A single hand towel lay on the bed. George made it work and threw on the clothes. A nondescript undershirt protected him from a p.r.i.c.kly brown sweater. Military-issue underwear was tight. Gray wool socks started to warm him, and khaki pants with a canvas belt were tight around the middle and rode three inches above his ankles. The GC-issue boots were snug but okay.

George pushed the door open, and Elena motioned that he should follow her back to the table where he had eaten. Plato stood watching, weapon in hand, but George wondered how valued the girl was. He could have had her in a headlock before the others noticed, and he could have killed her before they fired.

She awkwardly dabbed at his lip with ointment and

a.s.saged his hands and wrists. He studied her face for my sign of weakness. The blood he had seen on her

when he thought she was his underground contact was obviously not her own. She was a killer.

Elena pressed a bulge over his eyebrow that smarted, but George would not recoil. If he couldn't stand a little pain, how would he fight his way out of this? It seemed incongruous that she could find ice in that place, but she wrapped some in a cloth and held it against his swollen forehead. She did the same to a knot on the back of his head. Why couldn't she have spared a cube or two for his drinking water?

The food, whatever it was, lay heavy and troubling in his stomach, but he also felt a surge of energy from it. Part of him wanted to do some damage, to show these yokels what an American captive was capable of. Oh, he could do more than clam up. He had already broken one guard's knee, if he had to guess. And all during her administering to his wounds, George had sat close enough to Elena to have blinded her with a twofingered shot to the eyes, broken her jaw with a punch to the chin, or crushed her to death by flipping the table onto her and dropping his whole body atop it.

Little would have been gained, of course; as he would have been shot. He fantasized about ignoring her and charging Plato, disarming him, b.u.t.ting him. with the weapon, shooting Elena, and taking his chances with the two camped outside. That had better odds, but still not good ones.

They were making him presentable and moving him. Why? Someone above them must have wanted to try eliciting information. And they wanted to be sure he was being treated right. George was apparently as close as they had come to anyone connected with the Judahites, and that was why he was still alive.

He relished the idea of performing for GC bra.s.s. His silence would infuriate them. Better, from his perspective-the higher up you went, the less prepared they were for creative escape attempts. At some point these people would realize he was not going to help them. There would be no information volunteered or beat from him. Finally, at long last, he would be expendable.

They would either use him as an object lesson, claiming he had ratted out the enemy, or they would execute him. Or both.

George's goal formed slowly in his mind. He wanted to stay alert, to be aware of every nuance. He wanted to know when the GC finally lost patience and realized he was a hopeless, lost cause.

Because when they had finally had enough and his end had come, he wanted to be sure to take one or two with him into eternity. He knew from their marks they wouldn't be going where he was. But they'd get to their destination sooner than they thought.

George had to fight a smile as they led him to a Jeep. He was cuffed again, but not until after he had been fitted with a large pair of gloves. How thoughtful, he decided. Protect my tender wrists. wait to see how New Babylon spins Petra," Hannah said. "How can anyone remain an unbeliever now?"

"Who knows when Daddy and Abdullah will be able to leave?" Chloe said. "For all we know, Tsion will want to stay there, if they have the technology to let him continue cyberteaching around the world. I have to think the GC will kill anybody who leaves."

Mac told Chloe and Hannah that squadron headquarters in Ptolemais was expecting him, but that he wanted to downplay everything.

"How so?" Chloe said. "Sounds like your way has been paved."

"Yeah, but if I go in there, b.u.t.tons shining, it's like I'm on display, tryin' to impress. I could give off the smell of a rat without even trying. Plus, if that headquarters is anything like the rest of this place, I'm gonna look suspicious if I don't start rippin' on anybody who's supposed to be in charge."

"Tell us about it," Hannah said. "I hated working at the palace, but the organization and decorum made this place look sick."

"If I was really a senior commander, I'd be pushin' paper to New Babylon for a week about this place. I had hoped to just rush in there, get what I needed, and get going. I wasn't even going to ask 'em for any support, 'cause I oughtn't need it. Now I'm of a mind not to even show up."

"what?"

"Myself, I mean."

"Us, then?" "One of you."

"I'll go," Hannah said.

"Now' wait a minute," Chloe said. "I "

"rankly, I'm leaning toward Chloe myself, Hannah. I don't expect any suspicion, but if worse came to worst and they checked your iris or your handprint, you know you're on file in the palace."

"As a dead woman."

"well, yeah, but then how would you explain an Indian lady havin'

the exact ID marks of a dead Native American? "

"As long as it's not that you don't think I can pull it off."

"You kiddin' ? Half the time I look at you and forget who you are. But Chang has entered Chloe's readings under her new name, so even if they got feisty and made a member of my executive staff prove her ident.i.ty, she'd sail through."

"what do you want me to do, Mac?" Chloe said..

"I want you to be bored."

"Bored? "

"And irritated. You got grunt duty. While the fat-cat boss you came with and his other personnel are takin' a nap at a nice place where is none of anybody's business-you got a.s.signed to go get the info he needs. Any red tape, any holdup at all, and you're ticked off. Can you work that up?"

"what do you think?"

"Your approach is that this is bottom-end stuff just give me the info and let me be on my way. Make sure the hostage takers know we're comet so they don't get spooked, but they'd better have their man ready. The boss is none too pleased that they haven't gleaned anything from him yet, so make way for somebody who knows what he's doing."

"Gotcha."

"That flyboy friend of Abdullah's believes if everything goes well, we can take Sebastian in cuffs, of course right back to his own plane and fly out of here tonight."

"Does local have any idea you're planning to take the prisoner?

"No, and by the time they find out, we oughta be out of here."

"Not going to be easy," Hannah said. "Even if they buy everything up to where we visit him."

"It never is, Indira," Mac said, smiling. "The key, though, is not trying to convince them of anything. You sting somebody by getting them to come your way. Follow?"

"Not sure."

"For instance, if I hinted to you that Rayford or Tsion wanted you to do something you didn't want to do, like head straight back to Chicago right now, your first reaction would be negative.

You wouldn't want to do it, you'd refuse, and I'd say, okay then, I can't tell you the rest of it. You'd say what's that, and I'd say, no, you made your decision so you don't need to know. Now I don't know for sure about you, but if I was in your shoes, I'd be all over me trying to find out what the whole story was and whether I made the right decision." "You bet I would, and I'd wear you down too. You know I would."

"You probably would. But see, you'd be comin' my way then. It wouldn't be me trying to convince you of something. It would be you trying to drag it out of me. I tell you whatever I need to, to get you to do what I wanted in the first place, and you don't realize until later, when you realize I manipulated you, that you were stung and it seemed like your idea."

"Other words," Hannah said, "you're going to somehow make these people beg you to take Sebastian off their hands."

"You got it."

"And they're going to think you're doing them a favor. "

"Exactly. "