"I further suggest, sir, that you join me."

"Why?"

"My answer will explain why the meeting with your friends at naval intelligence took so long. Bein stationed in Florida, Im familiar with San Juan. It took a little time to locate the shops I needed to find, especially one which would cooperate. The ensign was too scared to argue."

"What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

"Since we left those outsize guns we had in Gorda, I took the liberty of buying us a couple of weapons-figuring you had that pilot in mind, and knowing something about Old San Juan. Walther P.K.-autos, eight rounds, three clips apiece, and with a two-and-one-half-inch barrel, very un.o.btrusive in coat pockets."

"He knows guns too?" asked Hawthorne quietly, looking down at Catherine.

"I dont think hes ever fired one in anger," answered the major, "but hes got a masters equivalent in weapons a.n.a.lysis."

"How are you in brain surgery?"

"I got as far as lobotomy procedures, but it was too messy.... Look, I dont think its too smart to hand you a gun and three clips of ammunition right out in the open. Frankly, Im too tall and good-lookin for people not to notice, you know what I mean?"

"Youre the essence of modesty, Lieutenant."

"Oh, h.e.l.l, youre not so bad yourself, even if youre kind of maturelike."

"Stay in the suite, Cathy," said Tyrell.

"Check in with me every half hour, I insist on it."

"If we can, Major."

"Ashkelon!" cried the voice over the public telephone in the Hay-Adams hotel in Washington.

"Im here, Jerusalem," said Bajaratt. "What happened?"

"The Mossad picked up our lead man!"

"How?"

"There was a party at the kibbutz Irshun outside of Tel Aviv. Several were less drunk than the others, and they found him raping a sabra in the field."

"The idiot!"

"Theyve got him in chains inside the kibbutz jail-house, awaiting their superiors from Tel Aviv."

"Can you get to him?"

"Theres a Jew we can bribe, were sure of it."

"Then do it. Kill him. We cant allow him to be put under drugs."

"It is done. Ashkelon forever."

"Forever," said Bajaratt, hanging up the phone.

Nils Van Nostrand walked into the study at his immense estate in Fairfax, Virginia. The huge room was devoid of its usual accoutrements, for they were all packed in cartons, all designated by shipping labels to a freight depot in Lisbon, Portugal, ultimately, secretly, to be delivered to a mansion on the sh.o.r.es of Lake Geneva, Switzerland. The rest of the house, its interiors and all its grounds, stables, horses, and various livestock-domestic and wild-had been sold confidentially to a Saudi sheikh who would legally take possession in thirty days. It was all Van Nostrand needed, far more, in fact. He went to his desk, picked up the secure red telephone, and dialed.

"Scorpio Three," said the voice on the line.

"This is S-One and Ill be brief. My time has come. Im retiring."

"My G.o.d, thats a shock! Youve been a rock for all of us."

"These things happen. I know when to leave. Tonight, before I disappear, Ill program this phone to you and send word to our Providers. One day theyll summon you, for you are now accountable to them. Incidentally, if a woman calls, identifying herself as the Baj, give her whatever she needs. Thats an order from the padrone."

"Understood. Will we hear from you again?"

"Frankly, I doubt it. I have a last a.s.signment to complete, and then its absolute retirement. Scorpio Two is adequate and has extensive expertise, but he doesnt possess your background or sophistication. Hed be out of his depth."

"I think you mean he doesnt have my law firm in Washington."

"Regardless, tomorrow morning you will be Scorpio One."

"Its an honor I shall take to my grave."

"Not too quickly, I trust."

Bajaratt climbed out of the taxi, beckoning Nicolo to hurry. The young man followed as the Baj paid the driver through the window.

"Thanks, lady, thats very nice of you. Hey, isnt that the young fella weve all been reading about? From Italy?"

"Im afraid he is, signore."

"Waitll I tell my wife, shes Italian. She brought home one of those papers from Shoppers World with pictures of that actress, Angel Capell, and his royal highness there."

"Theyre just good friends-"

"Hey, I dont make no judgments, lady. Shes a terrific kid, everybody loves her, and those tabloids are garbage!"

"Shes a delightful girl. Thank you, signore."

"Hey, its my pleasure."

"Come, Dante." Bajaratt took Nicolos arm, propelling him into the fashionable cafe-of-the-moment in Georgetown. The luncheon crowd was a mix of matrons in silks, younger women in Armani blouses and Calvin Klein denims, along with the usual parade of wealthy, would-be young Turks-recent appointees whose faces reflected their own images of the best-and-the-brightest-and lastly, a few working members of Congress who impatiently kept glancing at their wrist.w.a.tches. "Remember, Nico," said the Baj as the matre d made obsequious gestures amid more obsequious welcomes. "He is the senator you met in Palm Beach, the lawyer from the state of Michigan. His name is Nesbitt."

Effusive reintroductions accomplished and iced coffee ordered for all three, the senator from Michigan spoke. "Ive never been here before," he said, "but one of my aides knew it immediately. Apparently its very popular."

"It was merely a whim, signore. Our hostess the other night in Palm Beach mentioned it, therefore I suggested it."

"Yes, she would." The senator glanced around, amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes. "Did you get the material I sent to your hotel last evening?"

"Indeed, yes, and I went over it for several hours with Dante Paolo-Vero, Dante? Le carte di ieri sera, ti ricordi?"

"Certo, Zia, altro che."

"He and his father, the baron, are most interested, but certain questions have arisen."

"Naturally. The study was a relatively detailed overview of the industrial opportunities, not an in-depth a.n.a.lysis of each possibility. If theres interest, my staff can work up additional data."

"That, of course, would be required prior to any serious negotiations, but perhaps we can speak of-as you say-an 'overview. "

"Anything you wish. Specifically in what areas?"

"Incentivi, signore ... as you say, 'incentives. We could be talking about hundreds of millions of dollars. Acceptable risk is one thing, and the baron has never shied away from it, but certain controls might be necessary to a.s.sure that fairness, is it not so?"

"Again, in what specific areas, Countess? Controls is a pretty tough term in our economy."

"Pockets of unemployment, I suspect, is even tougher. But perhaps controls is too inhibiting; shall we say doc.u.ments of mutual understanding?"

"Such as?"

"Frankly, at the first sign of financial health, it would be troublesome in the extreme should whatever labor organizations that might be involved make excessive demands-"

"Thats an easy one to dispose of," Nesbitt interrupted. "The staffs both here and in Lansing did some missionary work in that area, and I myself made a number of phone calls. The unions have grown considerably more sophisticated where economics are concerned. Many of their members have been out of work for two and three years; theyre not going to hammer the golden egg from a risk-taking goose. Ask the j.a.panese, whove got plants in Pennsylvania, the Carolinas, and G.o.d knows where else."

"You relieve us greatly, signore."

"And youll get that sort of thing in writing, everything relative to productivity and investment return. What else?"

"Is it not always forever the same, whether in this country or our own, wherever industrialists deal with governments?"

"Taxes?" asked the legislator, the start of a frown creasing his forehead, disapproval in the offing. "Theyre equitably levied, Countess-"

"No, no, no, signore! You misunderstand me. As you Americans say, death and taxes are both inevitable.... No, I refer to what appears to much of Italian business as your extraordinary, even intemperate, government interference in the business community. Safety and integrity notwithstanding, weve heard horror stories about delays costing millions over one bureaucratic procedure or another-local, state, and federal is the phrase I myself have heard, as has the baron."

"Safety-and as much integrity as the marketplace demands, notwithstanding," said the senator, smiling. "The powers of my state, as const.i.tutionally spelled out, will make d.a.m.n sure therell be no unwarranted interference of any kind. We cant afford to do otherwise, and in service to my const.i.tuents, Ill put that in writing."

"Excellent, thats wonderful.... There is one last thing, Signore Senatore, and it is a personal request that you may refuse with no lack of respect on my part."

"Whats that, Countess?"

"Like all great and worldly men, my brother the baron carries about him a certain justifiable pride, not only for his accomplishments, but also for his family, especially his son, who has sacrificed a normal, privileged adolescence to come to his fathers aid."

"Hes a very fine young man. Like everyone else, Ive read the papers, the articles about his friendship with that lovely television actress, Angel Capell-"

"Ah, Angelina," said Nicolo softly, accentuating each syllable of the name. "Una bellissima ragazza!"

"Basta, mio Dante."

"I was especially taken with the photographs of the two of them with her family in the delicatessen in Brooklyn. The highest-paid campaign manager couldnt have come up with that photo op."

"It was all quite accidental-but to the request I wish to make of you."

"Of course. The barons pride, his family, especially this fine son of his. What can I do?"

"Would it be possible to arrange a brief private meeting between the barone-cadetto and the President-only a minute or two, so I might send back a photograph of them together? It would bring such happiness to the baron, and I would certainly tell my brother how it came about."

"I think that can be arranged, although in all honesty, theres been a considerable backlash about foreign investment-"

"Oh, I understand that, signore, I, too, read the papers! Its why I said brief and private, just Dante Paolo and myself, and only for the baron of Ravello, no newspaper publicity whatsoever.... Naturally, if it is too much to ask, I withdraw my request and apologize for bringing it up."

"Now, just a minute, Countess," said Nesbitt quietly, pensively, "Itll take a few days, but I think I can work it out. Our states junior senator is of the Presidents party, and I backed a bill of his because I thought it was right, but it could cost me votes-"

"I dont understand."

"Hes a close friend of the Presidents and he appreciated my support-he also knows d.a.m.n well what the barons infusion of money could do for the state-and what I could do to him if he even marginally interfered.... Yes, Countess, I can work it out."

"You all sound so Italian."

"Machiavelli had his points, my dear Countess."

Hawthorne and Poole walked cautiously down the cobblestone street in the lowest-rent district of Old San Juan. The section was devoid of tourist traps except for those devoted to sailors, soldiers, and addicts more carnal appet.i.tes. The streetlamps were only partially operational, say one out of four, so there were far more shadows falling across the decrepit buildings than there was illumination. The two men approached the address of the pilot who had flown the murdered Cooke and Ardisonne from Gorda to Puerto Rico, both abruptly surprised by the loud, boisterous voices coming from within the ancient three-story stone structure.

"This cats pad beats anything on Bourbon Street, Commander. What the h.e.l.ls goin on in there?"

"Apparently a party, Lieutenant, and were about to crash the gate, since we werent invited."

"Would you mind if I did that, sir?"

"Do what?"

"Crash the gate. My good leg is one of the strongest in a situation like this."

"Lets knock first and see what happens." Tyrell did, and they found out quickly. A slat was opened in the center of the door, a pair of wide, mascaraed eyes peering through it. "We were told to come here," said Hawthorne pleasantly.

"What chu name?"

"Smith and Jones, thats what we were supposed to say."

"Get the f.u.c.k outta here, gringos!" The slat was slammed shut.

"I believe your experienced leg is in order, Poole."

"Your weapon at-the-ready, Tye?"

"Execute, Lieutenant."

"Here we go, Commander!" Poole smashed the door with his left foot, shattering it everywhere as the two of them crashed through the splintered wood, their weapons leveled. "Dont one of you move a bayou-straw inch or Ill pull my trigger!" screamed the lieutenant. "Holy s.h.i.t!"

The threat was not necessary. Someone in panic had fallen across the tape machine, breaking the wires to the speaker. The subsequent silence was broken by a number of males pulling up their trousers, racing down the staircase and out the door. The lack of modesty was observable only in the dimly lit, smoke-layered, downstairs living room, where the majority of young, and not so young, ladies were barebreasted, their lower coverings making a joke of the thinnest bikinis. There was one extension of this professional exhibitionism, singularly revealed by a light-haired, late-middle-aged man who seemed oblivious of the chaos. He kept pounding his hips in the heat of intercourse on a pillowed couch in the corner with a dark-haired woman who screamed, trying frantically to tell him to cease his endeavors.

"What ... what? Shut your mouth and stay with me!"