"And what if -"

"Avi, you ask what if. If that what-if ever happens, General, I will fly here myself. I used to be a Marine. You know I've been shot at before. There will be no second Holocaust. Not while I live. My countrymen will not let it happen ever again. Not my government, Avi, my countrymen. We will not let that happen. If Americans have to die to help protect this country, then Americans will die to do so."

"You said that to Vietnam." Clark's eyes flared at that one, Ben Jakob noticed. "You have something to say?"

"General, I'm no high official, just a grunt with pretensions. But I got more combat time than anybody in this country of yours, and I'm telling you, sir, that what really scares me about this place is how you guys always fuck up the same way we did over there - we learned, you didn't. And what Dr Ryan says is right. He'll come over. So will I, if it comes to that. I've killed my share of enemies, too," Clark told him in a low, quiet voice.

"Another Marine?" Avi asked lightly, though he knew better.

"Close enough," Clark said. "And I've kept current, as they say," he added with a smile.

"What about your associate?" Avi motioned towards Chavez, who stood casually at the corner, eyeing the street.

"Good as I ever was. So're those kids in the Cav. But this war talk is all bullshit. You guys both know that. You want security, sir, you settle your domestic problems. Peace will follow that like a rainbow after a storm."

"Learn from your mistakes "

"We had a four-thousand-mile buffer to fall back through, General. It isn't that far from here to the Med. You'd better learn from our mistakes. Good news is, you are better able to make a real peace than we ever were."

"But to have it imposed -"

"Sir, if it works, you'll thank us. If it doesn't work, we have a lot of people to stand by you when the crap hits the fan." Clark noticed that Ding had moved casually from his post across the street, moving aimlessly, it seemed, like a tourist

"Including you?"

"Bet your ass, General." Clark replied, alert now, watching the people on the street. What had Chavez spotted? What had he missed?

Who are they? Ghosn wondered. It took a second. Brigadier General Abraham Ben Jakob, Deputy Director of the Mossad, his brain answered after sorting through all the recognition photographs he'd memorized. Talking to an American. I wonder who he is Ghosn's head turned slowly and casually. The American would have several bodyguards the one close by was obvious. A very serious fellow that one was, old late forties, perhaps. It was the hardness - no, not hardness, but alertness. One could control the face but not the eyes - ah, the man put sunglasses back on. More than one. Had to be more than one, plus Israeli security officers. Ghosn knew that he'd let his eyes linger a touch too long, but -'Oops." A man had bumped into him, a fraction smaller and slighter than Ghosn. Dark complexion, possibly even a brother Arab, but he'd spoken in English. Contact was broken before Ghosn had time to realize that he'd been quickly and expertly frisked. "Sorry." The man moved off. Ghosn didn't know, wasn't sure if it had been what it seemed to be or if he'd just been checked out by an Israeli, American, or other security officer. Well, he wasn't carrying a weapon, not even a pocket knife, just a shopping bag full of books.