"What's going on?" Tai asked as they sat down on the red cargo web seats along the side of the cargo bay. The throb of the engines was so loud, they almost had to shout to be able to talk to each other.

"You heard Abayon. He has – had – something big planned. Based on this – " Vaughn held the message – "I think it has something to do with Hawaii."

"But Royce is the one who betrayed us," Tai pointed out.

"He sent in that second team. You know that."

Vaughn leaned back and rested his head against the web.

"I know. But…" Tai waited and when he didn't continue, demanded, "But what?"

"Abayon was a bad man," Vaughn said.

"I'm glad he's dead. He was a terrorist. I don't know who Royce works for, and neither did Abayon. He was punching at shadows."

"Real shadows," Tai said.

"And Royce is a shadow among shadows. What makes you think he's any more aware than we are?"

"He tried to have us killed," Tai said.

"He was closing out a mission," Vaughn said.

"Our team was to do the mission, and the perfect deniability and secrecy was to have a second team, who only knew about us, come in and wipe us out. It's a hard world out there. With bad people in it. I'm not concerned with Royce, I'm concerned with who he works for and what their goals are. That's the issue."

Tai fell silent for several minutes as they winged east, toward Hawaii.

"Do you want to contact Royce?" she finally asked.

"He thinks we're dead, and he's talking to the team that was supposed to take us out."

Vaughn sighed.

"Yes. Because this is bigger than us."

He got up and went forward into the front half of the cargo bay, to the rows of computer consoles the flight crew used. One of the crew members nodded at him and pointed to an empty chair. Vaughn took it and stared at the screen. A blinking cursor awaited.

He pondered it for a while. Who was Royce expecting to talk to? Orson? Or the commander of the team that had jumped in to ambush them? Or both? Wheels within wheels. Vaughn sensed someone at his shoulder and looked up. Tai stood there.

"What should I write?" he asked.

Tai shrugged.

"I have no idea."

Vaughn's finger hit the keyboard: Team here. Two casualties. Mission accomplished. En route to Hawaii as ordered. Seconds passed. Abu Sayef has obtained ZX nerve agent from Johnston Atoll. Killed over one

thousand to do so. ZX on submarine en route to Honolulu. Interdict and destroy. Last known location in attachment. Will update shortly.

"Shit," Tai muttered.

"ZX. Pearl Harbor Two."

"What the hell is that?" Vaughn asked.

"I've heard of VX, but – "

"Many times more deadly. Abayon is going to take out Honolulu."

"How do we stop a submarine? Why doesn't he call in the Navy? The Air Force? The Marines?"

"To keep the secrets," Tai said.

"What secrets?"

"The Golden Lily. Abayon. This mission. To stay in the shadows."

"That's worth losing Pearl Harbor again?"

"Some think the first Pearl Harbor attack was worth what happened afterward. It got us into World War

II when we'd just been sitting on the sidelines. And then we lost the World Trade Center."

"You don't think – " Vaughn didn't finish the thought.

"I don't know what to think anymore."

"This is screwed."

"That seemed to have been Abayon's opinion," Tai noted.

"But what he's doing is wrong."

"Yes, it is."

Vaughn pressed his fists against his throbbing temples.

"Who the hell are these people?"

"We're going to have to put that one on the back burner for now," Tai said.

"We've got to stop that submarine."

Vaughn swiveled in the chair and stared at her.

"How the hell are you and I going to do that?"

"The sub is going to have to surface to release the agent, most likely using some sort of sprayer on deck into an onshore breeze. We take out the sprayer, we stop it."

"Great plan."

"That's not a plan," Tai said.

"That's a concept. We need to work on the plan. Let's check what gear we have in back and then we come up with a plan. There's a palletful of stuff back there."

Royce called his contact at Pacific Fleet headquarters once more. This time he didn't ask questions, he issued orders. He wanted the diesel engine contact back on the SOSUS board. He wanted two Marine F-16s with live ordnance in the air with direct contact to him and under his orders. He had the proper code words authorizing these actions.

When he disconnected, Royce realized that for the first time he had gone beyond his Organization orders. The F-16s were not authorized. But he was damned if he was going to let Honolulu get wiped out just so the Organization could stay hidden. That thought made him sit bolt upright.

September 11, 2001.

Had someone in the Organization known and dropped the ball? Or had the ball been ordered to be dropped?

"Someone was prepared," Vaughn said as they stared at the gear laid out on the cargo bay floor. Parachutes, weapons, explosives, night vision equipment – it was a Special Operator's dream pallet.

"We could always ram this plane into the sub," Tai said.

"That's what the bad guys do," Vaughn said. He was connecting what he saw in front of him with what needed to be done.

"Okay, here's the plan…"

Moreno had his eyes pressed against the periscope. He strained to see as far as the scope would let him. There was the slightest smudge directly ahead on the horizon. Land.

Diamond Head.

Royce was looking at the display when Foster came walking into the control center.

"What's going on?" Foster asked.

Royce turned in his seat and drew a pistol from a shoulder holster.

"What the hell are you – "

Royce fired once, the round going through Foster's heart. The Sim-Center director fell to the floor. Royce stared at the body for a few seconds, then checked David's computer, searching for someone who could come sweep the body. He made the call, then turned his attention back to the board.

A green flashing dot was now there, not far off Diamond Head. Royce noted the coordinates, typed them into the computer and hit the send button. Then he unhooked the computer and slid it in the carrying case.

Satphone in hand, he left the Sim-Center and went out to the Defender. He got in and drove toward Pearl Harbor. On the way, he called ahead, and using the proper authorization codes, lined up a search and rescue Blackhawk helicopter to be ready to take off as soon as he arrived.

"This isn't much of a plan," Tai noted. She had a parachute on her back, a rucksack rigged in front, and her MP-5 tied on top of the rucksack.

"You got a better one?" Vaughn asked.

"Just because I don't have a better one doesn't make this a good one."

"Point taken," Vaughn said as the crew chief held up five fingers.

"But five minutes out, it's all we got."

They had received the location of the submarine from Royce, and the plane was on a direct line toward it at 10,000 feet of altitude. The back ramp slowly opened, revealing sunlight and a glittering blue ocean far below. Vaughn and Tai edged forward, one on each side. They poked their heads into the slipstream and peered out. Off to the left and ahead was Oahu, with Diamond Head the most prominent and recognizable feature.