“We’re aiming at thirty-five hundred bucks and going after the professional market first. Later, we’ll market a consumer version for fifteen hundred. Tell the Agency people that the preproduction units I’m offering will allow them to adjust the frequency range on the bug scrambler. You can keep your copy, but don’t give it to them; they’ll just cannibalize it and clone it.”

“Right,” Stone said.

“How much longer are you meeting with these folks?”

“Today’s the last day.”

“Okay, I’ll put everything on DVDs and have two copies for you ready tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Bob.”

Pablo was late arriving, only a couple of minutes ahead of Lance and his group. He was carrying a cardboard mailing tube under his arm.

“Here’s how I want to work this,” Stone said. “We’ll give them the morning to continue grilling you, then immediately after lunch, we’ll hand them their bonus. Once you’ve answered all their questions, excuse yourself to go to the john and get out the back way.”

“Sounds good,” Pablo said. “I’m going—”

Stone interrupted him. “I don’t want to know where you’re going or how,” he said. “Wait a day or two, or when it’s convenient, and give me a call. I’ll bring you up to date on anything that’s happened.”

“There’s something I should tell you,” Pablo said. “The name they called me on—Mohammed X—the one they couldn’t find in their files?”

“Yes?”

“He’s the one who gave me this map.” He held up the tube.

“Then please tell them that,” Stone said. Joan buzzed him and said that everybody was waiting for them in the dining room.

Stone and Pablo went in and sat down at the table.

Lance began. “Pablo, let’s revisit your mention of the nom de guerre Mohammed X.”

“I’ll tell you more about him after lunch,” Pablo said, “but not until then.”

“Why not until then?”

“You’ll understand after lunch.”

Lance sighed. “All right, but you’re not getting out of here until I know everything you know about him.”

“You will,” Pablo said.

Pablo was now up to date on his recitation of events, so the questions fired at him before lunch were all about his previous statement, mostly clarifications.

Lunch was served where they sat, sandwiches and soup, then, when the dishes had been taken away, Lance called the group to order again. “Now tell me about Mohammed X,” he said to Pablo.

“Mohammed X is an underground arms dealer who claims to have excellent contacts inside the upper ranks of Al Qaeda and the Taliban, among other groups,” Pablo replied.

“Have you sold him arms in the past?”

“No, I had met him on two occasions before . . . ah, accepting your invitation to come to the United States.”

“When was the first time?”