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been provided by the Iranian consulate?”
    “Nothing like that,” Kosmalski confirmed.
    “I see.” McBurney looked at Kosmalski. “Mind stepping into
the hall a minute?”
    Kosmalski seemed a little wary. “Sure.”
    Once they were out of earshot, McBurney asked, “What’s
going on here?”
    “What do you mean?”
    McBurney held up the page of satellite data. “You said
you’re supposed to provide me with the context of this discovery. With what
you’ve provided me so far, I’ll have no choice but to report that this slip of
paper was probably planted.”
    “Planted?”
    “It doesn’t fit anything here. It is completely out of context.”
    “And who would you try to claim planted it?”
    “You mean other than the FBI? How should I know? You said
the murders involved the Holocaust Memorial attack. Has the FBI identified a
murder suspect?”
    Kosmalski looked away.
    “I don’t think I can help you.” McBurney handed the evidence
back to Kosmalski. He turned and headed for the elevator.
    Kosmalski said, “Katherine Prouty was sent here to
negotiate with Ahmadi.”
    McBurney stopped and turned. “Negotiate for what?”
    Kosmalski looked around to confirm they were still alone. He
waved McBurney back. “Two weeks ago, Mohammad Ahmadi approached the State
Department claiming he knew the names and whereabouts of two terrorists who
escaped from the scene of the Holocaust attack. State immediately ushered the
guy over to the president’s national security advisor.”
    “Thomas Herman.”
    “Oh, that’s right—I seem to recall you two being buddies. Any
way, we were tapped to pull together the Iranian’s bona fides. In the meantime
Herman’s people began this dance with Ahmadi, whose demands in return for the
terrorist names included political asylum as well as total amnesty for all of
his past misdeeds. Of course, this would have to be granted by President
Denis.”
    “Then, Prouty was here negotiating on behalf of...? Whom
exactly?”
    “Forget it—not your worry.”
    McBurney mulled over the scenario. “That still doesn’t
explain your call to the Agency this morning.”
    “The bureau determined that Ahmadi was simultaneously
trying to cut a deal by dangling the names before...a powerful senator.”
    “Double-dealing? I wonder which of the two efforts was the
legitimate one. Perhaps neither. Of course, the senator couldn’t grant him a
pardon.”
    “Ahmadi wanted the senator to provide him with classified
missile defense information.”
    McBurney pointed at the sheet of paper in Kosmalski’s hand.
“You’re telling me that information was swapped in some smarmy deal with—”
    “Not so. I know for a fact that no such exchange was ever
consummated.”
    “Then where did it come from?”
    “Well, we have to investigate that.”
    “What missile defense program was Ahmadi fishing for? There’s
more than one.”
    “SBIRS.”
    For the second time now, McBurney sensed that Kosmalski had
been instructed to feign ignorance—the classified launch dates found in
Ahmadi’s possession were in fact for the space-based infra-red satellites,
otherwise known as ‘SIBBERS.’ So who had slipped the dates to Ahmadi, and why? “Which
senator are we talking about?”
    Kosmalski shifted uncomfortably.
    “Come on. Only a handful of senators might reasonably have
the information he was fishing for.”
    “Senator Milner.”
    “Milner, huh?” Ahmadi certainly hadn’t wasted time going
after some disgruntled bureaucrat; Milner chaired Senate Appropriations and sat
on numerous oversight committees. The Maryland senator was something of a
Washington institution in his own right. “You’re certain that Milner didn’t
comply?”
    “I already told you. The satellite information did not originate from the senator. We know because Ahmadi proceeded to threaten him
for it.”
    “He threatened a senator?” McBurney found the
prospect stunningly brash even for Ahmadi. “In what way?”
    “Toward the end