"Whatever. Xenos began to walk," Herb following after a moment. "What do you have for me?"

Herb laughed. "Not a d.a.m.ned thing, my boy. I came to see Alvarez."

"You'll see me first."

Herb shook his head. "Do you really think I'm here to harm her?"

"Somebody is."

"Yeah. They sure as s.h.i.t are. Which is why I have to talk to her."

Xenos studied his face, his commitment, then shook his head. "Good-bye, Herb. It's been fun."

The older man watched him go. "Trust never was your strong suit, was it, son?" Xenos kept walking. "What do you know about Apple Blossom?" he called out in a black whisper.

Xenos stopped, turned, allowing the old man to come up to him. "Obviously a h.e.l.luva lot less than you do."

"Don't count on it." He lowered his voice still further. "I have to talk to Alvarez, Jerry. Only her."

Xenos shook his head. "Me first."

Herb casually ran his fingers through his thinning hair. "Let's not make this more complicated than it has to be, okay? Just take me to her, or bring her to me."

"Hey, Herb?"

"Yeah?"

"How many guys you got around us?"

The man froze. "Why's that?" he said cautiously.

Xenos smiled, an evil smile of teeth and suggestion. "You know me, Herb. You know who I am and how I think. h.e.l.l, you helped teach me, right?"

"Right," he answered as his eyes searched the crowd around them.

Xenos casually placed his hand on the smaller man's shoulder. Herb never flinched, but was surprised that it was so light a touch.

"Look at my shoulder, will you?"

Herb looked at the big man's right shoulder. Suddenly a small red dot appeared on it.

Then a second.

Then a third.

The dots, as though they were living things, seemed to dance and play as they slowly moved down the length of that powerful arm, onto the smaller man's shoulder, then finally coming to rest in the middle of his chest.

"It don't matter how many men you've got," Xenos said conversationally, "how they're equipped or trained." One of the dots traveled up to Herb's cheek, another dropped to his groin. "Cause they'll never get here in time."

"You'll never get out alive," Herb said perfunctorily. Xenos nodded easily. "That'd be a favor."

Amazingly the targeted man smiled. "G.o.d, I've missed you."

"Apple Blossom, Herb. Remember?"

"You're so, uh, enlivening, Jerry. I always liked that about you."

"Apple Blossom."

"Yes," the old man said wistfully. "Apple Blossom." He seemed distracted for a moment. "You heard about the vice president?"

Xenos just watched, listening. A Swiss instrument precisely ticking down to mayhem.

Herb took a deep breath. "Everybody's hot for a war, son. The factories have gone to golden time, politicians getting their best suits cleaned and pressed, the public crowding round to see the flags and plumes."

"The President's Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board has been tasked with selecting economic and strategic targets in Taiwan. Defense is deploying first-strike capabilities. State is being muzzled, and the White House is a limp d.i.c.k using a corrupt little Spanish fly to get it up one last time."

Xenos thought about what the man in front of him was not saying. "You know who Apple Blossom is?"

Herb shrugged. "Not so's I can prove it. And I've looked at the smiling little p.r.i.c.ks real good too. All three of them."

"I can imagine." He thought for a moment. "What about this guy Steingarth?"

"I've never liked him," Herb said casually, "so I'm willing to take the good congresswoman's word that he's a rat b.a.s.t.a.r.d. It pleases the aesthetic in me." He smiled. "But he doesn't fit the role-miscast, you might say. I can see him as the organizer, but his power base is too limited to be the star."

Xenos looked into the crowd around them. "If Steingarth's not Apple Blossom, where do you go next?"

Herb frowned. "Me? Not us?" He shook his head. "You're not abandoning your country again, are you, son?"

The hand moved so quickly, grabbed the old man around the throat so tightly, that it might have happened in an instant. Herb never moved as Xenos pulled him close, slowly squeezing the older man's throat.

"Don't you ever call me your son again," a mythical savage voice growled out at him. "No more."

Despite being shaken to his core, despite feeling his windpipe being crushed, the amoral man slowly brought his cigar to his mouth, then exhaled a puff of blue smoke in the leviathan's face.

Deliberately, Xenos released him.

The former Cold Warlord took several deep breaths, then looked back up at his creation/find.

"You're not getting soft, are you, Jerry?"

Xenos took a deep breath. "You have one last chance to convince me that I should let you anywhere near Alvarez."

Herb thought for a moment, then nodded at a Gypsy family that was telling fortunes out of a cart on the side of the road.

"Want to know the future? Get a look into my tea leaves?"

Xenos nodded.

"Within two weeks there'll be a ma.s.sive cruise missile strike on Taiwan. They'll respond with a sh.o.r.e-to-surface barrage at our vessels in the China Sea. The president'll order air strikes to suppress the Taiwanese missile capabilities."

He paused, his eyes disconnecting from the conversation, drifting with the pictures in his mind. His voice became soft, almost disbelieving. But there was iron behind the words.

"Then there'll be a bright light along the Mainland China sh.o.r.e. Wenzhou maybe. Maybe Xiamen. A military-industrial complex of little strategic importance but a dense population of civilians."

"The ChiComs-in their righteous indignation at this horrid attack-will launch a ma.s.sive Silkworm attack on Taiwan. Then, in a coordinated action with U.S. forces, we'll jointly invade Taiwan, crush its forces, and China will be united once again." He paused. "Hallelujah."

He shook his head sadly, as though in mourning for a death that had yet to happen.

"Sometime after, oh-after the parades and speeches are done and a new China/U.S. mutual love pact is pa.s.sed into law-our beloved president (exhausted from the pressures, from grief over his wife and so many dead Americans in the Great War) will pa.s.s away peacefully in his sleep. And a brave new world of Sino-American relations will begin."

He looked deeply into Xenos's eyes. "Amen."

"You have any evidence of any of this?"

Herb smiled back at the man. "Of what? A paranoid old man's wild fantasies?" He shook his head. "If the first rule is win, then the second is don't get caught. You know that." His shrug became a shroud. "No evidence, no plot. You can't stop what doesn't exist, can you?"

Xenos heard the truth in the old man's voice, saw his frustration, felt his anger.

"What are you doing about it?"

"Me? Herb asked innocently."

"You."

"Well"-he smiled a secret smile-"I might've had a thought or two, but..."

"But?"

"But then"-the older man's eyes narrowed, his voice became an angry growl-"I don't f.u.c.king have Alvarez!" The face immediately relaxed, the voice returning to its usual calm, peaceful nature. "Do I, son?"

Canvas bounded off the Exec-jet and raced to the waiting jeep. "Go, d.a.m.n you!"

The Philippine heat was oppressive, slamming into the man in the back of the open car as it raced along the dirt road. His clothes were soaked through after five minutes. But he never moved, never showed any sign of the discomfort they all felt. His mind was so disconnected from his body that it wouldn't have mattered if it was one hundred degrees above or below zero just then.

All that mattered was the news.

A representative of Chinese intelligence in Macao had been contacted by one of the leaders of the Corsican Union, the non-European branch of the Brotherhood. The man had offered a deal, with Alvarez and Canvas as two of the most critical terms.

And that had galvanized Canvas into a flight halfway around the world in the middle of the night.

The jeep screeched to a halt in front of a corrugated tin building in a jungle clearing.

Heavily armed men openly displayed their machine guns and machetes in defiance of the local law. Two stretch limousines sat off to one side. And a helicopter sat, its rotor turning lazily in the almost nonexistent wind, just on the other side of the clearing.

Canvas leaped off the jeep and rushed into the building.

"What the f.u.c.k is this about a deal?" he demanded of the tropical-suited men at the table.

A tall Chinese stood, bowed his head toward the angry man, then gestured at an empty seat. "If you would care to join us, Canvas. We would be happy to explain."

Canvas looked the room over. Three Chinese, three olive-skinned Europeans. "Talk to me, Yin."

The Chinese sat down calmly. "It was you who first suggested negotiations, I believe. We are merely carrying that thought to its logical conclusion."

The Corsicans stared at Canvas with undisguised hostility. "He has been pleading for your life, sporco para.s.sita!" one of them spat out.

"An exaggeration," Yin said simply. "We have simply been attempting to discover if there is a common ground available that will satisfy all interested parties." He seemed satisfied. "We've settled on financial terms, now we're discussing human terms."

Canvas nodded. "You going to kill me, or let them? Stuff like that?"

"We hope it won't come to that. We are, after all, civilized men here at this table."

Canvas shook his head as a laugh escaped his lips. "And those, uh, human terms, they take old Jerry Goldman into account?"

"Durete is not involved in this," a Corsican said angrily. "This involves only tribute for Paolo DiBenetti, guarantees for Congresswoman Alvarez and her children..."

"And justice, the third Corsican said between clenched teeth."

Canvas nodded sagely. "That would be about me again," right? The men ignored him. "Yin, do you honestly believe that you can trust these b.o.o.bs? Or that Goldman will just stay out of things?"

Yin nodded. "You have told us so yourself."

"That was before we brought his family into things. Before you and your people managed to f.u.c.k things up so completely."

The Chinese diplomat/spy shrugged. "You overdramatize, Canvas."

"Durete will not interfere in these matters if his family is no longer disturbed. You have his word on this, the lead Corsican said to Yin."

"That is acceptable to me. Now then, about Mr. Meadows here."

Canvas laughed bitterly, shook his head, then turned to leave. "Idiot."

"Mr. Meadows!"

Canvas turned back to the Chinese. "Yeah?"

"I must ask you to remain until these negotiations are completed. If you attempt to leave, my men outside will stop you."

"I'm trapped?" Canvas asked pleasantly.

"Essentially," Yin said firmly. "It does have the convenience of saving me the trouble of sending for you."

He turned back to the negotiations, hesitated, then suddenly turned back to the big Englishman. "How did you know about these negotiations?"

"How indeed?" he repeated affably.

He smiled, as automatic weapons fire erupted from outside the hut. The men inside threw themselves to the floor. Except for Canvas, who stood there, looking down at them, still smiling.