"Now comes the hard part," the doctor said. He assessed the readings on portable monitors. "His heartbeat's arrhythmic. His blood pressure's low. His respiration's... Keep giving him oxygen," he told an assistant

"You think he might die?" Sam asked. "With two bullet wounds, he tried for a record in the hundred-yard dash. Every move pumped more blood out of him. Die? It's a miracle if he doesn't And he still has to go through the trauma of my probing for the bullet in his other arm."

"He can't die!"

"Everybody dies."

"But I still need information from him!"

"Then this is the time to ask him. Before I put him under. In fifteen minutes, even if he lives, he won't say anything till tomorrow night"

Conscious of the doctor and his two assistants, of Gallagher hovering tensely behind them, of Drew standing uneasily in an open doorway behind which Arlene watched Erika and Father Dusseault, Saul leaned over

Icicle. He used a cloth to wipe sweat from Icicle's pain-ravaged face.

"Can you hear me?" Icicle nodded weakly. "They say you might die. But if you hang on, I guarantee once you're well they'll let you go."

"For Christ's sake," Gallagher said, "that promise isn't yours to make."

Saul pivoted toward Gallagher. "I'll promise anything if it gets me the answers I want. From the start, I told you this was personal. But it isn't just about my wife's father any longer. It's also about my wife.

When she learns what her father's up to, she'll never forgive me if I don't do everything I can to stop him.

Try to stop me and I'll..."

"What would you do to me? And what would that make you! Another version of her father?" Gallagher asked. Saul hesitated, aware of the truth in what Gallagher said. But his devotion to Erika made him press on. "No, here's a difference. This isn't hate. It's love."

"Maybe that makes it worse."

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to threaten you. But you've got to understand." Saul leaned over Icicle again. 'Tell me what I need to know. Use all the strength you can manage. Live. And you'll go free.

Or I'll die trying to protect you."

"A hell of a promise," Icicle murmured. "Count on it"

Icicle licked his dry lips. "What... do you need to know?"

"In the car, as we drove here, you told me Halloway lived near Toronto.

A place called Kitchener. Concentrate. How do I get to Halloway? Where is... ?"

"Kitchener?" Icicle's voice was faint, like the rustle of dead dry leaves. "He lives"--a painful swallow--"just outside it Highway four-oh-one... west of Toronto... eighty kilometers... exit number

..." Saul strained to remember every word.

12.

Midnight. The Mediterranean. South of Crete, north of Libya. The captain of the cargo ship Medusa felt uneasy about the signal light flashing from the darkness off his starboard bow. His rendezvous with the Libyan pickup ship wasn't due until 3 a. m. It was three hours early, and he hadn't been alerted about a change in schedule. Since 11 p. m. he'd been maintaining radio silence, just as the Libyans were supposed to, lest enemies learn about the delivery. So if there had been a change in schedule, he wouldn't have been told. The important thing was that the signal being flashed to him was the agreed-upon code.

He gave orders for the confirmation code to be flashed, waited, and relaxed when the Libyans flashed a further confirmation code. The sooner he got rid of his cargo, the better. The smokestack of a ship loomed out of the darkness and stopped a close but safe distance from where Medusa lay still in the water. Boats disembarked from the opposite ship, their engines roaring. The captain told his men to lower rope ladders and ready the ship's crane to unload the cargo. The pickup boats pulled up against Medusa. Men scurried up the rope ladders. The captain's welcoming smile dissolved when he saw that they wore masks, that they held automatic weapons, that they were subduing Medusa's crew, forcing them into lifeboats. A pistol barrel was rammed against his head. He screamed. Adrift in a lifeboat, he watched Medusa gain speed, disappearing into the night with her one-hundred-million-dollars worth of machine pistols, assault rifles, plastic explosive, grenades, ammunition, portable rocket launchers, and heatseeking missiles. Two members of the assault force followed Medusa in the long-distance speedboats that had brought them here. What he'd mistaken for the

Libyan ship was actually a canvas silhouette of a smokestack that the marauders had hoisted above one of the boats. He suspected that a similar silhouette would be raised above Medusa's deck to change her profile and make it difficult for pursuers to identify her. A new name would probably be painted over her own. By tomorrow morning, the pirates could reach a safe harbor. The captain touched his head where the pistol barrel had been rammed against it. He asked himself how in hell he was going to explain to the Libyans when they arrived, and blurted orders for his crew to row as fast as they could. To where? What difference did it make? As long as it was away from here. Away from the

Libyans, who weren't renowned for their understanding and certainly not for their mercy.

13.

Fully conscious now, Erika tried to overcome her confusion to assimilate everything Saul told her: how he. Drew, and Arlene had joined forces, and what had happened after she'd been abducted. Bewilderment turned into shock as she listened to what they'd learned.

"A hit team? My father and Avidan and the rest... seventy-year-old men

... disappeared because they're out for revenge against Nazi war criminals?"

"That might not be all they're doing."

"Worse?" Drew helped Saul explain. "In the car. Icicle mentioned the

Night and Fog. He didn't mean the Nazi Night and Fog. He meant... We think your father and his team weren't satisfied with punishing the war criminals they learned about. We think they decided to terrorize the children of the Nazis. To pay the fathers back in kind." Sudden understanding gave Erika strength to stand from (he bed. "But don't you see? If the point was to torture the fathers by terrorizing the children, the fathers must still be alive. Otherwise the vengeance isn't complete. The Nazis have to know their children are being terrorized.

They have to suffer by realizing their loved ones are suffering. There's still a chance to stop my father's team before they kill." Drew smiled.

"Saul was right about how smart you are."

"If I'm so smart, why aren't I cheering my father on?" Erika asked.

"Part of me wants him to get even."

"Part of me feels mat way, too," Saul said. "Maybe that's why I'm so angry about trying to protect them."

"That's just the point,"

Drew said. "Part of you wants vengeance. But only part of you. I feel like an outsider--without a right to an opinion. My relatives weren't killed in the Holocaust. My race wasn't hunted and almost exterminated.

But when I think about the SS, I feel so outraged I want to..." He sighed. "Some of them weren't even crazy enough to believe in what they were doing. They just complied with the craziness around them. To earn a living. To feed their families. If enough of the hypocrites had objected with sufficient force..."

"But the world isn't like that," Erika said. "We are," Drew said.

"That's why we refuse to condone Nazi methods being used against Nazis.

Because we refuse to become like Nazis. Isn't that what the Nuremberg trials were about? Not vengeance but reason and law. Believe me, I want to see these war criminals punished. I don't care how old they are.

They must be punished. Death in my opinion. An absolute crime requires absolute penance. But not by individuals, not on the basis of anger alone, not without the sanction of society."

"But how... ?" Erika faltered, reaching for the bed. "Are you all right?" Saul hurried over and put his arm around her. She nodded, anxious to ask her question. "How are we going to stop my father?"