I shrugged. I'd been told not to reveal who I was to the prisoner. "You have everything to gain, nothing to lose. You want to get out of here, and I can help you achieve your goal."

"But will you, sir?"

"I will help you if I can."

So the man talked to me. In fact, he went on for over an hour and a half. His life had been interesting. He had worked in security for the royal family in Saudi Arabia, sometimes traveling with them in the United States. He liked what he saw here and decided to stay, but he still had friends back home who worked in security.

"They spoke to me about a Russian who had talks with dissident royal family members, of whom there are many. This Russian was looking for capital to finance a big operation that would seriously hurt the United States as well as certain countries in Western Europe. A doomsday scenario was discussed, though I don't have specifics."

"Do you have a name for the Russian? Where was the man from? What country, what city?"

"This is the most interesting thing," said the prisoner. "The Russian-it is my impression it was a woman, not a man. I am confident about my information. The code name or whatever was definitely Wolf.

"Now what?" the prisoner asked when he was finished talking. "Will you help me?"

"No, now you repeat your story," I said. "From the top."

"It will be the same," he said. "Because it is the truth."

Late that night I left Gitmo for Washington. Although it was very late, I had to report on my interview with the prisoner. I met with Director Burns and Tony Woods in the director's small conference room. Burns wanted to know my bottom line on the Saudi's credibility. Had we learned something useful about the Wolf? Was he negotiating in the Middle East?

"I think we should let the prisoner go," I told Burns.

"So you believe him?"

I shook my head. "I think he was given information, for whatever reason. I don't know if the information is accurate. Neither does he. I think that either we charge him or we set him free."

"Alex, was the Wolf in Saudi Arabia? Is it possible the Wolf is a woman?"

I repeated myself. "I think he told us what he was told. Let the schoolteacher go home to Newark."

And Burns snapped at me, "I heard you the first time."

He let out a long sigh. "I was with the president today, his advisers. They don't see how we can make a deal with these bastards. It's their position that we won't." Burns stared at me. "Somehow, we have to find the Wolf. In the next two days."

It's extraordinarily bad to be waiting for something devastating to happen and not be able to do a damn thing to prevent it. I was up at five the next morning and I had breakfast with Nana. "We have to talk about you and the kids," I said as I sat at the kitchen table with coffee and a slice of unbuttered cinnamon toast. "You awake for this?"

"I'm fully awake, Alex. How about you?" she said. "You ready to match wits with me?"

I nodded, and bit my tongue. Nana had something to say to me, and I was supposed to listen. I've learned that no matter how old you get, to some extent you always remain a child in the eyes of your parents and grandparents. That was certainly true with Nana Mama.

"Go ahead, I'm listening," I said.

"You better be. The reason that I'm not going to move out of Washington," Nana began, "is twofold. Are you with me so far? Good.

"First of all, this has been my home for eighty-three years. This is where Regina Hope was born, and where I plan to die. That may be a little foolish, I know, but it is what it is. I love the city of Washington, love our neighborhood, and I especially love this old house where so much has happened to me. It goes, I go with it. It's sad, really sad, but the situation here in Washington is a part of life now. This is the way of the world now, Alex."

I had to smile a little at my grandmother. "You know, you just jumped right back into your old schoolteacher tone of voice. You realize that?"

"Maybe I did, and if so, then so what? It's a serious subject," Nana said. "I didn't sleep most of the night. I was lying there in the dark, thinking about what I wanted to say to you. Now, what do you have to say on the subject? You want us to move, don't you?"

"Nana, if the kids got hurt, I'd never be able to forgive myself."

"Neither would I," she said. "Goes without saying." Her eyes remained steely. God, she is tough.

Nana stared deeply into my eyes, but she was thinking, reconsidering, I hoped. "This is where I live, Alex. I have to stay. If you think it's the right thing to do, the kids should go with Aunt Tia for a while. Now… is that all you're going to eat? A measly slice of toast? Let me make you a decent breakfast. I'm sure you have a long day in front of you, a terrible day."

The Wolf was in the Middle East, so at least some of the rumors about him appeared to be true.

The meeting, which the Wolf called "a little fund-raiser," took place in a city of tents in the desert about seventy miles southwest of Riyadh in Saudi Arabia. Those present were split between the Arab world and Asia. And then there was the Wolf, who called himself "a world traveler, a citizen of no particular country."

But was this person really the Wolf? Or merely a representative? A stand-in? No one knew for certain. Wasn't the Wolf supposed to be female? That was one of the current rumors.

But this man was tall, with long dark brown hair and a full beard, and the other participants couldn't help thinking he would be hard to disguise, and presumably easy to find, but that didn't seem to be the case; it only enhanced his reputation as a person of mystery, and possibly a true mastermind.

So did his behavior during the half hour or so before the meeting began. While some sipped whiskey and others mint tea and chatted amicably, the Wolf stood off to the side, talking to no one and impatiently waving off the few who approached him. He seemed so above it all.

The weather was balmy, so it was decided to hold the meeting outside in the open air. The participants left the tent and were seated according to country of origin.

The business meeting was then called to order and the Wolf took center stage. He addressed the gathering in English. He knew all of them spoke the language, or at least understood it well enough.

"I am here to report that everything is going very well so far, very much according to plan. We should all rejoice, give thanks."

"How do we know this other than your word?" asked one of the principals at the meeting. The Wolf knew the man was a mujahid, a fighter, a warrior for Islam.

The Wolf smiled genially. "As you said, you have my word. And perhaps not in this country, but most of the world has televisions, newspapers, and radios to verify that we've created problems for the Americans, the English, the Germans. Actually, CNN is available here-inside the tent-if you'd like some validation other than my word."

The Wolf's dark eyes shifted away from the mujahid, who was now red-faced, embarrassed, but also clearly angry.

"The plan is working, but now it's time for another donation to keep all our important pieces in motion. I'll go around the table and you can signal if you are in agreement with me. You have to spend money to make money. A Western idea, perhaps, but a true one."

The Wolf went from face to face, receiving nods or raised hands as he proceeded-except from the one Arab troublemaker, who sat with his arms folded defiantly and said, "I need to hear more. Your word is not enough."

"Understood," said the Wolf. "I have gotten your message, and now I have one for you, warrior."

In a split second the Wolf raised his hand-and a pistol shot rang out. The bearded Saudi fell from his chair, dead on the spot, lifeless eyes staring up at the heavens.