“Okay,” said Nick, “maybe you do. Off the record, this was always in the cards, we just didn’t see it. But upper floor reads the Juba operation as a win-win. You all know there’s a cloud over the Bureau, and maybe a big triumph helps it go away. That’s the first win, and you better believe the Director is hot for that one. Then there’s the White House. You all know that elections are coming up, and if Mogul can get a victory over Islamic fundamentalism, that’s another big win. If he looks like a hero, it’s big enough to get him that second term. So everybody’s salivating, and intelligence concerns, strategic implications, and plain old justice just go out the window. Too much to be gained, in that superficial Washington way, with no downside. The best I can offer is, you’ve really pissed off the CIA, and they want in. But since it’s our baby, Mogul won’t let them in. So in the eternal war in Heaven between the angels, our side has won a big one, and you are the angels that did it. Recompense will come in many forms—promotions, Glory Wall photos and letters, commendations, everything that should make good little boys and girls happy. Swagger gets a new BarcaLounger at Bureau expense. And when it’s all over, Mr. Gold, maybe there’ll be enough Juba pie left over to send to Israel. Wouldn’t that make you and the boys in the black cube happy?”

“Indeed,” said Mr. Gold.

“It should even make Mrs. McDowell happy,” said Nick.

“What have these geniuses come up with?” asked Swagger.

“It’ll be run out of the New York Field Office, with a lot of New York SWAT and aviation thrown in. Real big, but I think it’ll work out.”

“Are you afraid to tell us?” asked Neill. “Is that why you’re buttering it up?”

“Neill,” said Chandler, “show some respect. Nick has been with us and behind us every fucking step.”

“You’re right,” said Neill. “Sorry, Nick, I misspoke.”

“Emotions running high. Everybody, please drop down into second gear, okay?”

He waited a few seconds.

“Okay, there’s a countersniper technology that turns on luring the bad guy to shoot through a microphone pickup field. It’s called Boomerang II, much improved from Boomerang I, from the folks at Raytheon. Maybe Swagger can explain it better.”

“I can’t,” said Bob.

“Anyway, the microphones yield data that the program can solve, and, in one millisecond, get you velocity, caliber, weight. But, most important, it can source the bullet. I mean, fast. They’ve used it hooked to artillery in the sandbox, and they can send a flight of 105 howitzer shells to point of origin inside a second. Takes care of the sniper and the city block or village in which he was hiding.”