“I want that checked out with the Marbella station of the national police,” Lance said to no one in particular.

Pablo, who was standing, put a hand on his abdomen. “Will you excuse me for a moment, please?” he asked.

“There’s a powder room off the kitchen, downstairs,” Stone said, and Pablo left the room.

Lance had a hand on one ear, apparently listening to someone through an earpiece. He sat down, looking a little dazed.

“Something wrong, Lance?” Holly asked.

“On the contrary,” Lance replied. “Our Afghan/Pakistan desk at Langley is saying that everything Pablo has told us is entirely feasible. The director has already ordered a satellite moved to the area.”

“If Pablo is right,” Holly said, “the satellite is not going to see very much. Apparently, they’ve been working on those caves for some time without being noticed.”

“We’ll see,” Lance replied. “Where is Pablo?” he asked. “I have some more questions for him.”

“I’ll see,” Stone said, then left the room. He went down to the kitchen and closed the door to the garden, then came back. “I’m afraid Pablo has left us,” he said to Lance.

“Left us? What do you mean?”

“I mean he’s no longer in the house. He has apparently decided to be somewhere else.”

Lance pointed a finger across the table. “You did this, Stone. You set this up.”

“I set up everything,” Stone said, “but Pablo, naturally, has a mind of his own and your actions during the past few days have hardly filled him with confidence in you.”

Lance turned to a technician. “Shut down video and audio,” he said, then waited while the man flipped switches and disconnected cables.

“What are you so upset about, Lance?” Stone asked. “Pablo has given you an extraordinary amount of information this week about underground arms sales, and if he’s right about Tora Bora, he’s given you the greatest intelligence coup since missiles were found in Cuba.”

“That remains to be seen,” Lance said, gathering papers and packing his briefcase. He turned to Holly. “I want a chopper at the East Side Heliport in fifteen minutes,” he said. “Full fuel. I’m not driving back to Langley, and I’m not taking the train, either. Holly, you come with me. Todd, you get yourself back to Newburgh and tend to your new charter business. I want a report soonest on the repairs to the C-17.”

“Oh, Lance,” Stone said, “I almost forgot. You asked about the jamming of your audio and video signals?”

“Yes?”

Stone held up the device. “This did the trick, and a patent application was filed this morning. The inventor tells me he is able to furnish preproduction models that will also block cell phones at a cost of twenty-five thousand each, minimum order of twelve. He expects to be in production in about a year.”