He picked up the handset, which placed a brass conelike microphone before his mouth as well as the speaker against his ear.

Ten-to-one, it's a wrong number.

"Hello," he said.

"Major Miller?" an American male voice inquired.

"Speaking."

"Major, this is Colonel Porter."

What the hell does he want at oh-dark-hundred?

"Yes, sir?"

"I am five minutes from your apartment, Major," Lieutenant Colonel James R. Porter, Artillery, the defense attache of the United States embassy in Luanda, said, somewhat stiffly. "Please be prepared to admit me."

"You're coming here?" Miller asked, really surprised. He belatedly added, "Sir?"

"I am coming there. Please be prepared to admit me."

"Yes, sir," Miller said.

There was a click as the connection was broken.

Miller found the light switch in the dark, put the old telephone handset in its cradle, and then swung his legs out of bed, wincing at the pain in his knee.

"Fuck!" he said aloud and then walked to the bathroom, where a terry cloth robe hung on the back of the door.

If Porter's going to be here in five minutes, I'm not going to have time for a shower and to get dressed.

He pulled the robe around him and then decided he'd better add undershorts. Then he went back in the bathroom and swirled Scope around in his mouth.

What the hell does he want?

The lobby buzzer went off three minutes later. Miller went into the kitchen and pushed the intercom's speak button.

"Yes?"

"This is Colonel Porter, Major Miller," Porter's voice came metallically over the wire.

"Pushing the solenoid now, sir," Miller said.

Miller had the door to his apartment open by the time the elevator came up. Colonel Porter, in uniform, walked off the elevator, followed by one of the embassy's Marine guards.

The Gunny, Miller thought as he recognized the noncommissioned officer in charge of the guard detachment. Miller knew the large and muscular shaven-headed man a lot better than he was supposed to. Majors and E-7s are not supposed to socialize. But Miller and the gunny had in common both being black and not quite being fully recovered from the hits they had taken from the rag-heads in Afghanistan. This was not the gunny's first visit to Miller's apartment.

But this time Gunnery Sergeant Roscoe Fortenaux, USMC, was obviously on duty. He had a Smith amp; Wesson. 357 in a holster on his hip.

Roscoe had told him that the State Department insisted the Marine guards be armed with the S amp;W revolver, rather than with the standard-issue Beretta 9mm semiautomatic. Neither of them had been able to understand the logic of that. Even the cops had gone to semiautomatic pistols.

"Good morning, sir," Miller said to Lieutenant Colonel Porter. "How are you, Gunny?"

"Good morning, sir," Gunny Fortenaux said.

"After you, sir," Miller said, motioning Porter into the apartment.

Porter took six steps into the corridor of Miller's apartment, then turned as if to make sure Miller had followed him inside.

Miller gestured for him to go farther into the apartment.

Porter turned and walked into the living room, then turned again to wait for Miller.

"Major Miller," Lieutenant Colonel Porter said, formally, "you stand relieved, sir. And you will consider yourself under arrest to quarters."

Oh, shit! Charley couldn't cover me!

"Yes, sir," Miller said. "Sir, relieved of what?"

"Of your duties with the CIA, and, of course, as assistant military attache. Your security clearances have been suspended, pending an investigation."

"An investigation of what, sir?"

"You will be informed in due time," Porter said.

"Sir, with all possible respect, I don't believe you have the authority to relieve me of my CIA duties," Miller said.

"A message from Washington, from the CIA in Washington, has ordered your relief. The ambassador has ordered me to implement your relief."

"May I see the message, sir?"

"Don't make this any more difficult than it already is, Miller," Porter said. Sir:

Porter cut him off.

"I am also to take possession of any and all classified materials in your possession."

"Sir, I am not in possession of any classified material of any kind."

Porter looked at him closely, almost visibly deciding whether or not to believe him.

"You will remain under arrest to quarters until such time as transportation can be arranged for you to leave Angola. That will occur within the next few hours."

"Yes, sir. Sir, two questions?"

After a moment, Porter nodded his head.

"Sir, transportation to where?"

Porter started to reply but stopped and took a small notebook from his shirt pocket. He flipped through the pages, then said, "You will report to the Special Activities Section, J-5, U.S. Central Command, MacDill Air Force Base, Tampa, Florida."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. And with all respect, sir, I again ask the nature of the charges against me."

"You will be informed in due time."

"Yes, sir. With respect, sir, in that circumstance, I will not consider myself under arrest to quarters until such time as I am advised of any charges against me."

Porter lost his temper. "You're under arrest to quarters because I say you are! Is that clear enough for you, Major?"

"Sir, if the colonel will consult the Uniform Code of Military Justice, 1948-I have a copy, sir-I think you will find that prior to being placed in confinement, including arrest to quarters, the accused will be notified of the nature of charges being considered against him."

"You're a guardhouse lawyer, too, are you, Miller?"

"Sir, I am simply informing you of my position in this matter."

Porter inhaled and then exhaled slowly.

"Very well, Major Miller. I am informing you that in the very near future you will be advised of your travel plans. With that in mind, I am ordering you to remain in your quarters until that happens. Does that satisfy you?"

"Yes, sir. So long as we are agreed that I am not in arrest to quarters."

"I suggest that you start packing, Major Miller."

"Yes, sir."

"Sergeant Fortenaux, you will station yourself outside Major Miller's door and report to me immediately by telephone if the major leaves his apartment."

"Yes, sir."

"May I suggest, sir," Miller said, "that the sergeant could keep a closer eye on me if he was inside my apartment. I also suggest, sir, that if my neighbors see an armed Marine standing outside my door there would be talk."

Porter glowered at him.

"Very well," he said finally, then started for the door. He turned. "I'll be in touch shortly, Major Miller, just as soon as your transportation has been arranged."

Yes, sir.

Porter went down the corridor to the door. After a moment, they heard it close.

Miller went to the corridor to see if Porter was really gone, then turned to look at Gunnery Sergeant Fortenaux.

"Relax, Roscoe," Miller said. "I read the sign. I understand your problem."

"What sign is that, sir?"

"The one behind Station One at the embassy: A MARINE ON GUARD HAS