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when the Field effect
faded.”
    “Mmm.” Oslovski looked at the computer display again. “Most
important of all, you made it. You ended up right where you were supposed to.”
She gazed off into space for a moment. “Okay. All right. Next phase.”
    oOo
    In the week that followed, they sent Toto back to the
target date. He recorded the entire assassination attempt, tucked neatly away
behind a pillar on the upper deck of the Conference Center. Oslovski’s Team
reviewed the footage painstakingly.
    They studied official accounts. They met far into the night,
discussing, consulting, arguing, mentally rehearsing routines for Phase One of
Operation Little Big Horn; running over a long list of what-ifs. They also started laying the groundwork for Phase Two.
    When the big Monday arrived, the Chiefs appeared in full military
regalia. With them were two “special operatives”—Ferris and Hilyard by name.
Oslovski adopted the immediate suspicion that these were the would-be
assassins. They contributed nothing to the briefing, but merely sat in silence,
watching and listening.
    Magda Oslovski conducted the briefing flanked by Vance
Keller and Trevor Haley. The other members of the LBH conspiracy were busily
readying themselves for the inevitable demonstration.
    “Since I talked to you last, General Caldwell,” said
Oslovski, “we’ve had several important breakthroughs. But rather than tell you,
we’ll show you. Dr. Haley, the video please.”
    Around the oval table, video displays showed footage taken
by Toto during his sortie in New York. The aborted assassination played out,
followed by mass confusion, an explosion of golden motes and a sudden shift to
aqua. The screens went black.
    Oslovski’s eyes were still on Caldwell as he turned to stare
at her.
    “That . . . that was the assassination
attempt on—”
    “Yes. The date you gave me was the opening day of the First
World Congress. But, of course, you knew that. We just happened to get this
rather spectacular footage of the attempt on President Gorbachev’s life. That
was the event you were targeting, was it not?”
    Caldwell glanced at his clam-faced peers and nodded once.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
    “Forgive my curiosity, General,” said Oslovski, “but what do
you intend to accomplish?”
    “The righting of a wrong, doctor,” he said. “That’s all you
need to know. And that our work—our very lives—are dedicated to the best
interests and the honor of this great nation.”
    “And the well-being of its people?”
    He smiled. “Of course, doctor. The two things are
inseparable.”
    “And what about the welfare of the world as a global
society?”
    “The world is not a global society, doctor. It’s a mish-mosh
of societies and cultures. My concern— our concern is with the strength of the American nation. The other nations only
concern us insofar as they are either beneficial or dangerous to U.S.
interests.”
    “I see.” Oslovski nodded. “May I guess what you hope to
accomplish?”
    “You may guess all you want. We will neither confirm nor
deny.”
    She nodded again. “Naturally. Two possibilities present
themselves. One is that you wish to make sure the assassin isn’t, himself, assassinated
so you can find out who hired him.”
    General Caldwell’s smile didn’t falter. “A reasonable
assumption, I suppose,” he said.
    “The other possibility is that you intend to make certain he
succeeds.”
    None of the faces at the nether end of the table altered
expression, but there was an eloquent flurry of exchanged glances.
    Caldwell merely quirked an eyebrow. “What an interesting
mind you have, Dr. Oslovski. I’m glad you’re not working for the other side.”
    Oslovski smiled as if accepting that as a compliment. “What
other side, General?”
    “You do realize, of course,” Caldwell said, ignoring the
question, “that you are contractually and ethically bound to bring this Project
to a successful conclusion regardless of