“Surmountable,” Rapp said. “We go in fast and low using night vision gear and then we spread a little money around to politicians on both sides of the border. No one’s going to get too twisted up about a few fireworks. Particularly if Auma’s cult is under them.”

“The second problem is one we’ve already talked about,” Ward said. “Auma keeps slaves. Mostly young girls he’s stolen from local villages. They’d be killed along with his people.”

“That’s sad,” Rapp admitted. “But collateral damage is a fact of life. How many of those girls could there be? Twenty? Thirty tops? And they’re not exactly living large. They’re going to die soon whether we go in or not. We can save the next round of girls that Auma’s people are going to go after, though. And the next. And the next.”

“No,” Ward said firmly. “I’m not some CIA assassin or African dictator. And I paid for the choppers. If that’s your plan, leave me out of it.”

Rapp examined the man silently. This wasn’t just about Gideon Auma or the CIA’s mole problem. Rapp was interested in figuring out what lines the richest man in the world would and would not cross.

“Okay,” he said finally. “What about a plan B?”

Virtually everyone at the table groaned before Coleman spoke up. “Your plan Bs always suck. Remember that time in Libya? The one where that whole building fell on us?”

“This one’s better than that,” Rapp said.

“Like the one where the train crashed?” Bruno McGraw said.

“When are you going to let that go?”

“I almost lost my arms, man.”

Rapp frowned. “Fine. This one involves no risk to anyone but me.”

“In that case, I’m in,” Coleman said.

“What’s that drug Auma’s men like so much?”

“Ajali,” Ward said.

“Ajali. Do we know anything about it?”

The man nodded. “David was interested and got a hold of a sample a while back. Basically, it’s the worst thing you could possibly imagine. An engineered narcotic that has effects similar to what most people would attribute to PCP, but much more powerful and much more destructive. Over time it causes significant damage to the lungs and cardiovascular system, leaving regular users slowly drowning in their own bodily fluids. And the psychotic state it creates seems to persist in a way that makes people increasingly violent and paranoid. We don’t—”

“Since you know what it is, could one of your pharmaceutical companies manufacture it?” Rapp said.

“Sure. Hypothetically.”

“Not hypothetically. In reality.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Okay. Yes. The manufacturing process isn’t that complicated.”

“Could they poison it?”

Ward stood. “Could I have a word with you outside, Mitch?”

Rapp shrugged. “Sure.”

They stepped out onto a broad deck and crossed to the far railing. Beyond, the mountains were a black outline against the stars.

“What are you doing?”