Madox concluded, "Okay, I've said my piece. Now, I ask you to bow your heads in silent prayer and ask the Lord for strength, guidance, and maybe a little absolution in case He has any problems with this." He called down the table, "You, too, Harry. Pray with us."

Bain Madox bowed his head in silence, then reluctantly the others followed.

Harry Muller prayed that one of these guys would come to his senses or lose his nerve, or maybe get a better divine message than Madox was getting.

After a minute, Madox said, "Amen," then said, "Cocktails start at five in the barroom, dress is casual. Poker in the game room, if anyone is interested. We have a new dartboard with Hussein's face on it. Dinner is at seven-thirty, tie and jacket, please. Use the fireplace for your notes on the way out. This Executive Board meeting is ended. Thank you for coming."

The four men gathered their things and quietly filed out of the room.

Bain Madox and Harry Muller stared at each other down the length of the table.

Madox said, "It's just you and me, Harry."

Harry Muller sized up the situation. If he could coldcock Madox, then the window was his best chance. But if he could talk to the two goons outside, and tell them what was going on, that might be better than making a run for it.

Madox asked him, "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking I like this plan."

"Bullshit. Hey, how did I do?"

"Okay."

"Just okay?"

"You lost me with the King John thing." Harry guessed he could be on top of Madox in under three seconds, even with the shackles.

Madox said, "It troubles me that you don't get this. Do you want this fucking war on terrorism to go on until your grandchildren are old?"

"Look, pal, we have to take our hits, and we hit back. They're not going nuclear, so we don't have to go nuclear. You're missing the point of Wild Fire."

"No, I'm not. The point is, it works too well."

"Yeah, that's the fucking point."

"It's like this, Harry-if the mountain won't come to Mohammed, then Mohammed has to come to the mountain. Right?"

"Yeah, whatever." He grabbed the heavy metal ashtray that Landsdale had used and flung it at Madox, then jumped to his feet as Madox ducked to avoid the ashtray.

Harry covered the ten feet in less than two seconds, but Madox was already on his feet, backpedaling toward the wall. Harry moved as fast as he could with the shackles, but Madox moved faster and drew a gun from under his jacket.

Harry lunged at Madox, who fired at point-blank range. Harry stopped, confused that he didn't feel the bullet hit him, and aware that the gun had barely made a sound.

Bain Madox moved further away and both men stared at each other. Harry took a step toward Madox, but his legs felt heavy, and the room was starting to swirl.

Madox said, "You need to calm down."

Harry felt his legs buckling, and he dropped to his knees. He noticed something sticking out of his chest and put his hand on it.

"A tranquilizer dart," Madox said, "which we use for black bears. We're not allowed to kill them off-season."

Harry pulled the dart out of his chest and saw blood on the needle.

"And I'm also not allowed to kill a Federal agent, so you have to die some other way. Probably a hunting accident."

The door opened, and one of the guards asked, "Is everything all right, Mr. Madox?"

"Yes, Carl, it is. Please take Mr. Muller down to his room."

Another security guard appeared, and he and Carl came toward Harry.

Harry could barely stay upright on his knees, and the room was getting darker, but he took a deep breath and said, "Nuclear ..." He knew he had to stay motionless so that the tranquilizer in his bloodstream wouldn't act quickly. "They're going to ... blow up ... the suitcase ..."

The security guards lifted him to his feet, and Carl stooped and got him in a fireman's carry, then walked toward the door.

Bain Madox stood by the door and said to Harry, "I actually like you. Good balls. And you did me a great service. So, no hard feelings."

Harry could barely understand what Madox was saying, but he managed to whisper, "Fuck you ..."

"I don't think so." He told Carl, "Keep him sedated. I'll check him later."

They left, and Bain Madox shut the door. He was annoyed by the cigarette butts on the oriental rug and tidied up.

He then went to the black suitcase and ran his hands over the smooth, shiny leather. He whispered, "Please, God, let this work."

PART VII

Sunday

NORTH FORK, LONG ISLAND,

& NEW YORK CITY

We have the right to kill four million Americans-two million of them children-and to exile twice as many and wound and cripple hundreds of thousands.

-Suleiman Abu Ghaith

Spokesman for Osama bin Laden, May 2002

CHAPTER FIFTEEN