Assassin's Code by Jonathan Maberry Page A

political or religious significance to it, and therefore no message which can be conveyed to an opposition party through it. Do you understand what I mean?”
    “All too well.”
    We sat there, a pair of gunslingers, fully aware of the graveyards of enemies we’d each buried. Like me, he knew all sorts of killers, from those who pulled the trigger for God and country to those who killed for the sheer joy of it. More than a few of those were drawn to military service or covert wetworks because of the opportunities provided to kill while being afforded the umbrella of official sanction. Not most, of course, but enough so that military psychs and screeners were always on the prowl for them. Either to weed them out or to recruit them. I’d like to say that “we don’t do that sort of thing,” but that would be a lie.
    I had my own inner demon who liked to roll around in the enemy’s blood. Mine was on a leash most of the time, but once in a while he got out. If the public at large ever saw that side of me, I’d be labeled a monster and locked up. Looking into Rasouli’s eyes, it was clear that he was thinking the same things about himself.
    We were sitting there, a couple of monsters contemplating something worse than either of us.
    I cleared my throat. “Bombs,” I said.
    He set the flash drive on the table between us. “Because the man swallowed the drive, there has been some moisture damage. I was able to salvage about ten percent of the information. Enough to scare me to death. Enough to make me want to risk this encounter we are having.”
    “You said there were seven of them? One in America?”
    “I believe there is one in America. One of the documents on the drive gave a list of potential targets in your country. The file was corrupted and there is nothing to indicate that a bomb has definitely reached your shores. That is, as you well know, a difficult thing to accomplish.”
    “Don’t look so sad about it.”
    He sighed again. “Captain, we may be on different sides of many issues, not the least of which is nuclear power and arms, but I doubt either of us is a fool or an absolute bloody-minded madman. We are entering into a new Cold War, a new arms race, but just as neither America nor Russia launched bombs at each other, no matter how badly they wanted to or how many they had to spare, neither do we. What we want is to be safe, and if having weapons of mass destruction insures that we will never be invaded by a conquering army, then that is only fair. And … more to the point, there is nothing to be gained by mutual extermination. Nothing. Even the most extreme ayatollahs know that, no matter what comprises their public rhetoric. Besides … surely you, a soldier of some reputation, understand the difference between being only able to shout loud and shake a fist and to speak quietly and shake a spear.”
    “Walk softly and carry a big stick,” I said.
    “Yes. Theodore Roosevelt. The smarter of your two Roosevelts. He understood that one must have power before one can effectively enter into war or peace.”
    I studied the picture. The picture showed a bomb the size of a central air conditioning unit for a medium-sized suburban house. The walls around it looked like bare rock; the floor was poured concrete. There were no other details visible. Not on a phone image a couple of inches square. “This is a big unit. It’s not built into a warhead, or at least this one’s not. How are they planning on transporting these devices?”
    “I doubt they are,” said Rasouli. “The fragments of information on the drive suggest that as many as four devices are already in place. The ones here in the Middle East. The last time I spoke to my agent, shortly before he was killed, he said that he did not think that any bombs were currently inside the borders of the United States. That was, alas, all that he said on that topic. I ordered him to bring me all of his findings, but he was apparently abducted on the way