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Chapters (79)
  1. Games of State
  2. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  3. CHAPTER ONE
  4. CHAPTER TWO
  5. CHAPTER THREE
  6. CHAPTER FOUR
  7. CHAPTER FIVE
  8. CHAPTER SIX
  9. CHAPTER SEVEN
  10. CHAPTER EIGHT
  11. CHAPTER NINE
  12. CHAPTER TEN
  13. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  14. CHAPTER TWELVE
  15. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  16. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  17. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  18. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  19. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  20. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  21. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  22. CHAPTER TWENTY
  23. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  32. CHAPTER THIRTY
  33. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  37. GAMES OF TOMORROW
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  43. CHAPTER FORTY
  44. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  45. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  46. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  48. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
  53. CHAPTER FIFTY
  54. CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
  55. CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
  56. CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
  57. CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
  58. CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
  59. CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
  60. CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
  61. CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
  62. CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
  63. CHAPTER SIXTY
  64. CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
  65. CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
  66. CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
  67. CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
  68. CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
  69. CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
  70. CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
  71. CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
  72. CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
  73. CHAPTER SEVENTY
  74. CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
  75. CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
  76. CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
  77. CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
  78. THE END
  79. ABOUT THE CREATORS

"Try no press," said McCaskey. "The French don't give a shit. So with everything else going on, France seems relatively stable. And with Dominique wooing banks and industry and investors, he becomes a serious world player. Maybe the most serious player."

"While anyone who tries to tie him to terrorism can't," said Rodgers.

"Or they get a nighttime visit from the New Jacobins for even trying," said McCaskey, reviewing the file. "These guys have all the earmarks of the old Mafia. Strongarm tactics, hits, executions, the works."

Rodgers sat back. "Paul should be back at Richard Hausen's office in Hamburg by now." He looked at a notepad on his desk. "It's RH3-star on the autodial. Bring him up to date and tell him I'm going to try and get through to Colonel Ballon. Unless we've taken a few too many leaps of faith, Dominique is someone we need to get to. And Ballon sounds like the only man who can do that."

"Good luck," said McCaskey. "He's pretty thorny."

"I'll wear gloves," said Rodgers. "If I can swing it, and I think I can, I intend to offer him something he won't be able to find in France."

McCaskey stood. "What's that?" he asked as he straightened a bad back slowly.

Rodgers replied, "Help."

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Thursday, 6:25 P.M.,

Wunstorf, Germany

Physically, this had been the most demanding, frustrating, and rewarding hour of Bob Herbert's life.

The terrain he'd had to cross was covered with sticks, rotting leaves and tree trunks, rocks, and thick patches of mud. There was one small stream, less than a foot deep, which slowed him further, and at times the ground sloped upward so steeply that Herbert had to get out of his wheelchair and drag it behind him as he worked his way up the incline. At several minutes past six it had begun to get dark in the heavy, unshadowed way that thick woods do. Though his chair was equipped with a powerful flashlight beside each footrest, Herbert was unable to see farther ahead than the diameter of each wheel. That slowed him as well, since he didn't want to go rolling into a gorge and end up like that five-thousand year-old hunter who was found frozen face-down on a mountaintop somewhere.

God only knows what they'd make of me in five thousand years, Herbert thought. Though now that he considered it, he had to admit he relished the idea of a cadre of stuffy academics puzzling over his remains in A. D. 7000. He tried to imagine how they'd interpret the Mighty Mouse tattoo on his left bicep.

And he hurt. From the twigs that stuck him and the muscles that pained him and the chest that still hurt from where the seatbelt had pulled during the chase through Hanover.