"Has the press been all over this?" Hood asked.

"Not yet. The government is trying to keep this as quiet as possible," Coffey said. "Patients and visitors are being kept away from the man's room, but this is a big hospital. Someone is certain to hear that something unusual happened. The game plan is to deny that anything hot was involved."

"Is there anything else we can do?" Hood asked.

"I'll let you know," Coffey replied. "Right now it looks as though someone's motioning for me. I think they want me in the room. Paul, I'll call you back when I can."

"I'll be here another hour or so," Hood said. "Then you can get me on the cell or at the apartment."

"Very good," Coffey said and hung up.

Hood placed the phone in the cradle. He sat back and thought about what was happening on the other side of the world. It was strange how events like this caused the globe to shrink. Conceivably, what Coffey and the others were dealing with could impact the United States within hours. Nuclear material could be transported clandestinely by sea and then loaded onto an aircraft anywhere in the region. The plane could be flown to a small airfield in Washington or New York or Los Angeles. A small amount of nuclear material could be walked into the terminal and left in a waste can. Or dropped on the floor under a bench. The human toll would be extraordinary. A larger amount of nuclear matter could be attached to a makeshift explosive. Perhaps homemade plastique or cans of spray paint triggered by a car flare. The human toll of the dirty bomb would be unthinkable.

All of that could be in progress right now, Hood thought. The realization came with a keen sense of helplessness. Hood thought. The realization came with a keen sense of helplessness.

There were always crises. That was why Op-Center had been chartered. They were the National Crisis Management Center. But the personality of these disasters had changed over the years. The speed, the scope, and the frequency of them were terrifying. And though more resources were being applied to combat them, those resources targeted existing patterns and likely perpetrators. A methodology had not yet been created to antic.i.p.ate what Bob Herbert called "kamikaze genocide"-the piecemeal extermination of Westerners by suicide attacks.

Several years ago, when Op-Center was combating neo-n.a.z.is, Herbert said something that had stayed with Hood.

"When the brain doesn't have enough information, only your gut can tell you what to do," the intelligence chief said. "Fortunately, since some depraved sons of b.i.t.c.hes blew up my wife and my legs, my gut has been able to digest some pretty sick thoughts."

Hood suddenly felt energized. He and his team would figure this out. They would figure out everything that came along. Every deviant variation, every monster. They had to. It was necessity but also something more.

It was stubborn, blessed American pride.

FOURTEEN.

Darwin, Australia Friday, 12:47 P.M. Friday, 12:47 P.M.

"Madam, we are not going to inject the patient with anything!"

The speaker was a man in a white tunic. Probably the attending physician. He was standing in a tight circle with Ellsworth, Loh, and Jelbart. Ellsworth was the one who had motioned Coffey over. The man's strident voice was the first thing Lowell Coffey heard as he approached the closed door.

"Doctor," said Loh, "we have a situation that needs to be resolved as swiftly as possible-"

"And I have a patient who needs rest," he interrupted.

"You have one patient now," she said. "How will you feel when this ward, including the hallways, is lined with beds?"

The doctor looked at Ellsworth. "Is she right about that? Is it possible?"

"Such a scenario does not appear imminent," Ellsworth replied crossly. He was looking at Loh.

"There is radioactive material abroad," Loh persisted. "We have to know whether this man was transporting it, receiving it, or merely stumbled upon it. We have to find out if there is radioactive material still at sea, poisoning the fish that may feed some of your patients. Or poisoning some of your future patients. Doctor, we need to know what happened."

"If I do as you ask, you may kill him," the doctor said, shaking his head. "Then you will never get your answer. And there is no guarantee that he will say much, or even anything, if we wake him."

"That is a risk worth taking," she replied.

"Easy for you to say," the doctor said.

"Before we even consider whether to take this rather extreme step, let's find out if we're free to do so," Ellsworth said. He turned to Coffey. Ellsworth was visibly upset. Coffey could not decide which was worse for the Australian official: the responsibility of having to make a controversial decision, or the fear of what they might discover. "Lowell, this is your bailiwick. What do you say, keeping in mind that we are not entirely certain of our guest's nationality? Have we the right to do anything to him?"

"Apart from administering medical care," the doctor added.

Coffey glanced at the physician's name tag. "Dr. Lansing, if this man is a Christian Scientist or a Buddhist, even that could be considered a violation of his rights."

"You've got bronze for brains!" the doctor exclaimed. "The patient was shot twice and had third-degree burns! He would have bled to death if we didn't patch him up!"

"That may be," Coffey said. "However, the International Resolution on Oceans and the Law of the Sea says that absent a victim's ability to choose, the dispensation of care is a decision to be made by his family or by the ranking representative of his nation, in that order."

"And if we don't have those?" Jelbart asked.

"In that case, the host nation calls the shots, isn't that true?" Ellsworth said.

Coffey nodded.

"That would be us," Ellsworth said.

"Correct," Coffey said. "But the host nation is also liable for citation in any civil-rights violations that may arise from the execution of that decision. And the host nation is required to exercise what is called 'humanitarian caution' in administering curative drugs or techniques."

"Which means we don't give him norepinephrine c.o.c.ktails to try to wake him," Dr. Lansing said with finality.

"Not necessarily," Coffey said. "If this man is suspected of what is cla.s.sified as a 'high crime' involving the international transport of drugs or other contraband, the questioning of him by responsible authorities is permitted."

"Go question him!" Dr. Lansing said. "It appears I can't stop that. Just don't ask me to wake him!"

"I cannot believe you are debating this when there may be radioactive waste spilling into the sea," Officer Loh said.

"And I can't believe your nation canes people nearly to death for spray-painting graffiti, but there we have it," Dr. Lansing charged.

"Doctor, the IROLS is rather specific on the question of interrogation," Coffey said. "It doesn't say 'ask,' it says 'question.' The regulations presume that the individual is awake."

"If he is not?" Dr. Lansing asked.

"Then frankly, the peremptory issue is one of summum bonum, the supreme good," Coffey said. "Will the public welfare benefit from taking reasonable security measures? The only guidelines that apply are whether there is just cause for the pursuit of the information and, if so, that the questioning be done in a humane manner, without coercion or threats."

"I'd say a radioactive man is reason enough to infer the presence of dangerous nuclear material," Jelbart said.

"And you do have the weight of at least one other nation behind your decision," Coffey said, nodding toward Loh.

"Whoa. Just one?" Ellsworth asked him.

"Officially, yes," Coffey said.

"Will the United States back whatever decision we make, emphasis on the we?" we?" Ellsworth pressed. Ellsworth pressed.

"You've got sound legal grounds, and my office agrees that there are real security concerns," Coffey said. "That's as close to a yes as this attorney can give you right now."

Dr. Lansing looked from Coffey to the others. He shook his head unhappily. "Attempting to wake this man may kill him. You understand that?"

"We do," Loh said.

"I'm absolutely opposed to it," Lansing said. "I want that known."

"Noted," Ellsworth said.

"I also want to tell you, not as a doctor but as an interested observer, that the one man to whom this matters most can't say a b.l.o.o.d.y word! I don't think that's right."

"Why do you a.s.sume he would be opposed?" Coffey asked.

"Good point!" Jelbart said. "Maybe he would want us to s.n.a.t.c.h whoever did this."

Lansing looked from Ellsworth to Jelbart. "I have other patients. Which of you two is going to sign the consent form?"

There was a long moment of silence. Jelbart turned to Ellsworth. "Is this going to be a military or government matter?" the warrant officer asked.

That is a good question, Coffey thought. If this were cla.s.sified as a military issue, the armed forces would have a legal leg up to launch a military response. The transport of nuclear material would automatically be cla.s.sified as a security threat and not simply illegal traffic. If Ellsworth signed, Canberra would be obligated though not bound to pursue a diplomatic resolution. Coffey thought. If this were cla.s.sified as a military issue, the armed forces would have a legal leg up to launch a military response. The transport of nuclear material would automatically be cla.s.sified as a security threat and not simply illegal traffic. If Ellsworth signed, Canberra would be obligated though not bound to pursue a diplomatic resolution.

Coffey was not surprised when Jelbart answered his own question a moment later.

"I'll sign the form," the warrant officer said. "Let's see what our guest can tell us."

Dr. Lansing summoned a nurse. He turned Jelbart over to her while he went to the medical supply closet on the opposite side of the corridor. Officer Loh went silently into the hospital room.

"Thank you, Lowell," Ellsworth said.

"You're welcome, Brian," Coffey replied.

The government official looked pale. He went to the water cooler on the opposite wall.

"Would you like some?" Ellsworth asked as he filled a cup.

"No, thanks," Coffey said.

Ellsworth drained the cup and refilled it. He drained that, too, then crumpled the paper cone and tossed it in the trash.

"Is there anything you haven't told me?" Coffey pressed.

Ellsworth shook his head.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Coffey asked.

"Yes. Would you mind sticking around?" Ellsworth asked. "I know you have that convention in Sydney. But we really could use a third-party voice."

"What would you have done if I had gone against you?" Coffey asked.

"I didn't think you would have," Ellsworth replied, sounding somewhat defensive. "I feel that we have the jurisdiction to do this."

"You didn't answer me. What would you have done?" Coffey asked.

"We would have done exactly what we are doing," Ellsworth admitted. "We don't have a choice. This is a scary business, Lowell. It has to be dealt with aggressively." He looked at Coffey and smiled slightly. "But it's good to have you on our side."

Coffey smiled. It was strange to hear Ellsworth talk about dealing with things aggressively. Just a minute ago he had frozen when it came to taking responsibility for drugging their guest. What the chief solicitor meant, of course, was that he must aggressively authorize others to take action and responsibility. It was a strange new world for people like Brian Ellsworth. Men who enjoyed the perks of power without the shoulder-bending weight of liability.

In the meantime, though, Lowell Coffey found himself in agreement with Ellsworth on one point, at least.

This was a scary business. And he had a feeling it would get a lot more terrifying before it was through.

FIFTEEN.

Darwin, Australia Friday, 12:59 P.M.

FNO Loh stood between Warrant Officer Jelbart and Dr. Lansing. The three wore rubber gloves and surgical masks. The Singaporean naval officer watched dispa.s.sionately as the physician injected a clear solution into the patient's intravenous needle. He had already turned off a valve to the drip in the patient's thin but sinewy left arm. Brian Ellsworth and Lowell Coffey stood behind the lead-lined screen near the doorway.

The balding physician shook his head. "This poor chap is going to get a double dose of wake up," Lansing said.

"How so?" Jelbart asked.

"I've had to shut off the flow of painkillers. Morphine inhibits the uptake of norepinephrine," the doctor informed him. "In a perverse way, though, that may help to save him. I'm giving him a moderate dosage of levarterenol. I'm hoping that the combination of pain and stimulant will be enough to wake him without damaging him."

"Why would he be damaged? What does this norepinephrine do?" Jelbart asked.

"It is an energizer," Lansing told him. "This patient is suffering from hypotension."

"Shock," Jelbart said.

"That's right," Lansing replied. "The sudden jump from systemic underactivity to overactivity could easily drive him to cardiac arrest."

"I see," Jelbart said. "What about the radioactivity? How has that affected him?"

"It's too early to say," the doctor replied. "There would not be many symptoms this early, and we still don't know what the original exposure levels were."

"Then how can you treat him?" Jelbart asked.

"He's still alive," the doctor said dryly. "So we can infer that the dose was not lethal."