Bird hesitated only a second before spitting out his report in staccato fashion. “We’re sweeping every port south of the blast site in ten-man teams with Geiger counters. So far, nothing has turned up. We’re manually picking through every storage bin waiting for customs inspection, but like I said, without a specific description the process is slow. We’ve isolated every shipment received in the last three days and are currently searching their deliveries, but again, we’re shooting in the dark. If we at least had a size on this thing—”

“But we don’t have a size on this thing. What about the DEA leads? Have you traced the suspected trafficking routes?”

“Not yet, sir. We—”

“Not yet? I thought the DEA gave that top priority. These terrorists are operating out of drug country, Lieutenant. Don’t you think it would make sense for them to use trafficking routes?” The director’s face flushed red. “Bring me the DEA intelligence.”

“Yes, sir.” Bird eyed Friberg for a moment.

“Now, Lieutenant.”

Bird turned and strode for the door.

“Excuse me, sir,” David interjected. “But have we established contact with Casius?”

Friberg faced him. “What would Casius have to do with this, Lunow? If we’d made contact with him, he’d be dead, wouldn’t he?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Friberg’s nostrils flared.

“But I was referring to his knowledge of the situation, not his elimination. You put the word out to him?”

“He’s a rogue agent. Our intentions are to kill him, not court him. And we don’t exactly have a direct line to the man’s head.”

“He’s been in contact with these terrorists, for crying out loud! He may have information you need,” David said. “And if you wanted to get word to him, I would think a few well-placed helicopters with loudspeakers might be a start. But you’re not interested in bringing him in, are you?”

Friberg trembled when he spoke. “You are out of line, Lunow! But I don’t have the time to address your obvious lack of understanding right now. We’ve got a deadline here.”

The director turned his back on David and strode for the window.

“Ingersol!” he snapped.

Ingersol flashed David an angry stare and followed the director over to the window. Bird burst through the doors, gripping the DEA report. He joined the men at the window.

David swallowed. “We’re toast,” he mumbled. “We’re toast and they know it.”

SHANNON CRAWLED from the Orinoco River, feeling a deep desperation he’d rarely felt. It was the same vacuum that had sucked at his chest eight years earlier. The emptiness he thought might precede suicide.

His back stung badly and he wondered if the skin was drawing infection. He was a good ten miles from where he’d left Tanya on the banks of the Caura River.