"I hope so," said Herbert.

"Yeah, I don't know what the hell got into the man. Well, that's not true. He lost his wife yesterday. Donald's a good man. He's just not thinking clearly."

"Clear enough to go over there with official instructions, I hope."

Schneider shot forward in the seat. "Hold on! You're telling me you're sanctioning this idiotic little conference of his?"

"Director Hood has asked him to relay a message. That we believe a team of South Koreans masquerading as North Koreans are behind the blast and that it may be the first of several terrorist acts designed to throw us into war."

"Our own side?" Schneider sat still as an oak. "Dammit, you're sure?"

"The pieces are coming together," Herbert said. "We think a Major Kim Lee is behind it."

"Lee? I've met him. Stony-faced bastard, superpatriot. I liked him."

"He seems to have put together a small team," Herbert said, "and he appears to be in your area now-- with four quarter-drums of poison gas."

"I'll contact General Norbom, send out a search and destroy squad to find him."

"That's not all. Some of his men may be trying to gain control of a mobile Nodong site in the east."

"Ambitious," said Schneider. "You sure you want Donald to tell Hong-koo all this? They'll have it on all the wire services before the last word's out of his mouth."

"We know."

"They'll also shoot Lee's people on sight," Schneider said. "Have you thought about what'll happen when word gets out that the U.S. was responsible for the death of South Koreans? Seoul will explode. It'll be like goddamn Saigon."

"Hood knows about that too," Herbert said. "He's preparing something with our Press Officer."

"A double funeral would be my recommendation. You guys may actually be creating some kind of constitutional crisis by effectively obstructing the powers of the Oval Office to make war."

"Like I said," Herbert replied, "the boss knows."

"Well, Bob, I'll relay the message. And here's one for Mr. Hood. His tank may not be full in the brains department, but I haven't seen stones like his since Ollie North."

"Thanks," Herbert said. "I'm sure he'll understand that was a compliment."

Gregory awoke from his short sleep feeling remarkably refreshed and clearheaded.

Sitting up on the scrubby flats, he looked over at the brightly lighted border. How fitting it was that hate and suspicion should cause both sides to burn their fires. Distrust always leaves people in the dark.

He took out his pipe and filled it with the last of his Balkan Sobranie tobacco. After lighting it, he held the match to look at his watch.

It was nearly time.

He puffed slowly and reflected about the smoke, about the Balkans and how a single incident there, the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand, triggered the First World War. Would a single event here trigger a Third World War? It was conceivable. There was more than tension in the air; there was rampant insanity. Preserving ego with lives, painting images in blood. What is wrong with us?