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figuratively.'
    Mallen tutted impatiently. 'We spend fifteen billion dollars a year on the war against drugs and the best we can do is to send in two Chinese?' he said.
    'The undercover operations are a small part of Operation Tiger Trap. The bulk goes on satellite and plane surveillance, intelligence gathering, Customs inspections, border controls.'
    'Maybe it's about time we tried something else.'
    'These things take time,' said Gregory. 'We need the cooperation of the Thai and Burmese authorities, and they're not the easiest people to deal with. It's not just the politics involved, either. The big problem is that we have no way of knowing who we can trust and who's on the take. For instance, it's practically impossible for Zhou to be getting his stuff across the border without the assistance of the Thai army, so we know he has contacts there. That means mounting any sort of military operation is next to impossible. Sure, they've raided a few of his camps, closed down a refinery or two, but Zhou has always been long gone. He invariably knows exactly when and where we're going to strike.'
    'So ignore the Thais.'
    'Difficult,' said Gregory. 'We pretty much do that already as regards intelligence gathering. We share with the Brits and the Australians, and a dozen or so other agencies through the Foreign Anti-Narcotic Community, meetings which take place in Bangkok every month, and the Thais are excluded from that, but we don't have the authority to make arrests. For that we have to go through the Thai police.'
    Mallen took a quick look at his slim gold wristwatch. He leaned forward, his eyes suddenly intense. 'I'm not talking about arrests, Jake.' Mallen's voice dropped to a whisper. 'I want him dead. I 26 STEPHEN LEATHER want the head of the man who killed my son. It doesn't have to be on a plate, I don't have to see the body, I just have to know that the bastard's dead.'
    Gregory swallowed. He wiped the palms of his hands on his trousers. 'You know I can't--'
    Mallen didn't even give him time to finish the sentence. 'Look, I can't very well ask the CIA, can I? They're trying to be whiter than white after the Guatemala fiasco and they'll just throw Executive Order 11905 in my face. Thou shalt not kill.'
    'That applies to my agency, too,' said Gregory. 'We're not in the business of executing--'
    'You do as I tell you, Jake,' interrupted Mallen. 'You owe me, remember. You owe me big time.'
    Gregory's cheeks reddened as if he'd been slapped. 'I'm just pointing out the jurisdictional--'
    Mallen held up a hand to silence him. 'Fuck jurisdiction. We didn't worry about jurisdiction when we wanted Noriega. We just sent twenty-four thousand troops into Panama and brought him out. And Grenada wasn't actually our turf, was it? This monster's poisoning our streets, he's crippling our economy, he's killing our children, for God's sake. He's a cancer, and I want you to operate, Jake. I've made the diagnosis, now I want you to be the surgeon.'
    'But you can't . . .'
    Mallen snorted angrily. 'I'm the Vice President of the United States. I can do pretty much anything I want. Within reason.'
    Gregory wiped his hands again. 'But that's the point, isn't it? What constitutes reasonable?'
    'I'm not asking for a discussion about morality, Jake. I don't give a shit about the rights and wrongs of this, I just want the fucker dead. Do I have to spell it out for you? D-E-A-D. Don't make me call in my markers, we go back too far for that.'
    Gregory held up his hands in surrender. 'I'm not arguing, I'm not saying no. I'm just pointing out the downside, that's all.'
    Mallen sighed impatiently. 'There is no downside. You'll be doing the world a favour.'
    The two men rode in silence for a while. A small vein pulsed in Gregory's temple. He massaged the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.
    Mallen's voice became softer and he patted Gregory gently on the knee. 'Look, Jake, I didn't mean to snap at you. You know how rough it's been, the last few days.