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He smiled at their blank expressions. “Tangos,” Joe repeated. “T’s. Terrorists. The bad guys with guns.”

  Ah. There was understanding all around.

  “Unless, of course, we’re ready and waiting for ’em,” Joe continued. “And maybe that’s not such a bad idea. Replace the ship’s personnel and passenger list with platoons of SEALs and—”

  “No way,” Laughton said. “FInCOM is handling this. It isn’t some military operation. SEALs have no place in it.”

  “Terrorists are involved,” Joe countered. “SEAL Team Ten has had extensive counterterrorist training. My men are prepared for—”

  “War,” Laughton finished for him. “Your men are prepared and trained for war. This is not a war, Lieutenant.”

  Joe pointed to the cellular phone on the table in front of Laughton. “Then you’d better call the terrorists. Call the Cloud of Death, call up Diosdado. Call him up and tell him that this is not a war. Because he sure as hell thinks it’s one.”

  “Please,” Veronica interjected. “Before we continue, may we all agree to keep Saint Mary’s on the schedule?”

  McKinley frowned down at the papers in front of him. “I see from the previous list that there weren’t going to be any media present at the event at Saint Mary’s.”

  “Not all of the events scheduled were for the benefit of the news cameras, Senator,” Veronica said evenly. She glanced around the table. “Gentlemen. This rescheduling means hours and hours of extra work for all of us. I’m trying my best to cooperate, as I’m sure you are, too. But I happen to know that this appearance at Saint Mary’s was of utmost importance to Prince Tedric.” She widened her eyes innocently. “If necessary, I’ll ring up the prince and ask for his input and—”

  “No need to do that,” Senator McKinley said hastily.

  Getting self-centered Prince Tedric in on this scheduling nightmare was the last thing anyone wanted, Veronica included. His so-called “input” would slow this process down to a crawl. But she was prepared to do whatever she had to do to keep the visit to Saint Mary’s on the schedule.

  McKinley looked around the table. “I think we can keep Saint Mary’s on the list.” There was a murmur of agreement.

  Joe watched Veronica. Her red curls were up in some kind of feminine arrangement on the top of her head. With her delicate features and innocent blue eyes, she looked every inch the demure, cool English lady; and again, Joe was struck by the feeling that her outward appearance was only an act. She wasn’t demure or cool, and if his gut feelings were right, she could probably outmanipulate the entire tableful of them. Hell, she just had. But she’d done it so subtly that no one was even aware they’d been manipulated.

  “About the Alaskan cruise,” Senator McKinley said.

  “That’s not until later in the tour.” Joe leaned back in his chair. “Let’s keep it off the public schedule for now. We don’t want the T’s—terrorists—choosing that opportunity above everything else. We want ’em to strike early on. But still, we can start making arrangements with the SEAL teams, start getting ’em prepped for a potential operation aboard ship.”

  “No SEALs,” Kevin Laughton said tersely.

  Joe gave the FInCOM agent a disbelieving look. “You want high casualties? Is that your goal here?”

  “Of course not—”

  “We’re all on the same team, pal,” Joe said. “We all work for the U.S. Government. Just because I’m Navy and you’re Fink—”

  “No SEALs.” Laughton turned to an aide. “Release this schedule to the news media ASAP, keeping the cruise information off the list.” He stood. “My men will start scouting each of these sites.”

  Joe stood up, too. “You should start right here in this hotel,” he said. “If you’re serious about making the royal suite secure, you’re understaffed. And the sliding door to the balcony in the bedroom doesn’t lock. What kind of security is that?”

  Laughton stared at him. “You’re on the tenth floor.”

  “Terrorists sometimes know how to climb,” Joe said.

  “I can assure you you’re quite safe,” Laughton said.

  “And I can assure you that I’m not. If security stays as is, if Diosdado and his gang decide to come into this hotel to rid the world of Prince Tedric, then I’m as good as dead.”

  “I can understand your concern,” Laughton said. “But—”

  “Then you won’t have any objection to bringing the rest of my Alpha Squad out here,” Joe interrupted. “You’re obviously undermanned, and I’d feel a whole hell of a lot better if—”

  “No,” Laughton said. “Absolutely not. A squad of Navy SEALs? Utter chaos. My men won’t stand for it. I won’t have it.”

  “I’m going to be standing around, wearing a damned shooting target on my chest,” Joe retorted. “I want my own guys nearby, watching my back, plugging the holes in FInCOM’s security net. I can tell you right now, they won’t get in your boys’ way.”

  “No,” Laughton said again. “I’m in charge of security, and I say no. This meeting is adjourned.”

  Joe watched the FInCOM chief leave the room, then glanced up to find Veronica’s eyes on him.

  “I guess we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” he said.

  The man known only as Diosdado looked up from his desk as Salustiano Vargas was shown into the room.

  “Ah, old friend,” Vargas greeted him with relief. “Why did your men not say it was you they were bringing me to see?”

  Diosdado was silent, just looking at the other man as he thoughtfully stroked his beard.

  Vargas threw himself down into a chair across from the desk and casually stretched his legs out in front of him. “It has been too long, no?” he said. “What have you been up to, man?”

  “Not as much as you have, apparently.” Diosdado smiled, but it was a mere shadow of his normally wide, toothy grin.

  Vargas’s own smile was twisted. “Eh, you heard about that, huh?” His smile turned to a scowl. “I would have drilled the bastard through the heart if that damned woman hadn’t pushed him out of the way.”

  Diosdado stood. “You are lucky—very, very lucky—that your bullet missed Tedric Cortere,” he said harshly.

  Vargas stared at him in surprise. “But—”

  “If you had kept in touch, you would have been aware of what I have spent months planning.” Diosdado didn’t raise his voice when he was angry. He lowered it. Right now, it was very, very quiet.

  Vargas opened his mouth to speak, to protest, but he wisely shut it tightly instead.

  “The Cloud of Death intended to take Cortere hostage,” Diosdado said. “Intends,” he corrected himself. “We still intend to take him.” He began to pace—a halting, shuffling process as he dragged his bad leg behind him. “Of course, now that you have intervened, the prince’s security has been strengthened. FInCOM is involved, and my contacts tell me that the U.S. Navy is even playing some part in Cortere’s protection.”

  Vargas stared at him.

  “So what,” Diosdado continued, turning to face Salustiano Vargas, “do you suggest we do to bring this high level of security and protection back to where it was before you fouled things up?”

  Vargas swallowed, knowing what the other man was going to tell him, and knowing that he wasn’t going to like what he heard.

  “They are all waiting for another assassination attempt,” Diosdado said. “Until they get another assassination attempt, security will be too tight. Do you know what you are going to do, my old friend Salustiano?”

  Vargas knew. He knew, and he didn’t like it. “Diosdado,” he said. “Please. We’re friends. I saved your life—”

  “You will go back,” Diosdado said very, very softly, “and you will make another attempt on the prince’s life. You will fail, and you will be apprehended. Dead or alive—your choice.”

  Vargas sat in silence as Diosdado limped, shuffling, from the room.

  “Tell me what it is about Navy SEALs that makes Kevin Laughton so up