Kenner said, "We don't know that, either."

"I heard you talking about propagation times. Propagation times for what?"

"Actually, you misheard me," Kenner said smoothly. "I was talking about interrogation times."

"Interrogation times?" Evans said.

"Yes. We were hoping we'd be able to identify at least one of the three men in Antarctica, since we have good photographs of all three. And we know the photographs are accurate because people on the base saw them. But, I'm afraid we're out of luck."

Sanjong explained that they had transmitted photos of Brewster and the two graduate students to several databases in Washington, where pattern-recognition computers checked them against individuals with known criminal records. Sometimes you got lucky, and the computer found a match. But this time, no match had come back.

"It's been several hours, so I think we're out of luck."

"As we expected," Kenner said.

"Yes," Sanjong said. "As we expected."

"Because these guys don't have criminal records?" Evans said.

"No. They very well may."

"Then why didn't you get a match?"

"Because this is a netwar," Kenner said. "And at the moment, we are losing it."

TO LOS ANGELES.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 8.

3:27 P.M.

In media accounts, Kenner explained, the Environmental Liberation Front was usually characterized as a loose association of eco-terrorists, operating in small groups on their own initiative, and employing relatively unsophisticated means to create havoc-starting fires, trashing SUVs in car lots, and so on.

The truth was quite different. Only one member of ELF had ever been apprehended-a twenty-nine-year-old graduate student at the University of California at Santa Cruz. He was caught sabotaging an oil rig in El Segundo, California. He denied any association with the group, and insisted he was acting alone.

But what troubled authorities was the fact that he was wearing an appliance on his forehead that changed the shape of his skull and made his eyebrows jut out prominently. He was also wearing false ears. It wasn't much of a disguise. But it was troubling, because it suggested that he knew quite a lot about the pattern-matching programs used by the government.

Those programs were tuned to look past changes in facial hair-wigs, beards, and mustaches-since that was the most common method of disguise. They were also designed to compensate for changes in age, such as increased heaviness in the face, drooping features, receding hairlines.

But ears didn't change. The shape of the forehead didn't change. So the programs were therefore weighted to rely on the configuration of ears, and the shape of the forehead. Changing these parts of the face would result in a "no-match" outcome on a computer.

The guy from Santa Cruz knew that. He knew security cameras would photograph him when he got near the rig. So he changed his appearance in a way that would prevent identification by computer.

Similarly, the three extremists at Weddell clearly had formidable backing to carry out their high-tech terrorist act. It took months of planning. Costs were high. And they obviously had in-depth support to obtain academic credentials, university stencils on their shipping boxes, shell companies for their Antarctic shipments, false websites, and dozens of other details necessary for the undertaking. There was nothing unsophisticated about their plan or the way they had executed it.

"And they would have succeeded," Kenner said, "except for that list George Morton obtained shortly before his death."

All of which suggested that if ELF was once a loose association of amateurs, it was no longer. Now it was a highly organized network-one that employed so many channels of communication among its members (e-mail, cell phones, radio, text messaging) that the network as a whole eluded detection. The governments of the world had long worried about how to deal with such networks, and the "netwars" that would result from trying to fight them.

"For a long time, the concept of a netwar was theoretical," Kenner said. "There were studies coming out of RAND, but nobody in the military was really focusing on it. The notion of a networked enemy, or terrorists, or even criminals was too amorphous to bother with."

But it was the amorphous quality of the network-fluid, rapidly evolving-that made it so difficult to combat. You couldn't infiltrate it. You couldn't listen in on it, except by accident. You couldn't locate it geographically because it wasn't in any one place. In truth, the network represented a radically new kind of opponent, and one that required radically new techniques to combat it.

"The military just didn't get it," Kenner said. "But like it or not, we're in a netwar right now."

"And how do you fight a netwar?" Evans said.

"The only way to oppose a network is with another network. You expand your listening posts. You decrypt around the clock. You employ techniques of networked deception and entrapment."

"Such as what?"

"It's technical," Kenner said vaguely. "We rely on the Japanese to spearhead that effort. They are the best at it in the world. And of course we extend our feelers in multiple directions at the same time. Based on what we've just learned at Weddell, we have lots of irons in the fire." Kenner had databases being searched. He had state organizations mobilized. He had inquiries into where the terrorists had obtained their academic credentials, their encrypted radio transmitters, their explosive charges, their computerized detonation timers. None of this was commonplace stuff and it could be traced, given enough time.

"Is there enough time?" Evans said.

"I'm not sure."

Evans could see that Kenner was worried. "So: What is it you want me to do?"

"Just one very simple thing," Kenner said.

"What's that?"

Kenner smiled.

III.

ANGEL.

LOS ANGELES.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 9.

7:04 A.M.

"Is this really necessary?" Peter Evans said, with a worried look.

"It is," Kenner said.

"But it's illegal," Evans said.

"It's not," Kenner said firmly.

"Because you are a law-enforcement officer?" Evans said.

"Of course. Don't worry about it."

They were flying in over Los Angeles, approaching the runway at Van Nuys. The California sun shone through the windows. Sanjong was hunched over the dining table in the middle of the plane. In front of him lay Evans's cell phone, the back removed. Sanjong was attaching a thin gray plate the size of his thumbnail right on top of the battery.

"But what exactly is it?" Evans said.

"Flash memory," Sanjong said. "It'll record four hours of conversation in a compressed format."

"I see," Evans said. "And what am I supposed to do?"

"Just carry the phone in your hand, and go about your business."

"And if I get caught?" he said.

"You won't get caught," Kenner said. "You can take it anywhere. You'll go right through any security, no problem."

"But if they have bug sweepers..."

"They won't detect you, because you're not transmitting anything. It's got a burst transmitter. For two seconds every hour, it transmits. The rest of the time, nothing." Kenner sighed. "Look, Peter. It's just a cell phone. Everyone has them."

"I don't know," Evans said. "I feel bad about this. I mean, I'm not a stool pigeon."

Sarah came to the back, yawning, clearing her ears. "Who's a stool pigeon?"

"It's how I feel," Evans said.

"That's not the issue," Kenner said. "Sanjong?"

Sanjong took out a printed list, passed it to Evans. It was Morton's original sheet, now with additions to it:

662262.

3982293.

24FXE.

62262.

82293.

TERROR.

Mt. Terror, Antarctica 882320.

4898432.

12FXE.

82232.

54393.

SNAKE.

Snake Butte, Arizona 774548.

9080799.

02FXE.

67533.

43433.

LAUGHER.

Laugher Cay, Bahamas 482320.

5898432.

22FXE.

72232.

04393.

SCORPION.

Resolution, Solomon Is.

ALT.

662262.

3982293.

24FXE.

62262.