"It's about getting through to General McNab, sir. I don't think all the communication is down."

"I don't understand," Hall said.

"Sir, I've been on missions like this one. When it gets close to doing something: there's often a link that goes down."

"I don't understand," Hall said.

"I think I do," Natalie Cohen said. "There is a point in time after which, thank you just the same, General McNab doesn't want anyone looking over his shoulder offering friendly advice? He wants to get on with the job?" Yes, ma am.

"Now, you know why he didn't want Fred to hear this," Cohen said and turned back Miller. "You know how to get through to him?"

"Usually, he leaves the imagery link open," Miller said.

"I don't know what that means," Hall said.

"It means he's still able to receive an image. Some people know that," Miller said. "If it's important, they'll send him one."

"An image? A picture?" Hall asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Of what?" Hall asked.

"Of a message. Right, Major?" Dr. Cohen asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You're saying you can get through to him with an image of a message?" Hall asked. When Miller nodded, Hall added, "Well, we're going to have to tell Beiderman that, of course."

"Maybe not," Natalie Cohen said. "Would he take a message from you, Major?"

"Yes, ma'am, I think he would."

"How would that work?"

"I'd write the message here, fax it out to the Nebraska Avenue place, and tell the operator to send it," Miller said.

"Nebraska Avenue?"

"Castillo set up a Gray Fox radio out there," Hall said.

Dr. Cohen pulled open a drawer of her desk, took out a sheet of paper, and handed it and a ballpoint pen to Miller.

"Go," she said.

"Ma'am, have you got a felt-tip, a Magic Marker? I need something big."

"Coming up," she said and went back to her desk drawer.

"Thank you," Miller said. "Mr. Secretary, I'm going to need the numbers, fax and phone, out there."

Hall went into the outer office, where Isaacson and McGuire were waiting.

"I need the numbers, phone and fax, for Nebraska Avenue," he said.

By the time Isaacson had retrieved the numbers from his handheld computer, written them down, given them to Hall, and Hall went back into Cohen's office, Miller had already fed the sheet of paper into the fax machine on the credenza behind Cohen's desk.

He gave them to Miller, who immediately punched them into the fax machine. The machine began to feed itself the paper.

"Did you see that?" Hall asked Cohen.

She shook her head. "No need to," she said.

Miller punched the numbers of the Nebraska Avenue office into his cellular.

"This is Major Miller. I just sent you a fax. Image it to General McNab-now. I'll hold for confirmation of receipt."

The fax machine finished expelling the sheet of paper. Natalie Cohen took it, read it, and handed it Hall.

"Let Betty read that-she's entitled-and then burn it," Natalie Cohen said.

"Burn it?" Hall asked as he handed the sheet of paper to Betty Schneider.

"There's no reason Fred has to know about this," Natalie Cohen said.

Betty finished reading the message and handed it back to Hall, who read it again.

Dr. Natalie Cohen

National Security Advisor

Go all green now.

The President is trying to order Gen McNab to divet to Costa Rica

"You don't think Beiderman is entitled to know about this?" Hall asked.

"Entitled, maybe," Natalie Cohen said. "Like the mayor of Philadelphia was entitled to know the CIA hasn't really found the airplane. Did you tell him, Matt?"

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, a confession that he hadn't.

"Both of these young people had to make a tough choice between two correct loyalties," Dr. Cohen said. "Betty, to come here with you without telling her superiors in the cops what she knew about the not-found airplane, which some people would consider disloyal; and Miller had to tell you about General McNab's 'selective' communications setup. Which made him feel disloyal to McNab. Both made the right choice. There is not panic in the streets in Philadelphia, and I wouldn't be surprised if Beiderman shortly can communicate with General McNab. So leave it there, Matt, please."

She put out her hand.

"Anybody got a match?"

Secretary Hall laid a somewhat battered Zippo in Dr. Cohen's palm.

[SIX]

Aboard USAF C-17 036788

17.210 degrees North Latitude

82.680 degrees West Longitude

Above the Atlantic Ocean

1158 10 June

"How very interesting," Lieutenant General Bruce J. McNab said and handed the message back to the Sergeant Kensington, who was manning the control panel. "I think you better put this in there."

He pointed to the burn bag tied to Kensington's shelf, which was actually a small canvas bag holding three thermite grenades-two for the radio, one for messages-in case it became necessary to destroy either or both to keep them from falling into the wrong hands.

Kensington did so, then looked at McNab, who made a "push 'em up" gesture with this fingers. Kensington turned to the control panel and started flipping switches.

"Coming up: all green, sir," Kensington said.

"I wonder where Miller got that stationery?" McNab asked.

"Knowing the major, sir, no telling," Sergeant Kensington said.

"We did not get any images, right?"

"No, sir, we didn't. The image link must have been down, too."

"See if you can get General Naylor on here for me, will you, please?" McNab asked.

"McNab, sir. We had a little communications problem so I thought I had better check in with you, sir."

"Where are you, General?"

"We just came out of the Gulf into the Atlantic, sir. The pilot estimates we have about four hours to go. That would put us:"

"There's been a change of orders, General."

"Yes, sir?"

"The president directs that you divert to Costa Rica."

"Costa Rica?"

"Either to Tomas Guardia International, on the west coast, or Juan Santamaria, which serves San Jose-your choice-there to prepare to neutralize the airplane we're looking for."

"I thought it was in Suriname, sir."

"That was apparently faulty intel, General."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you see where this is going to pose any problems, General?"

"No, sir. I can probably be on the ground at either field in, say, a little over an hour."

"Let me know when you get close to the coast," Naylor ordered. "We're trying to get you permission to enter their airspace. If that doesn't come through, you'll have to practice some sort of deception."

"Yes, sir. I understand. I'll think of something."

"Your further orders, again from the president, General, are to neutralize this airplane as quietly as possible."

"Yes, sir, I understand. Neutralize as quietly as possible."

"We'll be in touch."

"Sir, are you in a position to tell me where the airplane we're looking for in Costa Rica is? Specifically, I mean?"

"Not at this time. When I have that information, you'll get it. The CIA is working on it and they are in the process of moving satellites."

"Yes, sir. Well, if the CIA's working on it, then we'll certainly know for sure where the airplane is, won't we, sir?"

"Naylor out."

[SEVEN]

Office of the Commanding General

United States Central Command

MacDill Air Force Base

Tampa, Florida

1215 10 June 2005

General Albert McFadden, USAF, walked without knocking into the office of General Allan Naylor, USA, and stood before his desk for twenty seconds before Naylor sensed-or chose to acknowledge-his presence.