August finished his lo mein, drained his cup, and poured more tea. He drank it slowly as he looked around the dark restaurant. This state of mind Rodgers was in would not be easy to dispel. August had always been the more optimistic of the two. It was true, he couldn't glance at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial or flip past a cable documentary about the war or even pass a Vietnamese restaurant. Not without his eyes tearing or his belly burning or his fists tensing with the desire to hit something. August was usually upbeat and hopeful but he was not entirely forgiving. Still, he didn't hold on to bitterness and disappointment the way Mike did. And the problem here was not so much that society had let Mike down but that Mike had let himself down. He wasn't about to let that go without a serious struggle.

When Rodgers returned, August knew at once that something was wrong. The bandages and pain notwithstanding, the general moved assertively through the crowded restaurant, weaving around waiters and customers instead of waiting for them to move. He did not rush, however. The men were in uniform and both foreign agents and journalists paid close attention to military personnel. If they were called away in a hurry, that told observers which branch and usually which group within that branch was involved in a breaking event.

August rose calmly before Rodgers arrived. He stretched for show and took a last swallow of tea. He dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the table and moved out to greet Rodgers. The men didn't speak until they were outside. The mid-fall air was biting as they walked slowly down the street to the car.

"Tell me more about the good things in life," Rodgers said bitterly. "Martha Mackall was assassinated about a half hour ago."

August felt the tea come back into his throat.

"It happened outside the Palacio de las Cortes in Madrid," Rodgers went on. His voice was clipped and low, his eyes fixed on something in the distance. Even though the enemy was still faceless, Rodgers had found a place to put his anger. "The status of your team is unchanged until we know more," Rodgers went on. "Martha's assistant Aideen Marley is talking to the police. Darrell was in Madrid with her and is heading over to the palace now. He's going to call Paul at fourteen hundred hours with an update."

August's expression hadn't changed, though he felt tea and bile fill his throat. "Any idea who's responsible?"

"None," Rodgers said. "She was traveling incognito. Only a few people even knew she was there."