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to do with Red’s death,” she said. “She’s been on a one-woman mission to prove it. But these kids are so high profile—American kids from embassy families. What would possess any sane person to take those particular kids to . . . to use as guinea pigs?”
    “Nancy, there’s a lot I can’t say right now. But there are two unpleasant possibilities. They’re using the kids as bait to get to Rico, who knows about a few of their experiments—including at least one on your husband.”
    “On Red? But he worked for them from the beginning, and it was a guerrilla who killed him. . . .”
    “I really don’t want to get into that right now,” Mandell said. “That’s the official embassy line, created by Rico under orders as a cover. . . .”
    “But I was there. I remember. . . . ”
    Major Hodge smiled at this testimony to his handiwork.
    “Nancy,” the Secretary said, “there’s a lot that neither of us knows at this point, but believe me, Red was not killed by that man they executed. Now, the other possibility is that the kids have already been part of some study, and all this with Rico is to get him out of the way. If he’s killed in a fight, then they can claim he was the only one who knew the whereabouts of the kids, and the search is hopeless.”
    Nancy felt sick to her stomach.
    “Where is he now?” she whispered.
    “He’s gone in after them. And I’m trying to get him some support. The Children of Eden are making any operations in that country very difficult. Garcia is fighting to save his presidency; he doesn’t give a hoot about the kids. I really wish you’d come home. None of this would’ve happened if you’d been here.”
    Nancy pulled herself upright and looked her father’s image in the eye. Her voice was steel.
    “Dad, that was the kind of low blow I didn’t expect from you. I don’t need a guilt trip right now.”
    He sighed, and flicked at the tip of his bulbous nose, something Hodge noted that he always did when saving face.
    “You’re right, honey, I apologize. Sonja . . . she’s your only child, but she’s also my only grandchild. With the both of you down there and your mother gone, I’m . . . well, I’m alone. And I don’t like it.” He glanced off-screen again, and sighed. “Listen, Ambassador Simpson is being briefed now, and I want you to stick with her until this is over. What about Grace Toledo? How’s she holding up?”
    “She’s here. Worried sick about Harry, of course. Hating Rico even more than ever, if that’s possible. The best thing she ever did was divorce that sonofabitch.”
    Her father leaned off-screen to confer with someone, then came back looking even more harried.
    “We’ve got our share of problems here, too. Someone managed to burn up two Gardener compounds, in Milwaukee and Tennessee. The President’s sending the Vice-President out for an appearance and assessment. Nobody’s taking credit yet. Gardeners shut up tight for their Sabbath, so we hope they don’t go off half-cocked when they find out.
    “I would like for you and Grace to come up here to give some testimony when this is over. Then I’d like to talk you into staying. I’m not getting any younger, you know, and I’d like some time with you and my granddaughter.”
    Nancy started to interrupt, but the Secretary of State put up a hand to stop her.
    “I’m sorry to cut this short,” he said, “but I have to go. This line will be open for you until this is resolved, okay? We’re mobilizing everything at our disposal to recover those kids.”
    Nancy grasped her hands together to keep the trembling from showing.
    “Okay,” she said, and sighed. “Thanks, Dad. I love you.”
    But the peel was already blank.
    Loud shouts from the other side of the room startled her, and Hodge’s screen showed a knot of aides crowded around a communications console. Nancy stood to see what was going on, but suddenly her legs were too wobbly to carry her the half-dozen meters across the