t of U。S。 military personnel； at least on the periphery。〃
〃Military personnel？〃 the president asked。
Klein turned to Smith； who gave the chief executive a précis of the events that took place in Palermo。
〃I'm going to start digging into the backgrounds of these two soldiers； Mr。 President；〃 Klein said； then paused。 〃So the answer to your question is yes… it's very likely that someone here is running the show。〃
The president took a moment to digest this。
〃Monstrous；〃 he whispered。 〃Unbelievably monstrous。 Mr。 Klein； if we knew why they want the smallpox； wouldn't that tell us what they intend to do； maybe even who they are？〃
Klein's tone betrayed his frustration。 〃It would； Mr。 President。 But the 'why' is just another puzzle。〃
〃Let me get this straight。 There's a potential plague source that may be somewhere in the D。C。 area。 You also have a killer loose…〃
〃Mr。 President；〃 Smith interrupted； 〃the killer may actually be our best bet。〃
〃Would you care to elaborate； Mr。 Smith？〃
〃The conspirators have eliminated the two men whom we might have gotten to。 They brought over their own assassin for precisely that reason。 I think they're holding him in reserve in case there's more wet work to be done。〃
〃Your point being？〃
〃Beria is our last link to the conspirators； Mr。 President。 If we find him and manage to take him alive； he might give up enough to point us in the right direction。〃；
〃Does an all…out hunt for this killer run the risk of too much publicity？ Maybe it'll frighten him off。〃
〃It would have； sir；〃 Klein broke in。 〃Except for one thing： Beria murdered a man in cold blood on a Washington street。 He's no longer a terrorist but a mon murderer。 If we link him to the killing； every law…enforcement agency in five states will be after him。〃
〃Again： wouldn't this only drive him deeper underground？〃
〃Not really； sir。 Beria and the men who control him would think they know exactly the kind of forces that are being marshaled against them。 They would circumvent them。 And they would feel safe because they'd think they knew exactly what law enforcement's next step would be。
〃Plus； if we hunt Beria without publicity； and the conspirators have no idea what it is we're doing； they might believe that the threat of his capture outweighs his usefulness；〃 Smith added。 〃In which case； he'd end up like Yardeni and Treloar。〃
〃Point taken； Mr。 Smith；〃 the president agreed。 〃I presume you have a plan for Beria？〃
〃Yes； I do； sir；〃 Smith replied quietly； and began to describe it。
Inspector Marco Dionetti of the Venice Questura stepped nimbly from the police launch to the dock in front of his palazzo。 He returned the constable's salute and watched the boat as it disappeared into the passing canal traffic； the vessels lit up from bow to stern。
At the front door Dionetti deactivated the security system before entering。 His cook and servant were both old women who had been in his household for decades。 Neither was any match for a burglar； and since the palazzo had enough treasures to fill a small museum； precautions were necessary。
Dionetti picked up the mail waiting for him in the foyer。 Proceeding to the drawing room； he settled into a club chair and slit open the letter from the Offenbach Bank in Zurich。 He sipped his aperitif and nibbled on black Kalamata olives while scrutinizing the balance in his account。 The Americans might be many things… none of them good… but they never missed a payment。
Marco Dionetti did not concern himself with the big picture。 He did not care why the Rocca brothers had to kill or why they had to die。 True； his conscience had been pricked when he'd sold Peter Howell。 But Howell had traveled to Sicily and would never be heard from again。 In the meantime； the Dionetti legacy； courtesy of American dollars； would continue to flourish。
After a refreshing shower； Dionetti took his solitary meal at the great table that could seat thirty。 When coffee and dessert had been served he dismissed the servants； who retired to their quarters on the fourth floor。 Lost in thought； Dionetti nibbled on strawberries drenched in Cointreau and daydreamed of where he might vacation； courtesy of American largesse。
〃Good evening； Marco。〃
Dionetti choked on the fruit in his mouth。 He stared in disbelief as Peter Howell entered the room as calmly as if he were an invited guest and took a seat at the other end of the long table。
From inside his smoking jacket Dionetti whipped out a Beretta； leveling it across twenty feet of ancient cherrywood。
〃What are you doing here？〃 he demanded hoarsely。
〃Why； Marco？ Was I supposed to be dead？ Is that what they told you？〃
Dionetti's mouth worked like that of a landed fish。 〃I don't know what you're talking about！〃
〃Then why hold a gun on me？〃
Very carefully Howell opened his palm and placed a small vial on the table。
〃Did you enjoy your dinner； Marco？ The risotto di mare smelled excellent。 And the strawberries… are you enjoying them？〃
Dionetti stared at the vial； then at the few berries at the bottom of his bowl。 He tried to push away the dark thoughts crowding his mind。
〃Are you guessing that I somehow managed to poison the fruit； Marco？ After all； I got past your security。 Your servants never suspected there was anyone in the house。 Would it have been so difficult to drop a little atropine into the dessert？〃
The gun barrel began to waver as Dionetti absorbed what Howell was saying。 Atropine was an organic poison found in the belladonna family。 Tasteless； odorless； it killed by attacking the central nervous system。 Frantically Dionetti tried to remember how fast the poison worked。
〃On someone of your height and weight； I should think about four； five minutes… given the amount I used；〃 Howell informed him。 He tapped the vial on the table。 〃But here is the antidote。〃
〃Pietro； you have to understand…〃
〃I understand that you betrayed me； Marco；〃 Howell replied harshly。 〃That is all I need to understand。 And if you didn't have something I need you'd be dead by now。〃
〃But I can kill you right now！〃 Dionetti hissed。
Howell shook his head in reproof。 〃You took a shower； remember？ You left your gun in its holster on the bathroom counter。 I took the bullets； Marco。 If you don't believe me； shoot。〃
Dionetti squeezed the trigger。 All he heard were clicks； like nails being driven into his coffin。
〃Pietro； I swear…〃
Howell held up his hand。 〃Time is crucial to you； Marco。 I know that American soldiers killed the Roccas。 Did you help them？〃
Dionetti licked his lips。 〃I told them how the Roccas intended to make their escape。〃
〃And you knew this how？〃
〃I received my instructions over the telephone。 The voice was electronically altered。 I was told to first help the Roccas； then the soldiers who would follow。〃
〃And me。〃
Dionetti's head bobbed furiously。 〃And you；〃 he whispered。
His mouth was dry。 His voice sounded like it was ing from very far away。 He felt his heart hammering against his ribs。
〃Pietro； please！ The antidote。。。〃
〃Who pays you； Marco？〃 Howell asked softly。
It would be a waste of time to ask Dionetti about the Americans。 They never would have revealed themselves to him。 Following the blood money would be the best bet。
Howell rapped the table with the vial。 〃Marco。。。〃
〃Herr Weizsel。。。 the Offenbach Bank in Zurich。 For God's sakes； Pietro； give me the antidote！〃
Howell slid his cell phone the length of the table。 〃Call him。 I'm sure that a client of your stature has his home number。 Make sure I can hear the access codes。〃
Dionetti fumbled the phone and jabbed at the keypad。 As he waited for the connection he could not take his eyes off the vial。
〃Pietro； please！〃
〃All in good time； Marco。 All in good time。〃
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Learjet touched down at Kona Airport on the Big Island shortly before twilight； Hawaii time。 Under Bauer's supervision； three technicians off…loaded the virus container and placed it in a waiting Humvee。 The ride to the Bauer…Zermatt pound took forty…five minutes。
Because the plex had once been an army medical research facility； certain construction requirements had been met。 Both to prevent intruders from getti