Gia rose and turned off the kettle. What if there were other "individuals" with other caches of explosives? If so, she didn't want Vicky locked down in a school if all hell broke loose.

She hurried to the closet. It wasn't rational, and it was most likely an over-reaction, but she didn't care. She wanted her little girl with her today.

Looked like Vicky would get a second day off this week.

Gia's hand stopped in midreach for her coat.

A second day off… like yesterday. The explosion had occurred the night before, and Jack had been intent on keeping Vicky out of school. He'd said it was because he was leaving, but had there been more to it? In the demimonde he moved through he often picked up rumors and tidbits of news before they hit the papers.

She'd have to ask him when he got back. Right now she was going to catch a cab and head for Vicky's school.

8

As Jack waited for his bag, he couldn't help thinking of the last time he'd been in a baggage-claim area… how he'd left to get the car… how he'd returned to a charnel house.

But that had been LaGuardia and this was Atlantic City International: pretty far down on the list of terror targets, he imagined. Still he couldn't wait to get back to the car and wrap his fingers around the grip of his Clock.

He found his bag and carried it to his car. He dropped it in the trunk, opened it, and removed the Altoids tin he'd bought at a convenience store near the airport.

The first thing he did when he got behind the wheel was check for the Glock in the clip under the front seat. Still there. He patted it. Welcome home.

Then he opened the tin and tipped out the Starfire within. Here was why he'd checked his bag instead of carrying it on. If the security folks at the gate were doing their job, they'd have wanted to examine the contents of a metal case they couldn't see through, small though it might be. But checked bags weren't put under that kind of scrutiny.

He turned the round over in his hand a few times, then pocketed it.

Next up, call Gia.

He'd planned to wait until he was back in the city and just a few minutes from her door. But en route he'd seen the headline about an apartment in Bay Ridge in his neighbor's Miami Herald. He'd borrowed the front section and learned that the FBI had broken the story about the connection between the apartment and the explosion. The article also mentioned the Arabic scrawl Jack had seen on the wall. It translated as, God is Great. Jihad forever.

Swell.

The mood back in the city would be tense—only a tiny fraction of what it would have been had the cockroaches succeeded—but Gia might be worried for herself and Vicky and the baby. He figured she'd be more comfortable knowing he was around.

He tapped in her number.

No answer at home. He didn't leave a message but called her cell phone instead. Again, no answer. This time he left a message.

"Hi, Gi, it's me. Things didn't work out with the trip so I'm headed home. I'll explain everything when I get there. See you in a few hours."

He broke the connection and sat there.

Odd. He could usually get hold of Gia at one of those two numbers. She wanted to be always available should the Vickster need her. The only time she'd leave it home or turn it off was when she was with Vicky.

A vague unease settled on him. He started the car and gunned it toward the exit. A two-hour drive lay ahead of him, longer if he hit construction.

The unease grew stronger.

9

"A woman and a child?" Cal said.

The thought turned his stomach.

"Not just a woman," the Oculus said, his expression bleak. "A pregnant woman."

Cal groaned. Even worse.

He and about a dozen other yeniceri had gathered on the first floor and stood in a semicircle before the Oculus. Miller had been called but wasn't answering his phone.

What was happening? Cal wondered. Some of the Ally's Alarms over the past few months had been pretty damn strange. More than strange—disturbing. The young girl, the Arabs—okay. That was the sort of thing he expected, the kind of work that made him proud to be a yeniceri. The girl and a lot of New Yorkers were alive today because of those two Alarms.

But this…

"Are you sure we aren't supposed to stop this from happening?"

The 0 shook his head. "I was shown a yeniceri behind the wheel."

Cal looked around for Miller but he hadn't arrived yet.

"I don't get it. First that woman back in November, then—"

"It is the same woman."

Cal heard Zeklos's voice whisper, "Oh, no."

He looked at him. Zek's face was ashen, his lips trembled.

"Thanks a lot, Zek," Hursey said. "Now one of us has to pick up after you."

"Shouldn't even be here," Jolliff muttered.

Both were Miller buddies.

"Let's not get sidetracked," Cal said. He turned to the Oculus. "If this is the second Alarm about this woman, the Ally must think she poses a serious threat. Any idea what?"

The 0 shook his head. "None. Perhaps the baby…"

Yeah. Maybe the baby.

"Any idea about the father?"

Another head shake. "Again, none. But for all we know… maybe it he-longs to the Adversary."

There was a scary thought. But…

"Yeah. And maybe not." Cal thought of something. "These Alarms aren't infallible, you know. Look what happened last time. You saw a truck hitting this same woman, but it didn't. Zeklos missed her."

Everyone looked at Zeklos, some with naked hostility. The little man took a step back.

"It doesn't show the future," the 0 said. "It shows a possible or probable future. It shows me near things and far things, little things and momentous things. On Sunday it showed me explosions on buses and bridges—a future it wanted stopped. And we stopped it. But as you all well know, every so often it shows me a future it wants us to make happen. Like this one."

"So none of this is carved in stone."

"I don't think it can be. Because there's always the unforeseen, unpredictable variable of the human factor."

Again a number of the yenigeri glanced at Zeklos.

But Cal couldn't stop wondering about the Ally's methods. In fact, the methods used by both sides. Neither employed full frontal attacks, no shows of naked force. Both pulled occult strings from behind the scenes, manipulating events through human agents.

Why? Why no overt aggression? Did they save that for elsewhere—pitched battles in interdimensional space? Were there rules for dealing with sentient species?

Cal had come to the conclusion that this cosmic game—and that was what it seemed to be—had no hard and fast rules, but rather guidelines that compelled each side to act without revealing itself. Perhaps they had a scoring system that awarded style points to the side that could gain or keep the upper hand with the most elegant medley of obscurity and elan.

And perhaps he was way off base. Maybe the human mind was incapable of making any sense of the forces in play here.

He did know he was a pawn—but a willing, enthusiastic pawn. If he had to be part of this game, he preferred to know the score than be an unwitting puppet.

The door chimed. Jolliff stepped to the monitors and checked the front door camera. He pressed the unlock button and smiled as he looked up.

"It's Miller."

Miller stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

"Sorry I'm late. Didn't get the message till a few minutes ago."

Probably with one of his hookers, Cal thought, knowing Miller alternated between two favorites.

More power to him. A night of heavy sex usually left him mellow. Well, relatively so. Cal sensed that a truly mellow Miller might violate some law of nature.

The Oculus gave him a quick rundown of the Alarm.