. “What do youthinkof thesecuritywehaveatthisestate?”“From the little bit I’ve

seen, it’s pretty impressive,”Herbert said. “You’ve gotsentries and surveillanceoutside, motion detectorsinside. It’s a difficultcombinationtobeat.”

“Touchwood,noonehas,”Darling replied. He leanedforward slightly, squinting.“You appear to haveeverything you need forpersonal security andcomfort.Yourchairhasacellphone, a computer, whatappears to be a satelliteuplink, a joystick steeringmechanism, and even cruisecontrol, if I’m reading thejoystickbasecorrectly?”“Yes,” Herbert smiled. “I

candofivemilesperhouronthe open sidewalk. TheydisconnectthatfunctionwhenIparticipateinmarathons.”“Do they really?” Darling

laughed.“They do,” Herbert said.

The insincerity of thisconversationwaskillinghim.HewishedDarlingwouldgetaphonecallorsomething.“Fascinating. You

wouldn’t think five miles anhour would be a threat to

anyone.”“It isn’t about the speed,”

Herbertsaid.“It’stheideaofan assist. A marathon issupposedtobeaboutphysicalendurance.”“Have you ever won one,

Mr.Herbert?”“I’ve never lost,” Herbert

replied.Darling grinned. “I like

that.”Where the hell is that

chime?Herbertwondered.

Darling walked backbehind the chair. “I’mcurious,Mr.Herbert.That’saKu-band uplink on the backofyourchair.”“That’s right,” Herbert

said. Alarms began ringinginsidehishead.Thiswasnotgood.“Why do you need an

antennatosendE-mail?”“Idon’t,”Herbertreplied.Darlingbentslightlytoget

abetterlookatthebox.“But

Inoticethelightonthepowerboxislit.”“Isit?”“Youdidn’tknow?”“Thatmusthavebeenfrom

earlier, at the fire outpost,”Herbert said. “I wasdownloadingdata.”“No, that couldn’t be,”

Darling said. “It was not onwhenyouarrived.”The outside security

camera,Herbertrealizedwitha jolt.Hewaswatching their

arrival.“I must have turned it on

by accident,” Herbert said,smilingagain.Hissoulachedas he reached behind thewheelchair and shut theantennaoff.Thatcut thelinkto Op-Center. He unpluggedthe cable from Darling’stelephone. He shut thecomputer,whichwoulderaseMatt Stoll’s program. Therewould be no evidence it hadeverexisted.

Unfortunately, thecomputerstillhadnotpinged.That meant none of the datahad been downloaded fromthe telephone. This wholeenterprisehadbeenafreakingwaste of time. Or worse, itcould hurt them if Darlingsuspectedthattheywereherefor something other than astraykoala.Herberthadhadachoicetomake.Hehadmadeit.Darling came back around

the front of the wheelchair.Hefoldedhisarmsagainandpaced back and forth. JervisDarling suddenly looked asimpatientasBobHerbertfelt.“You know, R. Clayton

Herbert,”Darlingsaid,“whenpeople showupat oddhoursfor unusual reasons, it istypicallya reporterhoping togetastoryorabusinessrivaltrying to collect information.What is your reason, Mr.Herbert?”

“Actually,Mr.Darling,myreason is much more seriousthan nailing a story aboutyou,”Herbertsaid.“Ah.” Darling stopped

pacing.He regardedHerbert.“Youhavethefloor.Andmyattention.”Herbert hesitated. He was

about to put himself, FNOLoh, andCaptain Leyland injeopardy. Their careers,possibly their lives could beruined.Hehadtherighttodo

that to himself but not to theothers. And what would hegain?Darlingwouldnotgivehim information. If Darlingwere guilty, talking mightcause him to send hisoperativesdeepunderground.Or itmight cause him to getangryandexposehimself.Oritmightcausehimtohavethelot of them shot fortrespassing. There was nowayofknowing.Screw it, Herbert thought.

Hehadcomeheretodoajob.That job was to collectinformation andby sodoing,save lives. The primarymethod had failed. Herbertwas obligated to try another.Besides, when pressed,Darling might inadvertentlyanswer one critical question:whetherornothewasguilty.“Mr. Darling, I honestly

don’t know jack-shit aboutanimals,” Herbert said. “Idon’t even like them much.

Though there are somecreaturesIlikeevenless.Idowork in security, however. Iwon’t tell you who employsme or how I know this. Buthere’s the bottom line.Nuclearmaterialsaremissingfromaradioactivewastesite,andone legof the trail leadshere.”Darling did not react.

Which, in a way, was areaction.Hedidnotaskwhatthatstatementhad todowith

him.“No comment?” Herbert

asked.“Wereyoujackingintomy

telephone system inaneffortto spy on me?” Darlingasked.“Iwas,”Herbertadmitted.Darling looked down

slowly. His expression wasblank.Hewalkedover to thephone and removed the unitfrom the desk. His slipperedfeet rubbed the hardwood

floorsofthestudyashemadehiswaytothedoor.“Please show yourself

out,”Darlingsaidoveraveryrigid shoulder.“Immediately.”“You’re not calling the

police?”Herbertasked.Darling stopped in the

doorway and turned. “Whybother? I don’t know whatdatayouhopedtogleanfromthistelephone,butitissimplyanestateintercom.”

Herbert said nothing. Thatexplainedwhy his laptop didnot ping. The phone had nonumbersinmemory.“Do we have any other

business?”Darlingasked.“Yeah,”Herbertsaid.“I’ve

got a suggestion for you. Iknow more than I just toldyou.SodothepeopleIworkwith.We’regoing togetyouandeveryoneyouworkwith.My suggestion is that youcooperatewithus.”

“It’s timeforyoutoleave,Mr. Herbert,” Darling said.“You are a man rich withsuspicion,notknowledge.”“And you’re a man with

zero conscience,” Herbertsaid angrily. “You and yourassociate Mahathir binDahman.”That was it. Bob Herbert

hadjustplayedtheonlynamehe knew, the only otherinformationhepossessed.Hehoped itwasenough to rattle

Darling intodoingsomethingcarelessorimpulsive,suchasattackinghimsothefirechiefcould have him arrested. Orspitting out additionalinformation in a rage. Orevenbetter,cooperating.Itdidnot.“Mr.binDahmanisindeed

anassociate,”Darlingrepliedaffably.“I’m lucky tohaveapartner of his local andinternational standing. Andyouareasad,flailingfellow,

R. Clayton Herbert.” Thatwas the last thing Darlingsaidbeforehelefttheroom.Herbert wanted to punch

something. Hard. JervisDarlingwasguiltyasJudasF.Iscariot. By not calling thepolice he had proved that toHerbert. But the impromptuinterrogation had backfired.Herberthadgambledandlost,because nowDarlingwas onguard. He could send hispeople into hiding, leaving

Herbert without the twothingsOp-Centerneeded.Onewasproof.The otherwas themissing

radioactivematerials.

FIFTYCairns,Australia

Saturday,11:27P.M.Jervis Darling returned to

his bedroom on the secondfloor. He encounteredAndrew on theway and toldhim to make certain Mr.Herbert left the house andthat the others left thegroundsassoonastheyfoundtheir koala. Darling did notdoubt the animal was there.

They would have madecertainof thatbeforecomingtothedoor.Darling quietly shut the

doorandwenttotheback,toa large dressing room. Hewas numb and furious at thesame time. The silenceweighed thick and heavy inhis ears. Darling sat at therestoredLouisXVI desk andrang his nephew. He pulledovertheonlytelephoneinthemansion thathad thenumber

of theHosannah inmemory.He punched in his personalcode, 525, to obtain a dialtone. Obtained by binDahmanfromtheRussianairforce, the secure phone wasnamed the konsulstvo, or the“consulate.”Itwasthesecurephone in use at Russianembassies around the world.The konsulstvo was a large,square unitwith a computer-stylekeypadonthetopandareceiver on the side. The

keypadwasforwritingcodes.Hawke had done that beforesailing.“Werescuedsomeonefrom

thesampan.”Nothing theAmerican had

said after that reallyregistered. Darling’s answershad come from someindependent, automatic-functioning part of his brain.Kannaday and Hawke haddone more than suffer asetback in the Celebes Sea.

Theyhadpermittedasecuritybreachthatledaninvestigatorhere. More than one,probably. Darling suspectedthat the woman who hadcomewiththemwaswiththeSingaporean navy. Now thathe thought about it, she hadthat stiff-necked, feet-wide-apartpostureofaseaman.An American and a

Singaporean.WithAustralianofficials probably hanging tothe rearbecause theydidnot

want to tangle with JervisDarling. Not until they hadevidence. It made sense.Fortunately for Darling,whatever Mr. Herbert wasdoing at the study telephonewould have netted himnothing. Not R. ClaytonHerbert nor the people heworked for, whoever theywere. That did not evenmatter. Any group ferretingaround in Darling businesswas unwelcome. He would

find out who they were, andtheywouldbe stopped.First,however, Darling had tomake sure there was nothingto find. Starting with theHosannah.As Darling input the

yacht’s number, he burnedinside. He wanted to strikeout in all directionssimultaneously.Hewasangryat Kannaday and Hawke.Their ineffective-ness causedthis security breach. He

would deal with Kannadaynow, Hawke later. He alsowanted to punishHerbert forinvading his home. Darlingwould findaway topunchaholeinhislife.Andhewouldend the career of the firecaptain who had assistedHerbert. They had not paidtheirduesontheworldstage.Darling would not allowthesewageslavestoquestionor delay him, let alone stophim. He would take this hit

andmoveon.Marcus was asleep when

his uncle reached him. Theelder Darling asked to speakwith Hawke immediately.Marcus went to the securitychief’scabinandgothim.“Yes, sir,” Hawke said

whenhecameon.That was John Hawke.

Called to the radio late atnight for something that wasobviouslyoutoftheordinary.Yet his voice was the same

flatinstrumentitalwayswas.“I want you to do the

following as quickly aspossible,” Darling said. Hisvoice was not as composed.“Destroy the lab completelyand then the radio room.None of the equipment mustsurvive. Then take the yachtto sea and sink it in deepwater.Therehas tobea fire.Start it in thegalley. Is theresufficient dinghy space forthecrew?”

“Yes.”“Good,”Darlingsaid.“Get

toit.”“Sir, Captain Kannaday

willwanttoknowwhythisisbeingdone,”Hawkesaid.The devious bastard,

Darling thought. Hawke hadto be curious as well. Onceagain, the security chiefwanted to keep PeterKannaday between himselfand Darling. Unfortunately,that was not going to be

possible.Hawkewasabouttotaketwopunches.“Tell the captain that his

securityteamfailedtokillallof the men on the sampan,”Darling said. “One of themwasrecovered.”The radio went stubbornly

silent. That had been punchnumberone.“It would be best if the

captain were lost with hisship,”Darlingwenton.“Idonot want the accident to be

perceived as an insurancescam. We do not needadditionalinvestigations.”That was punch number

two. Hawke now knew justwhat the security lapse hadcaused.“I will see to all of it,”

Hawkereplied.There was no hint of

humility in the securitychief’s voice. Justdetermination.Darling preferred that. He

wanted results, notrepentance.Darlinghungupthephone.

He pushed it away and satback.Jervis Darling had spent a

lifetime buildingcorporations, amassingwealth and power, and,mostimportantly, evolving aworldview. He realized thatonly businessmen had theresources to move the worldforward. Governments were

toopartisanandslow.Armieswere too bestial and rigid.Onlyheandhiskindhad thevisiontomotivatethemasses.First, however, they had tomake themselvesindispensible. They had touse mercenaries like JohnHawke to surgically striketargets around the world.They would target factories,transportation centers,financial districts, and powerplants. Existing governments

and terror groupswould taketheblame.Especiallysincehewouldbehiringmanyoftheirmembers. And covering theevents in his media outlets.Darling and his colleagueswould eliminate competitionto make their own resourcesmore valuable. They wouldusethatbasetobuilddefactopolitical power. From there,nothingwasofflimits.Darlingwasstillangry.But

he was relatively

unconcernedabouttheprojector his goals. He had neverundertaken a business orpolitical operation that didnot experience a few bumps.This was the first one thecurrent action had suffered.He was confident that theundertaking would surviveandmoveforward.Asconfidentashewasthat

R. Clayton Herbert wouldsoonbewishinghehadgonesomewhereelsethisevening.

FIFTY-ONECairns,Australia

Sunday,12:00A.M.“I blew it,” Bob Herbert

saidoverthephone.“What do you mean?”

Hoodasked.“I gave a world-class,

standing-room-onlyperformance of how not togatherinformation.”“You’re being way too

rough on yourself, Bob,”

Hoodsaid.“Youdidthebestyou could under extremelyadverse circumstances.” Hewas speaking softly butfirmly.“Paul,Icreatedthefriggin’

adverse circumstances!”Herbertwenton.“Youwantalist of do-nots that I wouldhave reamed a newbie for? Ididnotcasethesite.Iwenttothewrongphone.AndIgavethe subject an overview ofwhat we know without

getting anything back exceptavagueconfirmationthatoursuspicionswerecorrect.”“This isn’t lab science,”

Hoodpointedout.“You tookahugeriskagainststaggeringodds.”“That’s what the best is

supposed to do, and my jobtitle says I’m supposed to beone of the best,” Herbertreplied. “The best are alsosupposed to do one thingmore. They’re supposed to

succeed.”“This is just one battle in

thewar,”Hoodreplied.“AndI’mnotsosurewelostit.”“I’ve won battles before,”

Herbert shot back. “This isnotwhatvictoryfeelslike.”Herbert was calling from

hiscellphoneintheHumvee.FNO Loh and Paul Leylandhad found the koala. Theymet Herbert in front of themansion where they helpedhim down the stairs. The

group left the grounds afterconferring with Jelbart byphone. Herbert agreed withthe warrant officer’sassessment. Jelbart felt thatDarling’s armed guardswould be unusuallyaggressive after whathappened. They unanimouslydecided that thebest thing todo was return to theobservationbaseandregroup.Herbert andLohwere sittingin the back. Leyland was

driving. Little Maluka wasasleepinthepassenger’sseat.“Bob, right now it doesn’t

matter how we got here,”Hood said. “Let’s look atwhereweareandwhatwe’reupagainst.”“All right,” Herbert said

and took a breath. Thatseemed to calm himsomewhat. “We’re facing aworld-class thug who knowshe’s been foundout.He alsoknowsthatatleastoneofhis

partners has been identified.And he knows that we havesomeonewhomaybeabletoIDtheboattheyusedtocarrythe stolen nuclear material.Hecannotbehappywithanyofthatinformation.”“Agreed. So what does he

do?”“First, he has to make his

own involvement deniable,”Herbert said. “His phonerecords and financialtransactions are probably

clean. I’m betting it’s thesame with bin Dahman andwhoever else is involved.Darling has to assume thepirate is heavily guarded andthat we already took fromhimwhateverinformationwewant. So he probably won’tbother going after him. Theonly place our boy’simmediatelyvulnerableistheboat.”“We haven’t been able to

findtheothervesselinvolved

in this transaction,” Hoodsaid. “What chance do wehave of finding this one? Itmay already have beenhidden.”“That’s very possible,”

Herbert agreed. “But I wanttofindit.Ireallywanttofindit.”“You want to get Jervis

Darling,” Hood pointed out.“Thatisn’tthesamething.”“It will be if we find the

boat,”Herbertsaid.“Damn,I

wish that pirate had seensomething. At least we’dknow what we were lookingfor.”“You could have him

hypnotized,”Hoodsuggested,halfindesperatejest.“Maybehe’llremembermore.”“That’s good for quitting

smoking, not interrogation,”Herbertsaid.“There is one thing,” Loh

said.“What’s that?” Herbert

asked. “Paul, can you hearFNOLoh?”“Barely,”Hoodsaid.Herbertheldthecellphone

between them. He asked theSingaporeantospeakup.“The pirates would not

have attacked a much largervessel,”Lohsaidloudly.“It’snightnow.Smallvesselstendtogotoanchor.”“How does that help us?”

Herbert said. “There areprobably a lot of small boats

ontheopensea.”“This one would not be

stopped,”shesaid.“Ifit’soutthere,andDarlingisafraidofbeing caught, hewould haveitrunningsomewhere.”“Good point,” Leyland

contributed. “But that stillleavesalotofareatocover.”“Notasmuchasyoumight

think,” Herbert said.“Chancesareprettygood theboat won’t be going towardCairns. Darling won’t want

thatshipanywherenearhim.”“Whatifhewantedtohide

it?”Hoodasked.“Whatbetterplacethanhisownfacility?”“That was probably the

gameplanbeforeweshowedup,” Herbert said. “Now,Darlingwouldneverriskit.Ifthereisahintofradioactivityon board that vessel, it’s asgood as a fingerprint. Wecould identify the sourcefrom just a particle ofmaterial. Darling has to

imagine that someone willcomelooking.”“We should get our ships

backouttosea,”Lohsaid.“I agree,” Herbert said.

“But we should also get thechopper in the air and run azigzag search headingseaward.Ifthevesselisback,Darling may have to send itout again. Just so he isn’tcaught. If it’s not back, it’sgoing to be racing to a safehavensomewhereelse.”

“Is there any kind ofelectronicsurveillancewecandofromhere?”Hoodasked.“I’m sure the transport

vessel is in a silent runningmodebynow,”Herbertsaid.“WecandoaGPSsweep,”

Lohsaid.“Right,”Herbertagreed.“I didn’t get that,” Hood

said.“AskStephenVienstodoa

readontheglobalpositioningsatellite beacons in the

region,”Herbertsaid.“The satellites, not the

receiver?”Hoodasked.“Thereceiver itself,on the

boat, is a passive site. All itdoes is tap into a continuousbeaconfromthreesatellites—four ifyou’readdingaltitudetothemix,whichwearenot.Wecan’tpinpointtheboatbylooking for a specific IDnumber. What we can do,though, is watch for thebeacons themselves and

triangulate them. Viens willknowwhatImean.Havehimrunascaneveryminuteorso.If we’ve got someone who’srunning at twenty-five knotsor more, that will be worthlooking into. Especially ifthey’re heading away fromCairns.”“Ilikeit,”Hoodsaid.Hood said he would have

Viens’s office look into theGPSassoonaspossible.Herbert thanked him and

hung up. Then he reachedbackandputthephoneinhiswheelchair.Hefeltalittlebitbetter than before. At leastthey had a plan. And therewasone thingan intelligenceofficer could always counton. Night was when vermintendedtomoveabout.“From what I’ve been

hearing, that boat wasarmed,”Leyland said. “Whatifithassomekindofsurface-to-airmissiles?Yourchopper

has no defense. They won’tbelievethatLittleMalukagotlostonhisboardie.”“Hiswhat?”Herbertasked.“Hisboard.Surfing.”“You’re right,” Herbert

said.“Butiftheyshootatus,we’ll know one thing forsure.”“What’s that?” Leyland

asked.“Wefoundtherightboat.”

FIFTY-TWOWashington,D.C.

Saturday,11:00A.M.The phone beeped, and

Hood snapped it up. He hadjust finished talking toStephen Viens, who wasrushing to the office. In hisabsence, weekendsurveillance staffer MaryTimm was starting up theGPS sweep. It was not acomplex operation, and the

exchange officer was fromtheCommunicationsSecurityEstablishment of Canada’sDepartment of NationalDefence.Thatwasthebranchof government that analyzedand catalogued interceptedradio and various electronicemissionsfromothernations.TheCSE liaisedcloselywithboth the United States andGreat Britain’s SIGINTservices.“R. ClaytonHerbert,” said

thedeepandsmokyvoiceonthe other end of the phone.“That’sBobHerbert.He’sonyour staff, isn’t he?” Therewas a hint of a Louisianaaccent.Hooddidnotlikecallsthat

opened with questions.Especially when the voicewas not familiar. But thecaller had access to Hood’sdirectline.Thatmeanthehadhigh-levelsecurityclearance.“Who is this?” Hood

asked.“Bruce Perry,” the caller

replied.Perry was the special

assistant to the president fordemocraticelections.Itwasapost that monitored votingactivities in foreign nations.Hood could not understandwhat Special Assistant PerrywantedwithHerbert, orwhyheusedthatformofHerbert’sname. He did a GovScansearch of Perry’s name.

Those personnel files werelittle more than glorifiedrésumés.Theywereavailableto officials who might needassistance in highlyspecializedareas.“Idon’tbelievewe’veever

met,” Hood said, stallingwhilehescannedPerry’sfile.“You may be correct,”

Perry replied. “But then, itisn’tmy job to keep trackofpeoples’activities.”Oh, Hood thought. It’s

goingtobeoneofthosekindsofconversations.Andthenhespotted the reason Perry wascalling. The sixty-four-year-oldwasaformerambassadortoAustralia.“All right, Mr. Perry,”

Hoodsaid.“Yes,BobHerbertis an officer here. Youalready knew that, or youwouldn’t be asking. What’sonyourmind?”“Mr.Herberthas justbeen

to see Mr. Jervis Darling at

his home,” Perry said.“You’ve heard of JervisDarling?”“Ireadnewspapers,”Hood

said. Darling had obviouslywasted no time getting hispuppetsonstage.“Newspapers do not tell

the full story of this man,”Perrysaid.“I’msureofthat.”“Mr. Darling has put a

substantial portion of hispersonal fortune into

countless unheraldedcharitable activities, whichinclude democratic advocacyprograms,” Perry went on.“He is a rock in that region,andMr.Herberthadno righttocallonhim.”“In a democratic society

we have all kinds of rights,”Hoodpointedout.“The right to privacy is

chief among those,” Perryreplied.“Fairenough.IassumeMr.

Darling called you. Did hesay what Mr. Herbert wasafter?”“He said there was some

nonsense about misplacednuclear waste,” Perry said,chuckling.“TheideathatMr.Darlingwouldknowanythingabout that is completelyridiculous.”“Why?”“Because, for one thing,

Mr. Darling believesabsolutelyintheruleoflaw,”

Perrysaid.Hewasno longerchuckling. “He also happensto be an extremely moralman.”“Who may have had his

wifemurdered,”Hoodsaid.“Oh, Jesus Lord!” Perry

said angrily. “Don’t tell meyoubelievethatoldsmear!”“Whowouldsmearhim?”“He spent a great deal of

money to find out,” Perryreplied. “He discovered thatthe Singaporeans had spread

thatrumorto try tokeephimfrom investing in liberalpolitical causes over there.God, Hood. I was with Mr.Darling when he receivedword of hiswife’s death.Hewas despondent. So was hisdaughter. The idea that hewould have arranged it isfranklyinsulting.”“Mr. Perry, I’m not going

to dispute what you’ve toldme,” Hood said. “Ourinformation differs from

yours.”“Then you are

misinformed.”“Youknowsomething,Mr.

Perry?Ireallyhopeso.Ihopewe’rewrongabouteverythingfrom the homicide to thenuclear trafficking. I hopeyou’re doing this from deepconviction and a sense ofhonor.”“Mr.Hood,inthepresence

ofGodhimselfIwouldsweartoeverythingItoldyou.”

“You didn’t tell meanything other than yourbeliefs, not fact,” Hoodpointedout.“ButIthankyouforsharingyourperspective.”“You’re welcome, Mr.

Hood.I’dliketosharethisaswell,”Perrywenton.“IfMr.Darling is bothered againwithout overwhelmingevidence, charges will bebrought against Mr. Herbertandyourself.LegalchargesinAustralia, ethics violations

here.”“Bruce, you should have

quitbeforeyoutrottedoutthethreats,” Hood said. “Theyalwaysstinkofguilt.”“I wouldn’t know,” Perry

told him. “You collectintelligence, Mr. Hood. Thisisintelligence.Useit.”Perryhungup.Hoodshook

his head slowly as hereplaced the phone. Hejabbed theDelete key on hiscomputer. That removed

Perry’sfilefromhismonitor.That was the problem withgovernment dossiers. Theygave you plenty of data butnottheman.Of course, what

intelligence services called2DD—two-dimensional data,factswithoutbodyoranalysis—was only one of theproblems with governmentservice.WhatbotheredHoodmorewashowofficialshadtobattle the enemies without

while fighting the enemieswithin even harder. Thelonger he stayed in publicservice, the more Hoodbecame convinced thatleaders were a burden tosociety.Iftheyallwentaway,thepeoplewoulddojustfine.A leader could not beambitious and still serveothers.Peoplewere fortunatewhen the ambitions of aleader, like Lincoln, likeFranklinRoosevelt,happened

to coincide with the generalgood.Hood took a moment to

checkwithMary Timm. Shewas already on her secondsweep of the region. Ifsomeonewason the run, shewas willing to bet that theywerenotusingtheGPS.“Whichcouldmeanwhat?”

Hoodasked.“That the subject is either

veryneartolandandcansailby eye or compass. Or else

they have no intention ofgoing near land, in whichcaseanavigationalaidwouldbeextraneous,”Maryreplied.That was not what Hood

wanted to hear. He relayedthe information to Herbert.The intelligence chief wasunfazed.“Any intelligence is

useful,” Herbert replied.“Even if it eliminatespossibilities.”And there again was the

paradox of government.Within just a few minutes,Hood’s enemy and his allyhad both said virtually thesamething.Andtheywerebothright.

FIFTY-THREETheCoralSea

Sunday,1:21A.M.Peter Kannaday’s injuries

did not prevent him fromleaving his cabin. He stayedthere hour after hour out ofshame.The captain alternately

stood by the porthole or layon the bed. He replayed theattack endlessly, consideringthings he should have done.

He thought back to the daysleading to that point. Hewished that he had willinglyformed an alliance withHawke instead of beingminimized. To do so nowwould be cowardly. To havedone so before the attackwould have been wise.Unfortunately, wisdom wasnot always there when youneeded it. He began towonder,afterseveralhours,ifmaybe that was the way it

needed to be. Lying on hisback in the dark, he thoughtof the biblical prophets whowent into the wilderness.They made the journey inordertobepoundeddownbythe sun and starvation. Theprophets bought wisdom bytaking on pain, loneliness,anddoubt.Buttheknowledgeand self-awareness theyacquired came withsomething else. Somethingindispensable. It nested atop

the fortified backbone theyneededtoapplyit.Perhaps itwasnot too late

to find courage. Realizingthat, Kannaday even sawwhat form it should take.Hehad to leave the cabin andtakeaturnondeck.Hehadtoshow the crew and Hawkethat he was beaten but notbroken.Healsoneededtobemore than just a captain. Heneededtoregaincommand.Kannaday rose from the

bed. The now-familiar achesmadehimwince,buttheydidnot cause him to pause. Hecould not show hesitationonce he left here. He had tobestrong.As Kannaday headed

toward the door, he heard akey being turned in the lock.The door was alreadyunlocked. He bolted for theknob and twisted. It did notturn. He patted his backpocket.Hiskeycasehadbeen

removed.Hewenttohisdeskfor the spare. It, too, wasgone.Kannadaywentbacktothe door and banged oncewiththesideofhisfist.“Who’s out there?” he

yelled.Therewas no answer. The

captaindidnotwaste timeorenergy shouting. He lookedaround for something to prythe door open. Possibly theletter opener he had neverused. Or one of the hooks

fromthecloset.Hewouldtrythe letter opener first. Hewent to the desk, but theopenerwasgone.In quick succession

Kannaday heard the 220horsepower Caterpillarengine quiet, idle, then stop.The yacht slowed. This wasnotascheduledstop.Thenheheard thewinchesabovehimbegin to turn. The dinghieswere being lowered. Thefloornolongerhummedwith

the low vibration caused bythepowerfulmotor.Whatthehellwasgoingon?Kannaday leaned on the

desk. He punched on theintercomtotheradioroom.“Marcus,areyouthere?”Again, no answer. Which,

in a way, was an answer initself.Just then he heard a

commotion in the hallway.He went to the door andpressed his ear to it. Crew

members were coming andgoing.Heheard crashingbutno shouts. The men werebreaking things, but theywerenot fighting. It soundedasiftheywereinthelab.“Sweet Christ almighty,”

hemuttered.They were in the lab.

Destroying the equipment.Destroying evidence? Butthey were not throwing itover the side. They weresmashing equipment on the

floor. That could only meanonething.Itwouldbestayingonboard.Andthatcouldonlymeanonething.They intended that the

Hosannahneverbefound.

FIFTY-FOURCairns,Australia

Sunday,1:42A.M.Warrant Officer George

Jelbart was relieved andhopeful when the Humveereturned.Hanging around in the

observationtowerwithSpiderwasnotJelbart’sideaofafuntime.Spiderwasoneofthosehard-talking Sydney streetkids who were equally at

home rock climbing onCradleMountaininTasmaniaor picking fights withSoutheast Asians whofrequented the bars of Perth.Spider was not up herebecause he loved nature. Orbecause hewanted to protectand serve the people ofQueensland. He was herebecause he loved the dangeroffire.InSpider’seyesitwasthe ultimate enemy. A forcethat existed even in the

vacuum of space. Jelbartwondered how the edgy,restless young man wouldreactifheknewaboutthefirehis own team was trying toprevent.Firethatcouldnotbeextinguished. Fire that wasthe ultimate deterrent untilsomeone actually used thedamn thing. Then it was thebreath of hell itself. Jelbarthad seen the disastersimulations put together bythe American Pentagon.

Those were programs thatcould not properly be calledwar simulations. After aninitial flourish, both sideswere effectively crippled.Theyincludeddeathtollsanddestructiveswathsfornuclearexchangesbetween India andPakistan, China and Taiwan,Israel and any of its MiddleEastern neighbors. Theyincluded statistics for small,ten-megatonbombs explodedin major metropolises. They

also included data for theexploding of small dirtybombs, nuclear materialpacked with traditionalexplosives such as plastiqueand dynamite. The best-casescenario involved the deathsofover10,000people.Spider appeared oblivious

toconceptsofthatmagnitude.Norwas there any reason heshouldbeawareofthem.Buthis mano a mano natureseemed naive in the face of

what Jelbart and the othersweretracking.Leyland parked the

Humvee near the helicopterpad. He set Little Malukadown. The koala returned tothe tower. Then Leylandcalled Eva and asked her toget the pilot from the cabin.The firewarden said nothingabouttheirmissiontohistwoassociates.“I expect you may get

some fallout from all this,”

Jelbart told Leyland. Herealized, after saying it,whatwordhehadchosen.“I can handle it,” Leyland

said. “Hecan’t prove I knewwhat you blokes were up to.Besides,what are they goingto do? Fire me?” Leylandwinked. He had obviouslymeanttousethatword.“You’re a good man,”

Jelbartsaid,shakinghishand.Loh bowed slightly to

Leyland. Herbert clasped the

captain’s hand with both ofhis. Behind him, the pilotreadiedthechopper.“The koala idea was a

damn good one, Captain,”Herbert said. “I’m the guythatmuckedthingsup.Iftheydo kick you out, come toWashington. There’s a jobwaitingforyou.”“Thanks.You’re definitely

a bloke to go scrub-bashingwith,”Leylandtoldhim.Loh had opened the door,

and Herbert wheeled over.The three climbed into thehelicopter. They wereairborne in under a minute.Jelbart glanced at the spotlitobservation tower as itreceded. It tightened thewarrantofficer’sthroat,justalittle,toknowthatthereweremen like Captain Leyland.Men who did not limit theirsenseof duty towhatwas intheirjobdescription.Thatdidnot diminish Spider. But it

certainlyelevatedLeyland.Herbert leaned forward as

they soared toward the starlitskies.“Whatthehellisscrub-bashing?”heaskedJelbart.“That’s when you make

yourownroadthroughdensebrush,”Jelbartreplied.“It’sahe-man’s Sunday drive. Ifyouget invited, itmeansyourate. You obviously made agoodimpression.”“Oh,”Herbertreplied.The intelligence chief sat

back.Helookedconfused.Jelbart had not known

Herbert long. But he knewhow a man looked when hewas frustrated. Herbert hadthat look. Leyland had tohave noticed that, too. Thatcouldbewhyhesaidwhathedid, to give Herbert a littleboost.Jelbart smiled as they

headedtowardthecoast.Thatelevated Leyland a littlemore.

FIFTY-FIVETheCoralSea

Sunday,1:55A.M.Captain Kannaday was

unable to pry open the cabindoor.Thatwasironic.Hedidnot want to get out when hecould.Nowthatthedoorwaslocked,hedesperatelywantedtobeontheotherside.Withoutaccesstotheradio

room, he could not call out.Hereinthecabinhehadvery

little at his disposal. Aportholejustwideenoughforhis head.He could not crawlout. There was also theshower. If he pluggedup thedrain and tore the desk lampfrom its cord, he could dropthelooseendsintothewater.Anyonesteppinginthewaterwould get a jolt. But thelamps in the yacht were runoff a marine deep cyclebattery. The 550 amperecharge would not kill them.

He did not even think itwouldstunthem.And Kannaday would still

betrappedinhere.He had a cigarette lighter,

but the door was fireproof.Hewouldnotevenbeabletoburnthroughit.He swore. He could not

understand what Darling andHawke were up to. Thecaptain’s body had adjustedto the pain. He started topace. He felt as though he

were working sore muscles.He paused now and then tokick the door.The cabin hadneverseemedsosmall.Suddenly, he heard a low

growl from down the hall.The floorbegan tovibrate. Itsounded as if someone wereusing an electric drill orrouter.Theywerekept in theevent the yacht suffereddamage in a collision orstorm.But the sound seemedto be coming from below.

There was a long, narrowcrawlspacebetweenthedeckand the red cedar outer hull.The area was accessiblethrough a trapdoor in thecorridor. Cables, extra gear,and emergency equipmentsuch as the tools and flareswerekeptthere.Theshipwasinfineshape.

Therewasonlyonereasontoenter the crawl space withtools. They were putting ahole in the outer hull. The

Hosannah was going to bescuttled.“Hawke!” the captain

screamed as he pounded onthe door again. “Dammit,Hawke!”Kannaday cursed himself

for not having acted sooner.What was happening outthere transcended disciplineand retribution. Darlingwouldonlysink theship if itcould be used against him.Something must have gone

wrong somewhere in thenetwork. Darling needed togetridoftheevidence.Hencethe smashing of theequipment. Darling alsoneeded someone to take thefall.Acorpsecouldnotdenyitsguilt.Kannaday was not

especially close to the crew.Darling would not have hadto offer them much tocooperate.“You bastards!” he

shouted.Even if the men were

listening, no one could haveheard him. The winch andwhatever tools they wereusingmadetoomuchnoise.The winch stopped. The

two boats must be in thewater.Kannadaycouldnotbesure.Hisporthole lookedouttoward the starboard side ofthe yacht. A moment later,therumblingsoundsfromtheinteriorcorridoralsostopped.

Thecaptainheardvoicesandhurried footsteps. A fewseconds later, all the noiseson the vessel were comingfrom above deck. The menwere rushing to the stern.They were obviously gettinginto the dinghies. Kannadaywondered if his own crewknewhewasnotcoming.Kannaday screamed in

frustration.Heranatthedooragain. It was reinforced andwatertight to prevent

flooding.The impacthurthisshoulder, and he backedaway.Rubbing it, the captain

paced anxiously in a tightcircle. He looked around,tryingdesperately to thinkofawayout.Therewereaerosolcansinthebathroom.Perhapshe could puncture them,cause them to explode. Buthow,without hurting himselfintheprocess?Suddenly, the yacht

became very still and stable.Kannaday heard the twomastscreak.Thewaveswerenolongermovingitfromsideto side. That meant it wasbottomheavy.Theyachtwasgoingdown.

FIFTY-SIXTheGreatBarrier

ReefSunday,2:09A.M.

MonicaLoh knew that thesearch for Jervis Darling’svesselwasprobablyhopeless.The Singaporean patrol

boatwasmovingattopspeedtoward the area. It waslistening for the ship in acontinuoussweepofallradio

frequencies.Thechopperwaswatchingforthevessel.Butaboat running silent andprobably dark would bevirtuallyimpossibletofindatnight. Radar was unreliabledue to the sheer number ofhits they picked up: not justboats but reefs, sea creatureson the surface, even largewaves. Modern equipmentwasoccasionallytoosensitiveto be useful. She wasguessing that by daybreak it

would be gone completely.And with the ship hidden,they would lose their bestchance to track this action toDarling and find themissingnuclearwaste.Jelbart was on the radio

withhishomebase.Whenhewas finished, the pilotcontacted theRAAFAirfieldDefence Squadron satellitebase in Cooktown. That wasthe nearest refueling point intheregion.

FNO Loh did not feelcomfortable about the newworld in which they wereliving.Shedidnotyearnforasimpler era. Nor did shedoubt her skills or those ofher shipmates. They weresmart and disciplined. Whatworried her were the agentswho had joined groups likeInterpolortheCIAbecauseitseemed glamorous. Many ofthem did not expect nor askforthegrievousresponsibility

thathadbeenplacedon theirbacks.Lohhopedtheireffortsherewouldbeanexample toothers rather than anexception. The civilizedworld did not have time toaccommodate longapprenticeships.“I just spokewithGeneral

Hopkins,” the pilot informedthegroup.“He’llletusrefuelthere. That gives us ninetyminutes of flying time. Howdoyouwanttospendit?”

“Warrant Officer, that’syourcall,”Herbertsaid.“I suggest we follow the

reef northeast,” Jelbart said.“HQ said that Darling’sproperty holdings are mostlyin the south and west. Thatwouldbeoutofreachforhisboat. And his cove iscompletelyopen.Myguessishe’llmakearunfortheopenseaandaforeignport.”“Perhapsthesameportthat

swallowed the Malaysian

vessel,”FNOLohsuggested.“That’s a reasonable

guess,” Jelbart admitted. “Sowe’llheadnorth,whichwe’llhave to do to reachCooktown.Thenwe’ll swingouttowardtheseainatightZpatternandhopewespotourprey.”“Sirs,GeneralHopkinshas

also offered to launch a pairof A3 Mirage fighters if weneed them for surveillance,”thepilotadded.

LohwaitedtoseeJelbart’sresponse. The need forabsolutesecurity,tokeepanyleaksfromDarling,versustheneedforinformation.“It’sgetting too late in the

day for overcaution,” Jelbartsaid. “Thank the general andsay we would welcome thehelp. I’ll have a look at themap and give him the airrouteswe’dlikecovered.”“Yes,sir,”thepilotreplied.“I’ll notify my patrol boat

ofourplan,”Lohsaid.Jelbart passed the headset

back to her while he took alookattheflightbook.“I wonder if their base

might be a tanker of somesort,” Herbert thought aloud.“Somethingmobile.”“And protectable,” Jelbart

said. “Something that largecould be a floating SCUDbank.”“Itsurewouldbeahelluva

deliveryplatformfornuclear-

tipped missiles,” Herbertagreed. “Hell, there isn’t aport on earth tankers don’tvisit.”Loh listened to themenas

she placed her call. Shehoped theyweremistaken. Itwas bad enoughcontemplating the damagepetty despots could do withintermediate-range missiles.Addmoney and internationalpolitical clout, and therewasno limit to the potential

subterfuge.EvenifHerbertandJelbart

were wrong this time, theymight not be wrong the nexttime. Or the time after that.Thingsweregoingtohavetochange radically in the waythe military and intelligenceservicesdidbusiness.Fortunately, Loh had an

idea where they might start.With a resource that wasalreadyintheirlap.

FIFTY-SEVENTheCoralSea

Sunday,2:09A.M.The yacht began to sink

toward the stern. Kannadaystumbledbackagainstthebedas the floor tilted. Theincoming water was settlingintheaftsection.Thecaptainheardtheclatterofboxesandlooseequipmentbelowasthevesselshifted.The crawl space, he

thoughtsuddenly.Kannaday leaned on the

wall.Hebracedhimselfwithboth hands as he stood. Thefar end of the storage areawasdirectlybelowthecabin.If he could pry up thefloorboards,hemightbeabletosqueezethrough.The captain bolted toward

the desk and pulled out thedrawer. He did not have aletteropenerorknife,butthedrawer was held in by

runners. He yanked it free,tossed it aside, and lookedatthe screws.Anail filewouldwork. He went into thebathroom and got his nailclippers from the medicinechest.He flippedout thenailfile and used it to work outthescrews.Thereweretwoineach runner. The first onecame free quickly. That wasallhewouldneed.Therunnerwasshapedlike

a squared-off C. Kannaday

went back to the bathroom,unscrewed the metal sprayhead from the shower, andlaid the endof the runner onthe desk. Holding theshowerhead in his fist, heused it to pound the end oftherunnerflat.Hehadhislever.Grabbing the runner, the

nailfile,andtheshowerhead,he dropped to his knees nearthe door. The floorboardswere epoxy-coated

mahogany. He wedged thenail file between two of theplanks and dug a small holebetween them. He insertedthe flattened edge of therunner.Risingon the slopingfloor,heusedtheshowerheadtopoundtherunnerdown.Hedid it firmly enough to pushthe metal in, but softlyenough to keep it frombending. It took just fourwhacks to put the runnerthrough. Kannaday repeated

the process along the entireside of the narrow plank.Asheworked,theboatcontinuedto shift. First it leveled, thenitdipped toport, then theaftdropped again. Kannadaytriednottothinkaboutgoingunder. Hawke would havetaken them several miles outto sea. The water was anaverage of two hundred feetdeep here. Once theHosannah went down, PeterKannaday would not be

comingbackup.The captain had gone

aroundmostofthefirstplankwhen he stood and stompedonit.Theplanksplitfromtheonebesideitanddroppedintothe crawl space. Kannadaygot back on his knees andworked on the ends of theplankbesideit.Whenhehadpunchedthroughthose,heputthe runner down, put hisfingers into the opening leftby the first plank, andpulled

on the second. With threesidesfree,itcameupeasily.Kannaday could hear the

water rushing in. He did notstop. The batteries were in awatertight compartment, buthe did not know how longtheywould last. If theydied,hewouldbeinthedark.He managed to get the

third plank up. Kannadayneeded to removeat leastsixbefore he could think oftrying to get in. As he

watched the water rise, herealized that there would notbe time tocontinue thisway.Reaching behind him, hepulled his pillowcase fromthe bed. He wrapped itaroundhishands.Crouching,he reached into the hole hehad made and pulled up onthe next plank. He graspedthe edge of the wood. Thepillowcase prevented himfrom slipping on the moistmahogany.Thewoodrefused

to budge. He screamed infrustration and lookedaround.Therewasnothing.Just then he realized that

the contents of the crawlspace were settling towardthestern.Swearingathisownstupidity, he got a flashlightfromhisdesk,droppedtohisbelly, and shone the light intheopeninghehadmade.Hesawthe toolkit. Itwas

banging around in the areajust beyond the door of his

cabin.Reaching in, Kannaday

stretched his arm in thatdirection.He could not quitereach it. He took the runner,bent the end into a hook,stuckit intotheopening,andfishedforthemetalchest.Hesnaggedit.Pullingitinside,Kannaday

openedthelargeboxandtookoutahammer.Gettingonhisknees, he slammed itrepeatedly into the planks. It

tooktwoblowseachtocrackthem,onemoretosendthemtumblingintothecrawlspace.As thewater started to floodhis cabin, Kannaday realizedthat he would have to go inheadfirst. The yacht settledagain slightly. Thismight beas level as the vessel gotbefore going down. Takingtheflashlightinhislefthand,Kannaday lay down, took alongbreath,thenslidintothecrawlspace.

There was only abouttwenty-five feet to theopeningcutby thecrew.Butit seemed much fartherbecause of the debris thatblocked Kannaday’s way.There was no room forvertical or lateral movement.He could not shove theflotsam around, under, orbehind him. He had to pushthe containers, equipment,shards of wood, and otherobjects ahead as hewriggled

forward. It was like movingagainst a dam that grewthickerbytheinstant.Hewasfinally forced to letgoof theflashlightandusebothhands.Fortunately,thecrewhadleftthetrapdooropentofacilitatethe flow of water. The halllights filtered through theopening in the deck.Kannadayusedbothhandstoshoveontheobjectsclusteredin the crawl space. Thecaptain was literally knee-

walkingforwardasthealgae-thickwaterrolledthroughthecrawlspaceandlowerdeck.The Hosannah continued

totiltandpitch.Thegeyserofseawater batted the debrisback. He did not think hewould be able to get muchfarther ahead. Kannaday’sarmsandchesthurt from thebeating, and the exertionstrained his lungs. Eventhough his brain knew itwould kill him, his lungs

insisted that he inhale. Thecaptain had to fight thatimpulse. He was less thanfourfeetfromthetrapdoor.Itwas likebeingunder the ice-covered surface of a pond.Kannaday was close tofreedomyetnotquitethere.His temples were pulsing

hard, and his vision wasbeginningtoswirl.Hedidnothavemuchtime.Thewaythedebrishadpiledupinfrontofhim, there was only enough

roomtoextendhisrightarm.Turning onto his back, hestuck his hand toward thetrapdoor, turnedhispalmup,and grabbed the near side ofthe opening. He pulled hard.The edges of metal boxes,tools, and the other gear cutinto him as he draggedhimself up. It would not beenoughtogettotheopening.Itwasalreadyunderwater.Hehad to get through it andoutofthecrawlspace.

Heneeded tobreathe. In afewmomentshewasgoingtobreathe, even if he took inonlyseawater.Heworkedhisleft arm past the pile ofequipment, rippinghissleeveand rending his flesh as hestretched it toward theopening.Hegrabbedtheedgeand pulled with both handsnow.Hemovedslowlyuptheside of the mountain ofdebris.Hisforeheadwasneartheopening. Itwent through.

His shoulders followed.Nowhe was pushing on the edgeinsteadofpulling.Hewas inthe water-filled corridor. Hebent at the waist, drew hisfeet out, flipped over, andscrambledahead.Hehalf-swam,half-jumped

to his feet and gasped at thesame time.He took in air. Itwas salvation, the commonmade uncommon. All otherfears and considerationsdwarfed in comparison. He

splashed back down and feltfor a wall. He found one onthestarboardside.Itwasataslightangle,tiltingawayfromhim.Heleanedagainstitandgot his feet under him. Herose, his shoulders rounded,waterrunningfromthem.Blood from his fresh

wounds mixed with theseawater. The salt in thewater stung, but it was notlike the pain of the beating.He had earned these wounds

bydeed.Hefeltreborn.Kannadaywasjustforward

of the radio room.Thewatercameup tohiswaist.At thisrate, the boat would beunderwater in about a halfhour.Suddenly,therewasasnap

likeadrytwigbreaking.Thewater must have reached thebatteries.Thelightswentout.The captain turned back

toward the trapdoor. Helooked down into the crawl

space.His flashlightwasstillon, twisting in the rushingwater.Hewaded back to getit. Now that Kannaday wasno longerpushing thedebris,ithadbeguntoslidebackintothe aft depths of the crawlspace. It knocked theflashlight around, but hemanaged to grab it before itdrifted away. He turned andbalanced himself against thesloping wall as he sloggedthrough thewater.Therewas

something he needed.Something he was sure thatmurderers in thenightwouldnottake.Kannadayenteredtheradio

room. Most of the wreckedequipment was underwater.Smaller pieces, mostly wiresandmicrochips,werefloatingontheshiftingwaters.Butthebox he wanted was stillbracketed shoulder-high tothe inner wall. The captainknewthatHawkeandMarcus

wouldnothavebotheredwithit.Theboxwasbrightredand

the size of a lunch pail.Kannadayreachedup,flippedthe lid, and removed thecontents. As the yachtmoanedandlurched,hemadehis way quickly toward thestairsandfreedom.

FIFTY-EIGHTWashington,D.C.

Saturday,12:38P.M.Like a federal Darwin

exploring survival of thefittest in a bureaucracy, PaulHoodhadidentifiedcountlessfunctions for the director ofOp-Center. Sometimes thejob required a quarterback.Sometimes it called for acheerleader. Sometimes therewere other responsibilities.

This happened to be one ofthoserah-rahtimes.Paul Hood entered the

small, bright room that wasStephenViens’sworkarea.Officially, this area was

Op-Center’s internal securitydepartment. Viens and hisone-person teamwatched formoles and peoplewhomightbetemptedtopasssecretsonto other nations. That washow it had been describedwhenOp-Center’saccountant

Carolina Burdo drew up theannualbudget.Unofficially,itwas also where Viens usedhis years as satellite imagingsupervisor with the NRO toget priority satellite time forOp-Center.Viens’sofficewastheonly

oneintheundergroundsectorthat had a window. Thewindow looked out into thecorridor, but that did notmatter. After years ofworking for the National

ReconnaissanceOffice,Vienswantedareal-timeview,evenifitwasofmoreworkspace.That included Mary Timm’ssmall cubicle, which waslocated just outside his door.The young woman wasreviewing data being fed toher by various surveillancesatellites. She was collatingthat information and sendingittoViens.Viens himself was seated

withhisback to thewindow.

Before him, on a laboratorytable, three laptop computerssat side by side. Thesurveillance expert lookedoverasHoodentered.“Sorry to disappoint you,

Paul, but we’re not gettinganything useful,” Vienslamented.“Are you getting anything

at all?” Hood asked. Hestopped beside Viens. Therewere very different kinds ofmapson eachmonitor.Hood

guessed that they were thesectionsofseathatVienswasstudying. This sector ofintelligence gathering wasrelativelynewforOp-Center,which used to relyexclusively on the NRO forsatellitesurveillance.“Wehaven’tseenorheard

anything that resembles aboat on the run,” Viensinformed him. “And we’vecovered a lot of territoryalong theGreatBarrierReef,

the eastern reaches of theCelebes, the entire BandaSea, and the western andsouthwesternCoralSea.”“Youdid all that inninety

minutes?”Hoodasked.“Yes, but we had three

processes going at once,”Viens said. “Audio, visual,and thermal. One ofteneliminates the need for theother.”“How?”“For instance, we’ve been

monitoring the ARCON,”Viens told him. “That’s theAsian Rim CivilianObservation Network. Itconsists, basically andinformally,ofwhoever isoutthere. The maritime policeandnavies in that region usespecific frequencies forcivilian communication. Ifthe radar on a freighter or acruiseshipsawanothervesselbarreling through, the nightwatchwouldhavereported it

on an ARCON frequency.Since no one did, ourprogram calculated how farthe radar of reported vesselswas sweeping. Odds werethat our target ship was notmoving through that area, sowedidn’twastesatellitetimelookingforit.”Viensmadeaface.“Idon’tlikethefactthatwe’re using technology tofigure out where peoplearen’t, not where they are.Butit’sthebestwecando.”

“Michelangelo said thatsculpting is taking away thepartsofthemarblethataren’tthestatue,”Hoodsaid.“Italsotookthemanabout

fouryearstopaintaceiling,ifI’mrememberingmyVaticanhistorycorrectly,”Vienssaid.“Youare,”Hood toldhim.

He had spent several nightsreading about the Vaticanduring Op-Center’s church-allied mission in Botswana.The Vatican’s wealth

included its vast artcollection, and facts about itwereinthefiles.“Stop kicking yourself in

the ass,”Hood said. “You’researching with no idea ofwhat to look for.At leastwecan tell Bob where not tolook.”“I’ll E-mail the clear zone

parameters to your office,”Vienssaid.“Thanks,”Hoodsaid.“But I’m still not

satisfied,”Vienssaid.“That’s okay,” Hood said.

“Just don’t be down onyourself. There’s adifference.”Viens grunted in what

Hoodtookforagreement.Hebegan collecting the data forHerbert.Hood left the office. He

had not managed to boostViens’s morale. Worse thanthat, there had beenbackwash.The futility of the

operation was starting tognawatHood.Viensliterallyhad access to a world ofelectronic data. He wasusuallyintheforefrontofanywe-can-do-this movement. Ifhe was worried, then therewasrealcauseforconcern.Hood glanced down at

MaryTimmashepassedherdesk. He gave her a bravelittle smile and a wink. Shesmiled back. It was a bigsmile. Not just pretty but

confident. Itwas a smile fullof youth and uncorruptedhope.EvenMary’seyeswereradiant.Hoodrememberedwhenhe

usedtofeelthatway.Firstasmayor of Los Angeles, andthenwhenhefirstbecamethedirectorofOp-Center.Evenifhe were being naive at thetime, Hood always felt thatthings would work out. Andinvariably they did. Notalwayswithoutcost,but they

had a saying on Wall Streetwhenheworkedinfinance.Ifthe goods are worth it, thepricewasworthit.Thesegoodswereworthit.Things would work out

again, somehow. He had tobelievethat.Mary’s smile lingered in

Hood’s memory. Sometimesjust the simplest gesture wasalsocheerleading.

FIFTY-NINETheCoralSea

Sunday,2:39A.M.TheHosannah was listing

nearly twenty-five degrees tostarboard when the captaincame on deck. He washunched forward as heemerged from thecompanionway. That helpedhimtokeephisfootingontheslopeddeck.Hewascarryingthetwoitemshehadbrought

frombelow.Kannaday glanced at the

stars to get his bearings. Hehad sailed this region foryears and knew it well. Theprowof theyachtwasfacingnortheast. The nearest landwas probably CapeMelville.Thatwas about amile to thesouthwest.Thecaptainturnedand swung around themainmast, then duckedbeneath the spar. The dacronsailflappedinthenightwind.

The fabric made a hollow,mournful sound. Kannadaymoved quickly past it. Thelaunch motors were off. Themenwouldbe rowing. In thedark, in unknown waters,they were unlikely to behurrying. Kannaday hopedtheyhadnotgoneveryfar.When the captain was

below, drowning seemedimminent. Now that he wasabove deck on a sinkingvessel,drowningalsoseemed

imminent. Yet PeterKannaday felt invigorated.He had bought himselfanother opportunity toconfrontJohnHawke.Hehada chance to buy back hisdignity. Kannaday wouldrather have that than a lifejacket.The Hosannah took a

sudden dip toward the sternjustasKannadayreached theaftermast. He grabbed thethick pole, hugging it tightly

with his arms as loosehalyards loudly smacked themast and capstan. In hishandswerethetwoobjectshehad taken from the radioroom.Hewaited.Theboatwould

notgodownyet.Itcouldnot.Itdidnot.The vessel listed to port

then settled again. Carefullymaking sure of his footing,Kannaday let goof themast.He half-walked, half-slid

towardtheaftrail.Thebarrierwasonlykneehigh.Butyearson the yacht had taught thecaptain how to brace himselfin unsteady seas. He bracedhisrightkneeagainstthepostthat supported the flagmarking the ship’s registry.Then the captain looked outacrosstherelativelycalmsea.A fine spraymisted his skin.The salty water soothed hisbruised jaw and stung theopen wounds on his arms.

Thesea,thepain,andthejoy.Anticipation and a drivinghunger for something,whether it was wealth orsurvival or revenge. All ofKannaday’slifeseemedtobeencapsulatedinthatmoment.The captain raised both

arms straight ahead. His leftarm was nearlyperpendicular. His right armwas parallel to the sea. Hefired the flare gun in his lefthand.Thepinkishfireroseon

a puffy magnesium-whiteplume.Thesmall,darkwavesof the Coral Sea became awidening expanse of sharpshadow and light. The lightareas dimmed as the flareroseinthesky.Butthecircleof illumination grew asKannaday stared ahead.Finally,allbutdespairingthathehadlostHawke,Kannadaysawwhathehadbeenhopingfor. About three hundredmeters away, he saw the

dinghies on the edge of thelight.Thesailorslookedupatthelight, thenbackalongthehigh,smokingarc.Kannaday swung his right

arminfrontofhim.Hestaredalongthebarrelofthesecondflare pistol and fired. Therecoil caused his body totwist slightly on the slickdeck.Withoutwaiting to seewhether the projectile hadstruck, Kannaday pulled twospare 38mm cartridges from

his pocket.He reloaded eachplastic-barrel pistol, raisedboth, aimed, and fired insuccession. The twin streaksflashed through the artificiallight on a course toward thedinghies.Thefirstflarehadstruckits

target, landing inside thefarthest dinghy. The heat ofthe projectile quickly meltedthe inflated neoprene. Thedinghy succumbed with afaintpopandacollapsetothe

rightside.Kannaday’ssecondshot missed both dinghies,buthis thirdand fourth shotsbothlandedinthecompanionvessel. The flares must haveburnedthroughthebottom.Inthe dying light of theoverheadflareKannadaysawthedinghyfoldinward.He loaded his last two

flaresandfired theminto thesky. The heavens gleamedwith white smoke and light.Theglowilluminatedascene

of a handful of men in thewater, fighting to grab thefewoarsortheremainsofthedeflateddinghies.Evenastheyacht groaned fromsomewhere under the water,Kannaday could hear theirdistantyells.He had done it. Kannaday

raised the pistolstriumphantly, even as theyachtlurchedtothestarboardanddippedfurthertowardthestern. He stumbled roughly

againsttheflagpole,droppingthe pistols as he fell. Heclutched at the pole, nearlyswinging over the side. Hemanaged to stabilize hisposition and remainondeck.No sooner had he steadiedhimself than he felt a sharpstinging pain in his leftshoulder.He reached for it,

simultaneously turningtoward the bow. Kannadaygaspedashefeltadartinhis

flesh.Hewincedashedrewitout.He did not have to lookatittoknowwhatitwas.“A good security chief

doesnotleaveajobuntilitisdone,” said a voice fromamidships.Ashapewasbarelyvisible

in the dying glow of theflares. It was the form of aman. John Hawke steppedforward on the sloping deck.Hewaswearing a life jacketandcarryingthewommerain

hisrighthand.“Iheard the fussyouwere

making and decided I hadbetter stick around,” Hawkesaid. “All that pounding andhammering.”Hawke’s right arm

swooped back, then snappedforward. A second dart flewtoward Kannaday. It hit himin the right thigh. It pinchedand the leg buckled. Hecaught the flagpole to keepfrom hitting the deck. He

hung therewhileheremovedthe second dart. The bastardcouldhavehithimharder.Hewas simply playing with thecaptain.“I waited for you at the

bow,”Hawkesaid.“Ididnotthinkyouwouldmakeitout.”“YouwaiteduntilIwasout

offlares,”Kannadaysaid.“Agoodsecuritychiefalso

knows when to make hismove,” Hawke replied as hebegan walking forward. “It’s

a shame you sent our meninto the water, though. Noteveryone has a life jacket,andit’salongwaytoshore.”The wiry man leanedbackward slightly as heapproached. He remainedsurefooted on the slopingdeck. “But it won’t botheryour conscience for long.Likemanyof them, youwilldrown.Therecanbenoothermortal wound. Otherwise,youwouldalreadybedead.”

Hawke was holding thewommera like a club. In asinking ship, any number ofobjects could hit a sailor onthe head and crack his skull.Thatwas obviously the plan.To knock Kannaday out andthendrownhim.Kannaday could not

believe that he hadunderestimatedHawkeagain.Thecaptainhadaproblem

and only a moment to solveit. His shoulder and leg had

taken muscle damage fromthe darts. Hawke wasuninjured. The security chiefcould probably overpowerKannaday.Butifheturnedtoclimb the rail, Hawkewouldreach Kannaday before hecouldgetover.Kannadayknew,ofcourse,

what he had to do. He hadfoughthardtoregainsomeofhisself-respect.Herefusedtosurrenderthat.ThecaptainoftheHosannahwouldnotrun.

The security officer wasnow a silhouette against thevivid splash of stars.Kannaday rested his lowerback against the railing andraisedhishandslikeaboxer.He kept his fists close to hischest. If Hawke intended toclub himwith thewommera,the captain wanted to try toblock it. Hawke wouldprobably go for the side hehadwounded. Thatwaswhyhehadwoundedit.Kannaday

would be ready to twist andtake the blow with hisforearm.Suddenly,frombeneaththe

men, a third player enteredthedrama.

SIXTYOspreyReef

Sunday,2:46A.M.Thehelicopterwasmoving

in a northeasterly directionwhen Herbert’s phonebeeped. All eyes save thepilot’sturnedtohim.Herbertcouldnotseetheeyesclearlyinthedark.Butheknewwhatwasinthem.Hope. They wanted

information, a shred of

intelligence, a place to look.Anything.Jelbartloweredthebinocularshehadbeenusing.He and Loh looked to BobHerbert’s expression for aquick indication of whetherOp-Center had learnedsomething.Herbert listened for a

moment, thenshookhisheadonce.Without comment,Lohand Jelbart went back tolooking out the windows.Ahead of them was Osprey

Reef, which lay 210 milesfromCairns.Itwasapopularshark-watching spot fortourists. Herbert wished thatwereanomen.The pilot turned to his

passengers. “We’re nearly atthe point of no return,” heshouted back. “If we don’tstart back in the next fifteenminutesorso,wewon’treachtherefuelingdepot.”Herbert acknowledged

with a nod. He looked past

the reef. It was odd. He hadnever felt trapped in hiswheelchair. But he felttrappednowinafast-movinghelicopter unhindered byroads and mountains. Thatwas because he lackedinformationandthemeanstoget it. Ignorance was notbliss.Itwasaprison.Herbert blinked his tired

eyes. He raised them to thehorizon. It had a slightlyruddy hue. He looked at his

watch. It was not quite threeA.M. It was too early fordawn.“People,havealookatthe

eastern horizon,” Herbertsaid. “What do youmake ofthat?”“It can’t be sunrise,” Loh

said.Jelbart turned his

binoculars in that direction.“No. There are individuallights out there.” He tappedthe pilot on the shoulder and

pointed. “Let’s have a lookbeforewegoback.”The pilot nodded and

swung the Bell toward thefaint glow. Jelbart continuedto study the lights with hisbinoculars.“You know, those lights

are the color of distressflares,”Jelbartsaid.Herbert thought the same

thing.Whiteflareswereforaperson overboard. Yellowflares were for working a

line-throwing apparatus.Orange meant the user wasstranded but safe. The colorswere different so that theflares could provide lightwithout needlesslysummoning surroundingvessels.Jelbart lowered his

binoculars and pressed theheadphones to his ears. Heand the pilot were obviouslyreceivingamessage.“Oneoftheplanessawthe

light, too,” Jelbart saidexcitedly. “Definitely flares,looks like a ketch is goingdown.”“Any fires?” Herbert

asked.Jelbartshookhishead.“Lifeboats?”Lohasked.“Not that they could see,”

Jelbartreplied.“A ketch,” Herbert said

thoughtfully.“Aboatlikethatwouldn’t seem out of placehere,wouldit?”

“No,” Jelbart replied. Hepulled the chart book fromthe sleeve on the door. Heflipped to the page with thecoordinates the pilot hadgiven him. “That area of theseais twohundredfeetdeep,withnoreefs.Nothingashipwouldbelikelytostrike.Notwithenoughforcetosinkit.”“Whywouldthesmugglers

sinktheirownship,thensendoutflares?”Lohwondered.“Especially so many

flares,” Jelbart pointed out.“Therehadtobethreeorfourtolighttheskylikethat.”“They are not the kind of

projectiles that would self-launch in heat or in a fire,”Loh said. “They have to betriggeredintentionally.”“Right,” Jelbart said.

“Though it appears some ofthesewereignitedclosetothewater.Notintheair.”“Perhaps the boat shifted

when they were firing,” Loh

suggested. “This may havebeen an act of desperationbeforeitwentdown.”“You don’t take a boat to

deep water and sink itbecause you want to befound,”Herbertsaid.“Then why fire flares?”

Jelbartasked.“Maybenoteveryoneliked

the idea of the boat beingdeep-sixed,” Herbertspeculated.“A mutiny,” Jelbart

suggested.“Dissent among

smugglers,” Herbert replied.“That’s not a big leap ofimagination.”“True.Well,we’llhaveour

answers soon,” Jelbart said.He turned to the pilot. “Howmuch time until we getthere?”“About ten minutes,” the

pilotreplied.“If we don’t go back for

refueling,where’sthenearest

place on the mainland to setdown?”Herbertasked.Jelbart checked the map.

“Moribura, which is abouttwohundredkilometerstothesouthwest.”“Thatwouldstillonlygive

us another ten minutes ofhovering time,” the pilotpointedout.“My patrol boat is coming

overatfullspeed,”FNOLohpointedout. “Theyshouldbeon site in approximately one

hour. Theywill maintain theintegrityofthesite.”“Thatmaynotbeintimeto

help the people on board,”Jelbartsaid.“I can radio Darwin,” the

pilot said. “There’s a RoyalVolunteerCoastalPatrolbasenearby. In Port Douglas, Ithink.”“Thanks,but thatwouldn’t

help,” Jelbart said. “TheRVCP fields a Patrol 5 thatdoes 18.5 knots, and they

don’t have air capability.Anyone in the water will bearm weary and damn nearfreezingbeforehelparrives.”“I’mcrying,”Herbertsaid.Jelbart ignoredhis remark.

“Is there anythingwecandobeforeFNOLoh’spatrolshiparrives?”“Notreally,”thepilotsaid.

“All I’vegot isanaluminumladderandnota lotof flyingtime.”Herbert watched as the

helicopter swept toward theboat.Thelightfromtheflareswasallbutgonenow.“It looks to me as if the

prow is underwater,” Jelbartsaid.“Where were those flares

burning?”Herbertasked.“Offthestern,”Jelbarttold

him.“So that rules out one

theory,”Herbertsaid.“Yes,”Lohsaid.“Theidea

thatsomeonefiredacross the

water’s surface because thevessel shifted.A forwarddipwould have thrown theprojectilesskyward.”“Exactly,” Herbert said.

The intelligence officer wasimpressed. Monica Loh didnot always seem to belistening. But she was. Andshewasthinking.Herberthadgottenaccustomedtothewaythings were done inWashington. When peopleweresilent,itwasalwaysfor

one of two reasons, both ofthembad.Eithertheythoughtthey had all the answers andwerenotinterestedinhearingany others, or they wereafraid to speak because thenthey would have to takeresponsibility for suggestionsthatmightbecomepolicy.Fartoo many federal employeesput personal interest overnationalinterest.Herbert enjoyed being

surprised by a person’s quiet

assets rather than by theirhidden shortcomings. Hiswife Yvonne had been likethat. When they startedworking together, the futureMrs.Herbertwasalwaysveryquiet. Herbert instinctively,chauvinistically, wronglythought of Yvonne in termsof her pay grade. She was asubordinate.Shewasbackup.But thewomanwasanythingbut that. She was usuallybeside him or several steps

ahead. Itwas odd.When theBeirut embassywasbombed,Yvonne had taken shards ofwood and cinderblock in theback.Herberthadnoproofofthis,noneatall.Buthewentdown a moment before shedid.Hehadalways imaginedthatYvonnebecameawareofthebombgoingoffaninstantbefore he did, pushed him tothefloor,anddroppedontopof him. That was how thecouplewasfound.

Whether or not they wereapproaching Darling’s boat,Herbertnolongerfeltquitesotrapped.“It’s too dark to see

anythingnow,”Jelbartsaidashe lowered his binoculars.“WishI’dbroughtthebloodynight-visionglasses.”“We’ll be in range of the

spotlights in two minutes orso,”thepilotpointedout.“We’ll also be in range of

any weapons they might

have,” Herbert said, leaningtowardthepilot.“I was just thinking that,”

Jelbartsaid.“Sirs, we don’t have any

retaliatory capability,” thepilotnoted.“I noticed that,” Herbert

said. “Mr. Jelbart, can youradio General Hopkins andasktohavetheMiragescirclethearea.”“Of course,” Jelbart said.

“Not that I thinkwe need to

worry. A sinking boat is notanidealfiringplatform.”“I’ll still feel betterwith a

coupleoffightersbuzzingtheboat, just to keep themhonest,”Herbertsaid.“Sir,I’lltrytopositionthe

under section of the hullbetween us and anyone whomightstillbeonit,”thepilotsaid. “That will make itdifficulttotargetus.”“Sounds good,” Herbert

said.

“There are two things inour favor,” FNO Lohobserved.“Allthescarringonthe sampan was from smallarms fire. Our adversariesmay not be equipped withanything stronger. Even iftheywere,theyareapparentlyout here trying to sink theevidence.Thatwouldincludeweapons.”Herbert nodded. That

cinched it. He was in lovewiththiswoman.

The intelligence chief satback and called Op-Center.He did not think StephenViens would be able to getuseful satellite data in thenext few minutes. However,hewantedPaulHoodtoknowwhat was going on. He alsowanted to tell Hood exactlywheretheywere.Just in case they were

wrong about the heavyartillery.

SIXTY-ONEWashington,D.C.

Saturday,1:00P.M.There was a point, about

three years ago, when PaulHood had identified a thirdcomponent to his job. Therewas the quarterback role,there was the cheerleaderfunction, and there was alsothe color commentator in thebooth. The guy whose jobwas really to play devil’s

advocate.Hood had assembled a

team of professionals.Military experts. Intelligencestrategists. Psychologists,diplomats, surveillanceprofessionals.Hewasheretolisten to what Mike Rodgersor DarrellMcCaskey or BobHerbert had to say. Whetherhe agreed or not, his answerhadtobe,“Yeah,but...”He did that when Bob

Herbert called from theBell.

After sitting at his desk andlistening to the intelligencechief’s description of thescene, Hood went into his,“Yeah,but...”routine.Onlyin this case his concern wasgenuine.“How confident are you

thattheboatisnotadecoy?”Hoodasked.“Therewasn’t time to pull

that together,” Herbertinsisted.“He had enough time to

call the president’s specialassistant for democraticelectionsandgethimtognawonme,”Hoodsaid.“Bruce Perry?” Herbert

asked.“Yes.”“Whatdidhedo,giveyou

the ‘Why are you botheringthiswonderfulphilanthropist’routine?”Herbertasked.“Pretty much,” Hood said.

“Therewasnothingspecific.Iwouldn’tbesurprisedifPerry

didn’t know about thesmuggling.”“I agree. Though it’s

interesting,”Herbertreplied.“Whatis?”“On a scale of executive

influence,Perryiswhat?Twoout of a possible ten?”Herbertasked.“If you’re breaking things

down that way, I guess so,”Hoodagreed.“Darlingisusedtodealing

with the top levels of

government,” Herbert wenton.“Perryisnotashighashecould have gone if he hadbeen prepared. He wasn’t.Thiswasthebesthecoulddoon short notice. Paul, I thinkwe caught Darling with histrousersaroundhisankles.”Hoodconsidered that fora

moment. “That’s not theconclusionIwoulddraw,”hereplied.“What then?” Herbert

asked.

“I think that Perrymaybeas high as Darling dared togo,” Hood said. “If he hadcalled the Speaker of theHouse, and he could have—they’ve golfed together anumberoftimes,accordingtothe files—political survivalinstincts would have forcedthe Speaker to ask himself,‘WhatifDarlingisguilty?DoI reallywant togo tobat forthisguy?’”“Okay,” Herbert said.

“That’sanotherindicationourboyDarlinghassomethingtohide.”“Right. But that doesn’t

meanDarlingwascaughtoffguard,” Hood said. “Thiscould still be a diversion tokeep you away from the realtransport. Or worse. Haveyougotnightvision?”“No.Norweapons.”“Jesus,”Hoodsaid.“HimI’vegot.Onachain,

rightnearmyheart,”Herbert

said.It took a moment before

Hood got the reference. Hesmiled.“Look,Paul,”Herbertwent

on.“We’realmostatthesite,and I haven’t heard anythingto make me want to turnback. If theseguysdo taguswith some kind of suckerpunch, come back here inforce.Diguptheboat,searchit ass to chin, and findsomething to implicate Jervis

Darling. Nothing is ever onehundred percent clean.Nothing.”“Bob, we’ve charged into

places before and paid aheavyprice,”Hoodremindedhim. They lost CharlieSquires in Russia, and thebulk of the Striker teamaverting war between IndiaandPakistan.“Yeah. And I paid a toll

when I was just standingaround an embassy minding

my own business,” Herbertsaid.“Beirut was a war zone,”

Hoodremindedhim.“Paul, these days, the

world’s a goddamn warzone,” Herbert said.“Anyway, I have no right toturnback.Managingcrisesispart of the jobdescription. Ifthis is theboat thesmugglershave been using, it certainlyqualifies.”Hood was fresh out of

“Yeahbuts...”Hehaddonethat part of his job. Now itwas time todo thenextpart.Thesecondary,moredifficultpart. To rein in his ownnatural conservatism. Torefrain from overruling hisfieldofficer.To lethimhavehishead.To allow him to risk his

life.“All right. Just keep the

phone line open, will you?”Hoodasked.

“Sure,”Herbertsaid.“Youwon’thearmuch,though.It’sprettydamnnoisyinhere.”“That’s exactly what I

hope to hear, Bob,” Hoodreplied.“I don’t follow,” Herbert

said.“Iwanttohearaveryloud

helicopter returning from asuccessful recon mission,”Hoodsaid.“Gotcha,” Herbert said.

“Thanks.We’regettingready

to switch on the spotlightnow.AndPaul?”“Yes?”“If that bastard Perry calls

again, put him on hold,”Herbertsaid.“Sure.Why?”“With luck,” Herbert said,

“we’ll have some news foryourealsoon.”

SIXTY-TWOTheCoralSea

Sunday,3:01A.M.The yacht had assumed a

lifeofitsown.Itseemedlikea legendary sea beast as itmovedandturnedinthedarksea.Itbecameaparticipantinthe struggle between the twomen.As though resenting their

entrapment, thewaters in thelower deck of theHosannah

shifted.Thatcausedtheprowof the vessel to dropsuddenly, hurling Hawkeback and Kannaday forward.The men collided amidships,thentumbledhardagainstthemainmast. Hawke lost hiswommera, andbothmen losttheir bearings. Theycontinued to slide forwardasthe yacht’s aft section rose.The arms of both menpinwheeled at their sides.Theytriedtograbatanything

thatmightbreaktheirfall.Atthe same time, the vesselbegan sliding deeper into thewater.The forward portholescracked,andlargeairbubblespopped from the openings.Eachonecaused theyacht tohop slightly, as thoughmuscles were contracting.They forced the yacht upslightly, but only for amoment. The final,downwardslidehadbegun.Kannaday lost sight of

Hawke. His hands found afloppinghalyard,andheheldtight.Buthisbodywasweakfrom loss of blood. He hungthere while the yacht slidfurther into the sea. His earwas pressed to the slantingdeck. He heard the roar ofwater as it pounded againstthehull.It was strange, Kannaday

thought. He probably hadonlyaminuteortwomoretolive. Yet he felt oddly

euphoric. He had returnedfrom the dead to confrontHawke. A life of wanderinghad ended in a flourish ofpurpose.Itfeltgood.Suddenly, through the

sprayofwater,Kannadaysawa light. He wondered if thiswas the light of the afterlifepeople spokeof.Hewatchedas the white beacon, sharplyhaloed with a rainbow,appeared to be growinglarger. A moment later,

Kannadayheardadrone.Thesound rose above the rushofwater that was coming frombelow. As the white lightapproached, Kannadayrealized it was above him.This was not the glow ofpassingfromoneworldtothenext.Itwasahelicopter.Perhaps

its pilot had seen the flaresand had come to investigate.Not that it mattered. Therewere too many people to

rescue, and they were farfrom shore.He did not thinkmanyofthesemencouldstayafloat for the two or morehours itwould take for shipstoreachthisremotepoint.Kannaday’s fingers were

cramped and trembling. Hewas holding tightly, but therope was slippery and theangle of the yachtincreasingly severe. Thecaptain began to lose hishold. He moved his feet

around.Thesteepertheangle,themoredeadweighthisownbodybecame.Hewaslookingfor a place to brace himself.Hefoundnothing.The light floated behind

theyacht.Kannadayslippedalittlemore.Heletgowithonehand and tried to wrap therope around his wrist. Therewas not enough slack to dothat.Hewaslosingbloodandfelt his head swim. Hisfingers weakened, and he

slippedfartherdowntheline.ButKannadayforcedhimselfto hold tight. He wanted tofinish what he had startedbelowdecks. The longoverdue reformation of PeterKannaday. A captain wassupposed to resist any efforttomutiny. In theend,hehaddone that. The unwritten lawoftheseaalsodictatedthatacaptain remain with his shipuntilpassengersandcrewhadbeen safely evacuated.

Kannaday intended to honorthat, too, even though hehoped that John Hawkedrownedwith him. He knewthat Hawke was stillsomewhereonthedeckofthesinking ship. Kannaday hadseen the security officerhangingtothebottomedgeoftheforwardhatch.Herefusedtosurrender theHosannah tohim.Evenintheend.Strongwindshowledalong

the sides of the yacht as the

vessel slid deeper into thesea. It was rotor wash fromthe helicopter. The lightbehind it rose slowly behindthe ship. Kannaday saw theHosannah silhouetted on therestless sea. It was aforeshortened,oblongshape.Almostlikeacoffin.That was the last thing

Kannaday saw as the shipwent under. It dragged himfeetfirst into the cold water.Hisfingersremainedwrapped

ontheropeashesubmerged.He did not hold his breath,andhedidnotstruggle.Itdidnot matter to him what themaritime authorities made ofthe sinking. What matteredwas that Peter Kannadayknewthetruth.Hehaddiedacaptain.

SIXTY-THREETheCoralSea

Sunday,3:08A.M.“I think it’s safe to go

around,”Herbertsaid.TheAmerican’s voicewas

thickwithsarcasmastheshipvanished. Jelbart turned hisbinocularsonthewaterwheretheboathadbeen.“Didthenameoftheyacht

sound familiar to anyone?”Herbert asked. “The

Hosannah?”“No,” Jelbart said. “But it

looked like a typical charter.You see them a lot in thisregion.”“There is someone down

there,” FNO Loh saidsuddenly.“Where?”Jelbartasked.“On my side,” Loh said.

“Floatingfacedown.”The pilot turned the

helicopter around so Jelbartcould see. “You’re right,”

Jelbart said. “And there’ssomeone swimming towardhim.OfficerLoh,canyougettheladder?”The Singaporean reached

behindher.Sheunhookedtherolled aluminum ladder fromthesmallstoragearea.“There are hooks on the

floor,”thepilotsaid.“I see them,” Loh replied.

She unbuckled her seat beltanddroppedtooneknee.Shefastenedthetopof theladder

tothesteelhooks,gaveahardtug, then undid the nylonbands around the ladder.“Ready,”shesaid.“He’s waving to us,”

Jelbart said. “It must besomeone who did not wanttheshiptogodown.”“That would be someone

wedefinitelywanttotalkto,”Herbertremarked.“If we do get him, we’ll

have to leave immediately,”the pilot said. “The extra

weightisgoingtoputastrainonourfuelconsumption.”“I understand,” Jelbart

said.“Let’sgethim.”The pilot acknowledged.

Theremaybeothersurvivorsout there.Hedidnot like theidea of leaving them. Not atnight in a cold, tortured sea.But he liked even less theprospect of having to ditchthe Bell at sea if they couldnotreachshore.“Officer Loh, would you

deploy the ladder?” the pilotasked.He turned thechopperaround.Loh held on to the canvas

strap beside the door, thenopened it. She leaned out.The downdraft was strongerthansheexpected.Shehadtobraceherselfagainsttheothersideofthedoorway.The man was treading

water beside the other sailor.Hehad turned the bodyontoits back. It did not appear to

bemoving. She used her leftfoot to kick the ladder out.The man was far enoughaway so that itwouldnothithim when deployed. Theladder clattered gently as itunrolled. Loh leaned outagain.“Can he make it without

assistance?”Jelbartasked.“He’s trying,”Lohreplied.

“He’s swimming toward itbut only using one arm. Theotherseemstobeinjured.”

“I can’t go any lower orwe’ll blow him under,” thepilotsaid.Loh watched as the man

threw his right arm up. Hegrabbed the lowest rung andbroughthis leftarmover.Hewashaving trouble raising it.His left arm looked like itmightbebroken.“He’s struggling,” Loh

said.Sheturnedaround.“I’mgoingdown.”“Officer, take these!” the

pilot said.He handedher hisgloves. “They’ll help yourgrip.”“Thank you,” she said as

she pulled them on. Lohbackedouttheopendoorandstarteddown.The ladder vibrated as the

naval officer made her waydown. There were twentyrungs to the surface of thesea. She took them slowly.The rungs, FNO Loh’scheeks, and her clothing

quickly became damp withseawater. The gloves provedtobealifesaver.Everyfewstepstheofficer

looked down. She wanted tomakesure thesailorwasstillhangingon.Hewasthere,hisright arm hooked over therung. If he went under, Lohknew that shewould have todropintoretrievehim.The descent went quickly.

When Loh was one rungabove him, she carefully

stepped to the rung he washolding. His expression wastight. He appeared to be inextremepain.“Canyouputyourbadarm

around my shoulder?” sheyelleddown.“I think so,” he said. He

cocked his head to the side.“That man betrayed me! Iwant his body broughtaboard.”“We can talk about this

inside!”shesaid.

“You don’t understand,”themansaid.“He’sa traitor!You need to fingerprint him,findoutwhatelsehemaybeinvolvedin.”“We’re low on fuel,” Loh

told him. “There is a patrolship on the way. They willcollecthisremains.”The officer ducked lower.

The man seemed to hesitate.Then, reluctantly, he tried toraise his left arm. Lohreached back with her right

hand to pull it around herneck. He clutched her collarwith weak, bleeding fingers.She shifted slightly andhefted him a little higher.Then they started climbing.The man was not exactlydeadweight, but neitherwashe as helpful as she hadhoped.Abouthalfwayupshereallybegantofeelthestrain.Each rung was twice asdifficult as the one before.Themanwas trying toclimb

with her. But each time hereachedwithhisgoodarm,herested his full weight on herback. She was surprised athowdifficultthiswas.Atthenaval academy’s annualfitnessreview,FNOLohwasstill able to climb a ropethirty feet without using herlegs. Of course, she did nottry the escalade, as it wascalled, with a man on herback.“Officer Loh, pass him

up!”Someone was shouting

downather.FNOLohlookedup.BobHerbertwassittinginher seat. He was holding onto the strap and leaning out.His right arm was extended.She had to climb anotherthreerungstoreachit.The officer looked ahead

andpulledherselfupanotherrung.“Officer,stoporwe’ll lose

you both!” Herbert yelled.

“Help him climb over yourbackontotheladder.I’llgrabhim.Ipromise.”Loh did not acknowledge.

She did not want to give upbefore the job was finished.That was not how she lived,and it was not how she hadbeen trained. She lookedstraight ahead, at the landingstrut. She tried to climbanother rung.Her armswereso weak they were shaking.Shestopped.

“Dammit,mylegsmaynotwork but I can curl fiftypounds with each arm,”Herbertsaid.The man leaned close to

Loh’s ear. “I’m going to trytoreachyourfriend,”hesaid.“Allright,”Lohreplied.The Singaporean officer

snaked her left arm throughthe rungs so her right armwas free. Theman shifted toherrightsideandgraspedtherungaboveher.Sheusedher

freearmtohelphimup.BobHerbert was right. This waseasier than trying to movethem both. Meanwhile,Herbert reached behind themanandhookedahandunderhis good arm. That gave theman all the extra lift heneeded. With Loh pushingfrom below, he was able tomake it into the doorway.Herbert pulled him in. Lohfollowed.“Youokay?”Herbertasked

whenLohclimbedin.“Yes,” she said. “Are you

surethereisn’ttimetogettheotherman?”“Verysure,”thepilotsaid,

glancing at the fuel gauge.“Weneedtopullout.Now.”The naval officer

understood. She unhookedthe ladder, pulled it in, andshut the door. She piled itagainstthedoor,thenfellintothe empty seat across fromHerbert.Shelookedathimas

thepilotswungthehelicoptertothesouthwest.“Thankyou,Bob.”“Yes, thank you,” said the

newarrival.Loh andHerbert looked at

him. The man was sitting inthe seat that Herbert hadvacated to help him aboard.Hewassoakedandshivering.Hehadhisleftelbowcuppedinhisrighthand.“Doyouhaveatowelback

here?” Herbert asked the

pilot.“I’m afraid not,” the pilot

replied.“A bottle of water?”

Herbertasked.“I finished it a hundred

milesback.”Herbert regarded the man

andshrugged.“Sorry.”“That’s all right,” he said

weakly. “I’m just glad to behere. I thought I was a deadman.”“How about that arm?”

Herbertasked.“Wecanrigaslingforyou.”“It’s my shoulder,

actually,” the man said. “Itwas hurt when the boat wasupended.Itwillkeep.”“We’ll get that taken care

of ashore,” Jelbart said. “Inthemeantime,talktous.Whoareyou?”“I am Peter Kannaday,

captainoftheHosannah,”theman said weakly. “And youpeopleare?”

“I’m Warrant OfficerJelbart.ThegentlemanacrossfromyouisBobHerbert,andthe lady is Female NavalOfficerLoh.”“Australia,America,and—

Singapore?”Lohnodded.“I thank you all,” theman

saidwithalittlenodtoeach.“Tell me, Captain. What

were you doing out here?”Jelbartasked.“And who was that

individual in the water withyou?” Loh asked as sheremoved the damp pilot’sgloves. She flexed her coldfingers. “You said hebetrayedyou.”“He betrayed me, and he

betrayed Australia,” the manreplied coldly, his eyes fixedonsomethingfaraway.“How?”Lohasked.The man blinked quickly

as though waking from atrance.

“Captain Kannaday?” Lohpressed.“Forgive me,” the man

said. Suddenly, he began tosob. “Officers, if you wouldindulge me. This has been aterriblenight. Iwould like toshut my eyes for just a fewminutes.”“Captain Kannaday, we

understandwhatyou’vebeenthrough. But this is ratherurgent,” Jelbart said. “I needyou to tell us who the man

was and why you were outhere.”“His name is Hawke,” the

man replied. “John Hawke.And he brought theHosannahoutheretosinkit.”“Why?”Jelbartasked.Themansatbackandshut

hiseyes.Hesaidnothing.“Captain?” Jelbart said.

“Captain!”“Officers, Imust rest,” the

man said. “Please. For just afewminutes. Itwon’tchange

anything,Iassureyou.”Water dribbled down the

man’s temples and forehead,andhisheadslumpedagainstthe window. Loh leanedacross the aisle and jabbedhim with a finger. Hegrumbledbutdidnotopenhiseyes.“If this were Singapore,

we’dwakehim,”Lohsaid.“IfthiswereSingapore,I’d

help you,” Herbert said.“We’ve got a nice, long

ladder. What are theinternational laws about fly-fishing a guy from ahelicoptertowakehim?”“It’s called ‘extreme

coercion,’ Mr. Herbert,”Jelbartsaid.“Whatyourlegalsystemwoulddefineas‘cruelandunusualpunishment.’”“These are extreme and

unusual circumstances,” Lohremarked. Her tone wasunsympathetic. She did notrespect weakness. Especially

from a man whose life shejustsaved.“Nonetheless, this man is

not the pirate we found,”Jelbart said. “As far as weknow, this man has notcommitted a crime.We haveno recourse but to bring himin and question him at hisconvenience.”“There are timeswhenwe

worry about etiquette andprotocoltoomuch,”Lohsaid.“I’m with Officer Loh on

that,”Herbertsaid.“Wehavetworesponsibilitieshere.Oneistothecaptain.Theotheristo a few million people justlike him. In one case, a guymay be inconvenienced. Inthe other case, tens ofthousandsmaydie.That’snotevenacontesttome.”“We can honor both,”

Jelbart insisted. “The captainasked for a fewminutes. Letusatleastgivehimthat.”Herbert shook his head,

and Monica Loh sat back.She wondered if Jelbartwould have been socompassionate if CaptainKannaday had beenAmerican. Or Singaporean.Australians were notoriouslyprotectiveoftheirown.Because it was her nature,

she also wondered whetherCaptain Kannaday werereally asleep or whether hehad been listening carefullyto everything they said.

Trying to decide what heshouldsay.She did not know. One

thingshedidknow,however.Soon,someoneonboardwasgoing to be apologizing tosomeone else on board for aseriousmiscalculation.

SIXTY-FOURWashington,D.C.

Saturday,1:24P.M.Research was job number

four for Paul Hood. Thatcame after quarterbacking,cheerleading, and devil’sadvocacy.Hood usually did research

onlyonweekends,whenOp-Center had just a skeletonstaff. He actually enjoyed it.Searching for information

exercised his linear thinking.It gave more logic to those“yeah but . . .” questions. Italsoshutouthisemotions,hisfears. He was totally in themoment.Bob Herbert had left the

cell phone open. Hood hadput the call on thespeakerphone,crankedupthevolume, and listened to theconversation between therescue team and PeterKannaday. As soon as he

heard that name, Hoodconducted a computer searchthrough Interpol and FBIfiles. Nothing showed up.That was good. It suggestedthemanwastellingthetruth,that he had been used andshanghied. Hood also did awider off-line search andcameacrosstheregistryfilingfor theHosannah.Therewasinformation about PeterKannaday.Hewastheownerof the yacht before it was

“sold” to the apparentlynonexistent Arvids March. Itincludedcopiesofhislicenseanddateswhentheyachthadvisited various ports in theSouth Pacific and theCaribbean. Hood forwardedthat information to Herbert’scomputer. If the Hosannahhad been used to trafficnuclear material, theabbreviatedlogmighthelptotrackpickupsordrop-offs.Hoodfelt thewayWarrant

Officer Jelbart did. The manwas a guest, not a prisoner.Thatwas very easy to forgetin times of high emotion,which occurred with somefrequency whenever BobHerbertwasinvolved.That’s why you have to

hold tight to what you oncedetermined was right, Hoodtold himself. Otherwise,police officers becamebullies, presidents becametyrants, and intelligence

officersbecameboth.Hood sent the Kannaday

filetoHerbertwithanaudibleprompt. He knew theintelligence chief would besitting in the cabin, stewing.He wanted to make sureHerbertgottheE-mail.Hoodheard thewheelchair

beepoverthephone.Thedatafile had arrived. He stillfound it pretty amazing thatinformation could be sentaround theworld so quickly,

so completely, and sosecretly. He rememberedwhen he was still in school,and telexes were a big,innovative deal. That wasabout the time when Pongwas the rage at airports andcollegelounges.At least most forms of

terrorismstillhad tobedonethe old-fashioned way. Thekilling tools of thatdespicable trade had to bemoved slowly, byhand.And

like a slug trailing slimeacrossaslatewalk,therewasnoway to erase all evidenceof its passage. In days ofdepressing reality, thatwas acheeringthought.It was at once sad and

astonishing what passed forhope in the twenty-firstcentury.

SIXTY-FIVETheCoralSea

Sunday,3:33A.M.Herbertwasstewing.The intelligence chief did

notthinkthatWarrantOfficerJelbart was wrong aboutbacking off Kannaday. Hejustdidnot think that Jelbartwasright.Captain Kannaday was

hurt. Herbert had no doubtthat the man was exhausted.

But he did not believe theman was asleep. Kannaday’snap was the Australianequivalent of cover-your-ass.Whatever had happened onthe yacht was illegal.Kannaday had said asmuch.He was not going to sayanything else without abarrister or solicitor orwhatevertheycalledcriminalattorneysDownUnder.Ithadalsobeen imprudent

of Jelbart to mention the

pirate. That information hadnot been made public. IfKannaday were asleep, itwould notmatter. If hewereawake, he might be lessinclined to talk. The captainmight say things thatcontradicted what officialsalreadyknewfromthepirate.That would not be good forKannaday.Herbert’s E-mail alert

beeped.“Christ,”hesaid.“What’s wrong?” Jelbart

asked.Herbertturnedandsnapped

the cell phone from thearmrestofthewheelchair.“Paul,areyoustillthere?”“Iam,”Hoodsaid.“Sorry,boss,”Herbert told

him. “I forgot you werehanging on. What have yougot?”“A file on Peter

Kannaday,” Hood said. “Ithought you might like tohavealookatit.”

“Absolutely,”Herbertsaid.The laptop monitor wasanchoredintheleftarmrestofthe wheelchair. Herbertcranedaroundandswungthescreen toward him. Hepunched the On button. Itactivated with a hiss. Heopened and downloadedHood’sE-mail.“Do you think the captain

isreallyasleep?”Hoodasked.“Yeah,”Herbertsaid.“And

I’m going to be the next

president of the UnitedStates.”“Do you believe anything

hesaid?”Hoodasked.“I don’t know,” Herbert

admitted. He was watchingthe monitor as the filedownloaded. “I don’t haveenoughinformation.”“And there’s nothing you

orOfficer Loh can do to getthatinformation,”Hoodsaid.“Well, there is—” Herbert

said.

“Lawfully, I mean,” Hoodinterrupted. “Peter Kannadayis an Australian captainworking in internationalwaters.HewasrescuedbyanAustralianhelicopter.They’regoing to have the first swingathim.”“Paul, we’ve got to fight

that,” Herbert said. “MaybeLowell can pull some legalprecedent out of his brainpan.” The intelligence chieflookedoutthewindowasthe

computer continued openingthefile.Itwasdarkoutthere.ButnotasdarkasHerbertfeltinside.“Comeon,Bob.Youknow

better.”“Unfortunately, I do,”

Herbertreplied.“Even if Lowell got us in

to talk toKannaday,he’snotgoingtoletaninterviewturnrough,”Hoodsaid.“He’d rather see some

psycho warlord get heavy

artillery?”“TheAustralianswon’t let

that happen,” Hood replied.“Givethemsomecredit.”“In a perfect world, I

would,”Herbert said. “But ifthe authorities find out ourotherfriendmaybeinvolved,I’ll tell you exactly whatthey’ll do. They’ll circle thewagons around the big man.Theyhave to. Itwould bringdown his empire, do damageto the national economy.

They’ll scapegoat somesecondary guy to keep theirnational treasure from beingsullied. If thathappens,we’llnevergetallthenameswe’reafter. And we’ll never knowif we’ve cut this caravan offcompletely.”Herbert did not want to

mention Darling’s name incaseKannadaywasawake.Ifthe man were going to talk,Herbert wanted him tomention Darling without

being prompted. A lie orcover-up could usually beidentified quickly. A half-truth was much moretroublesome.“I don’t agree that they’ll

protect Darling,” Hood said.“Something this big wouldleak eventually. They willhavetocutadeal.”“I don’t like the smell of

that,”Herbertsaid.“It’s done in business all

the time,” Hood said. “The

alternative is closing youreyes or bringing down thewholesystemtogetoneman.In exchange for cooperation,regulators or investigatorsgive executives a degree ofimmunityandtimetoturnthecompanies over toassociates.”“Jesus, Paul,” Herbert

complained. “We’re nottalking about insider tradinghere.”“Irecognizethat—”

“I don’t want to see thisguy have his passportrevoked and agree to theequivalent of house arrest,”Herbert said. “That isn’tright.”“Iagree.And Idon’twant

you to forget that this isn’taboutretribution,”Hoodsaid.“That’swhyaRichardNixonresigns and gets a pardon, oraKurtWaldheimhashisvisashreddedandanywarcrimeshemayhavebeeninvolvedin

arelockedinafilingcabinet.It’s about fixing a problemwith a minimum ofembarrassment,ifpossible.”“That’s the solution of a

bureaucrat,” Herbert said. “Iwantthisguy’stannedhide.”“That is the self-righteous

indignation of the LoneRanger,”Hoodreplied.“Bob,ifDarlingisguilty,I’dlovetoseehimgetlifeinprison.Butthat probably won’t happen.Rightorwrong,youcan’tjust

remove a foundation ofinternational industry likethat. Maybe over time, butnotimmediately.”“Over time people will

forget,” Herbert said.“They’llforgive.”“That’s possible,” Hood

agreed.“It’s inevitable,” Herbert

said.“Notifhewastryingtokill

people,” Hood said. “AlCaponewasa folkherountil

he ordered the SaintValentine’s Day Massacre.People will cheer someonewho beats the establishment.They won’t tolerate massmurder.”The computer beeped,

signaling that the file hadbeen downloaded. Herbertterminated the link andopened the file. He wasangry. He was not angry atHood.HewasangrybecauseHood was right. Jervis

Darling would probablysurviveaworst-casescenario.“Bob?”Hoodsaid.“Yeah.”“You’reunusuallyquiet.”“Sorry,”Herbertreplied.“I

was thinking aboutwhat yousaid.”“And?”“Like Mr. Jelbart, you’ve

got a point. I just don’thappen to like it,” Herberttoldhim.“Isthatwhatwedoforaliving?Riskourlivesso

we can settle for acompromise?”“It seems thatway,”Hood

said.“Itdoesn’tseemright.”“I agree,” Hood said, “but

that’s the ante when youropponents are ready to risktheir lives. Besides, in ourbusiness a trade-off thatprevents a war is still betterthanaloss.”“I don’t know,” Herbert

said. “I never respected

footballteamsthatwentforafieldgoalandatie.That’snotwhatchampionsdo.”Hoodchuckled.“What’s so funny?”

Herbertasked.“Your choice of words,”

Hood said. “When I wasmayor, there was a smallbronze plaque in city hall. Itwas a quote from DanielWebster that read, ‘This is ahall for mutual consultationand discussion, not an arena

for the exhibition ofchampions.’Ibelievethat.”“You would, Paul. You

have the patience for talk,”Herbert said. His tone wasnot disparaging. He admiredHood’sdiplomacy.“Talk works,” Hood said.

“If you’re doing that, youprobably aren’t killing eachother.”“Icandoboth.”“Only ifyou’rescreaming,

nottalking,”Hoodsaid.

Hood was right about thatpoint. The problem was,Herbert had always liked hisway of doing things. Itworked.Hoodmade it soundbad.“Anyway, it isn’t

patience,” Hood went on.“Talk is my weapon ofchoice. It worked well withvotersandwithmykids.Nowit’s a part of me. I couldn’tchange if I wanted to.” Headdedpointedly,“Noneofus

can.”Finally, there was

something Herbert couldagreewith.Hood said that he would

callLowellCoffeyandbringhim up to speed. Herbertthankedhimandhungupthephone. He sat back andthought about what Hoodsaid.None of them could

change.Hoodwas rightabout that.

Butwith that comment camePaul Hood’s tacitacknowledgment that heaccepted Bob Herbert as is.That gave Herbert a littlewiggle room. He had notbeen told, expressly, to stayout of the investigation andinterrogation.What it did not give

Herbert, immediately, was aplace to put his fist. He wasfurious with Jervis Darling,withthepolitebutrecalcitrant

PeterKannaday,andwiththecoddlingmentalityingeneral.Herbert understood talk. Buttobehonest,hestillpreferredwar. It took less time and itresolved disputes a lotquicker. Nor were thecasualtiesanyheavier, really.Just quicker.The combatantslost to bullets what theywould have lost to endlessraidsandcorrosivedebate.HerbertnoticedLohstaring

athim.

“What are you thinking?”heaskedher.“I agree with you,” she

said.“About?”“Astalemate,”shesaid.Herbert smiled. “I didn’t

think you would care forthat.”“Not at all. I would rather

fight and lose than feel asthough I did not givesomethingmy fullest effort,”shereplied.

Herbertsmiledather.Thaticedit.FNOMonicaLohhadto become the next Mrs.Herbert. He was betting shehad less patience for bullshitandinsinceritythanhedid.Almost absently, Herbert

reached behind him andopenedthecomputerfilePaulHood had sent. Theintelligence chief angled themonitor toward him. Heconsidered dreamily how heandMonicawouldbebanned

from every party and fund-raiserinWashington,D.C.The file opened. Herbert

glancedatit.Hiseyesshrankand his mouth widened. Hestared at the screen moreclosely.Andheknewatoncewhat

todowithhisrage.

SIXTY-SIXCairns,Australia

Sunday,3:56A.M.Thecallwaslate.JervisDarling stood in the

beige kitchen eating a halfcantaloupe from the rind.Hewas no longer dressed in thegrayCairnsYachtClubsweatsuit he had been wearingearlier. He had exercised onhisrowingmachineforforty-five minutes. Then he

showered, pulled on abathrobe, and sat in front ofthe television. He movedimpatiently from satellite tosatellite,watching nothing asthehourspassed.Atthesametime, his mood shifted fromdisgust to anger to concern.He should have heard fromhisnepheworJohnHawkebynow.Butthecellphoneinhispocket had remainedresolutelysilent.Darling finished the fruit.

Hecuttherindintoslicesandfed it into the garbagedisposal. Things alwaysseemed worse in the darkhours of night. Yet he couldnot help but think thatsomething had gone wrong.Eveniftheyhadfailedtosinktheyacht,Marcuswouldhavegottenintouchwithhim.Theonly thing he could think ofwasthatmiserableAmerican.Otherthanbydumb,idiotic

luck, Darling could not

imagine how Herbert mighthave found the yacht. Orwhat he might have done tostopHawke.No one stoppedJohn Hawke. As he finishedpulping the rind, Darlingbegan to consider what heshould do. Earlier thateveninghehadcalledhisoldcollege friend Bruce PerryaboutHerbert.Perryhadsaidhewould handle it.Themenhadnotspokensince.Darlingdid not want to call and ask

him how the conversationwent.Pressurewasasgoodasan admission of guilt. Theonlythingthatdroveawayanallyfasterwasfailure.Darling began to consider

his nextmove. Itmight haveto be a bolder preventativestep than simply calling afriend at the White House.This was not a positionDarling enjoyed. He wasusually the one maneuveringCEOs or politicians into a

corner.Darling felt that he should

wake Jessica-Ann and leavethe estate. He and hisdaughtercouldgotothecoveand take the yacht to hisretreat in the Sister Islands.Or they could drive to theairstrip and depart by jet. Ifsomething had gone wrong,Darling did not want to beeasily accessible. Since theSister Islands were part ofNewZealand,thatwouldadd

anothercountry—andanotherbureaucracy—betweenhimself and any legalactivities. He would let thebarristers tackle any issuesthatmightcomeup.Thoughtheseconcernsare

premature, Darling remindedhimself.Darling still did not know

for certain that anything waswrong. John Hawke couldsimply be hiding until dawn.He might have had a reason

to maintain silence. Or hecould be playing apsychological game of somekind.Darlingwouldnotputitpast Hawke to make himwait. Hawke would do thatfrom spite or to show somemuscle. Just enough to beannoying but not enough tothreaten. Hawke knew betterthantocrossthatboundary.After considering the

situation for several minutesmore,Darling decided that it

would be a good idea toleave. He would take the jettothenearestofhisislandsinthe Sisters. Picking up thehouse phone, Darling wokeAndrewandtoldhimtopackabag for himself and for hisdaughter. Next he called hispilot, Shawn Daniels, wholived in a cottage at the farendoftheestate.Darlingtoldhim to be ready to fly outwithin the hour. The Learjetwas always ready and

accessible for unexpectedbusinesstrips.Finally, Darling went to

wakehisdaughter.Hemovedquicklybutunhurriedlytotheliving room and up thewinding marble staircase.Jessica-Ann would begroggy, and she would sleepthroughtheflight.Shewouldwake up to invigoratingsunshine and clean sea air.Wake from the restful sleepof the innocent. Darling

wished that were somethinghecouldenjoy.Not that itmatters. Things

will look better in themorning,heassuredhimself.If they did not, he would

have them fixed by theafternoon.Eitherthroughtalkorthroughdeed.A man with radioactive

materials at his disposalalwayshadoptions.

SIXTY-SEVENTheCoralSea

Sunday,4:01A.M.MonicaLohsatinthedeep

vinyl seat of the helicopter’sdarkcabin.ShewaswatchingBobHerbert.Hisfacewasinshadow, but his posture wastense, aggressive. He wasleaning forward, anxiouslypressing a thumb into hispalm. Loh did not wonderwhat he was thinking. She

knew. He wanted to getinformation from CaptainKannaday using any meanspossible.Herbert had said asmuch when he was on thetelephone.But then something

changed. Herbert glanced athiscomputermonitorandsatup. His hands relaxed. Heturned toward CaptainKannaday and regarded himfor a long moment. Then helookedather.

“Wakehim,”Herbertsaid.Loh turned and gave

Kannaday’s shoulder a firmshake. He opened his eyesslowly.Warrant Officer Jelbart

turned.“Whatisit?”“Iwanted to askourguest

aquestion,”Herbertsaid.“I thoughtwe had decided

toletthecaptainbefornow,”Jelbart said with a hint ofannoyance.“I let him have his power

nap,” Herbert said. “Now Iwant to know something.Somethingsimple.”“You are free to ask

anything you like,” the manreplied.“Thanks.Butyou’resaying

youmaynotanswer,”Herbertsaid.“As I said, I amextremely

tired. I don’t want to sayanything that is inaccurateormaybemisinterpreted.”“I understand,” Herbert

said. “Howabout this,whichis pretty tough to screw up.Wherewereyouborn?”Themanlookedathim.“What’s wrong?” Herbert

asked.“Isthattootough?”“Are you serious?” the

manasked.“I’vebeenaccusedof that,

yeah,” Herbert said. “Haveyougotananswerforme?”“I was born here. In

Australia,”themanreplied.“In which town?” Herbert

asked.“Onwhatdate?”“Why?” Theman grinned.

“Are you going to buyme agift?”“One that keeps on

giving,”Herberttoldhim.“Alifetime sentence in amaximumsecurityprison.”“Really?” the man said.

“Forwhat?”“I think you know,”

Herbertsaid.“Bob, we decided we

weren’tgoing todoanything

likethis,”Jelbartsaidangrily.“You decided that,”

Herbert said. His eyesremained on Kannaday.“Where were you born andwhen?”Loh did not think Herbert

would bully someone unlesshe had a solid reason.Apparently, he did. ShewatchedKannaday’sreaction.Hewas unfazed.After a fewmoments the captain closedhis eyes.His head sank back

ontheseatandwaslostagainindarkness.“Bob,whydoyouwant to

knowthat?”Jelbartasked.“Why?” Herbert replied.

“Because this man is notPeterKannaday.”“What?”Jelbartsaid.“Ijustsawaphotographof

Captain Kannaday,” Herbertsaid. He angled the monitortowardJelbartandcrankedupthe brightness. “There is apicture attached to his

license.”Jelbart looked from the

computer monitor to theirguest. “I’ll be a nong—anidiot, to you. Bob is right.Thisisn’tyou.”“Rot,” the man replied

without opening his eyes.“There’sobviouslyamistakeinthefile.”“I don’t think so,”Herbert

said.“Thereweretwomenonthe deck of the yacht. Oneman dies. The other man

assumeshisidentity.”“Why?” the man asked.

His eyes were still shut. Heseemedutterlyunconcerned.“What better way to earn

our trust than to pose as avirtuous sea captain fightingsmugglers? We give thattrust,alongwithsafepassagetoshore.Then,assoonasyougetthere,youslipaway.”“The photograph is as

mixed up as you are, Mr.Herbert.”

“Then answer thequestion,” Herbert pressed.“Where and when were youborn?”Lohwaswatchingtheman

carefully. He did not flinch.Nor did he tell Herbert whathewantedtohear.“I’ll tell you what,”

Herbertsaid.“You’reacheapfake and a lowlife smuggler,but I won’t hold that againstyou. You’re not the guy Iwant.”

Themansaidnothing.“Theman I want is Jervis

Darling,” Herbert continued.“You give him to me, andyouwalk.”The man opened his eyes

slightly.“Youcan’tofferthatkindofdeal.”“You don’t deny that Mr.

Darling is behind thissmugglingoperation?”Jelbartasked.“Mr. Darling,” the man

said with contempt. “You’d

call the fallen prince YourHighness,”hesuggested.“Obviously, you do know

Darling,then,”Herbertsaid.“Only by reputation,” the

man replied. He closed hiseyesagainandsettleddeeperintotheseat.Lohwassurprised.Herbert

seemed unusually calm.Likea grand master with acheckmatemove that no oneelsesaw.“You look like thekindof

tough monkey who isn’tafraid to facedeath,”Herbertsaid. “Much as I’d like to, Iwon’t threaten to throw youout the helicopter door oranythinglikethat.WhatIamgoing to do, however, ischange the plan. And sincewefoundyouininternationalwaters, Idon’t thinkWarrantOfficerJelbarthasthewillorauthoritytoobject.”Jelbart nodded. The floor

wasHerbert’s.

“We are not going to takeyou to Cairns,” theintelligence officer went on.“We are going to land atCapeMelvillewherethelocalpolice will meet us and holdyou.WewillturnyouovertoFNO Loh. When her patrolshiparrives,youwillbetakento Singapore, to the militarypolice, and the ultimatejustice of the magistrate’scourt.”The man looked at him.

“Ballstoyou,”hereplied.Herbert shrugged. “Suit

yourself,toughlittlemonkey.Either way, I get Darling.Pilot?Makethechange.”Thepilot lookedatJelbart.

Thewarrantofficernodded.“We will get the

information we want,” Lohadded, “because the chiefinterrogator will have itfloggedordruggedfromyou.Themilitary police have thatauthority under the

Singaporean NuclearEmergency Response Act of2002. It defined nucleartrafficking as an act ofterrorism. In Singapore,individual rights aresuspended when evidencepoints to imminent deeds ofmassdestruction.”Herbert gave her an

appreciative look for theaddedpush.The man opened his eyes.

They did not seem quite as

relaxed as they were amomentbefore.“We’re nearing the coast,”

Herbert pressed. “What’s itgoing to be? Jail here andcooperation, or jail there andelectrodesontheearlobesandGodknowswhereelse?”The man looked out the

window. The coast wascomingintoview.“I’mguessingyou’vebeen

pretty slick till this point,”Herbert said. “But your luck

hashitawall.Trustme.”ThemanregardedHerbert.

“Iwon’t go to jail,” he said.“Ididnot run theship,and Idid not run the operation. Iwasjustamate.”“Are you John Hawke?”

Herbertasked.“Yes,”hereplied.“Whatwasyourjob?”“Security chief,” he

answeredunapologetically.“Ihadnocontactwithsellersorpurchasers, and I did not

interact with the contraband.PeterKannaday ran the ship.Jervis Darling ran theoperation. His nephewMarcus operatedcommunications and is backthereinthewater.”“Thoseflares?”Lohasked.“They were fired by

Kannaday to sink thedinghies,” Hawke replied.“He wanted to preventanyonefromgettingaway.”“Why?” Herbert

demanded.“Because wewere told by

Jervis Darling to sink theship,”Hawkesaid.“To hide evidence of

what?”Herbertasked.“A nuclear processing

laboratory on board,”Hawkereplied.Herbertsmiled.“But I will not repeat any

of this for the record if yousend me to prison,” Hawkesaid. “I go free, or you have

notestimony.”“The deal is this,”Herbert

toldhim.“Youtalkoryougoto Singapore. We’llencourageleniency,butthat’sthebestyou’llget.”“That’s not good enough,”

Hawkesnarled.“Theonlyotheroptionisto

walkoutthedoorrightnow,”Herbert told him. “Frankly, Ithink five to ten years withcableTVisabetterdealthanalongdropintoacoldsea.”

Even in the dark, LohcouldseeHawke’sexpressiontighten. He looked as if hewanted to put a fist throughHerbert’s chest. But thatwould get him nothing. Hewould still have to dealwithLohandJelbart.John Hawke’s mouth

saggedintoafrown.Hiseyeslost their cruel luster. Theslight man lowered himselfbackintotheseatandlookedoutthewindow.Heappeared

to be lost.Herbertwas right.This was probably the firsttime the man had ever beencornered. And it happenedwithoutablowthrownorshotfired. The security chief hadbeenundonebywords.Justwords.Herbert looked as pleased

and surprised as Hawkelookedsullen.

SIXTY-EIGHTCairns,Australia

Sunday,4:45A.M.The sun was beginning to

brighten the skies behind thehillsasLowellCoffeywaitedfor the helicopter. Theattorneyhadmanagedtogetalittle sleep in the fire stationbeforeHoodcalledtotellhimabout Captain Kannaday’srescue. Spider was asleep inthe next cot. Coffey stepped

intothebriskmorningtotakethecall.Whenitwasdone,hebreathedinthecrispair.Washington, D.C., had

never tasted like this. NorBeverly Hills. Both citieswere hot and fuel-scented.The only other place theattorney had spent any timewas the Middle East. Thatwasdustyandarid.Queensland was not just

soul reviving. It was a treatfortheeyesandears.Itwasa

deep, rich green and silent,savefortheoccasionalbirdorcricket and the wind thatcarriedthesound.“Jesus!”Coffey jumped when his

phone beeped again. Hefishedit fromhisbelt. ItwasBobHerbert, tellinghim thatthe helicopter had landed atan air base to refuel. Theywould be arriving in Cairnsbyfive-thirty.HealsowantedtoinformCoffeythattheman

they had on board was notPeterKannaday.“It’s a thug named John

Hawke,whohasconfessedtosinkingtheyachtandhelpingJervis Darling smugglenuclear waste from ship toship. The yacht even had aprocessinglabonboard.”“Hetoldyouallthisonthe

helicopter?”Coffeyasked.“Right.”“Noattorney?”“We fished a barracuda

from theCoral Sea and usedhim,” Herbert said. “No, wedidn’thaveanattorney.”“And you have no

evidence,”Coffeyasked.“No.”“Thenyouhavenorightto

holdhim,”Coffeyreplied.“What the hell are you

talking about?” Herbertasked.“Wehaveashitloadofcircumstantialevidence.”“No,” Coffey said. “What

you have is a ‘confession’

thathe candenyeverhavingmade.Wordagainstwordisahollowlegalexercise.”“Oh, come on!” Herbert

said. “Four people heardhim!”“Four people can plot,”

Coffey said. “They’re nomore valid than one, legally.TheRuleofEvidenceapplieshere just as it does in theUnited States. The EvidenceActwas amended in 1995 tolink it to theDrugs, Poisons,

and Controlled SubstancesActof1981.”“To do what?” Herbert

asked. “Protect drugdealers?”“To preserve justice,”

Coffey replied. “Where isHawkenow?”“He’s still in the

helicopter.”“Smart.”“What?”“He wouldn’t want to get

out on a military base,”

Coffey said. “If he did, youcould theoretically hold himfortrespassing.”“Lowell,thisisajoke,isn’t

it?” Herbert demanded.“You’repullingmybumleg.”“Bob, I am completely

serious,”Coffeysaid.“That’snotwhat Iwant to

hear,”Herbertsnapped.“Sorry.Butunlessyoucan

get someone who willidentify Hawke as anaccomplice, you have no

reason or right to hold him,”Coffeysaid.“Untilyougettotheyachtandlocateevidence,untilyoucanconnectHawketo smuggling activities or tothe sinking, he’s an innocentman.Whenyoulandhere,hecan demand to be released.And you’ll have to let himgo.”“I don’t believe this,”

Herbert said. “The prickplayedme.HefedmewhatIwantedtokeepfromgoingto

Singapore.”“Isthatwhereyoutoldhim

you’d take him?” Coffeyasked.Herbertsaiditwas.“That,at least,wouldhave

beenlegal,”Coffeysaid.“Wait.What do youmean

‘would have been’?”Herbertasked.“Can’twestilldoit?”“Sure, but it probably

won’t do you any good,”Coffeytoldhim.“Why?”

“You landed inAustralia,”Coffey said. “Hawke isAustralian. Underinternational law, that givestheauthoritiesherefirstcrackat him. If you took him toSingapore now, the courtsthere could notmove againsthim unless Australia firstdeclinedtodoso.”“Which they won’t,”

Herbert said. “Not ifDarlingisinvolved.”“That’swhat your guest is

obviously planning on,”Coffeysaid.“Shit,” Herbert replied.

“We land at the fire station,Hawke walks, Darling helpshim get lost, and we don’thaveawitness.”“Exceptforthosepeopleat

sea, who probably got nocloser to Darling than thatkoala.”“I can’t let him go,”

Herbert said. “What the helldoIdo?”

“You need a witness inorder to hold him,” Coffeysaid. “When is Loh’s patrolboatduethere?”“Any minute,” Herbert

said. “But we don’t knowwhat condition the crewwillbe in or evenhowmanykeypeoplesurvived.Somuchforwords.”“Excuseme?”“I took Paul’s advice and

talked to Hawke,” Herbertsaid. “What I should have

donewasfollowmygut.”“Whichtoldyouwhat?”“To empty a bullet casing

of gunpowder on his tongueand interrogate him with amatch,”Herbertsaid.“I’m with Paul on that

one,”Coffeysaid.“Ifigured.”“No, Bob. You did the

right thing,” Coffey said. “Ifyou had tortured Hawke, hecould have landed and hadyouarrested.”

Herbertwassilent.“Themore important thing

now is, do you thinkHawkewas telling the truth aboutDarling?”Coffeyasked.“I do,” Herbert told him.

“He had nothing to lose.Hawke needed to keep mehooked until we reached anonmilitary landing site. Thebestway todo thatwaswiththetruth.”The phone went silent.

Herbert’s frustration was

almost palpable. Thetranquillity of the morningwasgone.“You say I need a

witness,” Herbert said. “Canwe stay at the base until thepatrolboatarrives?”“Yes, but if Hawke

suspects anything, he canlegally request an escort offthebase,”Coffeysaid.“How would he get one?”

Herbertasked.“You can’t deny him a

phone call,” Coffey said.“Muscling a citizen who isnot even a prisoner playspoorlyincourt.”“Lowell, you’re not

helpingme,”Herbertsaid.“I’m trying,” Coffey said.

“Iwanttostayfocusedonthecase, not on the fact thatHawke knows how tomanipulate the Australianlegal system. He’s probablyhadcountlessrun-inswiththecourts. He knows his way

around.”“Now that youmention it,

everydamnthingHawketoldmeimplicatedsomeoneelse,”Herbert said. “JervisDarling,Darling’s nephew Marcus,Captain Kannaday.According to Hawke, all hedid was run security. Yet heneverevenconfessedtofiringabullet.”“What about other

potentialleadsorwitnesses?”Coffey asked. “Do you have

anyoneonthemainland?”“No one that I can—”

Herbert began. He stoppedsuddenly.“Whatisit?”Coffeyasked.“I just thought of

something,” Herbert said.“There is someone who cannailthisguy.”“Who?”Coffeyasked.“Later,”Herbertsaid.“Wait,Bob?”Therewasnoanswer.“Bob,areyoucomingback

tothestation?”Coffeyasked.The dial tone returned. So

didtheexternaltranquillityofthemorning.Inside,however,Lowell Coffey was nothappy. He was bothered bythe subtleties of hisprofession. The details werelegitimate and necessary, butthey could also allow anuclearterroristtogofree.Coffey loved the law and

admired thosewhoupheld it,in thefieldand in thecourts.

Hedidnotthinkofhimselfasthe barracuda Herbert hadalluded to. What he did feellike,however,wasadolphin.Smartandswift.Andpowerless.

SIXTY-NINECairns,Australia

Sunday,4:59A.M.TheBell rose swiftly from

the RAAF Airfield DefenceSquadron satellite base inCooktown. It angled towardthe southwest. John Hawkehad been silent since hisconfession. His expressionwas still dour. He did notmake eye contact withanyoneonboard.

Bob Herbert was lessgenial than he had beenbefore they landed. Jelbartasked him if anything waswrong.Herbertsaidtherewasnot.BobHerbertwaslying.The intelligence chief was

sitting in the cabin, waiting.Figuring out exactly how hewas going to play this.AfterHerbert had spoken withCoffey, he called StephenViensatOp-Centertoaskfor

specific satellite intelligence.WhilehewaitedforViens toarrange that, FNO Lohreceived a call fromLieutenant Kumar on herpatrolboat.Theyhadreachedthe sceneof the sinking.Theyacht was gone, but sevenindividuals had been pulledfromthesea.Theyachtcrewhadprovidedtheirnames,buttherewasnowayofknowingwhether theywere telling thetruth. Kumar did not know

whetherMarcus Darling wasamongthem.Loh told thepatrol boat to

return toDarwin.The fateofMarcus Darling worriedHerbert. It certainlycomplicated what he wasabouttodo.The helicopter finished

fueling and took off. Flyingtime to Cairns was fifteenminutes.Thatwasnotalotoftime.Thiswasgoingtobetight.

After they had beenairborne for three minutes,Herbert’s phone beeped. Heanswered quickly.Vienswasontheotherend.“I’ve got what youwant,”

Viens said. “Do you haveaccess to your computermonitor?”“Ido,”hesaid.“I’ve got the image, and

I’mforwardingittoyou,realtime,” Viens said. “I figuredyou would know what you

were looking at better than Iwould.”“Good thinking,” Herbert

replied. “Stay on the line. Imayneedyoutorelocate.”“Noproblem.”The intelligence chief

turned the monitor so hecould look at it. If Hawkehappened to glance over, hewould see nothing. Thescreen was at an extremelysharpangle.The satellite image was a

fairly tight view of theDarling mansion. The housewas at a forty-five-degreeangle. In the green night-vision image, Herbert couldsee that there were lights onupstairs anddownstairs.Thatsuggested a good deal ofactivityinthehouse.At five o’clock in the

morning.Itonlytookakitchenlight

to make breakfast, andprobably not this early.

Somethingwasnotright.“Stephen,Iwantyoutogo

totheIdlewild,”Herbertsaid.“Gotthat?”“The localairfield?”Viens

asked.“Yes.Tothenortheast.”Herbert wanted to use a

termwith which Hawkewaslikely to be unfamiliar. Hedidnotwant togive themantime to think up a newstrategy. The original namefor New York’s Kennedy

Airportseemedagoodbet.“You got it,” Viens said.

“I’llhavetowalkthesatelliteover, though. That’s not oneof the coordinates we haveprogrammedin.”“Understood,”Herberttold

him.“Justwalkasfastasyoucan,please.”It had occurred to the

intelligence chief that JervisDarlingwouldexpect tohearfrom either John Hawke orhis nephewMarcus after the

yacht went down. Absent anall-clear call, Darling mightnot want to stick around.Embitteredformeremployeesmight want to talk. Darlingwould probably want to getout of Australia. Being inanother country would addanother layer to any legal orpolitical fallout. Herbertcouldnotpermitthat.Of course, there was still

the question of MarcusDarling. Marcus may have

contactedhisuncletosaythatsomeone had been snatchedfrom theyacht byhelicopter.Perhapsaftertheyweresafelyaboard the patrol boat. Arescue of Kannaday or evenHawkecouldbebadnewsforJervisDarling.It took a few seconds for

the satellite tobegin shifting.The image jerked toward thetop right. It changed onceeverysecondafterthat.Itwasaslow,exasperatingprocess.

How quickly themiraculous has becomeinadequate,Herbertthought.Each live picture was a

fresh frustration for Herbert.He wanted to see the airportnow.Hewishedthefiretowerhadaclearviewof the field.That would make thingseasier.Herbert knew from

Darling’s dossier that he hada 1994 Learjet model 31A.The Australian used that for

local hops. Darling kept hislargerGulfstreamG-V at theairport in Darwin. Herbertwouldbe able to identify thesmaller plane with noproblem.Amoment later, the small

jet appeared on the airportlanding strip.At this hour, itwastheonlyactivevehicleonthefield.Itstoppedattheendof the runway. The pilotwould go through his finalpreflight check. Then he

wouldrequestclearancefromthe tower. A few momentslater,JervisDarlingwouldbegone. The helicopter wouldnever be able to catch him.And Lowell Coffey woulddefinitely oppose scramblingthe jets from Cooktown toforce the Learjet down.Especially if Jessica-AnnDarling were on board. Themedia would take huge bitesfrom a story headlined,“RAAFattacksschoolgirl.”

Herbert looked at hiswatch. It was approximatelyseven minutes until thehelicopter landed in Cairns.They would never reach theairstripintime.Henolongerhad time to be subtle. Heleanedtowardtheflightdeck.“What’s the range of the

radar at the airstrip inCairns?”Herbertasked.Jelbart looked at the pilot.

“Whathavetheygotthere,anEL/M-2125?”heasked.

“Ibelieveso,sir,”thepilotreplied.“They’ve got high-

resolution views to thehorizononallsides,fromonedegree above the surface,”Jelbartsaid.“Meaning they’ll seeusas

we fly toward Cairns,”Herbertsaid.“Like they were looking

outthewindow,”Jelbartsaid.“What will they do if we

comescreaminginatthem?”

“Buzz the tower?” Jelbartasked.“I want to make a run

toward the field!” Herbertsaid.“Whatwillthetowerdowhentheyseeuscoming?”“They’ll shut the field

down until they’ve contactedus,”thepilotinformedhim.“Then do it!” Herbert

ordered.“Youwantmetostreakthe

airstrip?”thepilotclarified.“At maximum drive!

Now!” Herbert yelled.“Absoluteradiosilence.”As Herbert spoke, he

disconnected the telephonereceiver fromthecordonhiswheelchair. He held theplastic receiver in his righthand. With his left hand,Herbert gripped the plasticstrap above the door.He didnotwant touse the seatbelt.Heneededalittlemobility.Jelbart protested. But his

complaintwaslostintheroar

of the powerful 500 TTSNengine.Everyonewasthrownforward or back as the Belldipped, revved up, and racedahead.AsHerbert expected, John

Hawke was thrown towardhim. Herbert swung thetelephonereceiveratthebackof Hawke’s neck. Thesecurity officer went down.JusttomakesureHawkewasnot feigning sleep again,Herbert leaned down and

slugged him again. Hawkewould have a difficult timeproving he did not hurthimself when the helicopterabruptlychangeddirections.Monica Loh had had the

foresight to buckle her seatbelt.Thatwonderful ladydidnotmissathing.Scooting back up in his

seat, Herbert looked at hisphone. The receiver wascracked.Hewould apologizeto Viens later for

disconnectinghim.Hewouldalsohave to frame thephoneandgiveittoPaulHood.Inthisinstance,atleast,he

andhisbosswereincompleteagreement.Thetelephonecouldbeone

hellofaweaponofchoice.

SEVENTYWashington,D.C.

Saturday,3:06P.M.Hood was looking at the

computer monitor on hisdesk. StephenViens had justsenthimthesameimagethatBob Herbert was seeing.HoodsawthegleamingwhiteLearjet poised for takeoff onthe end of the runway. Theaircraftwasjustsittingthere.“So that’s Darling’s jet,

and Bob’s going to try tokeep him from taking off bymucking up the field’sairspace,”Hoodsaid.“That’s pretty much it,”

Vienssaid.“And then what? Did he

giveanyclue?”“No,”Viensadmitted.“Hewouldn’thavewanted

to say much,” Hood thoughtaloud.“Notwithasuspect inthecabin.”“IwonderiftheCooktown

airbase will scramble jets totrytochasehimaway.”“They might, but Jelbart

could handle that,” Hoodsaid. He shook his head.“Stephen,thisisoneofthosetimes when you just have totrust the people you have inthe field. But I do have oneproblem.”“What’sthat?”“The poor Mississippi kid

wants the rich Australian’shide,”Hoodsaid.

“Isee,”Vienssaid.“I want the nuclear

material,”Hoodwenton.Hood continued to watch

themonitor.Hedidnotthinkthat Herbert would forgetwhyhehadgonetoAustralia.And then he saw

something on the monitor.Something new. “Stephen,canyoubringmeincloser?”“Iwasjustabouttosuggest

that,”Viensreplied.“Youseeit,too?”

“Yes,”Vienssaid.“Can you make it out?”

Hoodasked.“Not yet,”Viens told him.

“Give me another fewseconds to kick up the zoomandresolution.”The green-tinted image

began tochange.TheLearjetbecame larger in the lowerright-hand corner of themonitor. The white of thefuselage looked irradiated inthe night-vision lens. The

tarmac expanded. And theblack, bloblike object in theupper left became slightlyclearer.Hood stared at it intently.

He sawwhat the objectwas.And he was very sorry thatBobHerbert’sphonewasnotworking.

SEVENTY-ONECairns,Australia

Sunday,5:07A.M.The sun was beginning to

brighten the charcoal graytarmac at the tiny airfield.Inside the sleek Learjet,Jervis Darling sat in a deep,cushionedseatoverthewing.The gentle hum of theengines comforted him, asalways. He loved the feelingof bridled power. Especially

whenhe controlled the reins.Bundled in his overcoat, hisdaughter was asleep in theseat beside him. Once theyhadreachedcruisingaltitude,Darling would carry theyoung girl to the smallbedroom in the back of theaircraft.Asthejetcontinuedtoidle,

Darlingbecameimpatient.Hepunched a button on top ofthe armrest. That activatedtheintercomtothecockpit.

“Shawn, what’s thedelay?”“Mr.Darling,thetowerhas

put us on temporary hold,”pilotShawnDanielsreplied.“Findoutwhat it’sabout,”

Darling snapped. “I want tobe airborne as quickly aspossible.”“Sir, that may not be

possible,”Danielstoldhim.“What are you talking

about?”“There’s activity on the

tarmac,”hereplied.“What kind of activity?”

Darlingdemanded.“The tower has not given

me that information, sir,”Danielsreplied.“Damnthetower,”Darling

saidasheunbuckledhis seatbelt. He moved through thenarrow cabin, ducking hishead slightly under the lowceiling. He opened thecockpit door. Pilot Danielsand copilot Kristin Bedard

moved slightly to either sideso he could see out thewindshield.Ahelicopterwasparkedat

the end of the runway. Therotorwasstillchurning,andasidedoorwasopen.“Do you know who that

is?”Darlingasked.“No,sir,”Danielstoldhim.

“It’s a Bell helicopter, but Ican’t see the identificationnumber.”Darling squinted into the

darkness. Something wasbeing off-loaded. He couldnottellwhatitwas.“Mr. Darling,” the pilot

said. “I could be mistaken,but that looks like awheelchair.”“He wouldn’t dare,”

Darlingmuttered.“Sir?”Darling ignored the pilot.

He continued to look out thewindow.Afteramoment,thehelicopter rose slowly from

behind the object. Darlingcouldseeclearlynow.Itwasawheelchair.ThewheelchairofR.ClaytonHerbert.Anditwascomingtowardhim.“Can you take off around

him?”Darlingasked.“Sir?”“Can you go around him,

over him, through him?”Darlingyelled.“No,sir,”thepilotsaid.He

seemedsurprised.“Askthetowerwhynoone

iscomingto takehimoff thefield,”Darlingdemanded.“Sir, they’ve plugged me

into the cross talk betweenthemselves and thehelicopter,” the pilot said.“Apparently,WarrantOfficerGeorge Jelbart of theMaritime Intelligence Centrehas just commandeered thelanding strip for a militaryaction.”This cannot be happening,

Darlingthought.

“The tower is asking thehelicopter for a reason,” thepilot went on. “The warrantofficer is saying there is aquestion about the cargo ofthe jet.” The pilot seemedsurprised.HeglancedbackatDarling. “I can cut in if youlike, sir. Do we have aresponseforthem?”“Yes,” Darling said. “Tell

the tower I am going out toremove the impediment. Ifthey have a problem with

that, theycan take it upwiththe prime minister, whom Iintend to wake once we areairborne.”“I will tell them, sir,” the

pilotsaid.Darling backed into the

cabin.HemotionedtocopilotBedard,whojumpedfromherseatandopenedthedoor.Sheloweredtheretractablestairs.“Sit with my daughter in

caseshewakes,”Darlingtoldher as he swept onto the

tarmac.The night seemed endless,

but Darling’s patience wasnot. The new world powerstructurewasinevitable.Itmightaswellbeginhere

andnow.

SEVENTY-TWOCairns,Australia

Sunday,5:16A.M.A Learjet looks a helluva

lot bigger when you’rerollingrightup to it, Herbertthought.That was not the only

thought he had, but it was apowerful one.Waves of heatfrom the turbineswere risingin the dawning sun. Themachine was hot, volatile,

dangerous. The pointed nosewas like a lance aimeddirectlyathim.Thelowhumof the engines was whatHerbert imagined tigerswould be like growling frombehind brush. All it wouldtakewasagentlenudgefromsomeone inside to send thebeast charging toward him.The helicopter hadmoved toan emergency access roadbeside the tarmac, leavingHerbert alone. Now that the

Bell was out of the way,Herbert had no doubt thatJervis Darling would like torun him over. Theintelligence chief hoped thepilot and copilot would bedisinclined.As Herbert rolled himself

forward,thecabindoorofthejet swung open. Someonecharged down the steps.Herbert could not see thefigure clearly, but it couldonly be Jervis Darling. He

approached aggressively,with a shoulder-drivenswagger. It gave Herbert amoment’s hesitation. Darlingwas not that manygenerationsremovedfromthepeople who first cutcivilization into the roughterrain here. They wereconvictsandtheirkeepers,forwhomhardshipwasconstant.Ashehaddiscoveredbefore,it was going to take a lot tocowhim.Hopefully,theextra

ammunition Herbert hadwould give him the kill shotheneeded.“Get out of my way!”

Darling said as heapproached.“Leave,orIwillcall the chief constable andhaveyouremoved.”“Call him. Then I’ll have

to explain why I was here.”Herbert stopped movingforward.Hepresseddownonthe brake to lock hiswheels.Therewasnowind.Hecould

hear Darling breathing as heapproached.“Your delusions don’t

interest me,” Darling said ashe stopped in front ofHerbert.“My ‘delusions’ will

interest the police,” Herbertsaid.“Let’s see,” Darling said.

Hetookouthiscellphone.“Why don’t you start

talking, Mr. Darling? It’llsaveusalotoftime.”

Darling speed-dialed anumber.“Even if I am removed,

you’re not going anywhere,”Herbert said. “The helicopterwill see to that. You’re notleaving here, and if you’replanning on going to yourcove, the helicopter will gettherebeforeyoudo.Andyoucan’t afford to wait. That’swhyyouwereleavingnow.”Darling turnedhisbackon

Herbert. He began walking

away,thephonetohisear.“The reason you didn’t

hear from John Hawke isbecausewerescuedhimfromthe yacht,” Herbert went on.“He told us everything heknewabouttheoperation.I’msure I’ll get more from yournephew. The Singaporeannavyscoopedhimandseveralothers from the Coral Sea.Probably an underachiever,right?I’mwillingtobethe’llfingeryoutobuyleniencyfor

himself. That’s whatsycophantsdo.”Darlingstopped.Heclosed

thephone.Heturned.“What do you want, Mr.

Herbert?” Darling asked. “Idon’t mean to leave theairfield but to go away. Toleavemealone.”“You can start with the

location of the nuclearmaterials you’ve beenshufflingaround.”“They’re in your mind!”

Darling said angrily. “We’renot going to talk about yourfantasies. Only about thereality of this moment. I’llask onemore time.What doyouwant?”“Ijusttoldyou.”Darling shook his head.

“Mr.Herbert,I’vetriedtobereasonable with you. I’vefailed.NowIhopeyou’llgetoffthetarmac.BecauseIcanfly that jet, and I intend totakeoff.”

“You’drunoverme?”“Mr.Herbert,ifeverything

you’ve intimated is true, onemore criminal act would notmake things worse,” Darlingpointedout.The Australian turned and

left. Herbert had one moreround in the chamber. Itwashissilverbullet.“I did not accuse you of

murder,” Herbert shouted.“But only a man who hadalreadycommittedonewould

say that he has nothing tolose.”“I suggest you move!”

Darling yelled over hisshoulder.“How will your daughter

feelwhenshe learnsyouhadher mother murdered?”Herbertsaid.Darling kept walking, but

onlyforamoment.Heturnedand threw the cell phone atHerbert. It fell short,explodingonthetarmac.The

Australian stalked backtowardHerbert.The kill shot had hit its

target. Now Herbert neededonemoreveryspecificresult.“Youshit!”Darlingyelled.

“Youdeformedshit!”There was the verbal

abuse. That was the start ofthe final phase, like Hitlershoutingordersinthebunkeras his world burned. IfHerbertdidthisright,therestwasinevitable.

“Your ambition is aslimited as your mobility!”Darling went on. “You haveno eyes, no soul to dream,nothing!”“Youwant to talk about a

soul? I lost my legs in aterroristattack,”Herbertsaid.“I lost my wife then, too. Iwould give anything to haveher back. But you had yourwife killed out of vanity.Because it was convenient.Who’sthedeformedshit?”

“Youdon’tknowanythingabout my life!” Darlingyelled.“This may come as a

shock, but the world is notDarling-centric,” Herbertsaid. He was pushing. Heneededonemorething.Hegotit.The Australian reached

Herbert’s side and threw ahard right backhand acrosshisface.Herberttookthehit.“Youdon’tknowanything

about life itself!” Darlingwentonangrily.“Gobacktoyour grim little cubbyholeand review reports and studythe activities of individualswhomake history!But don’tbe a spoiler. You have noideawhatyou’redoing!”“Ido,”Herbertsaid.“Ijust

gota lunatic to slugme.Thetower saw it. My people arecalling your friend theconstable right now from thehelicopter.You’regoingtobe

arrested for assault. Thenyour government and mineare going to stop you fromslipping radioactive materialinto subways and officebuildingsaroundtheworld.”Darling shook his head

violently. “I was trying tohelp the world! Why shouldhistorybewrittenbyAmericaor China? What happens tothe rest of us?Where is ourplaceinhistory?”“Some of us would have

been happy building aninternational empire andhavingacoupleofjetstotoolaroundin,”Herbertsaid.“Which is why you don’t

have those things!” Darlingreplied. “You settle. Youdreamsmall!”“Really?” Herbert said. “I

just sank you with a fewwords. That, Mr. Darling, isnotsmall.”The sun cleared the

horizon, and Jervis Darling

seemed to shrink in it. In amoment, his shadow wastaller than he was. Thebillionaire’sarmswentslack,andhischinfell.“Where I come from,

everything isn’t aboutchanging the world on anepic, historic scale,” Herbertsaid. “Some of it is aboutimproving ourselves,becoming better people.Better spouses. Betterparents. That is not small

either, Mr. Darling. It’s avery big dream and an evenbigger project. You ought totryitsometime.”The Australian looked at

the yellow-orange sun. Hisface was lined, older in thestark light. Head cockedoddly to one side, he turnedand began walking slowlytowardtheaircraft.“Mr. Darling, where are

you going? I need you tostickaround,”Herbertsaid.

“Youneedtoleave.”“That isn’t going to make

the problem go away,”Herbert said. “Too manypeopleknow.”He continued to walk

towardtheairplane.“Mr.Darling!”“Onethingyoustillhaveto

learn,” Darling said, “is thatpeople know what you tellthem.Iamnotfinished.”Herbert frowned.

Something was up.

Somethingunsettling.And Herbert had an idea

whatitwas.

SEVENTY-THREE

Cairns,AustraliaSunday,5:24A.M.“The tower saw the attack

on Mr. Herbert,” the pilotsaid to Jelbart. “They’vecalled the police, as yourequested.”“Good,” Jelbart said. His

ownheadsetwasoff.“Now they want to know

why Mr. Herbert and Mr.Darling are on the tarmac atall,”thepilotwenton.“I think that should be

obvious,” Warrant OfficerJelbart replied. He waswatchingthetwodarkfigureson the slowly brighteningairfield. “They’re having aconversation.”“The tower recognizes

that,” the pilot said. “Theywanttoknowwhy.”“ItookmyheadsetoffsoI

didn’t have to listen to theirspew,”hesaid.“I understand,” the pilot

said. “But the controller hasalready remarked on thenumber of CommonwealthDepartment of Transportsafety violations this actionembraces. This includes thefact that theCairnsairfieldisan emergency landing stripfortheregion.Andthatistheonlyrunway.”“Tellthemthis isabloody

emergency,” Jelbart repliedimpatiently.“Look!” Loh said

suddenly. “Darling’s goingback!”The urgency in the female

naval officer’s tone was notmatched by the billionaire’sslow gait. A moment later,Herbert pointed toward thejet. He began wheeling afterDarling.“Tower, please hold,” the

pilot said. He turned to

Jelbart. “What are wesupposedtodo?”“Block him from taking

off,”Jelbartsaid.“No, wait,” Loh said. “I

don’t think that’s what Bobwantsustodo.”“What are you talking

about?” Jelbart said. “Thatwastheplan.”“Iknow,”shesaid.“But it

looks as though Bob ispointing toDarling.Givemeaminute.I’mgettingout.”

“To do what?” Jelbartasked.“Please, just wait,” she

said.FNOLohopenedthedoor.

She ducked from thehelicopter and jogged towardHerbert. The roar of therotorswas like thebellowingof the sea. The tang ofburningjetfuelpermeatedtheair.Itdominatedthesmelloftheoceanblowinginfromtheeast. In all, it was like the

familiar sound and smell ofthe main deck of her patrolboat,acalltoarms.HerbertsawLohapproach.

He motioned toward thebillionaire, then grabbed hisownwrist.She was right. He wanted

LohtotrytostopDarling.The naval officer turned

toward the jet. She wasrunning hard now. Darlinghad reached the steps andlookedback.Hesawherand,

without expression, climbedinto the cabin. She was notgoing to get there before heshutthedoor.Stillracing,sheturned toward the helicopter.Shegesturedupwardandthentoward the nose of theLearjet. The pilot obviouslyunderstood. The helicoptertookoffandrapidlyovertookher.ThepilotcircledwideofFNO Loh to keep the propwash from knocking herdown.He stopped about two

hundredmetersinfrontofthejet, some twenty metersabove the tarmac. The Bellhovered there. The Learjetwasnotgoinganywhere.Ifitstarted to taxi, the helicopterpilot could stop it byplacinga landing strut on thewindshield.Lohpassedthecockpitand

reachedthewidedoor.Itwasjust forward the wing on theport side. She could hear thedoor being locked as she

arrived.Shepoundedonit.“Mr. Darling, come out!”

the Singaporean shouted.“Youwillnotbeable to takeoff!”The combination of the

helicopter rotor and jetenginesgeneratedagreatdealofnoise.Lohwasnotsureheheard her. She stepped awayfrom the aircraft and peeredintothecockpit.Thesunlightwas glinting off thewindshield, making it

difficult to see. She shieldedher eyes. The Singaporeanhad intended to signal thepilottoletherin.But that would not be

possible.Thecockpitwasempty.

SEVENTY-FOUR

Cairns,AustraliaSunday,5:30A.M.When Darling reentered

the aircraft, he asked pilotShawnDanielstojoinhiminthe cabin. The captain exitedtheflightdeck.“Is everything all right,

sir?” Daniels asked as heslipped on his cap andmade

surehistiewasstraight.“Areyouallright?”“Iam...”hesaid,butthen

his voice trailed off. Howcould he explain to thismanwhat he had just lost? Hisempire.Hisdreams.Hisself-respect.CopilotKristinBedardwas

alreadyinthecabin.Shewassittingwith Jessica-Ann.Theyoung girl was awake nowand talking to the copilot.Theyweremaking up voices

for the two prehistoricanimals that made up theDarlingEnterpriseslogo.Theflyingpterosaurandseagoingichthyosaurus were paintedon the bulkhead wall of theLearjet. It had always beenDarling’s notion that if youmasteredtheairandsea,youcontrolledtheland.Copilot Bedard rose when

JervisDarlingarrived.Hesatin the seat beside hisdaughter.DanielsandBedard

moved several feet away.They stood with their backsto the two. Darling touchedthetipofhisdaughter’snose.He used to do thatwhen shewasababy.Hesmiledasshetwitched.“Daddy?”“I’m here,” Darling said.

“Didyouhaveanicesleep?”The girl nodded. She

gently scratched her nosewithherforearm.“I want to ask you

something,” Darling said. “Iwant to know if you arehappy,sweetie.”Thegirlnoddedagain.“What are you happiest

about?”her fatherasked.Hisvoice was soft, hardly morethanawhisper.She was silent. He could

nottellifshewasthinkingorfalling back to sleep. Thenshe suddenly said,“Frenchie.”“Yourpony?”Thatwasnot

what Darling hadmeant, buthe went with her lead.“Frenchieisnice,isn’tshe?”Jessica-Annnoddedonce.“And the thing that I’m

least happy about are thedinosaurs,” she added beforeher father could rephrase thequestion.“Why?”Darlingasked.“They scare me,” Jessica-

Annreplied.“They shouldn’t,” Darling

said.

“Theydo.”“I told you that a lot of

them were very peaceable.Do you remember whichones?”“The plant eaters,” she

said.“Right,”hesmiled.“But they could step on

you by accident,” Jessica-Ann said. She was moreanimatednow.“They would never have

done that,” Darling said.

“They had young ones allaround. They were verysmart, and they were verycareful.”And they are all gone, he

thought. They were sosuccessful for so long.Manywere largeandpowerful.Yettheywere annihilated. Itwasaninevitabilityofnature.Darling touched his

daughter’s cheek with theback of a finger. “I’m gladyoulikeyourpony,Jess.But

I guesswhat I reallywant toknow is if you have a happylife.”“Youmeaneverything?”“Yes,”hesmiled.The young girl nodded

vigorously.“I’mglad,”hesaid.“Now can you tell me

something?” she asked,lookingupathim.“Ofcourse,”hereplied.“Wherearewegoing?”Darling felt tears pressure

the backs of his eyes. Tearscrept around to the front.Henonchalantly touched themawaywithhisfingertips.“Actually, sweetie, I’m

going somewhere,” Darlingtold her. “I’ve got a big jobforyou.”“Okay.” She made a face.

Herbrowsdipped.“Daddy, Ithinksomeone’sknockingonthedoor.”“Don’t you worry about

that,” Darling said. “What I

need you to do right now isgo home with Shawn andKristin.”“Go home? That’s not a

job,”shesaid.“It is,” Darling said. “A

veryimportantone.You’retogo home with them and tellAndrew something. Tell himthat Daddy has to gosomewhere, and you couldnotgo.”“Whereareyougoing?”“Where do you think?” he

asked.Jessica-Ann thought for a

moment.“TovisitMommy?”Darling started slightly.

That caught him off guard.The young girl looked up athim.“Whatmadeyousaythat?”

heasked.“Your voice sounds the

sameas itdidwhenyou toldme Mommy had heraccident,” the girl replied.“Are you going to her

grave?”“No,” Darling said.

“There’s something else Ihavetodo.”Hehelpedhersitupasheeasedfromtheseat.Stillholdingherhand,hehadher stand on the cushion.“GiveDaddyahug,”he saidasheputhisarmsaroundher.Shewrappedherleanarms

around his shoulders and putherheadonhischest.Darling could smell the

shampoo she had used the

night before. Apricot, hethought. He rememberedwhen Jessica-Ann was muchyounger. Her mother wouldfrequently go out for thenight, often longer, and hewould give their daughter abath.Hewouldwashherhair.Thenhewouldputhertobed.Now she was doing thosethingsherself.Whenhadthathappened?Whatmatters is that it did

happen,hetoldhimself.That

was the wonder of growthand evolution. It took placeeven without a globalcataclysm.Jervis Darling hugged

Jessica-Ann tightly. Thechanges he had wanted forher world would nottranspire.Or shewould havetomakethemhappenherself.Perhaps she would. She washis daughter. Darling hadbeenstoppedbyamanwhomhe should never have

underestimated. Herbert wasa functionary. A gear in amachine. But he won, thesame way the dinosaurs hadbeen undermined by the tinymammals that movedunderfoot. Darling’s networkwould be uprooted andstopped. It was ironic. Herehewasinhisprivatejet,withthe world before him. Yetthere was really only oneplaceforhimtogo.Darling turned from his

daughter without releasingher. He called quietly toShawnDaniels.Thepilotandcopilot came over. Darlinghanded his daughter to thewoman.“Iwantyoutwototakeher

home,”Darlingsaid.“Yes, sir,” the pilot said.

“Will there be anythingelse?”Darling grinned

humorously.“Thatremainstobeseen.”

He walked them to thedoorandleanedclose.

SEVENTY-FIVECairns,Australia

Sunday,5:38A.M.“Please back away,”

someonesaidfrominsidetheLearjet. “We’re coming outwithMs.Darling!”Bob Herbert had reached

the side of the jet. He andFNOLohmovedbackseveralyards. The voice from insidehad not belonged to JervisDarling.Herbertlookedalong

the fuselage at the fivewindows. He did not seeDarling inside. He also didnot imagine that Darlingwouldbecomingoutwiththeothers.Herbert realizedwhathad struck him aboutDarling’s behavior a fewminutes before. It was likethe sudden arrival of thehurricane’seye.Thiswasnotover. To the contrary. Whatwas happening now had thefeel of women and children

being allowed to leave theAlamo before the finalassault.ButtherewasnothingHerbert could do. The girland anyone elsewhowantedto leavehad tobeallowed todoso.“I want my Daddy to

come!”Herbert’s eyes snapped

back toward the door as itopened.His feelinghadbeenaccurate. Darling was lettingthe flight crew and his

daughter go.Herbert glancedat the cockpit. Someonewasmoving inside. Theintelligence chief bet it wasDarling.The stairs unfolded, and

the pilot and copilot steppedout. The pilot was carryingJessica-Ann. The girl wastryingtoseearoundhim,intotheplane.Shewascallingforherfather.Herbert heard a police

sirenover thehowlof the jet

engines and the beat of thehelicopter rotor. They werecoming to arrest JervisDarling. That requiredDarlingtobehere.Herbert was about to tell

FNO Loh to rush the stairs.The woman was ahead ofhim,ofcourse.Assoonasthecopilotsteppedout, thenavalofficer maneuvered aroundher. The crew stepped asideastheymadetheirwaytothetarmac. Loh entered the

cabin.“He’s in the cockpit!”

Herbertsaid.Loh nodded. Herbert

wheeled to the side so hecould see her. She poundedonthedoor.“Mr. Darling, we will not

letyoudepart,”shesaid.Herbert had watched the

crew run off. They hadhurriedtothesmall,fenced-inparking lot. Darling’s driverwas still there. He was

probably instructed to waituntil his employer wasairborne before departing.Herbertwasglad.HedidnotwantJessica-Anntoseethis.“Mr. Darling! Open the

door!”Lohinsisted.Herbert turned back to the

cockpit.Hecouldseethetopof Darling’s head. He wasseatedinthepilot’sseat.Thejetbegantomove.“Officer Loh, get off!”

Herbertcried.

The Singaporean officercontinued to hit the cockpitdoor.Herbert did not know

whether Darling was playingchicken.Even if hemanagedtogetpast thehelicopterandtake off, he would havedifficulty maintainingequilibrium with the dooropen.Ajetthatsizewouldbeimpacted by sudden shifts inair pressure, by fluctuationsintemperature.

That assumes JervisDarlingisthinkingrationally,Herbert thought.For thepastfew minutes, the Australianhad been in the throes of afight-or-flight response.Reason is not a strongcomponentofthat.Herbert looked up at the

helicopter. He gestured forthepilottomovein.Theflierexpertly maneuvered thechoppercloser.Heturnedtheaircraft perpendicular to the

jet and lowered the port-sidestrut toward the windshield.Herbert could see theLearjetwings fluttering from thechopper’s downdraft. The jetcontinued to move forward,gaining speed. The twovehicleswereabouttenyardsapart. They would collide inmoments.Herbert had never felt so

helpless. He wanted to runonto the Learjet and helpOfficerLohkick in thedoor.

Instead,herolledbackas thetwo vehicles hit. The jetslowed with the impact butcontinuedtomoveahead.Thehelicopter was knockedslightly to its starboard. Therotortiltedprecariously.It was surreal, like

watchingapairofprehistoricbehemoths do battle. Thepilotswungawayandrightedthe helicopter. He rose in atightarcandpreparedtodropdownagain.

Herbert motionedaggressively for him to stop.As much as the intelligencechief wanted Darling, he didnot want to damage the jet.Darlingmightstilltrytotakeoff. Herbert wanted the maninprison,notinthemorgue.Someone came running

from the tower. Two policecars were just entering theairstripbehindthejet.Sowasanother vehicle, with afamiliar driver. Paul Leyland

wasat thewheelwithSpiderridingtherunningboard.The fire brigade had been

called by the tower, and asquat red rural Nissan PatrolLight Attack fire truck wasracing forward. There was a600-literwater tankmountedto the back. The Queenslandfirefighters used it to battleblazesawayfromhydrants.AndthatwaswhenHerbert

gotanidea.The intelligence chief

motioned to the chopper totry again to stop the jet.Herbert lowered his handsslowly,indicatingameasuredattack. It was risky, but heneeded to delay Darling. Asthe chopper came down,Herbert wheeled quicklytowardthefiretruck.“Thehose!”Herbertyelled

asherushedpastthewingoftheLearjet.“Getthehose!”Spidercouldnotquitehear

him. Herbert was dying. He

reckonedthathehadlessthanaminutetopullthisoff.“We need the hose!” he

shouted.Hegesturedbroadlyatthecanvashose,whichwascoiled on the side. Then hepointed to the wing of theLearjet.Leyland sped up. He

overtook the police car andcame to a smoking stopbesideHerbert.“Hittheengineintakewith

water!”Herbertsaid.

Leylandobviouslysizedupthe situation.He shot towardthe Learjet. Herbert didlikewise.Hewanted to try togetOfficerLohout.Whilethefiretruckwasin

motion, Spider shimmiedalongtherunningboardtothehose in back. Obviously, hisabilitytoclingtothesideofamoving vehicle had helpedhim earn his name. Heunhooked the hose, pressedthe button to open the tank,

andclimbedtheladderto thetopofthetank.Hestoodonasmall platform there. As thetruck neared, Spider leanedforwardataforty-five-degreeangle. When the truck waswithintwohundredmetersofthe jet, Spider flipped aswitch at the base of thenozzle. He pointed the hosetoward the rear-mountedengine. Water shot from thehosesoforcefullythatSpiderended up standing erect. The

powerful spray smashed intothebackofthejetengine.The jet was well ahead of

Herbert; hewas not going toget to it in time. The waterwas sucked through thesuperheated turbine. It turnedto steam, simultaneouslycooling the internal metalcomponents. The enginecracked audibly and crisply,like nearby thunder. Smokemingled with the wispiersteam,firstfromthefrontand

backand thenfromcracks inthe side. A moment later,shards of silver and whitemetalshotfromthefrontandback of the engine. Then theenginecasingitselfburst likea hot dog on a grill. The jetlurched, hopped slightly ontheportside,butcontinuedtomoveforward.Thehelicopterhad approached morecautiously this time. It keptthe jet back with repeatednudges rather than a single

hit. It was amore successfulmeansofkeeping theaircraftfromgainingspeed.Spider left the smoking

huskand turnedhis sprayonthestarboardengine.That turbine spat and

sizzled as had the first one.Herbert continued to wheelhimself toward the jet. Fromthis angle, Herbert could seeflameslightinguptheinteriorofthestarboardengine.Theymust be coming from a split

casing of some kind. Theyflared for only a momentbefore the water smotheredthem. A moment later, thesecondenginerupturedwithasingle loud bang. Spiderkilled the hose as the casingpeeled from the centeroutward, the top and bottompointing toward the fuselage.Thejetcoastedforamoment,thenangled toward the towerand stopped. Both engineswere still smoking, thewhite

smoketurningblack.Spider redirected the hose

to the first engine.While hedid, Leyland stopped thetruck and jumped out. Asmall oxygen tank and maskwereslungoverhisshoulder.He reached the stairs amoment before Herbert did.They had dragged along thetarmac and were crackedalong the bottom. Leylandbolted inside. The cabin wasfilling with dirty white

smoke.Herbertcouldnotseeanything.The next few seconds

seemed to pass in slowmotion. The helicoptermovedawayfromthejetandsetdownonthelandingstrip.Warrant Officer Jelbartemerged and ran forward.The police car arrived. Twoofficers in sharp blueuniforms emerged. One ofthem was using his portableradio to summon an

ambulance. The air trafficcontroller arrived, breathlessand waving his undoneshirtsleeves and shoutingprofanities. But all Herbertcouldhearwasthedyinghissof the engines. All he couldseewas the wide, open doorofthejet.Finally, Leyland emerged

from the smoke. He wasalone. He backed down thesteps,peeringattheinterior.Urgently, Herbert wheeled

himself forward. “Paul,what’s wrong?” hedemanded.Before Leyland could

answer,MonicaLohemergedfrom the roilingcloud. JervisDarling was beside her. Hisarm was thrown around hershoulder, and his head wasnodding forward. Leylandremained in front of thebarelyconsciousmanasLohwalkedhimdownthestairs.When they reached the

tarmac, Leyland and one ofthepoliceofficerstookJervisDarlingfromFNOLoh.Theycarried him to the police carandlayhimonthebackseat.Herbert went over to Loh.

He scooted sideways on hisseat and offered her a cornerto sit on. She declined. Herfacewascoveredwithsweat.It seemed to make her darkeyes shine even morebrightly. As Jelbart arrived,Loh looked at the shattered

engines, then down atHerbert.“That was a very clever

backup plan,” she saidbreathlessly.“Backup plan?” Herbert

said.“Whatdoyoumean?”“I finally got the door

open,” she said with thefaintest trace of a smile.“JervisDarlingwasnotgoinganywhere.”Herbert loved thiswoman.

God,howhelovedher.

SEVENTY-SIXWashington,D.C.

Saturday,4:00P.M.“I’m not sure which took

thelargerhit,”LowellCoffeysaid to Paul Hood over thetelephone. “Jervis Darling’sLearjet or Australian statutesforcrimeandmisconduct.”“How bad is it?” Hood

asked.“For us? Pretty favorable,

actually,”Coffeysaid.“Itook

Leyland’s car and only justgot to theairport,soI’mstillcatching up. Basically, theQueensland Crime andMisconduct Commission hastakenover thiscase from thelocalpolice.They’reflyinginan assistant commissioner toinvestigate.”“Because of Darling’s

involvement?”“Partlythat,butmostlydue

to thenatureof thecharges,”Coffey said. “Jelbart briefed

them by phone. They’reclassifying the destruction ofthe jet and the attack on theairfieldasasingleaction,andattributing it jointly to theQueensland fire team, Op-Center, the Republic ofSingapore Navy, and theMaritime IntelligenceCentre.”“GoodGod.”“Yes, but having everyone

named is good for us,”Coffey said. “It givesweight

to the idea we’ll be puttingforth, that therewasprobablecause to detain the jet. It’salso good that the QCMC isclassifyingthisasa‘reactive’investigation, which is afancytermfor‘afterthefact.’Thatsuggests theremaybeavalidreasonforwhatwedid.It’s not quite as extreme, butit’s like stopping a guy whoenters a bank wearing a skimaskandcarryingagun.Theactisnotconsideredacrime.

It’scalledacontravention.”“Ifollow,”Hoodsaid.“The best news is, the

QCMCisalsoresponsibleforoverseeing the transport ofhazardous materials throughthe area. Based on WarrantOfficer Jelbart’s report,they’re instituting what theycall a ‘proactive’investigation into thesmugglingactivities.”“Which means what,

exactly?”Hoodasked.

“Basically, it means theycan hold Hawke on Jelbart’ssay-so,” Coffey said.“They’ve got him in thehospital. He hit his head atsome point on the flight toCairns. It seems he was theonly one not wearing a seatbelt when the chopper wentintosomekindofdive.”This was an open line, so

Hood did not say what wasonhismind.Not thathehadto say it. He was sure the

same thought was onCoffey’smind.“What about Darling?”

Hoodasked.“They booked him for

assault, thoughthey’retakinghimtothehospitalaswell tomake sure he’s all right. Hetook in a lot of smoke. He’sextremelydisoriented.”“Have they got solid

security for Hawke andDarling?”“The local police are

handlingthatnow,butJelbarthassomeofhispeopleflyingin,” Coffey said. “Theyshouldbeheremomentarily.”“At six in the morning?”

Hood said. “They don’t dragtheir feet over there, dothey?”“No, they don’t,” Coffey

said.“Theefficiencyofeverydivision,fromthefirebrigadeto the local police, has beenincredible.”Hood knew why. The

Australians were surroundedby nations where the blackmarket was a dominantfinancial force. Australiaitself was mostly opencoastline. If they did notmaintain a warlikepreparedness along everymeter of that, it would nottakelongforcorruptiontosetin.“That said,” Coffey went

on, “we’re all betting thatHawke will get off with

minimaljailtime.”“It wouldn’t surprise me,”

Hoodsaid.“He’lltakethebruntofthe

fall for Darling in exchangefor guaranteed early parole,”Coffey went on. “To putDarling on trial would becounterproductive. It wouldbecome a circus that wouldhurt theeconomyanddetractfrom the main issue, whichhas to be breaking up thesmuggling network and

finding the nuclear material.Jervis Darling himself iseffectively finished. He’ll bequietly forced to resign theboards of his companies, hisnot-for-profit companies willbe dissected for launderingthenukepayouts,andhemayserve some token jail time.After that, he’ll probably goliveononeofhisislands.”“With or without his

daughter, I wonder,” Hoodsaid.

“The courts won’t havemuch say over that,” Coffeysaid. “But Darling will wanther to get a great education.That means boarding schoolinAustralia or Europe. Theywon’tbetogethermuch.”“No mother and an MIA

father,” Hood said. “Did sheseemuchofwhathappenedattheairfield?”“I don’t think so,” Coffey

said. “But she had to haveheard the engine explosions,

the sirens. She knows theplanedidn’ttakeoff.”“Iwonderhowshe’staking

this.”“I saw her in the small

terminal building when Iarrived,” Coffey said. “Shewas sitting with Darling’scopilotanddriver.Theyweretalking to her. She lookedshell-shocked.”“I wish there was

something we could do forher,” Hood said. There was

sadness in his voice, in hissoul. He thought of his owndaughter, Harleigh, livingwithout him. He could notimagine what kind of manwould create a situation thatwouldexposehisdaughtertothiskindofemotionalperil.Then again, this was the

same man who reportedlytook the girl’s mother fromher, Hood thought. Normalvalues did not apply. Thegood news was that Jervis

Darling would not be takinganyone else’s parents fromthem.Ever.“I’msureMs.Darlingwill

be looked after in the shortterm,” Coffey said. “Thepeople who were with herseemed very attentive.Though I have to wonder.Was it fear or affection thatmade these people loyal toDarling?”“Alittleofboth,I’msure,”

Hood said. “But it was

probably the free pass thathadthemostimpact.”“What kind of free pass?”

Coffeyasked.“I used to get that when I

was mayor,” Hood said.“That’s when people arearoundsomeoneofinfluence,so they have no problemgetting into restaurants orclubs or the most popularattractions at amusementparks. They don’t have toworry about speeding tickets

or bureaucracies or badservice. If they get intotrouble, strong, decisive helpis just a name-drop or phonecall away. I’m sure you sawsome of that at your dad’slawpractice.”“Yes,onlyinBeverlyHills

it was called kissing cheek,and nobody liked to do it,”Coffeytoldhim.“You were lucky, though.

You had money. You had achoice,”Hoodsaid.“Alotof

people don’t. For them,playing the sycophant to aJervis Darling or a MayorHood is like consolidatingtheir debt. The humiliationcomes from one place, notdozens.”“Well, I should probably

get back to the others,”Coffey said. “It looks likeHerbertandLohare ready tobreak huddle. Tell me,though.Didyouenjoyhavingpeoplekissyourass?”

“I hated it,” Hood said. “Idiscouraged it. But peoplekept doing it. That’s onereason I’m here instead ofthere.”“We’ll see who sticks by

Darling now,” Coffey said.“As the philosopher says, ‘Afailure is a stranger in hisownhouse.’”Hoodhungup.Hestaredat

thephone.Thatwascruelandtrue,he

thought.Itwasbadenoughto

fail. But one also had toendure it alone. It wasimpossible to feel anysympathy for Jervis Darling.But while Hood should besavoring the successfulmission, he found himselfrespondingemotionallytotheidea of failure. He wasuncomfortable by thenearnessofit.Bythesadnessof what Jessica-Ann Darlingwouldhave to face. It forcedHood to think about the

mistakes he had made withhisownfamily.Hewonderedif that sense of inefficacywould ever completelydisappear.Maybeit’snotsupposedto,

Hood decided. Maybe that’swhat prevents a man fromrepeatinghiserrors.Hoodpickedupthephone.

Therewasonethingofwhichhewascertain.Theantithesisof having his ass kissed washaving itkicked.Byhimself.

Neither one of them did himanygood.He had to put the past

behindhim.He had to call Daphne

Connors.Now.

SEVENTY-SEVEN

Cairns,AustraliaSunday,7:10A.M.John Hawke and Jervis

Darling were taken intocustodyseparately.Evenaftertheirdeparture,thehelicopterstill had a brief delay inCairns. The pilot wanted toascertain that there had beenno damage to the landing

strut.Thereportwasfavorable.“Metalisstillstrongerthan

glass,” the pilot reportedproudly to Herbert afterexamining both the landingsurfaceandpylons.The team said farewell to

Leyland and Spider, both ofwhomhadearned therespectofBobHerbert.Leyland waved off the

suggestionthatheandSpiderhad acted heroically. “You

tolduswheretogoandwhattodo.”“Bugger, all we did was

pullthetrigger,”Spidersaid.“Of a bloody hose,”

Leyland added. “It’s not likethat’sgoingtoputsomeone’seyeoutoranything.”“You ran down a jet,”

Herberttoldthem.“Thattookguts. You prevented Darlingfrom takingoff and finishingthe operation he started.That’s a hero by my

yardstick.”Leyland shrugged. “We

really didn’t have muchchoice,didwe?”“Sure you did,” Jelbart

said.“No, I mean I don’t think

Mr. Darling would havebelieved it if we said weneeded to get a koala out oftheengine.”Herbertsmiled.Hehadnot

known this man very long,buthewasgoingtomisshim.

Maybe the intelligence chiefwould stop by and see himwhen he came back to visitMonica Loh, which heabsolutelyintendedtodo.“Paul, I’ve got just one

more question for you,”Herbertsaid.“Askit,”Leylandsaid.“Why’d you hire the only

female firefighter in thedistrict?”Coffeyrolledhiseyes.Leylandsmiled.“Thetruth

is,shewasthebestfirefighterinthedistrict.”Herbert scowled. Coffey

smiled.“That hair on your chest

costyouaprimerib,”Coffeysaidtotheintelligencechief.Leyland leaned toward

Coffey. “And frankly, I likewatching her climb theladder.”Herbert smiled. “Dutch,”

hesaidtoCoffey.Coffeynodded.

When the pilot said theywere good to go, LowellCoffeytooktheseatformerlyoccupied by John Hawke.Theflightbackwasquietandintrospective. Everyone wastired. More than that, theywere oddly dissatisfied.Herbert could see it in theirfaces.NoonecouldcallthisaPyrrhic victory. “The goodguys,” as he had describedthe team to Loh, had notsuffered any physical losses.

Buttherewasaspiritualloss.Businessandgovernmenthadalways been closely related.Business and crime regularlycrossed paths in moneylaundering, intelligencegathering, and otheractivities. Business had evenencouraged wars to increaseproductivity and profits. Butthis was the first time toHerbert’s knowledge that asmall band of businessmenhad planned to use nuclear

material to change thebalance of power. Thethoughtwasassickeningasitwas disquieting. They wouldnever know if they hadnabbed everyone who waspart of the operation. Orevery pellet of enricheduranium, or whateversubstancetheywereshipping.“Bob, I want to ask you

something,”MonicaLohsaidafternearlyahalfhour.“Sure.”

“Were you really going toletHawkegobefore?”“Youmean on the way to

Cairns, when I was askinghim to rat out his boss?”Herbertasked.“Yes,”Lohsaid.Herbert’s answer was

precise, if not articulate. Hesnickered.“Now you tell me

something,”Jelbartsaidfromthefrontseat.“Itrytostayontop of local laws and such,

but I’ve never heard of theSingaporean NuclearEmergency Response Act of2002.Istheresuchathing?”For the first time since

HerberthadknownFNOLoh,shesmiled.Itwasnotquiteasnicker, but then she wasprobably not as jaded asHerbertwas.“I thought not,” Jelbart

said. “Well played,” headded.“NowI’d like toaskallof

youaquestion,”Herbertsaid.“What do you think Darlingwastryingtodobackthere?”“Youmeantakeoffortake

hislife?”Jelbartasked.Herbertnodded.“I’ve been wondering that

myself,” Jelbart said. “Hesent his daughter away. Thatsuggestshedidnotexpect tosurvive.”“Hewasmovingheroutof

danger,” Coffey said. “Thatdoesn’t mean anything. He

could have sent for her later.Hisprioritywastogetoutofthe country andwagea legalwar. He’ll probably do thatanyway.This thing smells ofapleabargain.”“Do you think that’s

inevitable?”Jelbartasked.Coffeynodded.“Wewon’t

be able to prove everythingthat we suspect, and Darlingwon’t be able to duck everyblowthat’s thrown.Thatwilldemand a compromise.

Besides,everybodywillwantthisoverassoonaspossible.Darlingbecausehewillsufferless damage, the governmentbecause there’s always therisk that Darling or Jessica-Ann could be perceived asvictims.”“Not to mention the fact

that it will cost a bomb totry,”Jelbartsaid.Coffey looked at Herbert.

“Whatdoyouthink?”“About Darling trying to

off himself?” Herbert asked.He shook his head. “Whenyoustriphimofthefinancialarmor, he’s a coward.Cowards don’t killthemselves.”“I disagree,” Loh said. “I

would thinkmost individualswho take their lives do sobecause they are afraid tofaceadversity.”“I wonder if the statistics

support that,” Herbert saiddubiously.

“I don’t know,” Lohadmitted.“Whenitcomesdowntoit,

suckingonagunbarrelisnotforthefaint-hearted.”“Lifeisnotforthefaintof

heart,” Loh replied.“Surrendering that life is, Ibelieve, an act of the gravestcowardice.”“I think you’re both

wrong,”Coffey said. “In lawschooltheyteachusthatmostcrimes of passion are

conceived and executed in aspaceoffiveminutes.Suicideincluded. I don’t think thebrainorbackboneplayapartinit.Suicideisusuallyanactofdespair.”“And a rather comfortless

topicaswell,”Jelbartadded.Thecabin fell silent again.

Herbert and Loh looked ateach other with challengingeyes. Like Herbert, she wasobviously a woman who didnot like to let things sit.

Monica Loh could fight,interrogate, debate, and shelooked damn fine. Herbertwondered where the flawswere.Oh yeah, he thought. She

livesinSingapore.Also, he had no ideawhat

she thought of him. Hewondered if he were betteroffnotknowing.Shortly before landing,

Jelbart received a call fromBrian Ellsworth. News of

what had happened at theCairns airstrip traveled a lotfaster than the Bell 204.International media werewaiting for them. So wasEllsworth. He greeted theteamat thehelicopter.Policekept the reporters away.Ellsworth congratulated themfor the job they did, thencautioned the team to ignorethe questions being shoutedbythepress.“Whateveryousaywillbe

reported and distorted, bothpro and contraMr.Darling,”Ellsworth said. “That canonlyhelphiscase.”“Prejudice the judicial

process,”Coffeysaid.“Makeit look like the governmenthasprejudgedDarling.”“Precisely. One thing I

mustaskyou,”Ellsworthsaidas he slipped his cell phonefrom inside his jacket. “Theprime minister is waiting tohear from me about the

missing cargo. He wants toknowwhatthechancesareofgettingthosematerialsback.”“That depends,” Herbert

said. “First we have to findthe people who distributedthestuff.Thenwehavetogetthemtotalk.”“Wealsohave tohope the

materials haven’t alreadybeen passed around,” Jelbartadded.“I wouldn’t worry about

that,” Herbert said. “These

guys work like diamond andartthieves.Theneighborhoodistoohottotrytransferringitnow. We’ve got a week ortwotofindoutwhotheyare.Everything depends on howyou handle Darling, Hawke,andtheothermembersofthecrew.”“Youmayhavetocutthem

deals you aren’t going tolike,”Coffeysaid.“I’m not going to like

anything that doesn’t have

them hanging by their feetover a pit of rattlesnakes,”Herbertsaid.“Well,Mr.Coffey,we are

suretobeengagedinvariousdances with Mr. Darling’slegallancers,”Ellsworthsaid.“I actuallyworry about themnearly as much as I worryaboutthesmugglers.”Herbert understood that.

He resisted shooting a nastylook at Lowell Coffey. Eversince an attorney inLebanon

had helped free one of themen responsible for theBeirut embassy bombing,attorneys had been one stepabove terrorists on Herbert’sfavorite-peoplelist.“With a little forethought,

weshouldbeable tofindthenuclear material,” Lohpromised.“How can you be sure?”

Ellsworthasked.“Did you ever play

volleyball, Mr. Ellsworth?”

sheasked.“Inschool.Why?”“Therearetimeswhenyou

rally for position, and thereare times when you spike,”she said. “This is a time tospike.Weneed to follow thetrailwhileitstillexists.”“How?”“Give me one of the

sailors,” Loh said. “Any oneof them, though I suggest aless hardenedmember of thecrew.We will find that trail

andthemissingmaterials.Wemay not even have to takehim to Singapore. Just theidea of it seems to makepeopletalkative.”Ellsworth thought for a

moment. “Officer Loh, yourvesselhasthecrewnow.Youmight want to decide whichofthosemenactuallyfiredatyour sampan. That wouldmake a strong case forSingaporehaving theright toarrest and try those

individuals.”“Thank you, Mr.

Ellsworth,” she said. “I willcommunicate that to thelieutenantincharge.”Ellsworth turned his back

on the reporters as he madethecalltotheprimeminister.Lohwenttousethetelephonein one of thewaiting sedans.While they did that, Herbertexcused himself. He wantedto have a minute with thepilot. He wheeled himself

overtothehelicoptercockpit.The pilot jumped out. Theman seemed glad to seeHerbert.“Ijustwantedtothankyou

for all your help,” Herbertsaid,extendinghishand.“Thank you for the

adventure,sir,”thepilotsaid.“You know, I’m ashamed

toadmitthis,butIdon’tevenknow your name,” Herbertadmitted.Thepilotgrinned.Thegrin

stayed there for severalseconds. Herbert waspuzzled.“Did I miss something?”

Herbertasked.“No, sir,” the pilot said.

“Actually, my name is BobHerbert.”The intelligence chief

grinned.“You’rejoking.”“Swear on the Bishop

Barker. Only my familypronounces it Erbert,” thepilottoldhim.“Imayhaveto

change that, though,” headded as he saluted Herbert.“It’sbeenararehonor,sir.”Herbertreturnedthesalute,

then shook his head withdisbelief.He turned to rejointheothers.Civilization might be in

jeopardy, and rats likeDarling helped make theworld a hell. But thatexchange made Herbert feelas though he could fix thoseproblems single-handedly.

Men like Pilot Bob Herbertgave him a reason to keepslugging.Theyalsogavehimhope.By God, this war is far

fromlost,Herbertthought,ashe made his way to thewaitingsedan.

SEVENTY-EIGHT

Darwin,AustraliaSunday,7:13A.M.Herbert and his teamwere

shuttled to Jelbart’s office,where more reporters werewaiting. The three sedansentered the building throughanundergroundgarage.Theyrode a freight elevator toJelbart’s floor. Loh had the

feeling, for a moment, thatshewasonanaircraftcarrier.She felt at home and incharge. It was nice. Herbertwas such a dynamiccharacter. He had takencommandofthismissionandnot let go. At first Lohthought itwas the samekindof male arrogance she hadalways encountered amongsoldiers and intelligencepersonnel. Then shediscovered that ego and

testosteronehadnothingtodowith it. Herbert took chargeforonereasononly.He knew what he was

doing.There was something

exciting and refreshing aboutthat.Forthatreasonaloneshewas sorry to see this briefoperationend.Upon reaching Jelbart’s

office, Loh contacted herpatrolboat.Ithadremainedatthe site of the sinking.

LieutenantKumarsaidhehadwanted to secure the yachtbefore itwas swept away bycurrents or evidence wasdegradedbythesaltwater.Atthe same time, he took theinitiativeand interrogated theindividuals they pulled fromtheCoralSea.Facedwiththeprospect of being taken toSingapore for questioning,Marcus Darling wouldprobably choose to reveal agreat deal about the

operation. He also spokeexpansivelyabouthisuncle’sinvolvement in it. Hearingfrom Kumar, Loh wonderedif Mr. Coffey might bewrong. It did not sound asthough Jervis Darling wouldbeinapositiontobargainforleniency.Loh told Kumar that she

would be arriving early thenextmorning. Jelbartwantedtorevisitthesitewithhisownship.He said hewould ferry

herout there.Theywouldbeleaving in about two hours.Lohwould clean up and reston the ship. She hadsomethingelseshewantedtodo before she left. She wentto Jelbart’s office to arrangeit. Then she headed towardtheelevator.Herbert and Coffey had

been on the phonewith theirsuperior in Washington. Shewalked past the conferenceroom they were using.

Herbert saw her go. Heexcused himself and wentafter her. The intelligencechief wheeled alongside theofficer as she walked downthehall.“Areyouleavingnow?”he

asked.“At ten o’clock,” she told

him.Shepressedtheelevatorbutton.“Jelbartsentout forcoffee

and doughnuts.Do youwanttowaitwithus?”

“There is something else Imustdo,”shereplied.“Byyourself?”She looked at him. “I

wouldpreferto.”“Oh.”“But I was wondering

about something,” Loh wenton. “I have three weeks’leave in two months. I haveneverbeentoAmerica.IwasthinkingImightliketoflytoWashington.”“That sounds like a very

good idea,” Herbert smiled.“I would love to show youaround.”“I would like that,” Loh

smiledback.“Just make sure to stay

away from our deputydirector, Mike Rodgers,”Herbertsaid.“He’llsendyouonamission.”Loh frowned. “I don’t

understand.”“You will,” Herbert

assured her. “I’ll have to

introduce you to MariaCorneja.She’llexplain.”All of this was very

confusing. But FNO Lohlikedtheideaofaworldripeforexploration.Shealsolikedthe fact that Bob Herbertseemed genuinely pleased byhersuggestion.Thatsurprisedher.Hehadnotseemedlikeamanwhowouldenjoyleisure.But then, you are not a

womanwholikestosocialize,she thought. Perhaps all it

tookwastherightperson.Thetwopartedwithalong

handshake. Herbert held herhand between both of his.They were strong hands, butgentle. Shewas gladHerberthad taken charge of this,though the good-bye couldeasily take far longer thanexpected. And she hadsomething to do. Loh smiledwarmlyandleftquickly.“Monica!” Herbert called

afterher.

Sheturned.“Yes?”“Thanks for everything,”

he said. “And I don’t meanjustthecrisismanagement.”“Youarewelcome.”“Good luck with whatever

you’reofftodo.”“Thankyou,”shesaid.And then she went off to

doit.

SEVENTY-NINETheCoralSea

Sunday,7:45A.M.Although the Singaporean

patrol ship was not a fullyequipped salvage vessel, itdid carry air buoyancy bags.Theseweretobedeployedinthe event the ship itselfsuffered a critical breach.Descending well beforesunrise, divers placed thebags in the higher stern

section of the Hosannah. Itwasadifficultsalvage,duetothe darkness. However,Lieutenant Kumar did notwant to risk the boat sinkingfurther. The air compressorfilled the bags one at a time.Finally, with six bagsinflated,theaftsectionoftheHosannahbrokethesurface.However, with the ship’s

return came something else.Something the crew did notexpect.

Abody.The divers recovered the

remains. Kumar went to thecabin, where several of therescued seamen were beingkept. He asked the youngmanMarcusDarlingtocometo sick bay and identify thebody.Marcus seemed numb and

paleashe lookedat the still-damp,slightlybloatedcorpseonthegurney.“Who is he?” Kumar

asked.“That is Captain

Kannaday,” Marcus saidsoftly.“Washepartof the ring?”

Kumarasked.“At first,” Marcus Darling

said. “Then . . . somethinghappened.”“Whathappened?”“He changed,” Marcus

said. “He turned on Mr.Hawke.”“Isee.”Kumarmotionedto

themedical officer.Themanhanded him a white towel.The lieutenant opened itgingerly and showed it toMarcus.“We found this tangled in

theropesbesidehim,”Kumarsaid.“Diditbelongtohim?”“No,” Marcus said. “That

belongedtoHawke.”“Whatisit?”“A weapon,” Marcus told

him.“Awommera.Youuseittothrowdarts.”

“That might explain thewounds on his body,” themedicinterjected.“Wasthereastruggle,Mr.Darling?”“I don’t know,” Marcus

told him. “We were in thewater.”Kumarcoveredtheweapon

and set it on the gurney. “ItappearsasthoughMr.Hawkemay earn himself a murderchargeaswell.”Marcus snickered. “That’s

funny.Hawkewasalways so

careful.Theyallwere.”“All it takes is one active

conscience to undermine thecleverest criminal plot,”Kumarsaid.“Well, I’m sure that is a

real comfort to Kannadayhere,” Marcus said. “Insteadofbeingwealthy,he’sdead.”Kumar looked disdainfully

at the man beside him. “Ibelieve it must have been asignificant comfort to him.Buddhism teaches that the

quality of a moment can bevalued more than corruptlongevity.Theripplesarefeltthroughout the world andtime.”“Thanks for the lesson,”

Marcussaid.“In fact, Mr. Darling, it

wasadvice.”“Wasit?”“Yes,” Kumar said. “We

have reason to believe thatyouwereoneofthemenwhoshotatthesampan.”

“I did what? I don’t evenknowhowtofireagun!”“You can tell that to the

chief interviewer in theMaximum Security ChangiPrison in Singapore,”Kumarreplied.“Changi? You’re not

taking me to the logs,”Marcussaid.“I have consultedwithmy

superior, who is withrepresentatives of yourgovernment. They agree that

it is within our rights toascertain your innocence,”Kumarreplied.“This is wrong!” he

shouted.“Iwantalawyer!”“Youwillhaveone,though

it may be a few days beforehecanseeyou,”Kumarsaid.“Singapore’s courts arealwaysverybusy.”“Iwant one ofmyuncle’s

lawyers!”“I’mtoldtheyaregoingto

be fully engaged as well,”

Kumarsaid.“MayIsuggestacompromise,however?”Marcus asked what that

wouldbe.“Tell us who your captain

dealtwith,”Kumarsaid.“Dothat,andwewillreturnyoutoCairns.”“I thought this was about

shooting the sampan,”Marcussaid.“Itcanbe,”Kumarsaid.“You bloody bullock,”

Marcussaid.

“I am not bloody,”Kumarreplied.“Notyet.”Marcus huffed for a

moment, then said he wouldhavetothinkaboutit.Ontheway back to the cabin, heagreed to cooperate withKumar. The lieutenantradioed to inform FNO Lohthat he had a successful chatwith Marcus Darling. Theyoungmanseemedwillingtocooperate. Kumar also toldLohthat theyhadlocatedthe

realPeterKannaday.Back in sick bay, the

medical officer finishedcleaning the body of theseaweedthathadcollectedonit. He picked it awaycarefully,usinglongtweezersand cotton swabs. Then hecoveredthebodywithasheetand left it on the gurney.There was nothing else hecoulddo.Thebodycouldnotbe touched until an autopsyhad been performed onshore.

He turned off the light andlockedthedoor.Ithadbeenalong night of caring for thehalf-drowned sailors. Heneededtorest.Captain Peter Kannaday

was alone. He was at sea,wherehebelonged.Andonethingmore.Hewasatpeace.

EIGHTYDarwin,Australia

Sunday,7:46A.M.LeeTonghadneverfeltill

ordisorientedwhenhewasatsea.Noteventhefirsttimeonthe wonderful old timbercarrier.Nowhewason land,anditmadehimsicktomove.Anything more than a slow,short breath caused deepwaves of nausea.Whichwasstrange, because Tong was

also hungry. The youngmancould not remember the lasttimehehadeaten.In fact, Tong could not

remembermuch of anything.Herememberedclosinginona boat and being shot at. Heremembered an explosion.After that, he rememberednothing.Tong appeared to be in a

hospital room. It was whitewithyellowwallsandalargescreen of some sort. People

cameinnowandthen,buthedid not knowwho theywereor what they were saying.Most of the time he did notbothertolookorlisten.Lyingin the cool bed, floating inand out of sleep, wasphysically less disturbing.Yet even that was not ahaven. He dreamed of bettertimes,ofahappieryouth.Thefuture had never held muchpromise for him. But whenLee Tong sailed the ocean

with his father, at least therewas the prospect of success.Therewashope.Hepreferredthattotherealityoffailure.Inthe moments after he woke,Tongwouldwishdesperatelytogobackandtryagain.Butthen the truth washed overhim.Hewashere.Hopewasgone. People did not get asecondchance.“LeeTong.”Theyoungmanthoughthe

heardsomeonesayhisname.

Thevoicewasmuffled,butitdid not sound like a voicefrom one of his dreams. Heforced his eyes open, justbarely.Someonewaslookingdownathimfromthefootofthebed.Awoman.Shehadadarker face than the others,butwas alsowearing amaskandgown.Throughhisnearlyshut eyes she looked gauzy,likeaghost.“Can you hear me?” she

asked.

ShewasspeakingMalay.Itwas beautiful. He noddedonce. The nausea remindedhim to stay as still aspossible.Heobeyed.“Good,” the woman said.

“I am Female Naval OfficerMonica Loh of theSingaporean Navy. You aresuffering frommild radiationpoisoning. It came from thevessel you attacked.But I’vejust spoken with yourphysician. You will recover.

Doyouunderstand?”Tong nodded once, very,

very slowly. The nauseawasa little kinder this time. Heopenedhiseyesalittlewider.Someof thehaze lifted fromthewoman.Shewasreal.“Mr. Tong, you were the

only member of the sampancrew to survive theexplosion,” the woman wenton. “We will need you totestifyaboutthenatureofthefirefight. Whatever you

remember, we want toknow.” The woman tookseveralstepsaroundtheedgeof the bed. “But that is notwhy I came to see you. Iknow what you were doingout there. We cannot proveyou did anything wrong.However, I would like tokeep you from doinganything illegal in the future.When you are released fromthe hospital, I would like tosee you about a civilian job

with the navy. There are anumber of defense technicalpositions and administrativesupport positions for whichyou can be trained. I hopeyouwillconsiderthem.”Lee Tong was awake. He

knew that because he feltqueasy. But he thought heheard the woman say shewanted him to work for thenavy. He had neither theeducation nor the kind ofbackgroundrecruiterssought.

No one in his family hadserved in the military. It didnotmakesense.“Why . . . ?” he asked

weakly.“WhydoIwantyou?”Loh

asked.“Ittookagreatdealofskill to navigate a sampanthat far out to sea. We canalways use talentedmen andwomen,andIdon’tjustmeanthenavy.”Thewomansmiledunder her mask. “I heardsomeone use the phrase ‘the

good guys’ to describe ustoday. I like that. Iwant youtobeoneofthem,Mr.Tong.”He looked at her and

smiled back weakly. Henoddedonce.Thenauseawasworthit.The woman nodded back

andleft.The navy, Tong thought.

Even in a civilian capacity,navalservicewouldgivehimthe kind of respect his fatherhad always wanted for him.

His only regret was that hisshipmates were not here tocollect their share ofrespectability. They weregood men and loyal friends.Hewouldmissthem.The young man’s eyes

blurred again, this time fromtears.As he slipped back into

sleep,LeeTong’slastthoughtwas that he no longer had todream of happier times. Hecouldimaginethem.

For they were no longerbehindhim,butahead.

EIGHTY-ONEWashington,D.C.

Saturday,6:29P.M.Paul Hood was about to

leave his office when thephone beeped. The caller IDidentified it as Bob Herbert.Hepickedup.“Lowell went on to

participate in what’s left ofhis conference in Sydney,thendecidedtohangwiththehostess and her husband,”

Herbert said. “But I’mcoming home. I’m flyingcommercial later in theafternoon.Firstclass.”“I hope you’ve got the

frequent flier miles for it,”Hoodlaughed.“Nope.Op-Center’streat.I

don’t thinkchasingDarling’splane earned me enough toupgrade,”Herbertsaid.“I’ll see if we have any

moneyleftinour‘offtosavethe world’ account,” Hood

joked.“If not, you can dig it out

of the goodwill fund. Wemadesomegoodfriendshere,Paul. Strong allies. And Ihave a rotten feeling we’regoingtoneedthemallsoonerratherthanlater.”“I have that feeling, too,”

Hood said. “There’s a newworld out therewith a lot ofenemieswehaven’tbegun toidentify.”“Well,we’vemadeagood

start identifying a few ofthem,” Herbert said. “Iunderstand Marcus Darlinghas caved. He’s reportedlyopenedhisPalmPilot roguesgallery for the Singaporenavy.”“Inexchangeforwhat?”“Being handed to

Australian authorities insteadofSingaporeangrillmasters,”Herbertsaid.“Lowell will probably not

approve, but nicely done,”

Hoodsaid.“Lowell did not openly

disapprove, which is prettygood for him. This thingscared him, too. Speaking ofenemies,” Herbert went on,“did you hear anything elsefromMr.Perry?”“Not so much as a snarl,”

Hoodsaid.“Hardly a surprise,”

Herbertsaid.Thatwas true. Lowell had

nailed itbeforewhenhesaid

thatafailurewasastrangerinhisownhouse.Thecorollaryto that is, ‘Noone leaves thehousefasterthanapolitician.’Hood toyed with the idea ofcalling Perry at home andbustinghischops.Hedecidedthat would not be necessary.Perry was probablyanticipating just such a call.Thatwasrevengeenough.“Well, I’m going to be

sittingaround Jelbart’sofficeforacoupleofhours,helping

him write reports. A lothappened, and we weren’ttakingnotes.Whatareyouupto on what is still earlySaturdaynight?”“Ihaveadatewithalady,”

Hoodtoldhim.“Oh?Isthistheadvertising

lady you saw the othernight?”“I started to call her, but

there was someone else Iwanted tosee tonight,”Hoodsaid.

“Andsheis?”Hood smiled. “My

daughter.”Herbert did not say

anything.Hedidnothaveto.The intelligence officer hadjust gone through this eventwith Darling and Jessica-Ann. He would know whereHoodwascomingfrom.“Are you going to see

Sharon,too?”Herbertasked.“Only in passing,” Hood

said. “She agreed to switch

weekendswithmesoIcouldseeHarleightonight.”“Nice.Makesureyougive

her a hug from Uncle Bob,”Herbertsaid.“Iwill,”Hoodassuredhim.

“I’ll tell her you’re bringingwhat?Astuffedkoala?”“It’s a deal,”Herbert said.

“And a boomerang forAlexander. I won’t even billOp-Centerforit.”Hood smiled. “Thanks,

Bob.” He looked at the

computer clock. He did notwant to be late. He wishedHerbert a safe flight and lefthis office. He rode theelevatoruponeflight.It is indeedadeadlierand

less predictable world thanever, Hood thought, as hestepped into the twilight.Butinitwasoneconstant.Loyalty.With it, you possessed

what was best in men.Loyalty to loved ones, to

friends. Loyalty to ideals, tocountry. With it, you hadlong, powerful arms thatcouldreachfortheheavens.Oradaughter.Which worked out fine,

Hoodreflected,asheclimbedinto his car. For in the end,whoweretheheavensfor?

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