Prepared For Rage

She said now to Hugh, "You remember Hari Assoun?"

"The old Republican Guard guy, who split Iraq when Saddam invaded Kuwait? Sure. He ran a dead drop for al Qaeda in Istanbul, didn't he?"

"He was never a true believer, he just needed the cash. I offered him more and he came over."

"Okay. And?"

"He tells me that the al Qaeda organization is very quietly putting the word out for Isa to phone home."

The skin crawled on his scalp and Hugh could actually feel the hair on his head standing straight up. "Hari says that Isa is operating independently of al Qaeda?"

"It is certainly one possible inference," Arlene said very carefully indeed. "Before you ask, it's more than a rumor. I confirmed it with friends in Baghdad and in Peshawar. Isa's on his own."

"Son of a bitch," Hugh said.

"SON OF A BITCH," PATRICK CHISUM SAID WHEN HUGH CALLED HIM TO bring him up to date. "We got ourselves a rogue terrorist?"

"I've done some asking around of my own since I talked to Arlene. It's not common knowledge, not yet, but one of my own sources says that the al Qaeda network has put out what amounts to an APB on Isa. The word went out almost a year ago-" "A year ago! Jesus Christ!" "They're keeping it very quiet."

"They sure as hell are! Hugh, what the hell is going on?" "They don't trust him. Bin Laden hated Zarqawi, and Isa was Zarqawi's right-hand man. Bin Laden himself wants to see Isa, as in yesterday. At first it was very much within their own network, but when he didn't surface they started to panic and asked everyone, whether they were good at keeping their mouths shut or not. Finally the word trickled down to our source. It is becoming more generally known, though. If Arlene tracked it down, there are undoubtedly four or five reporters on the same story hot on her trail."

"Jesus Christ, Hugh," Patrick said again. "I can't even begin to imagine what this might mean. A rogue terrorist? What is that, isn't that like an oxymoron or something?"

"I think it's redundant," Hugh said.

Patrick didn't hear him. "What, al Qaeda isn't radical enough, isn't murderous enough for Isa, blowing up the towers, the Pentagon, and the Capitol with flying bombs wasn't enough? He has to form his own organization so he can think up something even better?"

"Or worse," Hugh said.

"Definitely worse," Patrick said. "All right, thanks for the heads-up. I'm going to talk to some of our people now. Let me know if you find anything in the suitcase, okay?"

"Okay. It doesn't look promising, though, I'm sorry to say."

"Jesus Christ, Hugh," Patrick said. "It's bad enough dealing with bin Laden's bunch, but at least we've got a dim idea of what to expect. This guy-"

He couldn't finish the sentence, and hung up.

PART II

Our cruel and unrelenting enemy leaves us

only the choice of brave resistance, or the

most abject submission. We have, therefore,

to resolve to conquer or die.

– GEORGE WASHINGTON, TO THE CONTINENTAL ARMY

ON AUGUST 27, 1776

14

HOUSTON, JUNE 2008

Lately, Kenai woke up, went straight to her computer, and logged on to the National Weather Service, set for local conditions at Cape Canaveral. It only forecast ten days out but she couldn't help obsessing. Weather delays were the bane of shuttle launches, and July was a month into hurricane season. There was nothing either she or Mission Control could do about the weather, of course, but checking the forecast gave her the illusion of control. Knowing is always better than not knowing.

She'd formed the habit of going in to work early, because the Arabian Knight (when the secretaries over at admin found out he was royalty he'd had a new nickname before lunch, although the astronauts had several, much less complimentary ones) had taken to appearing promptly at eight a.m. each morning, ready to tolerate, if not with good humor then at least with equanimity, whatever indignities his infidel babysitter would inflict on him that day. She had begun to feel a faint hope that he might not, after all, kill them all on orbit.

That morning he came to her with a request that, on the face of it, seemed i

the family network and appear on virtually every television screen in the Islamic world from Morocco to Indonesia.

She took this first to Rick and then to Joel. Neither had a problem with it. "Anything that keeps him out of our hair," Rick said. So the request had been approved, and no one thought much more about it until two days later when they were going over the on-orbit schedule, revised now to accommodate the Arabian Knight's broadcasts, and Laurel said, "Wait a minute, isn't the moon a big deal in the Islamic religion?"

No one on the Carnivore Crew knew. Joel was summoned, and he scurried away in search of the nearest imam, who when found allowed as how, yes, the moon was a big deal in the Islamic religion. Joel came scurrying back and Rick Robertson sat his royal pain in the ass down and went over the script for his lunar broadcasts word by word.

The Arabian Knight was upset. "It's not even Ramadan!"

"I don't care," Rick said later. "Nobody's issuing a call to prayer from one of my missions."

He glared at Kenai, who thought of protesting that it wasn't her fault, and settled instead for a wooden "Yes, sir."

The sooner they launched, the better.

Cal laughed when she told him. "Who knew dating an astronaut would be this entertaining?"

"Always glad to provide the light relief," Kenai said, yawning, and reached up to turn out the light. She tucked the receiver between her ear and the pillow and snuggled in.

"Am I going to see you again before you light the candle?"

She smiled to herself. Cal was coming along in astronautspeak. "I don't know. Probably not."

"We still on for going away when you get back?"

Her mind was filled with nothing but the mission, but she was willing to play along with the notion of a future after orbit. "How's your schedule looking?"

"We'll be headed to dry dock in Alameda by the time you get back. Refit and repairs and then back to Kodiak."

"Are you going north with her?"

"Yeah, for another year."

"And then where?"

"Don't know yet."

"What's on your dream sheet?"

He smiled to himself. Kenai was coming along in Coastiespeak. "Not much, yet. I can't decide if I want another boat."

"You went to the Academy, right? So you've got your twenty in?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want a shore job?" She couldn't decide if she liked the idea of him more available to her or not. Assigned to a ship, he would be gone on patrol half the time. It seemed to be working well for them so far. If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

"I don't know. I don't like doing the same thing over and over again, I know that much."

"So, not another 378."

"I don't think so. And no guarantee I'd get one anyway, in fact probably exactly the opposite. There are more people waiting for the captain's chair on a cutter than there are waiting for a seat on a shuttle."

"Mmm. Where are you that you could call me, anyway?"

"Can't say. BSE Brief stop for fuel."

"And you're low on fuel why?"

"Chasing go fasts."

"Catch any?"

"Not yet," he said grimly. "At this point we're all looking forward to the shuttle launch as the highlight of the patrol."