“He’s thought of that and has taken precautions. He knows the forces against him are ultra-compartmentalized. There’s no way the Secret Service could ever be let in on the truth. He’s using our own people as a shield. That’s not all. He’ll be walking up the ramp to the General Assembly Building with the mayor of New York by his side. Any attempt on his life would endanger a well-known politician. He’s entering into an arena of incredibly tight security, with eagle-eyed security details attached to national leaders from around the world. There’ll be the equivalent of a force field around him at all times. If an American operative tried to take a shot, the resulting inquiry would probably blow everything sky-high. As long as he’s in the General Assembly, we can’t touch him. Can’t. Imagine it—he’ll be thronged. Given all his generosity around the world, it’ll be considered an honor for the international community—”

“To welcome a man who seems to be a light unto the nations,” Zinsou said, grimacing.

“It’s very Demarest. ‘Hidden in plain view’ was one of his favorite descriptions. He used to say that sometimes the best hiding place was in the public eye.”

“Essentially what he told me,” Zinsou mused. He looked at the pen in his hand, trying to transform it into a cigarette by the power of thought. “Now what?”

Janson took a swallow of lukewarm coffee. “Either I’ll figure something out …”

“Or?”

His eyes were hard. “Or I won’t.” He walked out of the secretary-general’s office without another word, leaving the diplomat alone with his thoughts.

Zinsou felt a tightness in his chest. In truth, he had slept poorly since he had first been briefed on the crisis by the president of the United States, who had only reluctantly acceded to Janson’s insistence that he do so. Zinsou was and continued to be utterly aghast. How could the United States of America have been so reckless? Except it wasn’t the United States, exactly; it was a small cabal of programmers. Planners, as Janson would say. The secret had been passed down from one presidential administration to another, like the codes to the country’s nuclear arsenal—and scarcely less dangerous.