"I don't need a lecture from any of you. The cost of paying off murderers would be politically catastrophic in the midst of an election."

I mentioned, "Good point," and she nodded in my direction.

I added, "Boy-think what it will do for the election if your boss is dead."

And at just that instant, my cell phone went off. Everyone stopped staring at me and stared at it.

It beeped a second time, and a third. I cleared my throat, lifted it up, and said, "Drummond."

The voice was male, and he said, "Eureka."

"I… who is this?"

"Tingle. Remember, I owe you a call." He added, "We ran the check you requested."

Six sets of eyes were fixed on my lips. Nobody was even breathing. I put my hand over the phone. "Relax." I said to Tingle, "Tell me about it."

"Okay Of the five suspects, three are at work. The fourth has been on leave for the past two weeks. Thank God he left an address. We found him at his lakehouse in Utah. Fishing."

"And the fifth?"

"Name's Clyde Wizner. He quit about seven weeks ago. His supervisor was very surprised. He was very good at his job, there were no signs he was unhappy, or-'"

I said, "General, we've got the fucking roof falling on top of us here. Speed it up."

"Uh… fine. Wizner has prior military service. Used to be an EOD specialist. That's-"

I already knew EOD specialists were experts in defusing and exploding bombs and mines. "Got it-move on."

For a moment there was silence. Then he said, "Don't push me, Major. That's right… I checked on you, too. Later, you and I will discuss passing yourself off as a civilian."

As I said, these guys are really sneaky. "At the appropriate time, I look forward to that talk, sir."

"Well-you shouldn't. Now, regarding Wizner, give me a number and we'll fax over his service record and his civilian record."

I asked Jennie for help, and she read the number off the fax machine in the far corner of the room. I relayed it to Tingle, who closed saying," Wizner has the technical training and know-how to be the bomber. I have ten agents backgrounding him. We'll know a lot more soon. I'll call when I-"

"Thank you, sir."

I punched off.

Almost simultaneously the fax machine started spewing out sheets.

I looked at Jennie and pointed at my watch. Maybe five minutes. Time was really short. Jennie looked around and asked, "Well? Do Sean and I have permission to say yes, or is it no?"

All eyes shifted back to Mrs. Hooper.

She said, "You may negotiate, but not commit." Typical politician.

Jennie said, "That won't do. They'll insist on a firm answer. Yes or no?"

Mrs. Hooper replied, "I've given you permission to negotiate. That's more than enough."

Seconding Jennie, I said, "It's not. Don't assume these people are stupid, Mrs. Hooper. We know they're not-right?"

She looked at Jennie, and then me. "Deal with it."

My phone rang again. Thinking it was Tingle again, I lifted it up and said, "Look, I know you're pissed, but we're a little busy over here."

I heard a harsh laugh. A voice said, "I'll bet you're busy as all hell, son" The voice was male and middle-aged, with a smoker's rasp, the accent was Texan, and the tone sounded folksy and condescending, like he held all the cards, which wasn't at all presumptuous. The man on the other end of the line was not Tingle. But neither did he sound like Jason Barnes, which was a bit disappointing.

I waved my arm, and in a tone as good-humored as I could manufacture, I asked, "Is this who I think it is?"

"You ain't got a fuckin' clue who I am. Let's not pretend otherwise."

"I do know you've really caused us a lot of trouble."

"Well, hey… this ain't good news, I'm sure, but you ain't seen shit yet,"

Jennie had dashed around the table and now stood beside me, bent over, her face brushing mine, straining to overhear his words.

"Neither have you, pal. Seriously. The President's hidden inside a deep hole, somewhere up in, I think, Alaska. He's at the bottom of an old missile silo surrounded by a regiment of pissed-off Army Rangers. You won't get him, but we will get you."

He chuckled. "Who gives a shit where you got him hid. Never actually said we're gonna git him, did we?"

"I… what?"

"Well, sheeit, boy, read the note. We never said we were gonna kill that sonuvabitch. Jus' said he's history. Think about it."

Before I could reply, he said, "Hey, tell you what. Fifty million's the price and it ain't open to debate. You pay… we'll quit fuckin' with you. You don't… the next one'll really suck. Simple deal. Call you back in a minute."

The line suddenly went dead.

I said, "Shit."

Jennie said, "He's changing cell phones. He's using throw-aways, so we can't get a fix."

In fact, an agent slipped into the conference room, shook his head, and said, "Too fast," then slipped back out.

Jennie informed the rest of the task force, "We've been looking in the wrong direction. He says they may not want to kill the President."

Proving that all politics is local, Chuck Wardell slid back into his chair and commented, "Thank God."

Mrs. Hooper asked, "Then what do they have in mind?"

I informed her, "Not what-who."

The phone rang and I again answered, "Drummond."

"Hey. Well, you got an answer for me, boy?"

"Look, we've got a small problem here."

He laughed, "You got a lot a problems, none of which are small."

Asshole. "Okay, for starters… how do we know you're the real McCoy? We're a little deluged with assholes calling and claiming credit. How do I know you're the right asshole?"

"I like that." He laughed again. "For a stupid butthead who's run hisself silly the past two days, it's real good you still got a sense of humor." He stopped laughing. "But don't fuck with me, son. Maybe I'll put a Bouncin' Betty up yer ass, too."

Jennie overheard this exchange and whispered, "Stay cool."

I drew a long breath. "A lot of people know Fineberg got it with a mine."

"Yeah? Hey, guess that's right… news gits 'round, don't it?" He laughed again. "Now tell me, how many of them folks know how them three jerkoffs in Belknap's basement got it? I did the little gal at the commo console myself. Three shots straight into her right side, boom-boom-boom. You shoulda seen that gal's body twitch and bounce, Drummond. One of my partners did the other two, the asshole who was sleepin' and the idiot in the chair."

"Fuck you."

He laughed. "Aw hell… don't go all pissy on me. You asked for proof, I try to be helpful, and now you go actin' like a porkypine with a burr up its ass. Yer hard to please. Hey… call you back in a minute."

The line went dead again. Everyone began chattering at once.

Jennie said, "Don't let him goad you, Sean. Stay cool. This is just business."

Mrs. Hooper ordered, "Negotiate, Drummond. Find out what they have in mind next."

Mr. Halderman advised, "Emphasize that all the sea- and airports are completely covered. Tell him they should give up- they'll never make it out of this country alive."

I nearly got up and walked out. But I knew they had the best intentions. I tried to think. I glanced at my watch. Thirty more seconds. It was important to take away the initiative, but nothing was coming to me.

Jennie clearly understood this and announced to all concerned, "We have to set up a deal with these people. We need to buy time."

Mrs. Hooper kept shaking her head.

Jennie and I exchanged glances. Not good.

The phone rang. I lifted it up, and the voice said, "Okay, Drummond, here's the deal. You ain't got the brass to make this decision, so probably you got a bunch of important assholes sit-tin' 'round you. Tell 'em I got a target in my sights. All I gotta do is push this teeny button, and boom, this President's got one less high-level asshole. Got that?"