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it seemed fate had dealt him another chance.
    "Is the situation in central Asia under control?" one of the Council of Ten asked him. "Did we halt whatever that fool had tried to do?"
    All of the men and women had lingered in the meeting hall after the Florentine, struggling within his coffin, was wheeled away. A bullet to the head should have, by now, ended further resistance.
    "We're okay," he said. "I personally handled the matter, but Supreme Minister Zovastina is quite the showgirl. I assume she'll make a spectacle of things."
    "She's not to be trusted," another said.
    He wondered about the declaration's vehemence considering Zovastina was their ally, but he nonetheless agreed. "Despots are always a problem." He stood and approached a map that hung from one wall. "Damn if she hasn't accomplished a lot, though."
    "She managed to merge six corrupt Asian states into a federation that might actually succeed." He pointed. "She's essentially redrawn the world map."
    "And how did she do it?" came a question. "Certainly not by diplomacy."
    Vincenti knew the official account. After the Soviet Union fell, central Asia suffered civil wars and strife, as each of the emerging "nation-stans" struggled with independence. The so-called Commonwealth of Independent States, which succeeded the USSR, existed in name only. Corruption and incompetence ran rampant. Irina Zovastina had headed local reforms under Gorbachev, championing perestroika and glasnost, spearheading the prosecution of many corrupt bureaucrats. Eventually, though, she led the charge to expel the Russians, reminding the people of Russia's colonial conquest and sounding an environmental alarm, noting that Asians were dying by the thousands from Russian pollution. Ultimately, she stood before Kazakhstan's Assembly of Representatives and helped proclaim the republic.
    A year later, she was elected president.
    The West welcomed her. She seemed a reformer in a region that rarely reformed. Then, fifteen years ago, she stunned the world with the announcement of the Central Asian Federation.
    Six nations, now one.
    Yet Vincenti's colleague was right. Not a miracle. More a manipulation. So he answered the inquiry with the obvious. "She achieved it with power."
    "And the fortunate demise of political opponents."
    "That's always been a way to power," he said. "We can't fault her for that. We do the same." He stared at another of the Council members. "Are the funds in place?"
    The treasurer nodded. "Three point six billion, scattered at a variety of banks around the globe, access clean, straight to Samarkand."
    "I assume our members are ready?"
    "A renewed influx of investment will start immediately. Most of the members are planning major expansions. They've been careful, per our directive, to this point."
    Time was short. Just as with the original Council of Ten, half of the current Council would soon rotate off. League bylaws mandated that five members changed every two years. Vincenti's term would expire in less than thirty days.
    A blessing and a problem.
    Six hundred years ago Venice had been an oligarchical republic, governed by merchants through a complicated political system designed to prevent despotism. Faction and intrigue were thought foiled by processes that relied heavily on chance. No one person ever held sole authority. Always groups advising, deciding, and acting. Groups that changed at regular intervals.
    But corruption still crept in. Plots and pet projects flourished. Webs of conspiracy were woven.
    Men always found a way.
    And so had he.
    Thirty days.
    More than enough time.
    "What of Supreme Minister Zovastina?" one of the Council asked, breaking his thoughts. "Will she be all right?"
    "Now that," he said, "may well become the talk of this day."

    Chapter SEVEN
    SAMARKAND
    CENTRAL ASIAN FEDERATION
    6:20 A . M .
    ZOVASTINA SPURRED HER HORSE. THE OTHER CHOPENOZ WHIPPED their mounts, too. Mud splattered up at her from wet turf obliterated by hooves. She bit down on