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in the world!” the prime minister of Saudi Arabia protested,“We know they have enormous
     military capacity as well as the nuclear deterrents to stop any nation.”
    Rashid shook his finger. “No, no.” His sober stare didn't change. “The key word is
control
. We are not planning to engage their military; my plans ate to manipulate the plebiscite. Americans like to think their voters
     are intelligent, analytical thinkers.” Rashid leaned over to speak in nearly a whisper. “In fact, they are overindulged, reactionary
     children who vote
with their emotions.”
    “But how can you change the feeling of a huge population of Yankees?” Ammar Aswad of Iran protested. “Such a thing is not
     achievable!”
    “Oh?” Hassan Rashid's eyes twinkled and a slight smile broke across his face. “Is this what each of you thinks?”
    The national leaders looked at each other, nodding their agreement.
    “
Fear!
” Rashid yelled at them. “The Americans and their reactionary journalists as well as fast-talking television reporters have
     the emotional core of a six-year-old child. Gentlemen,
fear is the way
that I will shake these fat boys when they enter their voting machines.”
    “But… but…”Abd al Bari rubbed his chin nervously. “Making an entire nation afraid is… is… not possible.”
    Hassan Rashid sat back in his chair. “If I can create such a result, are you and your countries prepared to stand with me?”
     He thrust his finger in the face of each man. “Will you follow me faithfully as I resolutely climb the hill to world conquest?”
    Silence settled over the group.
    “You see,” Rashid continued, “I am more than capable of sending a wave of fear across that country like none they have ever
     known. I already have the ability to do so. My men are poised and ready to strike. But what follows after I have created chaos?”
     The gentle smile abruptly returned. “I need your assistance. Will you follow me?”
    The white-haired president of Egypt slowly stood, clicking his heels and coming to extreme military attention. “If you can
     humble America, I am with you to the death!” He saluted Hassan. “I will follow.”
    For a moment no one spoke and then the entire group exploded with their affirmations of loyalty.
    For several moments Hassan Jawhar Rashid only listened, waiting for the group to settle again. “Thank you,” he finally said.
     “The Americans will soon be in my hands, and I will drown them in their own fear.”

CHAPTER 7
    A N OBLONG conference table ran down the center of Mayor Frank Bridges's office. Five men were already seated around this mahogany altar
     to the gods of progress when Graham Peck walked in Maintaining distance, Peck kept his usual steel look in his eye and only
     nodded to the other leaders.
    Jake Pemrose and Al Meacham were old acquaintances of his, but Graham usually maintained a distance from the more cold and
     aloof Jack Stratton and Bill Marks. Although the city had in decades past outlawed smoking in public buildings, three of the
     men were already smoking cigars. Wearing a subdued pair of maroon suspenders, Bridges sat at the head of the table in a business
     suit. Since he usually dressed more casually, Peck knew something significant was afloat.
    “Graham,” Mayor Bridges said, “thanks for coming right down. We need your input.”
    “Sure,” Peck answered.
    “Gentlemen, we have a big problem this morning,” Bridges continued. “At around four o'clock west coast time, an oil tanker
     was bombed in the Long Beach Naval Yard. You heard the story on the morning news?”
    Peck abruptly realized he hadn't tuned in a television station anywhere. He generally started the day with a television report
     or at the least an e-mail briefing on his computer, but he hadn't done so today.
    “The explosion was enormous,” Bridges began. “Get ready. People all over the Chicago metroplex will scream.”
    “How did it happen?” Jake Pemrose