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〃You're sure？〃 Klein demanded。
〃Positive。 A bus driver was stopped at a checkpoint on the Moscow…St。 Petersburg highway。 He was shown a photograph and identified Beria。〃
〃How far outside St。 Petersburg was this checkpoint？〃
〃A little bit of luck here： only an hour。 I immediately concentrated my resources in the city； particularly the airport。 No American carriers had left up to that point。〃
Klein breathed a little easier。 Wherever Beria was going； it wasn't here。
〃But there was a Finnair flight that left almost ten hours ago；〃 Kirov said。 〃It's carrying an American tour group。〃
Klein closed his eyes。 〃And？〃
〃The immigration officer remembers the tour leader giving him a stack of passports。 He took his time going through them。 One of the names caught his attention because it was a Russian name on an American passport。 Ivan Beria now calls himself John Strelnikov。 If the Finnair flight is on schedule； it will land at Dulles in fifteen minutes。〃
Klein stared through the windshield at the lodges ing into view。
〃General； I'll have to call you back。〃
〃I understand。 Godspeed to you； sir。〃
Klein drove past the rustic dwellings until he saw the largest one； fronting a small pond。 He pulled in； got out； and hurried to the front door。 Nathaniel Klein had arrived at Aspen； the presidential lodge at Camp David。
Developed in 1938 as a retreat for Franklin Delano Roosevelt； the area known as Camp David had been called the Catoctin Recreational Demonstration Area （RDA）； used by federal employees and their families。 Its security fence surrounded one hundred and twenty…five acres sheltered by a thick growth of oak； hickory； aspen； poplar； and ash。 The guest lodges… used by foreign dignitaries； the friends and family of the president； and other visitors… were set in private surroundings and connected to Aspen by a series of footpaths。
Through the trees Klein caught a glimpse of Marine One； the presidential helicopter。 Under the circumstances； he was glad that the flying time to Washington was only thirty minutes。
The Secret Service agent opened the door for him and Klein stepped into a small； pine…paneled foyer。 A second agent escorted him through the homey living room to the large； fortable room that served as the presidential office。
Samuel Adams Castilla； the chief executive； sat behind a stressed…pine desk； going through paperwork。 Wearing a cardigan over a denim shirt； the former New Mexico governor rose and offered Klein his large； weathered hand。 Behind titanium…rimmed glasses； cool； slate…gray eyes appraised the visitor。
〃Usually I'd say it's good to see you； Nate；〃 the president said。 〃But since you mentioned it was urgent。。。〃
〃I'm sorry to intrude on your privacy； Mr。 President； but this can't wait。〃
Castilla ran a palm across his five o'clock shadow。 〃Does it relate to what we talked about in Houston？〃
〃I'm afraid it does。〃
The president gestured at one of the couches。 〃Bring me up to speed；〃 he said crisply。
Five minutes later； Castilla knew more than he had ever wished to know。
〃What's your remendation； Nate？〃 he asked quietly。
〃mence FIREWALL；〃 Mein said tightly。 〃We don't want a single one of those passengers walking out of the terminal。〃
Developed in collaboration with the FAA； the FBI； and the Pentagon； FIREWALL was a dedicated response to any terrorist incursion into the United States。 If the warning came early enough； every port of entry would be flooded by security officials waiting for a target whose description and particulars were already in hand。 Klein knew that it was too late to do this at Dulles。 The best he could do was to alert every available uniformed and undercover officer in the plex and initiate a hunt。 Even as agents were scrambling； the FAA would be faxing a passenger manifest to the central mand post。
The president stared at him； nodded； and reached for the phone。 In seconds he had Jerry Matthews； the head of the FBI； on the line； and was explaining what had to be done。
〃I don't have time to give you all the details right now； Jerry。 Just get FIREWALL going。 I'm faxing you a description of the suspect as we speak。〃
The president took the sketch Klein held out and fed it into the machine。
〃His real name is Ivan Beria； Jerry。 He's a Serb national。 But he's calling himself John Strelnikov and is traveling on a fake U。S。 passport。 He is not； I repeat not； an American citizen。 And Jerry？ This is a level…five situation。〃
Five was the highest designation； meaning that the individual in question was to be considered not only armed and dangerous but a clear and immediate danger to national security。
The president hung up and turned to Klein。 〃He'll get back to me as soon as the ball's rolling。〃 He shook his head。 〃He asked… respectfully； mind you… what my sources were。〃
〃I appreciate your position； sir；〃 Klein replied。
〃It's one of my making。〃
After the nightmare of Hades and the subsequent election； Samuel Castilla had sworn that the United States would never again be caught off…guard。 While he respected the work of the traditional agencies； he saw a dire need for a new group… small； elite； run by a single individual beholden to no one； reporting only to the chief executive。
After a great deal of thought； Castilla had chosen Nathaniel Klein to head what would bee known as Covert…One。 Using funds carefully siphoned off from various government departments； employing only the most talented and trustworthy men and women； CovertOne had grown from an idea into a presidential iron fist。 This time； Castilla thought； we have the chance to stop the monster instead of wading through the horror it'll spawn。
The ringing phone intruded on his reverie。 〃Yes； Jerry。〃
Castilla listened； put his hand over the mouthpiece； and turned to Klein。
〃They have a hit on Strelnikov。 Immigration clocked him in eight minutes before FIREWALL went into effect。〃 He paused。 〃Do you want to maintain the alert； Nate？〃
Suddenly； Klein felt very old。 Beria had fooled them again。 Eight minutes was an eternity to someone like him。
〃It's a whole different ballgame now； sir。 We have to go to a backup plan。〃 Quickly he outlined what he had in mind。
The president got back on the line。 〃Jerry； listen carefully。。。。〃
Even as Castilla spoke； the director of the FBI scrambled the Bureau's elite antiterrorist teams stationed at Buzzard's Point。 A description of Beria was being sent to the puter screens of their cars。 Within thirty minutes； the first squads would be interviewing taxi dispatchers； skycaps； limousine drivers； anyone who might have seen or e into contact with the suspect。
〃Let me know the minute you have something；〃 Castilla said and ended the call。 He turned to Mein。 〃Exactly how much smallpox was stolen？〃
〃Enough to start a wildfire of an epidemic across the eastern seaboard。〃
〃What about our vaccine supplies… besides the amount stockpiled by USAMRIID for military use？〃
〃Barely enough to inoculate half a million people。 I'm anticipating your next question； Mr。 President： how long to manufacture enough？ Too long。 Weeks。〃
〃Nonetheless； we have to try。 What about Britain； Canada； Japan… can we buy from them？〃
〃They ha