"Not in New York."

" Washington?"

She seemed to be thinking about this, counting on her fingers and murmuring numbers until she reached seven, then said, "I think I called in all those favors." She laughed to show me she was just kidding.

Anyway, I flipped through a few more news articles that had arrived from another dimension. I'm not real sure how the Internet works, but it seems to tell you what you ask for, and it does what it's told, which is more than I can say for a lot of people I know.

I came across an article from the Boston Globe that was informative. It was dated April 20, 1986. It was a chronology of the events that led up to the American air attack. The first date of the crises was January 7. It said, "President Reagan accuses Libya of armed aggression against the United States, and orders economic sanctions against Libya, and orders all Americans out of that country. Western allies refuse to join the boycott. United States links Libya to an attack by Palestinian terrorists, December twenty-seven, nineteen eighty-five, on Rome and Vienna airports, which killed twenty people."

I continued reading, "January eleven, senior aide to Colonel Moammar Gadhafi says Libya will attempt to assassinate Reagan if United States attacks it. Gadhafi invites Reagan to visit him, saying a meeting might change Reagan's attitude."

I wouldn't have bet the rent money on that. I scanned the chronology and saw a definite pattern of two strong-willed macho males engaged in a pissing contest: "January 13, two Libyan jet fighters approach a U.S. Navy surveillance plane; February 5, Libya accuses U.S. of helping Israelis locate and bring down a Libyan plane, vows revenge; March 24, U.S. warplanes strike a Libyan missile site; March 25, U.S. forces hit four Libyan patrol boats; March 28, Gadhafi warns that military bases in Italy and Spain or any country aiding U.S. 6th Fleet would be targets for retaliation; April 2, bomb explodes on TWA flight en route from Rome to Athens, killing four persons-Palestinian group says it was in retaliation for U.S. attacks on Libya; April 5, bomb explodes in West Berlin disco, killing two U.S. servicemen;

April 7, U.S. Ambassador to West Germany says U.S. has very clear evidence of Libyan involvement in disco bombing…" I looked down the page at the rest of the events that led up to April 15, 1986. No one could say they were surprised by the bombing raid, given the personalities involved, and, as we would say today in a gentler America, the misunderstandings brought about by unfortunate cultural and political stereotyping. The answer to the problem might well be in more immigration. At the rate we were going, most of the Middle East would be in Brooklyn within five years.

I picked up the last piece of cyber-news on my desk and scanned it. I said to Kate, "Hey, this is interesting. Did you i see this April, nineteen eighty-six Associated Press interview with Mrs. Gadhafi?"

"Don't think so."

I read, '"The wife of Libyan leader Moammar Gadhafi, who said her adopted daughter, Hana, eighteen months old, had been killed in the raid, spoke to reporters for the first time since the attack. Seated in front of her bomb-blasted home in Gadhafi's Tripoli headquarters complex, a crutch in her hand, her tone was sharp and defiant. Safia Gadhafi said she would forever consider the United States her enemy, "unless they give Reagan the death sentence."

Kate commented, "It's rare for a woman in a fundamentalist Muslim country to make a public appearance."

"Well, if your house is blown up, you have to go out in public."

"I never thought of that. You're so clever."

"Thanks." I looked back at the article and read aloud, " 'She said, "If I ever find the U.S. pilot who dropped the bombs on my house, I will kill him myself."'" I said to Kate, "So, there you have it. These people don't hide anything. The problem is, we take it as rhetoric, but they mean it literally, as Colonel Hambrecht and General Waycliff discovered."

She nodded.

I added, "I can't believe the hotshots in Washington didn't know this was coming, or didn't know it had arrived."

She didn't reply.

I continued reading, " 'As for her husband, he is no terrorist, she explained, because if he were, "I would not have children with him."'" I commented, "Terrorists can make good fathers. That's a sexist statement."

Kate replied, "Can you just read the fucking article without stupid comments?"

"Yes, ma'am." I read, " 'Libyan officials said two of Gadhafi's sons were injured in the bombing, one of whom is still in the hospital. Safia Gadhafi stated, "Some of my children are injured, some are scared. Maybe they have psychological damage."'"

Kate said, "Maybe some other children also had psychological damage."

"No maybes about it. I think we have a handle on how little Asad Khalil got fucked up in the head."

"I think so."

We both sat there, digesting yesterday's news. It's always good to know why-now we knew why. We also knew who, what, where, and when-Asad Khalil, assassination mission, in America, now. However, we didn't know precisely where he was, and where he would strike next. But we were close, and for the first time, I felt confident that we had the son-of-a-bitch. I said to Kate, "If he hasn't flown out of the country, he's ours."

She didn't comment on this optimistic remark, and given the history of Asad Khalil, I had a few doubts myself. I thought again about Mrs. Gadhafi's remarks, and about the supposed relations between the Gadhafis and the Khalils, which may have been closer than Mrs. Gadhafi knew. I thought, too, about the theory that Moammar had Captain Khalil killed in Paris long ago, and that Asad obviously didn't know or suspect this. I wondered, too, if little Asad knew that Uncle Moammar was sneaking out of his tent at night and tiptoeing across the sand to Mommy's tent. I had a college prof once who said that a lot of major world historical events have been influenced by sex, marital and illicit. I know this is true regarding my own history-so why not the history of the world?

I tried to imagine this Libyan elite, and they probably didn't differ much from other small autocracies where court intrigue, palace rumors, and power plays were the daily order of business.

I asked Kate, "Do you think Asad Khalil had family members killed in that attack?"

She replied, "If our information about the Khalil family relationship with the Gadhafis is correct, then we can assume the Khalils were in that compound-Al Azziziyah, where, according to Mrs. Hambrecht, four American aircraft dropped bombs. Khalil has killed, apparently, two men who bombed Al Azziziyah. He may have done that to avenge the Gadhafis, but, yes, I think he and his family were there, and I think he may have suffered a personal loss."

"That's what I think." I tried to picture this guy, Asad Khalil, being blown out of his bed at some early morning hour, being scared shitless as the world around him was reduced to rubble. He must have seen lots of dead bodies and pieces of bodies. I made the assumption that he'd lost family members, and I tried to imagine his state of mind-fright, shock, maybe survivor's guilt, then in the end, anger. Finally, at some point, he decided to get even. And he was in a good position to do that, being a victim as well as being part of the inner circle. Libyan Intelligence must have jumped on this kid like he was a new prophet. And Khalil himself… he's been carrying a grudge all his life, and since Saturday, he's been living his dream. His dream, our nightmare.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Khalil. How he got from there to here. He's been fantasizing about coming to America all his life, and we didn't know it, though we should have. And he's not here to start a new life, or to drive a taxi, or to escape persecution or economic misery. He is not who Emma Lazarus had in mind." "Indeed not."