Paul Grey said, "Let me take that bag for you."

Khalil said, "I'll put this down with my water."

Paul Grey indicated a low coffee table, on which was a newspaper. Grey and Khalil put their drinks down on the table, and Khalil placed his bag on the floor, then said, "Do you mind if I look around the room?"

"Not at all."

Khalil moved to a wall on which hung photographs and paintings of many different aircraft, including a realistic painting of an F-lll fighter jet, which Khalil studied.

Paul Grey said, "I had that done from a photograph. I flew F-llls for a lot of years."

"Yes, I know that."

Paul Grey didn't reply.

Khalil studied a wall that displayed many citations, letters of commendation, and a framed, glass-enclosed case in which nine military medals were mounted.

Grey said, "I received many of those medals for my part in the Gulf War. But I guess you know that, too."

"Yes. And my government appreciates your service on our behalf."

Khalil walked to a shelf unit that held books and plastic models of various aircraft. Paul Grey came up beside him and took a book off the shelf. "Here-you'll appreciate this one. It was written by General Gideon Shaudar. He signed it for me."

Khalil took the book, which had a fighter aircraft on the cover, and saw that it was in Hebrew.

Paul Grey said, "Look at the inscription."

Asad Khalil opened the book to the back, which, as he knew, was the beginning of the book in Hebrew as it was in Arabic, and saw that the inscription was in English, but there were also Hebrew characters, which he could not read.

Paul Grey said, "Finally, someone who can translate the Hebrew for me."

Asad Khalil stared at the Hebrew writing and said, "It is actually an Arabic proverb, which we Israelis are also fond of-'He who is the enemy of my enemy is my friend.'" Khalil handed the book back to Grey and remarked, "Very appropriate."

Paul Grey shelved the book and said, "Let's sit a minute before we start." He motioned Khalil to an upholstered chair beside the coffee table. Khalil sat and Paul Grey sat opposite him.

Paul Grey sipped on his orange juice. Khalil drank from his bottle of water. Grey said, "Please understand, Colonel, that the software demonstration I'm going to show you could be considered classified material. But as I understand it, I can show it to a representative of a friendly government. But when it comes to the question of purchasing it, then we have to get clearance."

"I understand that. My people are already working on that." He added, "I appreciate the security. We would not want this software to fall into the hands of… let's say, our mutual enemies." He smiled.

Paul Grey returned the smile and said, "If you mean certain Mideastern nations, I doubt they'd be able to put this to any practical use. To be honest with you, Colonel, those people don't have the brains they were born with."

Khalil smiled again and said, "Never underestimate an enemy."

"I try not to, but if you'd been in my cockpit in the Gulf, you'd think you were flying against a bunch of crop dusters." He added, "That doesn't bring much credit on me, but I'm talking to a pro, so I'll be honest."

Khalil replied, "As my colleagues told you, though I am the embassy air attache officer, I'm afraid I have no combat experience in attack aircraft. My area of expertise is training and operations, so I cannot regale you with any heroic war stories."

Grey nodded.

Khalil regarded his host for a moment. He could have killed him the minute he opened the kitchen door, or any time since then, but the killing would be almost meaningless without some pleasant trifling. Malik had said to him, • "All members of the cat family toy with their captured prey before killing them. Take your time. Savor the moment. It will not come again."

Khalil nodded toward the newspaper on the coffee table and said, "You've read what has been revealed about Flight One-Seven-Five?"

Grey glanced down at the newspaper. "Yes… some heads are going to roll over that. I mean, how the hell did those Libyan clowns pull that off? A bomb on board is one thing-but gas? And then the guy escapes and kills a bunch of Federal agents. I see the hand of Moammar Gadhafi in this."

"Yes? Perhaps. It's unfortunate that the bomb you dropped on his residence at Al Azziziyah didn't kill him."

Paul Grey did not reply for a few seconds, then said, "I had no part in that mission, Colonel, and if your intelligence service thinks I did, they're wrong."

Asad Khalil waved his hand in a placating gesture. "No, no, Captain-I did not mean you, personally. I meant the American Air Force."

"Oh… sorry…"

"However," Khalil continued, "if you were on that mission, then I congratulate you, and thank you on behalf of the Israeli people."

Paul Grey remained expressionless, then stood and said, "Why don't we move over here and have a look?"

Khalil stood, took his bag, and followed Paul Grey to the far side of the room where two leather swivel chairs sat facing two screens.

Paul Grey said, "First, I'll show you a demonstration of the software, just using this joystick and the keyboard. Next, we'll move to those other two chairs where we'll enter the world of virtual reality." He moved to the two more elaborate chairs with no TV screens in front of them. He said, "Here we use computer modeling and simulation to enable a person to interact with an artificial three-dimensional visual and other sensory environments. Are you familiar with this?"

Khalil did not reply.

Paul Grey hesitated a moment, then continued, "Virtual reality applications immerse the user in a computer-generated environment that simulates reality through the use of interactive devices which send and receive information. These devices are typically goggles, helmets, gloves, or even body suits. Here I have two helmets with a stereoscopic screen for each eye where you can view animated images of a simulated environment. The illusion of being there-telepresence-is effected by motion sensors that pick up the user's movements and adjust the view on the screens accordingly, usually in real time." Paul Grey looked at his potential customer, but could see no sign of comprehension or non-comprehension behind the sunglasses.

Paul Grey continued, "Here you see I've set up a generic fighter-bomber cockpit, complete with rudder pedals, throttles, control stick, bomb release triggers, and so forth. Since you have no experience with fighter craft, you won't be able to fly this thing, but you can experience a bomb run just by putting on the stereoscopic helmet while I fly."

Asad Khalil looked at the elaborate paraphernalia around him, then said, "Yes, we have similar capabilities in our Air Force."

"I know you do. But the software that has recently been developed is years ahead of existing software. Let's sit in front of the monitors, and I'll give you a quick look before we move on to virtual reality."

They moved back to the other side of the room, and Paul Grey indicated one of the two leather swivel chairs with a • console between them, and a keyboard in front of each chair. Khalil sat.

Paul Grey, still standing, said, "These are seats from an old F-lll that I put swivel legs on. Just to get us in the spirit."

"Not very comfortable."

"No. They're not. I once flew-I've flown long distances in those seats. Can I hang your jacket?"

"No, thank you. I am not accustomed to the air conditioning."

"You may want to take your sunglasses off when I dim the room."

"Yes."

Paul Grey sat in the aircraft seat beside Khalil and picked up a remote control from the console, hit two buttons, and the lights dimmed as heavy blackout curtains drew closed over the large windows. Khalil removed his sunglasses. They sat silently in the darkness for a second, watching the lights of the electronics around them.