“What’s going on?” Ingersol repeated. “It seems to me that I’ve stuck my neck out with you. I deserve to know what I’ve gotten into, don’t you think?”

Friberg eyed the man. Ingersol was a wreck. If he didn’t pull him in, he would destroy them both.

“You and me, Mark. It goes no further than this room, you understand?”

Ingersol didn’t respond.

“All right. You want to know? Ten years ago Abdullah Amir approached us with a plan to infiltrate the Colombian cartels in exchange for his own piece of the operation. We agreed. He disappeared into their networks. Two years later he reappeared, this time with enough information to wipe out two drug cartels. In exchange, he wanted our cooperation, allowing him to establish and operate a small cocaine plant next-door in Venezuela. We agreed. We pointed him to a coffee plantation and gave him some assistance in taking it over. Nothing major—minor casualties. He’s been operating there ever since. Small stuff. We got the DEA to sign off on the deal, but I was the agent who put it together. It was highly successful, all told. We shut down nearly a hundred thousand acres of production in exchange for a hundred.”

Ingersol blinked. “That’s it?”

Friberg nodded.

“And what does that have to do with this bomb?”

“Nothing. Unless Casius was right and Jamal is connected with Abdullah Amir. Or unless Abdullah isn’t who we think he is. South America would make a good base for a strike against America.” The sense of it occurred to Friberg even as he spoke it.

“And none of Abdullah’s money has found its way into your retirement account, right?”

Friberg didn’t respond.

Ingersol shook his head and stared off to the window. He had no choice, Friberg realized. He had already committed himself in front of the president. The money was only dressing.

“I’ve been suckered into this,” Ingersol said and Friberg did not object. “I wasn’t looking for this. It’s not what I do.”

“Maybe, Mark. But we all face the choice at some time. You’ve already made yours.”

Ingersol’s eyes fell to the note and Friberg lifted it up. Yes, there was the matter of the bomb, wasn’t there? That could be a real spoiler. “So you think we’re dealing with a madman who actually has a bomb?” Friberg asked.

“I don’t know anymore,” Ingersol returned.

“I don’t either. But if we are, we now have twenty-four hours to deliver Casius and defuse the situation. Or find this bomb.” The idea of it sounded absurd. A suicide mission or even a biological attack was one thing—they had all seen it. But a nuclear bomb? In Hollywood movies, maybe.

“Who else knows about this?” Friberg asked, lifting the transcript.

“No one. It just came over the wire less than ten minutes ago.”