"Sherman, how we doing?" Castillo asked.

Sherman held his left hand above his head, the fingers extended.

One by one, he folded them.

"All green, sir," Sherman said.

Castillo walked to him and picked up a small telephone handset.

"Are we into Philadelphia?" he asked.

"Major Miller's at City Hall," Sherman said. "He's on a secure line to the arsenal base."

"Get him on," Castillo ordered.

Sherman pushed several buttons. "Line's green, encryption green," he said.

"Sergeant Schneider," Betty's voice came very clearly down from the satellite.

"Castillo here. Can you get Miller on here?"

"Hold one, Major," Sergeant Schneider said.

"Charley?" Miller asked a moment later.

"Right."

"Did you get the word they've located the 727 in Suriname?"

"No, they haven't. It's not in Suriname and never has been."

"What?" Miller asked, incredulously. "Charley, just before Secretary Hall and the commissioner went in to see the mayor-that's where we are, City Hall-he had a call from the CIA-from the DCI himself-that the airplane's at a field called 'Zandery' in Suriname. That's what he's telling the mayor."

"Well, the CIA is wrong again."

"McNab has been ordered to neutralize it," Miller said. "He's already at Hurlburt, about to go wheels-up."

"Listen carefully, Dick. This is what I need from you. Go out to the airport and find out what airplanes regularly land-I don't mean on schedule, just all the time-from Costa Rica and get back to me. Find out what Costa Rican airline regularly goes to Philadelphia."

"Were you listening, Charley? Did you hear what I said? The CIA has found the airplane. Confirmed. They even have a visual."

"That's not the one we're looking for. Now, goddammit, do what you're told! Now!"

He touched Sergeant Sherman's shoulder.

"Get General McNab on here."

[FIVE]

Major H. Richard Miller, Jr., looked around the small room off the outer office of the mayor of the City of Philadelphia. There were three other people in it. Sergeant Betty Schneider of the Philadelphia Police Department and Supervisory Special Agents Joel Isaacson and Thomas McGuire of the United States Secret Service.

"Interesting question," Isaacson said, dryly. "Who do you believe? The director of Central Intelligence or Don Juan?"

"I'll go with Don Juan," Agent McGuire said.

"He sounded very sure of himself," Sergeant Schneider said.

"Don Juan is always very sure of himself," Isaacson said. "Which is not the same thing as saying he's always right."

"I don't have the faintest idea where to get that information at the airport. Or that they'll give it to me without a lot of hassle."

"I'll go out there with you, Sergeant," Tom McGuire said. "Maybe my badge, plus my Irish charm, will be useful."

"You think I should barge in the mayor's office and tell Secretary Hall?" Miller asked.

"Not without more to go on than what Don Juan told you, I don't," Isaacson said. "But I think you should do what Don Juan wants done."

"Anytime you're ready, Sergeant," Tom McGuire said.

"I just had a wild hair," Sergeant Schneider said, thoughtfully.

She took out her cellular, scrolled through the names and numbers displayed on it, and pushed the CALL button when she had found it.

"Mr. Halloran, this is Sergeant Schneider, Betty Schneider. Remember me? "This is a strange question, Mr. Halloran, but please bear with me. Off the top of your head, do you know of any airline from Costa Rica that comes to Philadelphia frequently? I don't mean a passenger service, especially "Oh, you do know one? Could you tell me about it, please?"

Less than sixty seconds later, she covered the microphone with her hand and said, "Bingo! I think you'd better get Castillo back, Dick."

And thirty seconds after that, Miller reported, "The channel's in use."

"Keep trying," Sergeant Schneider ordered.

[SIX]

"Before you say anything, Charley," Lieutenant General Bruce J. McNab said, "let me tell you the latest words of General Allan Naylor vis-a-vis you and me. 'You're a goddamned lieutenant general. You don't take goddamned "suggestions" from a goddamned major! And you goddamn well know it!' "

"He found out you're at Hurlburt?" Castillo asked, but it was a statement, not a question.

"Yes, he did. And apparently he's not nearly as impressed with your status as the personal representative of the president as I hoped he would be."

"Well, I'll take the heat, sir. I still think it was a good idea to pre-position at Hurlburt."

"That's very noble of you, Charley, but he's right. Lieutenant generals should not take suggestions from majors, and, if they do, they should expect to feel the heat. What's up?"

"The airplane is somewhere in Costa Rica; it's been rerenumbered and rere-painted."

"Jesus, are you sure? The only reason we're not on our way to Suriname right now is because they haven't been able to find us someplace where we can sit the C-17 down."

"It's not in Suriname," Castillo said.

"You got that from your friend the Russian arms dealer, right?"

"Right."

"My God, Charley! Fort Meade has photographs of the airplane at Zandery. The CIA guy in Suriname made a visual and you're telling me they have the wrong airplane?"

"Yes, sir. They probably have a photograph of an Air Suriname 727 with the right numbers, because it's an Air Suriname 727. The airplane the Holy Legion of Muhammad has is probably in Costa Rica."

"Where in Costa Rica?"

"I don't know that yet."

"Have you told anybody else this?"

"No, sir. What I've done is send Miller out to the airport in Philadelphia to see what airplanes from Costa Rica routinely land there. What they're obviously trying to do is get into the Philadelphia area without ringing alarm bells."

"How are they going to do that?" McNab asked, dubiously.

He thinks I've lost my mind.

Have I?

"By immobilizing a bona fide Costa Rican 727 for twenty-four hours and sending the one they have in its place."

"You're going to have a tough time selling that to Naylor. He already thinks you're drunk out of your mind with authority you don't have."

"What if I'm right, General?" Castillo said. "And I'm not going to try to sell General Naylor anything. I'm going to tell Secretary Hall. I work for him, not General Naylor."

"Charley," McNab said, softly. "You're an Army officer assigned to Cent-Corn J-5."

Castillo didn't reply for a moment, then he said: "General, until I'm told otherwise I will continue to obey the last orders I have-which are from the president-to coordinate with you the neutralizing of the 727. In that capacity, I am recommending to you that you prepare to neutralize the 727 in Costa Rica."

It took McNab ten seconds to reply.

"What the hell, Mr. Castillo, in for a penny, in for a pound."

"I'm now going to report to Secretary Hall what I've learned," Castillo said. "I'll let you know what he says."

"Do that," McNab said. "McNab out."

Charley touched Sergeant Sherman's shoulder.

"Get me Philadelphia again, please."

"Coming up," Sherman said, and, a moment later, "All green, encryption, green."

"Miller?"

"Sergeant Schneider, Major."

"Put Miller on, please."

"I think you better hear this first," Betty Schneider said. "Costa Rican Air Transport makes frequent flights into Philadelphia using its 727 aircraft at least once a week, sometimes two or three times."

"Jesus, that was quick!" Castillo said. "Are you sure?"

"Halloran-Lease-Aire-sold them the airplane. He services it when it's here. Flowers into Philadelphia and household goods into San Jose."

"Flowers and household goods?"

"Fresh flowers. They grow them in Costa Rica and fly them here to sell in supermarkets. And the household goods are for Americans who retire down there. They can bring their household stuff into Costa Rica without paying any duty on it."