The truth, Larson answered. That you were taking a flight out of the country under very strange circumstances, what with the storm and all. And, gee, what with all the odd happenings of the past few weeks, I thought that it was kind of a coincidence . . .

But I will tell them What? Clark asked. That we put our own lives at risk by delivering you back home? That its all a trick? Sure, you tell them that.

The aircraft stopped but the engines didnt. Clark gagged the chieftain. Then he unbuckled Escobedos seat belt and pulled him toward the door. A car was already there. Clark stepped down, his silenced automatic in Escobedos back.

You are not Larson, the man with the submachine gun said.

I am his friend. He is flying. Here is your man. You should have something for us.

You do not need to leave, said the man with the briefcase.

This one has too many friends. It is best, I think, that we should leave.

As you wish, the second one said. But you have nothing to fear from us. He handed over the briefcase.

Gracias, jefe, Clark said. They loved to be called that. He pushed Escobedo toward them.

You should know better than to betray your friends, said the second one as Clark reentered the aircraft. The comment was aimed at the bound and gagged chieftain, whose eyes were very, very wide, staring back at Clark as he closed the door.

Get us the hell out of here.

Next stop, Venezuela, Larson said as he goosed the throttles.

Then Gitmo. Think you can hack it?

Ill need some coffee, but they make it good down here. The aircraft lifted off and Larson thought, Jesus, its good to have this one behind us. That was true for him, but not for everyone.

The Good of the Service BY THE TIME Ryan awoke on his cot in the wardroom, they were out of the worst of it. The cutter managed to make a steady ten knots east, and with the storm heading northwest at fifteen, they were in moderate seas in six hours. Course was made northeast, and Panache increased to her best continuous speed of about twenty knots.

The soldiers were quartered with the cutters enlisted crew, who treated them like visiting kings. By some miracle some liquor bottles were discoveredprobably from the chiefs quarters, but no one hazarded to askand swiftly emptied. Their uniforms were discarded and new clothing issued from ships stores. The dead were placed in cold storage, which everyone understood was the only possible thing. There were five of them; two of them, including Zimmer, had died during the rescue. Eight men were wounded, one of them seriously, but the two Army medics, plus the cutters independent-duty corpsman, were able to stabilize him. Mainly the soldiers slept and ate and slept some more during their brief cruise.

Cortez, whod been wounded in the arm, was in the brig. Murray looked after him. After Ryan awoke, both men went below with a TV camera which was set up on a tripod, and the senior FBI executive started to ask some questions. It was soon apparent that Cortez had had nothing to do with the murder of Emil Jacobs, which was as surprising to Murray as it was reasonable on examination of the information. It was a complication that neither man had actually expected, but one that might work in their favor, Ryan thought. He was the one who started asking the questions about Cortezs experience with the DGI. Cortez was wholly cooperative throughout. Hed betrayed one allegiance, and doing so to another came easily, especially with Jacks promise that he wouldnt be prosecuted if he cooperated. It was a promise that would be kept to the letter.

Cutter remained in Panama for another day. The search-and-rescue operation aimed at locating the downed helicopter was delayed by weather, and it was hardly surprising to him that nothing was found. The storm kept heading northwest and blew itself out on the Yucatan Peninsula, ending as a series of line squalls that caused half a dozen tornados in Texas several days later. Cutter didnt stay long enough for that. As soon as the weather permitted, he flew straight back to D.C. just hours after Captain Montaigne returned to Eglin Air Force Base, her crew sworn to secrecy that their commander had every reason to enforce.

Panache arrived at Guantnamo Naval Base thirty-six hours after taking the helicopter aboard. Captain Wegener had radioed for permission, claiming a machinery problem and wanting to get out of Hurricane Adeles path. Several miles off, Colonel Johns started up their helicopter and flew it onto the base, where it was immediately rolled into a hangar. The cutter came alongside an hour later, showing moderate storm damage, some of which was quite real.

Clark and Larson met the ship at the dock. Their aircraft was also hidden away. Ryan and Murray joined them, and a squad of Marines went aboard the cutter to retrieve Flix Cortez. Some telephone calls were placed, and then it was time to decide what had to be done. There were no easy solutions, nothing that would be entirely legal. The soldiers were treated at the base hospital and flown the next day to Fort MacDill in Florida. The same day, Clark and Larson returned the aircraft to Washington, having stopped to refuel in the Bahamas. In Washington it was turned over to a small corporation that belongs to CIA. Larson went on leave, wondering if he should really marry the girl and raise a family. Of one thing he was certain: he would leave the Agency.

Predictably, one of the things that happened was quite unexpected, and would forever be a mystery to all but one.

Admiral Cutter had returned two days earlier, and was back in his regular routine. The President was off on a political trip, trying to reestablish himself in the polls before the convention started two weeks hence. That made easier what had been a very hectic few weeks for his National Security Adviser. One way or another, he decided, hed had enough of this. Hed served this President well, done things that needed to be done, and was entitled to a reward. He thought a fleet command would be appropriate, preferably Commander-in-Chief Atlantic Fleet. Vice Admiral Painter, the current Assistant Chief of Naval Operations (Air Warfare), had been told to expect it, but it was the Presidents call to make, after all, and Cutter figured that he could have just about anything he wanted. After that, if the President was re-elected, maybe Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. . . . It was something to think about over breakfast, which was at a civilized hour for a change. Hed even have time for a jog after his morning briefing from CIA. The doorbell rang at 7:15. Cutter answered it himself.

Who are you?

Your regular briefing officer was taken ill, sir. I have the duty today, the man said. Forties, looked like one tough old field officer.

Okay, come on. Cutter waved him into the study. The man sat down, glad to see that the Admiral had a TV and VCR in here.

Okay, where do we start today? Cutter asked after the door was closed.

Gitmo, sir, the man said.

Whats happening in Cuba?

Actually, I have it on videotape, sir. The field officer inserted it in the unit and punched play.

What is this . . . ? Jesus Christ! The tape played on for several minutes before the CIA officer stopped it.

So what? Thats the word of a traitor to his own country, Cutter said to answer the mans expectant smile.

Theres this, too. He held up a photograph of the two of them. Personally, Id love to see you in federal prison. Thats what the FBI wants. Theyre going to arrest you later today. You can imagine the charges. Assistant Deputy Director Murray is running the case. Hes probably meeting with a U.S. Magistrate right nowwhatever the mechanics are. Personally I dont care about that.

Then why?

Im a bit of a movie buff. Used to be in the Navy, too. In the movies at times like this, they always give a guy a chance to handle things himselffor the good of the service, they usually say. I wouldnt try running away. Theres a team of FBI agents watching you, in case you havent noticed. Given the way things work in this townhow long things take to get doneI dont suppose youll be meeting them until ten or eleven. If you do, Admiral, then God help you. Youll get life. I only wish they could do something worse, but youll get life in a federal pen, with some career hood sticking it up that tight little ass of yours when the guards arent around. I wouldnt mind seeing that either. Anyway. He retrieved the videotape, tucking it in the briefcase along with the photograph that the Bureau really shouldnt have given himand theyd told Ryan that hed only use it to identify Cortez. Good day, sir.

But youve Done what? Nobody swore me to secrecy over this. What secrets have I revealed, Admiral? You were there for all of them.

Youre Clark, arent you?

Excuse me? Who? he said on his way out. Then he was gone.

Half an hour later, Pat ODay saw Cutter jogging down the hill toward the George Washington Parkway. One nice thing about having the President out of town, the inspector thought, was that he didnt have to shake out of the rack at 4:30 to meet the bastard. Hed been here only forty minutes, spending a lot of time with his stretching exercises, and there he was. ODay let him pass, then moved out, keeping up easily since the man was quite a bit older. But that wasnt all. . . .

ODay followed him for a mile, then two, approaching the Pentagon. Cutter followed the jogging path between the road and the river. Perhaps he didnt feel well. He alternately jogged and walked. Maybe hes trying to see if he has a tail, ODay thought, but . . . Then he started moving again.

Just opposite the beginning of the northern parking lot, Cutter got off the path, heading toward the road as though to cross it. The inspector had now closed to within fifty yards. Something was wrong. He didnt know what. It was . . .

. . . the way he was looking at the traffic. He wasnt looking for openings, ODay realized too late. A bus was coming north, a D.C. transit bus, it had just come off the 14th Street Bridge and Look out! But the man wasnt listening for that sort of warning.

Brakes screeched. The bus tried to avoid the man, slamming into another car, then five more added their mass to the pileup. ODay approached only because he was a cop, and cops are expected to do such things. Vice Admiral James A. Cutter, Jr., USN, was still in the road, thrown fifty feet by the collision.

Hed wanted it to look like an accident, ODay thought, but it wasnt. The agent didnt notice a passerby in a cheap-bodied government car who came down the other side of the parkway, rubbernecking at the accident scene like many others, but with a look of satisfaction instead of horror at the sight.

Ryan was waiting at the White House. The President had flown home because of the death of his aide, but he was still President, and there was still work to be done, and if the DDI said that he needed to meet with the President, then it had to be important. The President was puzzled to see that along with Ryan were Al Trent and Sam Fellows, co-chairmen of the House Select Committee on Intelligence Oversight.

Come on in, he said, guiding them regally into the Oval Office. Whats so important?

Mr. President, it has to do with some covert operations, especially one called SHOWBOAT.

Whats that? the President asked, on guard. Ryan explained for a minute or so.

Oh, that. Very well. SHOWBOAT was given to these two men personally by Judge Moore under his hazardous-operations rule.

Dr. Ryan tells us that there are some other things we need to know about also. Other operations related to SHOWBOAT, Congressman Fellows said.

I dont know about any of that.

Yes, you do, Mr. President, Ryan said quietly. You authorized it. It is my duty under the law to report on these matters to Congress. Before I do so, I felt it necessary to notify you. I asked the two congressmen here to witness my doing so.

Mr. Trent, Mr. Fellows, could you please excuse me for a moment? There are some things going on that I dont know about. Will you allow me to question Dr. Ryan in private for a moment?

Say no! Ryan wished as hard as he could, but one does not deny such requests to the President, and in a moment he and Ryan were alone.

What are you hiding, Ryan? the President asked. I know youre hiding some things.

Yes, sir, I am and I will. The identities of some of our people, CIA and military, who acted on what they thought was proper authority. Ryan explained further, wondering what of it the President knew and what he didnt. It was something he was sure hed never fully know. Most of the really important secrets Cutter had taken to his grave. Ryan suspected what had happened there, but . . . but had decided to let that sleeping dog lie, too. Was it possible to be connected with something like this, he asked himself, and not be corrupted by it?

What Cutter did, what you say he didI didnt know. Im sorry. Im especially sorry about those soldiers.

We got about half of them out, sir. I was there. Thats the part I cannot forgive. Cutter deliberately cut them off with the intention of giving you a political I never authorized that! he almost screamed.

You allowed it to happen, sir. Ryan tried to look him straight in the eye, and on the moment of wavering, it was the President who looked away. My God, sir, how could you do it?

The people want us to stop the flow of drugs.

Then do it, do just what you tried to do, but do it in accordance with the law.

It wont work that way.

Why not? Ryan asked. Have the American people ever objected when we used force to protect our interests?

But what we had to do here could never be public.

In that case, sir, all you needed to do was make the appropriate notification of the Congress and do it covertly. You got partial approval for the operation, politics would not necessarily have come into play, but in breaking the rules, sir, you took a national-security issue and made it into a political one.

Ryan, youre smart and clever and good at what you do, but youre naive.

Jack wasnt that naive: What are you asking me to do, sir?

How much does the Congress really need to know?

Are you asking me to lie for you, sir? You called me naive, Mr. President. I had a man die in my arms two days ago, a sergeant in the Air Force who left seven children behind. Tell me, sir, am I naive to let that weigh upon my thinking?

You cant talk to me that way.

I take no pleasure in it, sir. But I will not lie for you.

But you are willing to conceal the identities of people who Who followed your orders in good faith. Yes, Mr. President, I am willing to do that.

What happens to the country, Jack?

I agree with you that we do not need another scandal, but that is a political question. On that, sir, you have to talk to the men outside. My function is to provide information for the government, and to perform certain tasks for the government. I am an instrument of policy. So were those people who died for their country, sir, and they had a right to expect that their lives would be given greater value by the government they served. They were people, Mr. President, young kids for the most part who went off to do a job because their countryyou, sirthought it important that they do so. What they didnt know was that there were enemies in Washington. They never suspected that, and thats why most of them died. Sir, the oath our people take when they put the uniform on requires them to bear true faith and allegiance to their country. Isnt it written down somewhere that the country owes them the same thing? Its not the first time this has happened, but I wasnt part of it before, and I will not lie about it, sir, not to protect you or anyone else.

I didnt know that, Jack. Honestly, I didnt know.

Mr. President, I choose to believe that you are an honorable man. What you just said, sir, is that really an excuse? Jack paused, and was fully answered by silence.

Do you wish to meet with the congressmen before I brief them, sir?

Yes. Why dont you wait outside for us.

Thank you, Mr. President.

Jack waited for an hour of discomfort before Trent and Fellows reappeared. They drove with him to Langley in silence, and the three walked into the office of the Director of Central Intelligence.

Judge, Trent said, that may have been the greatest service you have ever done your country.

Under the circumstances Moore paused. What else could I have done?

You could have left them to die, you could have warned the opposition that we were coming in, Jack said. In that case I wouldnt be here. And for that, Judge, I am in your debt. You could have stuck with the lie.

And live with myself? Moore smiled in a very strange way and shook his head.

And the operations? Ryan asked. Exactly what had been discussed in the Oval Office he didnt know, and he told himself not to make any guesses.

Never happened, Fellows said. Under the hazardous-operations rule, you have done what you needed to dogranted, a little late, but we have been notified. We dont need another scandal like this, and with the way things are going, the situation will settle itself. Politically its shaky, but legally you can argue that its all according to Hoyle.

The craziest part of all is, it almost worked, Trent observed. Your CAPER operation was brilliant, and I assume itll be kept going.

It will. The whole operation did work, Ritter said for the first time. It really did. We did start a war within the Cartel, and Escobedos killing was just the last actor maybe not if it goes on further. With that many chieftains gone, maybe Colombia will be able to do a little better. We need that capability. We cant have it stripped away from us.

I agree, Ryan said. We need the capability, but you dont make public policy this way, damn it!

Jack, tell me what right and wrong is? Moore asked. You seem to be the expert today, he added without very much irony.

This is supposed to be a democracy. We let the people know something, or at least we let them know. He waved at the congressmen. When a government decides to kill people who threaten its interests or its citizens, it doesnt have to be murder. Not always. Im just not sure where the line is. But I dont have to be sure. Other people are supposed to tell us that.

Well, come January, it wont be us, Moore observed. Its agreed, then? It stays here. No political footballs?

Trent and Fellows could scarcely have been further apart politically, the gay New Englander and the tough-minded Mormon from Arizona. They nodded agreement.

No games on this, Trent said.

It would just hurt the country, Fellows concurred.

And what weve just done . . . Ryan murmured. Whatever the hell it was . . .

You didnt do it, Trent said. The rest of us did.

Right, Jack snorted. Well, Im gone soon, too.

Think so? Fellows asked.

Not so, Dr. Ryan. We dont know who Fowler is going to appoint, probably some political lawyer he likes. I know the names on the list, Trent said.

It sure as hell wont be me. He doesnt like me, Ryan said.