He sat behind his desk, realizing immediately that he was on a secure digital line. And that the call was therefore anything but routine.

"Sir, there's been an incident," Cody said in a tone that made his back stiffen.

Gordian listened quietly as the violent events at the ISS compound were outlined for him in a rapid but collected manner, his hand tensing around the receiver at the news of injuries and fatalities.

"The wounded men," he said. "How are they doing?"

"They've all been medevaced from the scene," Cody said. "Most are in fair shape or better."

"What about Rollie Thibodeau? You said he'd been pretty badly hurt."

"He's still in surgery." A pause. "No word on his condition."

Gordian willed himself to be calm.

"Has Pete Nimec been told about this?" he asked.

"My feeling was that I should brief you first, Mr. Gordian. I plan to call him the moment we sign off."

Gordian rotated his chair toward the window, thinking about what he'd just been told. It was all so difficult to absorb.

"Is there anything else?" he said. "Any idea who was behind the raid?"

"I wish I could tell you we know, sir," Cody said. "Maybe we'll get something out of the prisoners, though right now I'm not even sure how long we can hold onto them."

Gordian inhaled, exhaled. Cody's meaning was clear. As members of a private security force that operated internationally, Sword personnel were obliged to abide by stringent rules of conduct, some of them preconditions set by host governments, some internal guidelines, occasionally complicated formulations premised on the simple reality that they were guests on foreign soil. While adjustments for different cultural and political circumstances were built into their procedural framework, it would be pushing beyond acceptable bounds to interrogate the captured attackers even if the on-site capabilities to detain them existed--which was doubtful. Moreover, an incident on the scale he'd been told about would have to be reported to the Brazilians, assuming they hadn't already learned of it through their own domestic intelligence apparatus. Once the prisoners were in their custody, it was impossible to guess whether Brazilian law enforcement would share any information obtained from them. The politics of the situation were going to be touchy, and the last thing Gordian wanted was to start stepping on toes.

"Have you been in contact with the local authorities?"

"Not yet," Cody said. "Thought I ought to hold off, see how you wanted that handled. Hope that was the right thing."

"It was exactly right," Gordian said. "I suspect they'll be showing up without word from us, but notify them as soon as possible anyway. Tell them that we mean to provide our absolute cooperation in terms of whatever questions they have. And that we're confident they'll reciprocate. It's in our common interest to get to the bottom of this." I assume, he thought, but did not add. "You have my home telephone number on file?"

Gordian heard the tapping of computer keys.