“I’ve had my men working on the UN for weeks. So far we haven’t been able to get anything.”

“You’re suffering the negative fallout of previous U.S. actions in the Middle East. Just when it looked as if we might finally be getting out of the Middle East, here we come again, wanting to invade someone else.”

“I know, I know.” The president’s fingers began to bounce on the tabletop. Maybe it was just Ben, but the pattern looked all too much like the same little dance he had seen the man’s feet performing under the table. “But we can’t stand by and watch this barbarian slaughter an entire region!”

“But we do not have authority to invade.”

“ Clinton sent our troops into Bosnia.”

“Yes, but Clinton was acting under the direct authority of NATO, and there was clear evidence of the planned genocide against Bosnian Muslims and had been for years. After those broken and emaciated faces played on television, he had the support he needed-at least for a while. Our evidence about what’s going on in Benzai is-forgive me, Mr. President-considerably more sketchy. And we don’t have the authority of NATO or the UN or anyone else.”

“At this rate, Ben, if I wait for that, those people will be dead. Tens of thousands of them.”

“I understand your position, Mr. President. But my job is to advise you on the law. And that’s what it is.”

“Pardon me for butting in,” Cartwright said.

Ben’s eyebrows knitted together. Had Cartwright ever shown the remotest reluctance to butt in before?

“I thought you were working on some energy lawsuit, Mr. Kincaid. Since when did you become an expert on international law?”

“I’m like a well-tuned PC,” Ben replied. “I can multitask. I’ve been around awhile, and I’ve held many different positions. And with respect, Admiral, all I did was answer the president’s questions. I never suggested I was any kind of expert.”

The president waved the strife away. “I know this much, Admiral. He’s the leading expert on international law currently in this bunker.”

Cartwright grudgingly acknowledged the point.

Kyler turned back to Ben. “What about his claim that he has the right to fire our missiles?”

“I can’t imagine that there’s anything anywhere in international law that would support that claim, regardless of what we’ve got next door to him in Saudi Arabia. So long as we remain in international waters-”

“But that’s the problem.”

The president’s interruption caught Ben-and everyone else in the bunker-by surprise. The short hairs on the back of Ben’s neck stood on end. He had the distinct feeling this case was about to get a good deal more complicated.

“I gave the commanders the order to start moving in this morning. Slowly! But still, they’ve crossed into Kuraqi waters.”

Secretary Ruiz leaned forward. “Why wasn’t I told about this?”

“You would’ve been told in due time.”

“In due time? I’m the secretary of state!”

“I think we all know that, Mike.”

“You have an obligation to consult with me on major foreign policy matters.”

“I did consult with you, Mike,” the president said wearily. “I just didn’t do what you wanted. I’m pretty sure I have that power. I think it comes with the presidential seal.”

Ruiz folded his arms across his chest and glared.

“I’m afraid this does change everything,” Ben said, filling in the dead air.

The president did not respond immediately. Ben assumed that was because he already knew what the answer would be.

“How do you mean, Ben?” Sarie asked.

He decided to answer, if not for the president, for the sake of everyone else in the room. “If we have crossed Kuraq’s borders, the colonel could easily call that an act of war. Come to think of it, he was talking about war during that phone conversation, wasn’t he?”

“I can’t stand by and let him butcher those people!” the president said. His lips trembled as he spoke. His eyes watered. Ben hoped to God he didn’t cry.

“I understand the consequences. But we have invaded his territory.”

“And his claim to the Benzai Strip is feeble at best.”

“But we haven’t invaded Benzai, right? We’ve invaded Kuraq. And if Colonel Zuko deems that an invasion, he can make a retaliatory declaration of war. And at that point-well, let’s face it. He can do anything he wants. Anything he can get away with.”

“Even explode bombs on our land?”

“Is there some rule that wars must always be fought on other people’s soil? I don’t think so. In World War II, we firebombed Dresden. We nuked Japan. I think in Colonel Zuko’s mind, he’s in exactly the same position we were then, and has the same right to take action. To destroy his enemy. To win the war.”

President Kyler brushed his eyes clear, then rose. “Agent Zimmer, have you done as I asked?”

“Yes, sir. All federal institutions in D.C. are closed or closing.”

“Good.”

“Haven’t gotten an update on the men who went down in the helicopter. But we’re working on it.”

“Please do. I’d feel better about this if I knew that those people were safe.”

Ruiz made a harrumphing sound. “How can anyone be safe while that madman is controlling our missiles?”

“Zimmer,” the president continued, “I want you to find the vice president and patch him into this conversation. He needs to know what’s going on. Just in case… you know.”

Zimmer cleared his throat. “That’s going to be a lot easier than you might imagine, sir.”

The president tilted his head, obviously puzzled. “And why?”

At that moment the main doors opened and the question was answered without a word.

The new addition to the ranks of those locked down in the bunker, flanked by four Secret Service agents, was Vice President Conrad Swinburne.

Seamus pulled his Dodge up the driveway beside an apartment at the south end of the Georgetown Flats, residential housing for graduate students at Georgetown University. He wondered if he should have called ahead. On one hand, there was always value in surprise, particularly if you were planning to ask for a big favor and didn’t want the target to have much time to consider all the sound reasons to say no. On the other hand, a little warning might give his informant time to conduct research or, at the very least, be home when Seamus arrived.

It was a difficult decision, but as usual, Seamus came down on the side of surprise. Perhaps it was the result of too much time in the Middle East, where his targets had a tendency not only to not be at home but to be in another country if they knew he was dropping by. Maybe it just better suited his personal style.

He got out of the car and glanced up at the second-story apartment. No lights visible in the window, but that didn’t mean much. It was morning, and besides people like this target didn’t have much need for overhead lighting. They could survive by the dim blue glow of the computer screen.

Seamus had first encountered RossumRulz not quite a year earlier, while doing research on a new algorithm that was being used to break into scientific facilities, including some covertly operated by the U.S. government. They had suspected terrorists at first-that was everyone’s first-blush instinct in the post-9/11 world. Turned out to be industrial espionage, corporate spooks hoping to discover the next big thing before their competitors did. But in the course of doing research on the Internet-where else?-he came across someone who worked under the name of RossumRulz, a tribute presumably to the inventor of the Python operating language. Not only was he more knowledgeable about these decryption algorithms than anyone else Seamus had encountered, he was able to deduce that there were only three people capable of devising such a program.

Turned out he was right. Seamus nabbed the culprit on his second try and brought the whole security breach to a satisfying conclusion. He had offered to treat RossumRulz to a steak dinner at the Four Seasons, but the informant had declined. Apparently he wanted to maintain his anonymity. Which made Seamus all the more determined to know who and where he was. Just in case.