Again, no one smiled. But Boris didn't seem to care and laughed. Boris would not be laughing much longer, however. Boris would soon be dead.

Khalil crossed a long bridge on a large lake called Lake Marion. Khalil knew that only about fifty miles to the south lived William Satherwaite, former United States Air Force lieutenant, and murderer. Asad Khalil had an appointment with this man on the following day, but for now, William Satherwaite was unaware of how close death was.

Khalil continued on and at 7:05 P.M., he saw a sign that said WELCOME TO GEORGIA-THE PEACH STATE.

Khalil knew what peaches were, but why a state would want to identify with this fruit was a mystery.

He regarded his fuel gauge and saw that it was below a quarter full. He debated with himself about stopping now, or waiting until it got darker.

As he thought about this, he realized he was approaching Savannah, and the traffic got heavier, which meant the gasoline stations would have many customers, so he waited.

As the sun sank lower in the western sky, Asad Khalil recited a verse from the Koran, "Believers, do not make friends with any men other than your own people. They will corrupt you. They desire nothing but your ruin. Their hatred is clear from what they say, but more violent is the hatred in their hearts."

Truly, Khalil thought, this was the inspired word of God as revealed to the Prophet Muhammad.

At seven-thirty he realized he was very low on fuel, but there seemed to be few exits on this section of the highway.

Finally, an exit sign appeared, and he turned onto the ramp. He was surprised to see that there was only one gasoline station, and it was closed. He proceeded west on a narrow road until he came to a small town named Cox, the same name as the pilot who died in the Gulf War. Khalil took this as an omen, though he didn't know if the omen was good or bad.

The small town seemed almost deserted, but he saw a lighted gasoline station at the edge of the town and drove into it.

He put his glasses on and exited the Mercury. It was warm and humid, he noticed, and a great many insects flew around the lights above the pumps.

He decided to use his credit card in the pump, but saw that there was no place for a card. In fact, it appeared that he was not supposed to pump his own fuel. These pumps looked older and more primitive than the ones he was used to. He hesitated a moment, then noticed a tall, thin man wearing blue jeans and a tan shirt coming out of the office of the small building. The man said, "Help you, bub?"

"I need to refuel my automobile." Asad Khalil recalled his advice to himself and smiled.

The tall man looked at him, then at the Mercury and the license plate, then back at his customer. The man said, "You need what?"

"Gasoline."

"Yeah? Any kind in particular?"

"Yes, high test, please."

The man took the nozzle from one of the pumps and pulled the hose to the Mercury. He began refueling, and Khalil realized they would be standing together a long time.

The man said, "Where you headin'?"

"I am going to the resort on Jekyll Island."

"You don't say."

"Excuse me?"

"Y'all dressed pretty fancy for Jekyll Island."

"Yes. I had a business meeting in Atlanta."

"What kinda business you in?"

"I am a banker."

"Yeah? You dress like a banker."

Yes.

"Where you from?"

" New York."

The man laughed. "Yeah? You don't look like a damn Yankee."

Khalil was having trouble following some of this. He said, "I am not a baseball player."

The man laughed again. "That's a good one. If you had a pinstripe suit on, I'd think you was a Yankee ball-playin' banker."

Khalil smiled.

The man asked, "Where you from before New York?"

" Sardinia."

"Where the hell is that?"

"It is an island in the Mediterranean."

"If you say so. You come on I-Ninety-five?"

"Yes."

"That Phillips station closed?"

"Yes."

"Thought so. That fool ain't gonna make a buck if he closes so early. Much traffic on Ninety-five?"

"Not very much."

The man finished pumping and said, "You musta been near dry."

"Yes."

"Check the oil?"

"No, thank you."

"Cash or credit? I prefer cash."

"Yes, cash." Khalil took out his wallet.

The man squinted at the pump under the dim overhead light and said, "Twenty-nine eighty-five'll do it."

Khalil gave him two twenties.

The man said, "Got to get change. Right back. Don't go nowhere."

He turned and walked away. Khalil saw a holster and pistol attached to the rear of the man's belt. Khalil followed him.

Inside the small office, Khalil asked, "Do you have food or beverage here?"

The man opened the cash register and said, "Got that Coke machine out there and got them vending machines in here. You need some change?"

"Yes."

The man gave him his change and included several dollars' worth of quarters. Khalil put the change in the side pocket of his suit coat. The man asked, "You know how to get to Jekyll Island?"

"I have directions and a map."

"Yeah? Where you stayin' there?"

"Holiday Inn."

"Didn't think there was a Holiday Inn there."

Neither man spoke. Khalil turned and went to the vending machine. He put his hand in his pocket, removed two quarters, and put them in the slot. He pulled a knob and a small bag of salted peanuts dropped into the tray. Khalil reached again into his pocket.

There was a strip of mirror on the machine at eye level, and Khalil saw the man reaching behind his back with his right hand.

Asad Khalil pulled his Clock out of his pocket, spun around, and fired a single bullet between the man's eyes, shattering the plate glass behind him.

The tall man's knees folded, and he fell face down.

Khalil quickly removed the man's wallet and saw pinned inside a badge that read cox PD-DEPUTY. He cursed his bad luck, then removed the cash from the man's wallet, then the cash from the register, a total of only about a hundred dollars.

Khalil removed the spent.40 caliber shell casing. They had told him in Libya that this was an unusual caliber bullet, used mostly by Federal agents, and therefore he should take care not to leave something so interesting behind.

Khalil noticed a half-open door that led to a small toilet. He grabbed the man's left ankle and pulled him into the toilet. Before he left, he urinated and left the dirty toilet unflushed, then shut the door and said, "Have a nice day."

There was a newspaper on the desk, and Khalil threw it on the floor over the small pool of blood.

He found a set of switches and shut them all off, putting the entire station in darkness.

He left the office, closed the door, and went to the Coke machine. He put three quarters in and selected a Fanta orange, then walked quickly back to the Mercury.

Khalil got inside, started the engine, and made a U-turn back onto the small road that led to the Interstate.

Within fifteen minutes, he was back on 1-95, going south. He accelerated to 75 miles an hour, keeping up with the light traffic around him. He ate the peanuts and drank the Fanta. Within an hour, he saw a large sign that said

WELCOME TO FLORIDA -THE SUNSHINE STATE.

He kept on 1-95, and near Jacksonville, the traffic got heavier. He exited at the sign for Jacksonville International Airport and followed the signs toward the airport. He looked at his Satellite Navigator and assured himself he was on the correct route.

He glanced at his dashboard clock. It was nearly 10:00 P.M.

He allowed himself a minute to reflect on the incident at the gasoline station in the village called Cox. The man was a policeman, but he worked at the gasoline station. This could have meant that he was an undercover policeman. But Khalil seemed to recall something he'd been told or had read about American policemen in small towns-some of them were volunteers and were called deputies. Yes, it was coming back to him now. These men liked to carry guns, and they worked for no pay, and were more inquisitive than even the regular police. In fact, that man was too inquisitive, and his life had been hanging by a thread as he pumped the gasoline and asked too many questions. What had stretched the thread was the gun on his belt. What had broken the thread was the last question about the Holiday Inn. Whether the man had reached for the gun or not, he had already asked one question too many, and Asad Khalil had run out of correct answers.