“It can not be just anyone. It would have to be someone we trust will not back out. We don’t have anyone I trust that much.”

“We have one.”

“Me.”

Standing within view of the now-completed dam, Archer replayed the conversation between Umer and Sanam in his mind. Both were fools, easily manipulated to serve his ends. And, appropriately enough, the business about the detonators and placement of the explosives was a fool’s errand. But they had supplied Archer with the army he needed in the form of the offshoot of Harakat-ul-Mujahedeen, 50 loyal soldiers willing to die for the cause.

Archer and his associates had secured press credentials to accommodate all 50. It was left to Archer to complete the process of getting them their video and camera equipment, all constructed to pass the scrutiny of any security check, even one undertaken as expected by the American Secret Service.

Archer held his gaze on the dam, a bit leery over the fact that the building security apparatus was considerably higher than he had anticipated. He felt a knot tighten in the pit of his stomach, anxiety over the fact that his mission had been compromised, robbing him of his destiny and his dream.

You were a fool, father. You should have left this whole project to me.

He knew Sikari had died admiring, even revering the son who would succeed him; actually exceed him. But if his plan at the dam failed it would all be for naught. His dreams, and the dreams of his father, would die here, the maelstrom that would follow never to grow into the fiery inferno certain to consume the world. And when that world was remade it would be in the image chosen by Archer and others like him, an image foreseen by his father.

Starting here. In a mere matter of hours.

“Pacing will not get us there any faster, my friend,” Chernayev told Middleton as their Boeing streaked through the sky en route to Kashmir, General Zang’s airfield well behind them.

Middleton stopped. “We can’t let this happen.”

“And we won’t. My men will be meeting us there. Along with U.S. security forces and Indian security. Sikari’s people will be stopped.”

Middleton slid closer to Chernayev’s seat and glared down at him. “That isn’t good enough. This is the President of the United States we’re talking about. The secretary of state was one thing, but this . . . ”

“I admit it’s an unexpected complication.”

“Unexpected complication? Is that the best you can do?”

“You didn’t let me finish, comrade. It’s an unexpected complication we must nonetheless not let distract us from destroying Sikari once and for all.”

“Sikari’s dead.”

“But not his cause, his mission. We find this heir of his and we can end this forever.”

“It’s not worth the risk.”