"I find that hard to believe, since outside of Scorpio One I was the main man between the padrone and our small but important faction here. Frankly, as number two, I was the last person he spoke with before shutting down. He made that clear to me."

"I suspect he made one more call."

"Oh?"

"For all intents and purposes, by tomorrow morning, I will be Scorpio One. Im afraid they saw fit to place me over you. All you have to do is call his secure number and youll find it reaches me. Thats your proof."

The Central Intelligence Agency a.n.a.lyst stared in the dim light at the lean, hard features of David Ingersols face. Finally, he spoke. "I wont try to hide my disappointment, because Ive been a h.e.l.l of a lot more valuable than you, and Ive got a far less advertised profile. On the other hand, you have your firm and the ears of certain people, and, I suppose, on that level it was inevitable. However, in my professional capacity, Ive got to warn you, Davey. Be careful, very, very careful. Youre too apparent."

"You dont understand, ORyan, thats my shroud. Im respectability personified."

"Then dont ever go back to Puerto Rico."

"What?" It was as though Ingersol had been struck stark naked on the Beltway by a huge truck. "What are you ...?"

"You know what Im talking about. Lets say I antic.i.p.ated the news you just gave me. The fat Irish clown who eats too much and has a hot temper, and sometimes even wears white socks ... pa.s.sed over in favor of the f.u.c.king distinguished attorney with all the correct connections. Oh, you gotta believe hes got the impeccable Ivy League background, a Supreme Court justice for a father, a fine family belonging to all the right clubs-that makes you Scorpio One? You really think I can take that?... The padrone knew I was his head conduit here, and I cant believe he gave those instructions. You have nowhere near the access I have to international intelligence."

"Why Puerto Rico?" Ingersol asked in a terrified monotone, oblivious of Scorpio Twos diatribe.

"I have affidavits-only I have them, no one else-from the wh.o.r.es in a house on the Calle del Ocho in Old San Juan."

"I went there because Scorpio One instructed me to! I was checking up on the pilot!"

"To put it bluntly, S-Three, you went too far. One evening you even pa.s.sed out-"

"Only briefly, barely a minute, and nothing happened! My money, my wallet, everything was intact! I was simply exhausted!"

"That doesnt matter, does it? I have the photographs, courtesy of my own sources in the Calle del Ocho, having nothing to do with our small fraternity here."

Ingersol repeatedly shook his head in slow, lateral movements, breathing deeply, his intensity lessening as he settled for a lawyers reality, his own defeat. "What do you want, Patrick?"

"Control. Im far more equipped than you. Everything you know youve learned from me. Im in the Little Girl Blood circle, youre not."

"I cant change things, my names been sent up."

"Oh, for Christs sake, keep the t.i.tle, I wouldnt think of taking it away from you. If I did, youd have to disappear and that would raise too many questions. No, youre Scorpio One and youll stay that way until your time comes, only I call the shots; its better for everybody. You wont find it difficult; youll be informed of everything."

"Thats generous of you," said the attorney sarcastically.

"No, necessary. Im not a generous man, but I can be amenable, isnt that the cla.s.sy word? For instance, I agree with you, this craziness has to be aborted. It can only lead to the kind of chaos that hurts everyone. Every rock would be turned over and examined. We cant afford that."

"But in your words, we dont dare stand in the way. If anything happens to derail it, the Scorpios will be the first to be suspected, and I dont relish a Baaka Valley knife across my throat."

"Then we cant be in evidence; the credit has to go to our incredibly efficient intelligence service."

"They could find you, you know."

"A discovery I dont think youd cry over, Davey-boyo, but actually they wont. Ill be on record as sending the troops in another direction with loud apologies afterward. Wheres the woman now, do you know?"

"No one does. She and the young Latvian went underground, they could be anywhere."

"I cleared him through Lauderdale immigration, where they both went on to West Palm Beach. According to S-Twenty-two, they were last registered at a fleabag motel, then they disappeared."

"Anywhere," repeated Ingersol. "We dont know what they look like or where they are-no descriptions, no photographs-"

"MI-6 and the Deuxieme sent us purported photographs of her; frankly, theyre useless. It could be one person or three separate women, and considering her talent for changing appearances, no help at all."

"As you say, theyve disappeared; we dont even know if theyre traveling together or apart, or even what the young mans function is."

"Hes a combination strong arm-a dull-witted bodyguard who does what hes told-and a necessary companion."

"I dont understand."

"From what the customs personnel in Ma.r.s.eilles can recall, hes a large, awkward Slovak kid they doubt can either read or write, but would probably break a man in half if ordered to."

"What is a 'necessary companion?"

"The shrinks worked up a psychiatric profile based on everything they were fed by Israels Mossad, and by Paris and London. A lot of its psychobabble, but theres also some good common sense.... Like most fanatics, this Bajaratt does everything to excess, the extremes supposedly justifying what the head boys call the 'emotional intemperance of her commitments. The profile suggests that she may be s.e.xually active to the edge of nymphomania, but too careful to hop into strange beds, unless she does it on purpose. So, as a result, she needs a dumb stud whom she can control."

"Theyve vanished; they really could be anybody, anywhere, and always getting closer. What can we do? They could be simple tourists going through the White House, or protesters in front of it or on any side driveway with a bag full of grenades."

"All tours through the White House have been suspended-due to renovations, of course-and presidential motorcades into Washington have been eliminated. Both are unnecessary, frankly, because what you suggest isnt Bajaratts style. Her tactics are to outwit and strike, not outgun and get slaughtered. It goes back to her childhood."

"Her childhood?"

"Thats part of the access I have and you dont, Davey-boyo. Its why Ill be Scorpio One in all but the name."

"But what can we do?" Ingersol repeated.

"We wait. Before she strikes, sh.e.l.l have to reach you, Scorpio One, if for no other reason than to facilitate her escape-thats a.s.suming she survives."

"Suppose shes made her own arrangements?"

"n.o.body in the field of black operations relies on one set of circ.u.mstances to get the h.e.l.l out of ground-zero. Thats another thing you dont know, S-Three. Ive had covert field agents whove made out-of-sanction deals with three other departments, figuring I might not come through for them. Its standard. Loyaltys bulls.h.i.t, survival is everything."

"Then you think sh.e.l.l call me?"

"If shes got a brain in her head, she will, and I understand shes got a big one.... Sh.e.l.l call."

Amaya Bajaratt casually walked through the lobby of the hotel, very much the fortyish contessa, when she stopped, her whole body paralyzed. The blond-haired man at the front desk-the blond hair new, bleached-was a Mossad undercover agent, previously with dark brown hair, she had known in Haifa, slept with in Haifa! Gathering her thoughts, she hurried toward the elevators, instantly deciding the obvious. She and Nicolo had to move immediately-but where? And with what explanation? So many calls were coming to her at the hotel, calls from important men in the Senate and the House, politicians she was keeping on the Ravello string, not the least of whom was Nesbitt, the senator from Michigan, the man who could bring her to the ultimate confrontation, the final confrontation with the President of the United States. It was Wolfsschantze revisited, but she would be far more successful than the cadre of desperate generals who had opposed Adolf Hitler.... Enough! Now she had to get away from the hotel! She ran into an open elevator and pressed the b.u.t.ton for the floor of her suite.

"Isnt she beautiful, Cabi?" cried Nicolo. He was sitting in front of the television set in the living room, watching a 6:30 rerun of Angel Capells western series. "I spoke with her an hour ago, can you believe it? And there she is!"

"Basta, Nico! Remember, she is attracted to the barone-cadetto of Ravello, not an impoverished sc.u.m from the docks of Portici!"

"Why do you hurt me, signora?" asked Nicolo, his angry eyes locked with hers. "You said it was all right if I felt certain things about Angelina."

"Not any longer. Were moving!"

"Why?"

"Because I say so, you stupid boy," replied the Baj, going to the desk and the telephone. "Pack us, both of us. Now!" Bajaratt dialed the number that had been indelibly printed on her extraordinary memory. It was a single call, no pattern to be established, so she could use the hotel phone.

"Yes?" said the voice in Fairfax, Virginia.

"It is I, and I must have shelter, not at this hotel, not in Washington."

"Impossible. Not here, not tonight."

"I order you in the name of the padrone, and all his sources from the Baaka, through Palermo and Rome! They will hunt you down and kill you if you refuse me!"

Silence. Finally.

"Ill send a car for you, but we will not meet, not tonight."

"That doesnt matter. I need a telephone number. I have calls coming."

"Youll be in the farthest guest house on the compound, and each phone is on a dedicated line. When youre escorted there, you may call the hotel and give them the number. Its routed through the state of Utah and transmitted by satellite back here, so you have nothing to be concerned about."

"Grazie."

"Per cento anni, signora. But I must warn you, tomorrow you are on your own."

"Perche?"

"I will be gone, and you will know nothing. You are simply a friend from Europe who expects to hear from me soon, any hour, any day. However, you may use this number to reach my successor."

"I understand. Will I hear from you?"

"No. Never."

The Gulfstream jet entered the coastline of the United States east of Chesapeake Bay, over Cape Charles, Maryland. "Another fifteen minutes," said the pilot.

"Add a few," the copilot interrupted, studying the computerized map on the dashboard. "Theres a rough front coming in, and were circling north above it."

"Can you really land this bullet on someones private property?" asked Poole. "Youve got to have a three-thousand-plus strip."

The copilot glanced around at Poole in his civilian clothes. "You a pilot, mister?"

"Well, Ive acc.u.mulated a few hours, nothin like you fellas, but enough to know that you cant put this thing down in a cabbage patch."

"Its no patch, sir, its a four-thousand-plus rug of asphalt with its own tower, which isnt exactly a tower cause its like a gla.s.s cottage on the ground. We did a couple of practice runs this morning, and let me tell you, Mr. Van Nostrand goes first cla.s.s."

"Apparently," said a visibly disturbed Hawthorne from the rear seat.

"You okay, Tye?" asked the major.

"Im fine. I just want to get there."

Twenty-one minutes later the jet circled the vast, dark Virginia countryside. Below, cut out of the fields, was an airstrip bordered by amber lights; it was nearly a mile long. The pilot set the plane down, then taxied back to a waiting limousine; a golf cart was beside it.

Climbing out of the aircraft, the three pa.s.sengers were met by two men, one in a black suit and a visored black hat, the other hatless, wearing a sport coat and tan slacks. Both were standing in the darkness in front of the amber lights.

"Commander Hawthorne?" said the hatless, jacketed man on the right, addressing Tyrell. "May I drive you in our cart to the main house? Its only a few hundred yards."

"Sure. Thanks."

"And the lady and the gentleman," said the chauffeur on the left. "Your rooms are ready for you at the Shenandoah Lodge, courtesy of Mr. Van Nostrand, of course. Its only ten minutes from here. Would you step into the limousine, please?"

"Certainly," replied Cathy.

"Nice wheels," said Poole.

"Ill join you later," added Hawthorne.

The driver of the golf cart stopped and looked at Tyrell. "Your accommodations are in the main house, sir. Everythings prepared for you."

"Thats kind of Mr. Van Nostrand, but I have other plans after our meeting."

"h.e.l.l be very disappointed and Im sure h.e.l.l persuade you to stay, Commander," added the chauffeur, opening the door of the limousine for Neilsen and Poole. "The chef has prepared a terrific dinner. I know, shes my wife."

"My apologies to her-"

"My Lawd, I forgot mah manners!" exclaimed Poole, turning from the huge Cadillac and looking over at the plane.

"What manners?" asked Cathy, leaning forward from inside the limousine.

"You and the commander said good-bye to those two pilots, but Ah didnt, and they were very nice showin me how all those instruments work."

"What ...?"

"Be right back, yall!" The lieutenant ran to the jet; he could be seen speaking briefly to the pilots, who were still in the flight deck, their lights on. Poole shook hands and walked rapidly back to the car as Hawthorne climbed into the golf cart, watching the young air force officer with curiosity. Poole had not only said good-bye to the pilots, he had done so effusively. "There, Ah feel better now. Mah daddy always says one should show courtesy and true grat.i.tude to strangers who treat you kindly. Lets go, mister, Ah cant wait to have a hot shower; Ah havent had one in days! My momma would strap me good for gettin so mildewed.... See you later, Commander!" The lieutenant climbed into the limousine. Tyrell frowned as the golf cart drove between the amber lights and across a huge lawn toward the house.

The large Cadillac spun off the airstrip and entered a winding road that abruptly straightened; in the distance the headlights revealed a large iron gate with a guardhouse on the left side. There was another limousine as well; it had just been admitted and pa.s.sed them in seconds, too rapidly for the occupants to be seen. Suddenly, Jackson Poole lurched from the rear seat onto the jump seat, and to Catherines astonishment, he had the Walther automatic in his hand.

"Mah word, Mr. Driver, we gotta stop right now! Would you believe I forgot somethin?"

"What was that, sir?" asked the startled chauffeur.

"Commander Hawthorne, you mudhog!" The lieutenant pressed the barrel of the automatic into the terrified drivers right temple. "Swing this mother around and shut off the headlights!"

"Jackson!" shouted Neilsen. "What are you doing?"

"This whole G.o.dd.a.m.ned thing is rotten, Cathy. I said it before and Ill say it again-turn, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d, or your brainsll be all over the window!" The limousine made a swift, uncertain U-turn, careening into the gra.s.s as the chauffeur lunged to his right-a red alarm b.u.t.ton! His hand never reached it. Poole hammered the gun into the mans neck, the crack sickening. The driver was instantly immobilized as the lieutenant yanked him away from his seat and plunged over the gla.s.sless part.i.tion, grabbing the wheel and steering the limousine into darkness; his foot found the brake. They slammed to a stop under the spreading limbs of a pine tree, less than seven feet head-on from the trunk. Poole arched his head back, breathing deeply.

"I think its time for an explanation," said a shaken Neilsen from the back seat. "Jackson, youre implying that a man who told Tye openly to check him out with the secretaries of state and defense, along with the director of Central Intelligence, is not only a liar but something more than that!"

"If Im wrong, Ill apologize, and quit the military, and join my little sister in California and get rich like she is."