Ward didn’t seem to have an answer. And it clearly bothered him.

“Do you think it’s possible to find him, Mitch? No one else has been able to. But if we did, we could turn him over to the Ugandan government.”

“Anything’s possible, Nick. But I don’t think turning him over to the Ugandans would be in anybody’s best interest. As long as he’s alive, he’s going to have followers who want him back. What you don’t need is some suicide squad turning up in Kampala to try to break him out of prison.”

“Then what?”

“Put a bullet in the back of his head and feed him to some hyenas.”

Ward gazed thoughtfully at the bottle in his hand. “Having a lot of money doesn’t give me the right to sentence people to death.”

“You talk like governments have legitimacy. Most leaders aren’t elected—they cheat, inherit, or murder their way to the top. How does that give them any more right than you to preside over a legal system? You’re a hell of a lot smarter. And a hell of a lot less crazy.”

“That’s a very dangerous philosophy.”

“If you say so.”

Ward finished his beer and put the empty bottle on the coffee table between them. “You think I’m a do-gooder walking around with stars in his eyes.”

Rapp shook his head. “Do-gooders with stars in their eyes don’t make a trillion dollars. But now you want to change the world in fundamental ways. And that is going to take more than a little grit and a fat wallet.”

“What if I say yes?”

“To what?”

“To giving you what you need to…” His voice faded for a moment. “To resolve the Gideon Auma issue.”

“I think you might be getting a little ahead of yourself, Nick. I’m not looking for a job. Scott’s your man. He and his guys are the best shooters on the planet.”

“But I don’t just need a shooter, Mitch. Like you said, I want to change the world in fundamental ways. In the context of the pushback I’m going to get over the rest of my lifetime, I’m guessing that Gideon Auma’s just a bump in the road. As much as I’d like to avoid straying into your world, I’m not sure it’s going to be possible. I need a guide.”

“You might think you know what you’re asking, but I’m not sure you do.”

“Show me.”

A smile spread slowly across Rapp’s face. “That sounds like a recipe for the worst retirement in history.”

“I’m not so sure. You define the job and I pay you whatever you want. Offers like that don’t come along every day.”