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column has been ambushed. Heavy casualties are reported to American and allied troops. A portion of the city appears to be on fire.”
    They watched shaky handheld footage of sooty smoke rising over littered, dusty streets. A crackle of automatic fire, punctuated by thuds Dan judged as light artillery. Or … tanks? The Sudanese had T-76s. Women in rags wailing, shaking fists at the sky as an SH-60, the model the Army called the Black Hawk, whacked overhead.
    â€œRumors are a senior deputy of elusive al Qaeda leader Osama bin Laden, suspected of several attacks on U.S. forces in the Middle East, was engaged in the planning of the elaborate trap.”
    â€œâ€˜Trap,’” Roald repeated drily. “Damn it—they’re going to want to put out a react. A statement. Along with Korea … and no matter whether we’ve actually had the time to think it through. Anyway. They tell me you know strike plans.”
    â€œI’ve done my share.”
    â€œCENTCOM’s been proposing for some time that instead of fighting the rebels in Eritrea, we hit their base camps and weapons dumps inside Sudan. Now they want to do it to relieve the pressure on Kerkerbit. Mrs. C wants us to evaluate their plan.”
    Dan tried to focus. Lethality analyses. Vulnerable dimensions metrics. Roald was still talking. “Is what they’re proposing reasonable? Short term. Long term. We don’t have time for a paper. Just talking points. Any hard spots you see.”
    He hesitated. It took a master conductor to orchestrate subordinate commanders to achieve surprise, shock, and overwhelming force while keeping one’s own troops out of the enemy’s lethal envelopes as long as possible. The finished plan could run twenty single-spaced pages. Hours of analysis lay beneath every digit. If one got changed in the wrong way as it ascended the chain of command, people could die who didn’t deserve to. Innocent civilians. Friendly troops. Pilots. He’d seen what could happen if too many fingers got stuck into that pie.
    But he wasn’t being asked for an opinion on just the strike plan, but on the whole idea of going over the border into Sudan. Maybe even whether they ought to be in Eritrea at all.
    â€œGot a problem?”
    â€œI don’t think we should be screwing with what the force commander wants to do. The last thing they need is us second-guessing them.”
    Roald put her hand on his shoulder. Bent his head close, so the watchstanders couldn’t hear. “I know you’re a new gain, but you’d better reorient your thinking. Crossing that border will extend that war. If the situation goes to shit, there’ll be diplomatic and political fallout. As well as maybe a lot more troops dead. Understand?”
    â€œI hear you, but—”
    â€œOur job’s to advise the president. That means: not blindly accepting what the Chiefs hand us. Second-guessing the generals is our job . And think ahead: effects on allies and neutrals and, yeah, on the domestic constituencies—though that’s more De Bari’s political people that’ll be bending his ear on that. Clayton’s on the line to Nelson Mandela’s office now.”
    â€œUh … why Nelson Mandela?”
    â€œIt’s a joint U.S.–South African task force.”
    While Dan contemplated this, Roald’s short nails hit the keyboard. A message flashed on the screen, displacing the mountains, trails, villages of a distant country. “Okay … that’s the preliminary execute order to evacuate Seoul. Pacific Command wants us to posture to Defcon Three to warn the Chinese off. I can’t give Eritrea another minute. Tell me if this strike plan is smart, and if it isn’t, what you recommend. Stoneman here’ll help you. J.T.’s from State. He put in three years in Eritrea before he came to us.”
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