She glanced at me, then continued, "We're the heros of the moment, and we have to be where most of the cameras will be. Hollywood and Washington work the same way."

Again, she glanced at me and went on, "It's a little phony, and I don't like it, but with a case like this, you have to pay attention to the media. Quite frankly, the FBI could use a shot of good press."

She smiled at me and said, "Well, where were we?" She climbed on top and looked into my eyes. She said in a quiet voice, "Just fuck me. Okay? It's just you and me tonight. There's no world out there. There's no past and no future. Just now and just us."

The phone rang, which startled both of us out of our sleep. Kate picked up her cell phone, but a phone kept ringing, and we realized it was the room phone. I picked it up, and a voice said, "This is your ten-fifteen wake-up call. Have a good evening." I hung up. "Wake-up call."

We got out of bed, washed, got dressed, checked out of the motel, and got in the car. It was nearly 11:00 P.M., meaning 2:00 A.M. in New York, and my body clock was totally screwed up.

Kate got on the road, and we headed toward LAX only a few miles away. I could see jetliners taking off and heading west out over the ocean.

Kate said, "Do you want me to call the L.A. office?"

"No need."

"Okay. You know what I'm afraid of-that while we're airborne, Khalil will be apprehended. I really wanted to be in on that. So do you. Hello? Wake up."

"I'm thinking."

"Enough thinking. Talk to me."

We talked. She pulled into the airport and went to the LAPD facility where a pleasant desk sergeant was actually expecting us and had a ride waiting to take us to the domestic terminal. I didn't think I could get used to all this nice shit.

Anyway, the young LAPD driver treated us like we were stars and wanted to talk about Asad Khalil. Kate indulged him, and I played NYPD and grunted out of the side of my mouth.

We got out of the car and were wished a good evening and a safe flight.

We went into the terminal and checked in at the United Airlines counter where our two Business Class tickets awaited us. Our Firearms Boarding passes were already filled out, needing only our signatures on the forms. The ticket agent informed us, "We start boarding in twenty minutes, but if you'd like, you can use the Red Carpet Club," and she gave us two passes for the club.

I was waiting for something really awful to happen now, the way New Yorkers do, but what could be worse than everyone smiling at you and wishing you all good things?

Anyway, we went to the Red Carpet Club and were buzzed in. A raven-haired goddess at the desk smiled and took our passes, then directed us to the lounge where the drinks were on the house. Of course, by now, I figured I had died and gone to California heaven.

I didn't feel like alcohol, despite the upcoming dry flight across the continent, so I went to the bar and got a Coke, and Kate took a bottled water from the bartender.

There were snacks at the bar, and I sat. Kate said, "Do you want to sit in the lounge?"

"No. I like bars."

She sat on the stool beside me. I drank my Coke, ate cheese and peanuts, and flipped through a newspaper.

She was looking at me in the bar mirror, and I caught her eye. All women look good to me in bar mirrors, but Kate really looked good. I smiled.

She smiled in return. She said, "I don't want an engagement ring. They're a waste of money."

"Can you give me the translation of that?"

"No, I really mean it. Stop being a wise-ass."

"You told me to stay the way I was."

"Not exactly the way you were."

"I see." Uh-oh.

Her phone rang, and she took it out of her purse and answered, "Mayfield." She listened, then said, "Okay. Thanks. See you in a few days." She put the phone in her pocket and said, "Duty officer. Nothing new. We are not saved by the bell."

"We should try to save ourselves from this flight."

"If we don't get on this flight, we are through. Heroes or no heroes."

"I know." I sat there and put my brain into overdrive. I said to Kate, "I think the rifle is the key.'

"To what?"

"Hold on… something's coming…"

"What?"

I looked at my newspaper on the bar, and something started to seep into my brain. It wasn't anything to do with what was in the paper-it was the sports section. Newspaper. What? It was coming, then it slipped away again. Come on, Corey. Get it. This was like trying to get a brain erection except the brain kept getting soft.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm thinking."

"The flight is boarding."

"I'm thinking. Help me."

"How can I help you? I don't even know what you're thinking about."

"What is this bastard up to?"

The bartender asked, "Can I get you folks some fresh drinks?"

"Get lost."

"John!"

"Sorry," I said to the bartender, who was backing away.

"John, the flight is boarding."

"You go ahead. I'm staying here."

"Are you crazy?"

"No. Asad Khalil is crazy. I'm fine. Go catch your flight."

"I'm not leaving without you."

"Yes, you are. You're a career officer with a pension. I'm a contract guy, and I've got an NYPD pension. I'm okay on this. You're not. Don't break your father's heart. Go."

"No. Not without you. That's final."

"Now I'm under a lot of pressure."

"To do what!"

"Help me on this, Kate. Why does Khalil need a rifle?"

"To kill someone at long range."

"Right. Who?"

"You."

"No. Think newspaper."

"Okay. Newspaper. Someone important who's well guarded."

"Right. I keep thinking back to what Gabe said."

"What did Gabe say?"

"Lots of things. He said Khalil was going for the big one. He said, 'Terrible he rode alone… notches on his blade…'"

"What?"

"He said this was a blood feud…"

"We know that. Khalil has avenged the deaths of his family."

"Has he?"

"Yes. Except for Wiggins, and Callum, who's dying. Wiggins is beyond his reach-but he'll take you in exchange."

"He might want me, but I'm not a substitute for who he really wants, and neither were those people on board Flight One-Seven-Five or the people in the Conquistador Club.

There's someone else on his original list… we're forgetting something."

"Do a word association."

"Okay… newspaper, Gabe, rifle, Khalil, bombing raid, Khalil, revenge-"

"Think back to when you first had this thought, John. Back in New York. That's what I do. I put myself back to where I was when I first had a-"

"That's it! I was reading those press clippings about the raid, and I had this thought… and then… had this weird dream on the plane coming here… it had to do with a movie… an old western movie…"

A voice came over the intercom and announced, "Last call for boarding United Airlines Flight Two-Zero-Four to Washington Dulles Airport. Last call."

"Okay… here it comes. Mrs. Gadhafi. What did she say in that article?"

Kate thought a second, then replied, "She said… she would forever consider the United States her enemy… unless-" Kate looked at me. "Oh, my God… no, it can't be… is that possible?"

We looked at each other, and it was all clear. It was so clear that it was like glass, and we'd been looking right through it for days. I asked her, "Where does he live? He lives here. Right?"

"Bel Air."

I was off the stool now and didn't bother retrieving my canvas bag as I headed toward the club exit. Kate was right beside me. I asked her, "Where's Bel Air?"

"About fifteen, maybe twenty miles north of here. Right near Beverly Hills."

We were now back in the terminal and heading for the taxi stand outside. I said to her, "Get on your cell phone and call the office."

She hesitated, and I didn't blame her. I said, "Better safe than sorry. Right? Use just the right combination of concern and urgency."