"Alex," the President said, cutting off the FBI agent, "I've told you that the agreement has already been made, and I am not going to renege on it under any circumstances."

"I understand that, Mr. President, but isn't it true that it does not take effect until you address the country at nine o'clock tonight? That means Jones' clients are still going to be killing our people for thirteen more hours. If that's the case, sir, I don't want to be pulled off this detail until nine o'clock."

"But when nine o'clock comes, Alex, your efforts will have been pointless, regardless of what you accomplish."

"We don't know that for sure, Mr. President, but there is something we do know: Henry Bowman shot down-those three helicopters that crashed on his property. He killed twelve of our men. Bowman did that, Mr. President. Not Wilson Blair, not Calron Jones, and not some phantom. Henry Bowman. ATF found him up in Idaho soon after the choppers went down and said he couldn't have been involved. I checked the logs, Mr. President, and the earliest that a reliable witness can place him in the mountains in Idaho is one full day after the three helicopters crashed. The bottom line is he had time to do it and get up there right after. When we have more time, we'll find out how.

"Bowman may have the 20mm cannon that did it, and we have every reason to believe he's been practicing with that gun since before 1968. Our divers recovered over a thousand 20mm projectiles from the bottom of his rock quarry, and there were a lot more they didn't bring back. I talked to Ken Hackathorn this morning, and he has seen Henry Bowman shoot military parachute flares out of the sky with his BAR at a shoot in Kentucky. Helicopters would have been easy for this man. Other people may have had motive, but no one but Bowman also had the means, the ability, and the opportunity.

"Will he keep his mouth shut and refuse to talk until it's too late for us? Maybe, but maybe not. Maybe he's dying to confess, Mr. President, but we'll never know unless I get a chance to pull him in. Give me until 9:00 to do that, sir."

'"Dying to confess', Agent Neumann?" the President asked pointedly. "Were you planning on taking Hap Edwards with you?"

"N-No," Neumann said, surprised by the question.

"Good. Don't," the President told him. "So how do you propose to find him?" the Chief executive asked, switching gears.

"Half an hour ago he was answering his phone at his home in southern Missouri. If I get on one of our jets, I could be on his doorstep in four hours, tops. That would give me nine hours before your speech, Mr. President. A person can accomplish a lot in nine hours," he added, unwittingly mimicking what Ray Johnson had said to Harrison Potter. Before the President could reply, Irwin Mann spoke up.

"Mr. President, we do not know the extent to which these people may have...infiltrated parts of the government. Word may get out that Agent Neumann is taking an FBI aircraft to Missouri, even with strict internal measures. In Warsaw, it was a problem we...confronted constantly, Mr. President, and I think Agent Neumann faces it now."

"Alex?" the President asked.

"I doubt we have that problem," Neumann said quickly. "But it is possible. Mr. Mann, what alternative do you suggest? Commercial airlines?" he asked sarcastically.

"Not at all. If I may make a phone call, it is possible that the Holocaust Center's aircraft is available. It flies just as swiftly as the commercial airliners, but can land at the airport closest to where Agent Neumann wishes to go, instead of in St. Louis. If it is not currently away from the city, I might be able to arrange for it to be ready by the time Agent Neumann got to the airport."

"I'm not sure that would be appropriate use of the Center's jet, Mr. Mann."

"But it would, Mr. President," Irwin Mann said with an enthusiasm he did not feel. "Else why was I asked to be on this council? To date I have been of no help at all, but now there is something I can do. Agent Neumann is not some fat Chief of Staff who wishes to go to a stamp collecting auction; he is searching for the person who may be indirectly responsible for the deaths of three Jewish legislators. In any event, none of that will be known. The purpose of the trip will be to take me to Missouri, which is my home. If you are still worried about the appearance of...impropriety, put your mind at ease. No government monies are involved. The airplane is privately owned, and its use has been donated. The Center has many friends, as you know."

"WelL.all right."

"I must check. Please excuse me." Irwin Mann rose from his chair and left the room. As he walked out the door, he had the powerful urge to go sit in the men's room for five minutes and return with the report that the airplane was out of the area and unavailable. Irwin had grave misgivings about taking Alex Neumann directly to Henry Bowman, particularly now that he knew the content of the President's upcoming speech. Irwin Mann had made a promise, however, and so he went to place his telephone call.

The President stared into Alex Neumann's eyes. Each man knew the other had a singular agenda. The President's priorities included the health of the nation as a whole, but also his own political future. For Neumann, other more personal issues had come to carry the greatest weight. From his days at Ruby Ridge to the current investigation, Alex Neumann had seen firsthand the governmental outrages which had fueled the movement he had been so powerless to stop.

When Trey Mullins had been killed, however, Neumann's empathy for those who had reached their emotional limit had mutated into something less stable and much more dangerous. His professionalism had kept this force in check, but now it threatened to explode. The President recognized this, and wanted to prevent it, but the Chief Executive's main concern was to make sure he was nowhere around when it happened.

"The airplane will be ready before we get to the airport," Irwin Mann announced as he reentered the meeting room. "I have business in Missouri myself, which I will attend to after Agent Neumann's needs have been addressed." Irwin Mann and Alex Neumann both looked at the President for confirmation.

"If the Center has no objections, then all right. You have until nine o'clock, Alex," the President said carefully.

"The pilot requests that I tell him exactly where you wish to go," Irwin Mann said to the FBI agent, "so that he may file a flight plan for the closest airport. I had another thought, Mr. President, while I was phoning to see if the airplane was available. Former Director Greenwell has no official status, but if Agent Neumann's theory proves to be accurate, perhaps he will be redeemed from some of the issues which prompted his resignation. Should he not be included in this...confrontation?"

The President opened his mouth and was about to say that Dwight Greenwell did not belong on any official government endeavor. Then the logic of Irwin Mann's suggestion struck him full force, and he smiled. If Alex Neumann planned to go to Missouri so that he could shoot this Henry Bowman character before the clock ran out, Greenwell's presence would be a deterrent. If things went wrong anyway, Greenwell could also serve as a scapegoat.

"I think that is an excellent idea, Mr. Mann. Lawrence, perhaps you could have one of your people get word to Dwight Greenwell and see if he would be interested in accompanying Alex to Missouri." Alex Neumann opened his mouth to protest, but thought the better of it and turned to Irwin Mann.

"How soon can we go?"

"We can leave now, if you are ready. Do you need to make any calls first? There is a telephone on the airplane."

"That will be fine. Shall we?" Neumann asked as he stood up. It was obvious that he hoped Dwight Greenwell might not make it in time if he and Irwin Mann hurried.

' "My fellow Americans, the events of the past months have been tearing our country apart. I am not going to mince words. America has fallen into a civil war. There is no other term which more accurately defines the misery in which we have become mired. Citizens are engaged in the systematic assassination of elected officials and the murder of federal agents. Every day, more people in our government are killed. Almost six hundred have died in a space of less than one month, and with each new death, our country moves closer to a violent revolution from which there may be no retreat.

"A close friend of mine keeps a framed quote on his wall. It says Those who refuse to remember history are destined to repeat it.' As terrible as our current situation is, we must not forget our history, for history has shown us that here in America, things have been much worse. More than a century ago, the United States was wracked by a civil war that claimed the lives of six hundred thousand Americans, at a time when our citizens numbered less than thirty million. If the civil war we face today continues and claims the lives of the same fraction of our population as a whole, we will suffer five million dead.

"That is what happened once. It must not happen again. We must remember our history, not repeat it. The Civil War that began in 1861 was initiated by people who were willing to fight to preserve their culture. Slavery was a fundamental tenet of that culture, and the nation as a whole could not countenance the preservation of slavery in a country founded on the principle of freedom. One out of every ten of our country's adult males died in the Civil War, and even more were wounded. That was what it cost America to reconcile this issue of freedom.

"The conflict we face today is once again based on culture, and once again, the central issue is freedom. This time, however, it is the so-called rebels who are championing freedom, and the government that is chilling the people's rights. When the United States government suspects a citizen has failed to pay a five dollar federal tax and then spends more manpower and more money spying on that citizen than it spent on surveillance before the invasion of Haiti, there is something wrong. When government tax agents carry guns and wear black ski masks to hide their faces, the evil has become institutionalized. And when those government agents shoot nursing mothers and burn women and children alive over $200 tax matters, then you have a government that is out of control.

"In 1995, we took a belated look at what our government had become, but what we saw was too painful to acknowledge. We fell into arguing partisan politics instead of facing up to the fact that our government is out of control. We must now face the truth and stare it in the eye: America was on the brink of descending into the horror of totalitarian government. Many saw this, but one man acted. When he did, thousands of others followed. America owes Wilson Blair a debt of gratitude for forcing this issue of freedom into the open when he did. The cost in lives has been a tragedy for every person who lost a loved one, but it is tiny compared to what it could have become. Freedom is never without its price, and history has shown us that those who are unwilling to pay that price ultimately lose everything. We must never forget the man who, like our Founding Fathers, was willing to risk his life for freedom, and who first gave the call to arms. Even more importantly, we must never forget the countless others who rallied behind that call. These men and women stood foursquare behind our Constitution, even when those in power were bound to ignore it. It is our country's great fortune that these men and women are still standing firm.

"When General Lee surrendered in April of 1865 at Appomattox Court House, the Civil War ended. Freedom had triumphed over slavery. With that triumph, the states of the former Confederacy were welcomed back into the Union. General Lee climbed onto his horse, Traveler, and rode home. And when Lee rode home, he did so as a free man. Lincoln's soldiers did not disarm him first. Lee went back to Richmond with both his saber and his pistol on his belt.

"The same was true of every soldier who had fought for the Confederacy. These men had killed Union soldiers in their fight to preserve a slave-owning culture. Yet after they surrendered, Lincoln did not disarm these men and prohibit them from owning guns. Lincoln welcomed them back as full citizens of the United States of America, with the same rights as the victors. He granted these men an amnesty for everything that had happened before Lee's surrender.

"If Abraham Lincoln did that for Americans who fought the federal government to preserve a culture of slavery, I can do no less for Americans who have been fighting the federal government to preserve a culture of freedom.

"I have spoken at length with the people who have been leading this fight, and together we have negotiated an agreement to end the hostilities. Wilson Blair has agreed to join with me and call for an end to the war he and thousands of others have been waging in the fight for freedom. Effective immediately, I am granting an amnesty. The amnesty applies to all crimes committed against federal employees and elected o fficials at every level of government from July tenth of this year to the present moment. All suspects now in custody for any crime committed against any government employee or elected official during this time period will be released, all charges dropped, and all such investigations closed. Furthermore, I am issuing a Presidential pardon to all individuals involved.

"I am also granting a Presidential pardon to all persons currently serving time for or who have been convicted of violations of the National Firearms Act of 1934, the Gun Control Act of 1968, the McClureVolkmer Act of 1986, the firearms and magazine provisions of the Crime Law of 1994, and all other federal, state, and local anti-gun laws, including any and all anti-concealed carry laws. I will continue to issue pardons for any future convictions under these statutes until such statutes are repealed by the federal, state, and local legislatures.

"The issue has been resolved. Now the fighting must end. In 1865, both Union and Confederate soldiers who ignored the termination of hostilities and continued to fight after the war was over were committing murder. From this moment on, any further attacks on elected officials or government employees will once again be treated as murder or attempted murder. I say again: the fighting is over, and freedom has been restored. Good night and God bless you." The President put down his papers.

"Well, Harry, that's what I agreed to, with my own spin put on it. What do you think?" Harrison Potter had a tiny, lopsided smile on his face. He glanced at his watch.

"Seven minutes, fifteen seconds, more or less," he reported. "That's a good length."

"I know the length is all right, Harry. What about the content?"

"I thought it was inspired, Mr. President." The younger man brightened visibly.

"What about saying we owe Blair our gratitude? You don't think I'm digging my own grave with that?" the President asked.

"Is it true? That's the real question, isn't it, Mr. President?" Potter asked. "Will the country really be better off now, or not? If it's true, then history will look favorably on your words, regardless of what the newspapers say tomorrow morning. Reagan took a lot of heat for calling the Soviet Union an 'Evil Empire', but he was telling the truth: Socialism was evil. History rewarded his candor, Mr. President. Freedom won out." Potter ran his hand through his thinning white hair, then continued.

"Is what you've agreed to do a good thing, or would America be better off if it were disarmed? Would we thrive with more police power, more 'clipper chips', more prohibitions on cash, more incarceration without bond, more regulations, and more severe penalties for noncompliance? Only time will tell, Mr. President.

"But if you believe, as I do, that where we will be tomorrow is a great improvement over where we were three months ago, then you must acknowledge the debt we owe to Blair and Jones and the thousands of others who followed their lead. You must."

The President nodded in agreement. Later, he would reflect on the fact that it was the first time in their long friendship that Harrison Potter had ever told him he had to do something.

"Are your guests all right back there?" the pilot asked, briefly touching the yarmulke on his head. "I believe there are sodas in the cabinet, if they wish for some refreshment."

"They're fine," Irwin Mann assured him. The old man was crouched down in the space behind the pilot's seat and empty copilot's seat. He looked very nervous. "Ah...can you change your flight plan while we are in the air? Tell the...the controllers that you wish to land somewhere else? Is that a problem?" The pilot laughed at the question.

"No problem at all. Pilots do it all the time."

"I, uh, guess I'll go back to my seat now," Irwin Mann said.

"If you're anxious about flying, these may help," the pilot said, pulling a pair of earplugs from his breast pocket. "Keep your seatbelt on also."

"Thank you," Mann said as he took the plugs and pressed them in his ears. Then he stepped back and slid into the forwardmost port-side seat on the eight-passenger aircraft.

The pilot checked his instruments and made sure the engine temperatures and power settings were what he wanted The twin-engined jet was flying at Flight Level 35 on a bearing of 262 degrees. They were 90 nautical miles west of Philadelphia, and the ride was glass smooth. When he was convinced that everything was as it should be, the pilot checked his trim settings, engaged the autopilot, and slid two of the yellow foam plugs into his own ears. Then he unfastened his lap belt and swung his legs over the side of the seat.

As the man slid out of the pilot's seat and half-stood in the cramped aisle behind the cockpit, he drew a 5"barreled Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum from an inside-the-pants sharkskin holster worn over his right kidney. The gun had been made in 1959, one of a special order of two hundred 5"-barreled guns made for the H.H. Harris Hardware Company of Chicago.

Dwight Greenwell and Alex Neumann both looked up at the same time.

"Oh, my G-"

"You'll crash th-"

Both men's words were cut off by a blinding flash and a deafening muzzle blast as the gun fired. An entire case full of Hercules Bullseye pistol powder roared out the muzzle, creating a large fireball which vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Pushed ahead of the burning powder was a .429" diameter projectile which had been lathe-turned from half-inch nylon bar stock. The cylindrical plastic bullet struck Dwight Greenwell between the eyes at a velocity of over 3000 feet per second and disintegrated as it homogenized the former ATF Director's brain. Both eyeballs blew out of their sockets as the corpse collapsed in the seat.

"Don't even think about drawing on me, Agent Neumann. Just keep your hands where I can see them." Neumann sat there, absolutely stunned. His ears were ringing and his eyes were watering. Greenwell was obviously dead, and now Neumann was looking down the muzzle of the largest revolver he had ever seen in his life. The gun was steady in the pilot's two-handed grip.

A hundred different thoughts ran through Alex Neumann's brain as he stared at the man in front of him. He noticed the cheeks were different from the one picture he'd seen earlier. Pads up under his gums Neumann realized as his guts churned over. And maybe a bit of nose putty. Dark makeup, too. Then, because the issue had been discussed recently, Alex Neumann blurted out a query. It was something which, but for his agitated state, he would have considered unimportant.

"Why'd you use a 20mm instead of a regular rifle?" Neumann asked. The pilot raised one eyebrow and gave a tight smile.

"It was the last gun my dad gave me before he died. That a good enough reason?"

What if the last gun he'd given you had been a Beretta .25 auto Neumann thought giddily as he fought the hysteria that was building inside him.

"You...you were home when I called, not fifteen minutes before we got on the plane." The FBI man was forcing himself to remain rational.

"Amazing invention, call forwarding," Henry Bowman said. "Any other questions?"

"I still haven't heard from him," the President said, looking at his watch.

"Don't worry about things you can't control," his wife said soothingly. "Here. Sit down and I'll rub your neck. It's only 8:30. Let's get some of this tension out of you before you give your speech."

"Oh yes. This is just what I need," the President said as he closed his eyes. His wife's slender build belied a very strong set of forearm and wrist muscles that had come from her lifelong passion for gardening. He relaxed and gave himself up to her strong fingers digging into his trapezius muscles.

After ten minutes of concentrated effort, the First Lady told her husband that his neck and shoulders were as relaxed as they were going to get.

"Thanks, hon," the President said as he ran his fingers through his wi fe's long black hair. Then he scowled. "Still worried about Alex Neumann?" she asked.

"No, I-" he started to say, then stopped. "Well, yes, of course I still wonder where he is," the President corrected himself, "but that's not what I was thinking of just now. Jews don't eat pork, at least Orthodox Jews don't, but do they raise it?"