America

'But it is a theory.'

'It is that.'

Without electrical power, Washington reminded Jake Grafton of a dark, silent graveyard filled with monuments to fallen heroes. It was nearly midnight when he rolled to a stop near the Russian embassy. The lights there were on, of course, powered by generators hardened against nuclear blasts. A legacy of the bureaucracy, according to Ilin.

The two men looked up and down the street and saw no one. The FBI was hidden somewhere nearby, watching of course, filming everything that happened on that street. Ilin knew it and Grafton knew it so they both knew they were home free.

'I'll leave you with the shotgun,' Ilin said. It lay on the floor out of sight. The Russian held out his hand and Jake shook it.

'See you at the office,' Jake said as Ilin opened the passenger door and got out. He glanced around, ensuring they were alone, then leaned in, holding the door open.

'Thanks for an entertaining day,' he said, then closed the door.

Jake Grafton sat behind the wheel watching as Ilin walked across the street and flashed his credentials at the guard.

When the Russian had disappeared into the embassy, Jake pursed his lips, whistled silently, then took his foot off the brake and drove away.

He found a parking place on the street near his apartment building in Rosslyn — despite the lateness of the hour, a tow truck was loading dead cars and hauling them away for repair. The empty parking places were a welcome sight. There were no people about, no one waiting in nearby doorways, no one sitting in a parked car.

He saw light in the window of his flat. Apparently Callie had found a lantern someplace, or three dozen candles.

Two lanterns. They lit the room well as Jake opened the door. Callie rushed him. As she hugged him he saw that Toad Tarkington was sitting on the couch. And someone…

'You remember Tommy Carmellini?' she said softly. 'Toad brought him here to wait for you.'

'Are you hungry?' she asked after the men shook hands.

'Starved. And thirsty. I'd love a warm beer.'

Callie headed for the kitchen.

'Well?' Toad said. 'How'd it go?'

Jake glanced at Carmellini.

'I told him all about it. I'll explain in a little bit.'

'Okay,' Jake said, accepting Toad's assessment of the situation without further question. 'I think it went pretty good for something arranged on such short notice. The guys flying the Cessna were maniacs and scared the hell out of me with those submachine guns. Then later, up at the house, I got off a couple of shotgun blasts through a window at one guy when he was sneaking around the house, blew the whole window out. Hope to hell I didn't hurt him.'

'A couple of minor cuts,' Toad said. 'Band-Aid stuff. He said it was nothing.'

'I worried about that all day.'

'Did Ilin buy it?'

Jake grinned ruefully. 'I doubt it. He's a sharp cookie, and I did my best to be scared as hell. But I'm no actor. When he got out of the truck a half hour ago at the Russian embassy he thanked me for providing an entertaining day.'

'Maybe he just got wise at the end. Did he say anything?'

'He didn't give me what I thought he might, but he said some things I thought interesting. I'll have to digest it. What did your uncle say when you got hold of him, told him we wanted to use his house?'

'Uh, I couldn't reach him, boss. He's in Arizona playing golf, I think.'

'I had a few bad moments looking at photos on the wall. You weren't in any of them, thank God, then later Ilin went through the family photo album. If he saw you in any of the pictures he didn't mention it.'

'Just for the heck of it,' Toad said, 'I'll go through that album the next time I'm there, just to see.'

'I locked the truck, put the shotguns behind the seat. You'd better get it back there in the morning. Get that window fixed in case it rains.'

'Yes, sir.'

Callie brought in beer and a sandwich for her husband. She also brought beer for Toad and Carmellini, who gratefully accepted. Then she sat down at the table across from Jake.

'So, Carmellini, what brings you by for warm beer?'

'It's a long story,' Tommy Carmellini said. 'I got into town this morning and went straight to your office. The CIA doesn't know I'm around, but the immigration guy swiped my passport through the machine at the Canadian border, so they'll get the word pretty soon.'

'Tell me about it,' Jake said, and took a big bite of his sandwich.

Carmellini went through it all, from the assignment to raid the computer in Antoine Jouany's London office, getting Sarah Houston's eyeprint, the CIA's man in London, finding Houston wasn't in the employee file… then he dropped the bomb. 'You were on one of Jouany's lists, Admiral, as a guy betting big money with him in the currency markets.'

Jake Grafton was stunned. 'Are you kidding me?'

'No. I'm not. You, the members of the Joint Chiefs, at least a dozen other high naval officers. Sitting there reading those names, the thought popped into my empty head that I'd been set up. That the people on that list were being set up. I was supposed to return triumphantly to Langley bearing the trophy list, and the smelly stuff would immediately hit the fan big time.'

Callie couldn't resist. 'But those people are military officers. The only wealthy flag officer I know about is General Alt, the chairman. And he inherited it. He certainly didn't pile it up saving dimes from his green checks twice a month. God knows we didn't.'

Tommy Carmellini turned to face her. 'No one is going to think your husband invested money, Mrs. Grafton. That looks like a payoff list. Everyone on Capitol Hill will see that in a heartbeat. They know all about that kinda stuff over there.'

'When did you start trying to get to know Sarah Houston?' Jake asked.

'A couple months ago. No, make it about three months, since early June. But looking back, man, I gotta wonder, who's zooming who? As Aretha used to ask. Houston was smooth. I never once suspected.'

'Then a month ago, around the first of August, Ilin told De-Garmo that the Russians knew of the Blackbeard team,' Toad mused aloud, eyeing his boss.

'These events go together, but I don't know how,' Jake muttered.

'America smacked New York today, Admiral,' Toad continued. 'Three Flashlight Tomahawks. Two of our attack boats went after her. She sank one, La Jolla, lost with all hands. She blew a tail fin off the other, Colorado Springs, which managed to do an emergency blow and get to the surface. Then America slipped away. Half a squadron of P-3s hunted the rest of the day and never found her, even with echo ranging.'

Jake Grafton rubbed his forehead. Half the sandwich remained, but suddenly he had no taste for it. A hundred — plus American sailors dead. 'We watched some of the New York news on television,' he said. 'Were a couple of planes lost?'

'F-16s, I heard,' said the Toadman. 'The Pentagon was a madhouse today. Philadelphia, Boston, Atlanta, or Miami. Serious money can be made if you can guess America's next target.'

A half hour later, when the two men left, Jake and Callie got a few minutes alone.

'This whole mess is a monstrous tragedy,' she told him.

He nodded.

'Do you want to listen to the news? Toad left us a battery-operated radio that he got somewhere.'

'Nope. The news is all bad. After a while I just can't listen anymore.'

'Did Ilin tell you anything useful?'

'Nothing specific. You gotta read between the lines, and it's tough. He talks and talks, sort of like Greenspan;