“You don’t understand,” said Rasouli in an urgent whisper, “this is not ours.”

I stared at him. “Then whose is it?”

“I … do not know,” he said. “That is one of the reasons I wanted your help. It’s likely the device is one of many that have gone ‘missing’ since the end of the Cold War and the collapse of the Russian economy.”

“Just so we’re clear,” I said, “you—Iran—you’re afraid of terrorists with a bomb?”

“Yes.” His mouth was a tight line, “and I’ll thank you not to smirk. This is a very real threat that could cause untold damage.”

“You have any suspects?”

Rasouli shrugged. “We are not a popular country, Captain Ledger. It is the price of being powerful, as you Americans well know,”

“Yeah. Seems like every five minutes there’s a fundamentalist nut job coming at us with a vest of C-4 and the name of God on his lips. Ain’t that a bitch?”

All that earned me was a contemptuous sneer. “This is hardly on the level of car bombings, Captain. Whoever is behind this is organized, extraordinarily well-financed, and subtle. I have reliable sources within Hezbollah, al Qaeda, and the Taliban and I am convinced they are not involved.”

“They aren’t the only players.”

“No, but they are the ones most likely to consider such a radical plan; and the smaller cells and splinter groups could never make one of these.”

“They could buy one,” I said.

“Of course, but it would be very expensive. Prohibitively so. Most organizations do not have that much money.”

“Hugo Vox could buy one of those with his beer money.”

“Why would he? His day is over.”

“Why? Because the Seven Kings are off the board?”

“No,” said Rasouli. “My sources tell me that Vox is ill.”

“What do you mean?”

Rasouli’s green eyes glittered. “He has cancer, didn’t you know?”

“Shit.”

It was good and bad news at the same time. Good news because it was nice to think about Vox rotting away. Bad because that was a much easier exit strategy than he deserved.

“Could be his last blast,” I said, meaning it the way it sounded.

I thought about what I said but then dismissed it. Vox is many things, but he has never struck me as vindictive. Murderous, to be sure, and merciless, but not petty. To detonate a bomb in frustration for dying of cancer…? No, that would be cheap, no matter what the death toll.

I tried to build a case for it in my mind, but gave it up. It didn’t fit Vox’s pattern at all. For him, killing was only ever a pathway to profit. Even so, I’d want to run this past Mr. Church, Rudy Sanchez, and Circe O’Tree. They built the profile on him that was being used by every law enforcement agency in the world.