"It's suicide," Costas said.

"What would you do, son?" Chloe said, realizing that if Costas was younger than she, it wasn't by much.

He shrugged. ''The same, I suppose, but I can't imagine it working."

"we have a man inside the palace in New Babylon, or we wouldn't dream of trying this," Chloe said. She began to outline the preparations and Mac's plans.

"Ah, excuse me," Hannah said. "A minute, please?"

Chloe glanced at her, then followed Hannah to a corner.

" Chloe, do they need to know this?"

"axle can trust them! They're Co-op."

"But what if they are caught and forced to talk? Don't burden them with all this."

"Think of what they've been through, Hannah. They'll never cave.

"Well, if they do, it's more than just your funeral, you knows."

They returned to Mrs. Pappas and her son.

"This works?" Costas said. "The GC falls for this?"

"Not for long," Chloe admitted, sneaking a peek at Hannah. "But with the right setup on the main database in New Babylon, we have bluffed ourselves into some remarkable places."

"We just met you," Mrs. Pappas said. "And we will bury you soon."

"We are people of faith," Hannah said, dropping her accent. "And we know you are too. We must also be people of action. We know the odds and we accept them. We don't know what else to do. Would you leave a comrade to a certain death?"

Costas was still emotional. He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't see that you have a choice, but you have a better chance going in with artillery than with disguises. I just can't see it working."

"But we don't know where our man is!" Chloe said. "How do we find that out without infiltrating?"

"What about your man in Colorado? He seems to know so much."

"He can tell us only what he overhears. If he asks for more details than seem appropriate, he'll soon be found out too."

"How does he get along in the GC without the mark? "

Chloe explained Steve's new ident.i.ty and facial reconstruction, aware of Hannah's loud sigh and slight shaking of her head. "His forehead is plastic. The mark of loyalty would have to be applied under that, and no one can stand looking at him with his skull exposed."

"Please," Hannah said under her breath.

"I want to come with you when you go for your man," Costas said.

"Can't allow it," Chloe said. "We have our papers, our uniforms, and we're covered, for now, on the computer. It would take days to do the same for you."

"I could get a GC uniform, and you could cover for me. I "

"No," Chloe said. "We appreciate it, but it's not going to happen. We have a plan, and we will follow it, succeed or fail."

"You need more firepower?"

"We do. It would have looked suspicious, bringing in heavy weapons that are not GC issue. Mr. McCullum is trying to get something, either from our man's plane or his car. "

"Where is the car?"

"According to Plank, Sebastian's captors also have his car, which he talked his way into at the airport."

"And they wouldn't have searched it for weapons?"

"We don't know and we haven't heard."

Costas motioned the women to follow him to a corner where a large wood trunk was buried under piles of blankets. It was full of Uzis. "Don't ask," he said. His mother provided a large laundry bag into which Costas placed three cloth-wrapped weapons and several clips of ammunition. "Now, you'd better go."

George Sebastian had been told that you never hear the shot that kills you, but how could that ever be proved? He fought to remain composed, not wanting to give his captors the satisfaction of even tensing before the death blast. He held his breath way past what he believed were his final ten seconds, and then could not contain a shiver as he exhaled.

"All right," the leader said, "get him presentable, and fast.

Food and water first, then the shower. And do something about this lip. Think of a story for that. We didn't do it."

George opened his eyes and blinked.

"You're still in trouble, California, but none of us is getting fried because of you. I'm taking the cuffs off, but you've got two weapons aimed at you, and all we need is a reason."

When his hands were free, George rubbed them together, making Plato flinch. George was tempted to scare him with a feigned swing or even a shout.

"Do something about his wrists," the leader told Elena. "Let's go, we've got to move."

They shoved George up the stairs and gave him two sandwiches stuffed with what tasted like summer sausage. The bread slices were nearly two inches thick and dry. He had to press them hard together over the meat to fit them into his mouth. His split lip stretched and bled as he chewed. He sucked eagerly from a bottle of warm, stale water.

George wanted to sit back and take a few deep breaths, but this was clearly not supposed to be a leisurely lunch. He gagged and coughed, but he made sure to force down all the food. His best chance to escape or do some damage would be when he was unbound and they were moving him. He didn't want to invest the mental energy guessing what it was all about, but he felt relieved to be alive and to have accomplished his one objective so far silence.

When he finished, George quickly scooped bread crumbs from the table and pushed them into his mouth. He chased them with the last few drops of water, tipping the bottle all the way up. Elena s.n.a.t.c.hed it from him and pointed toward a tiny room where he would just barely fit into a shower.

"Clothes there," she said, pointing to the floor. "You probably can't fit through the window anyway, but someone will be outside and armed."

She left and shut the door, and though he knew she and probably the others could hear what he was doing, he looked under a cot and found only dust. He yanked open three drawers of a spindly wooden dresser. Empty. There was nothing else in the room except a window he guessed faced west. He pulled back a paperlike shade, and Socrates leveled his weapon at him.

"Get going!" Elena called from outside the door.

He shed his clothes and edged into the shower. He turned on the left faucet first and was blasted with icy water. He stepped back out and reached in, trying the other. Also cold. He turned both on and let them run a minute. He tried angling the showerhead away In. m him, but it was rusted into place.

"The tap water is not drinkable!" he heard from Out side. He wanted to ask if there was soap or a towel, blur he would not speak. Gritting his teeth, George forced himself under the spray.

His body jerked and shook, b t but r he let the frigid water flood him from his short hair to his whole body. He vigorously rubbed everywhere for as long as he could stand it, and just as he was turning off the water, he heard the room door shut. He peeked out. Where his clothes had been lay a pile of clean stuff, f f, clearly belonging to Plato, his supposed look-alike. Great.

He doesn't appear nearly as tall.