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"It's nice to see you smiling," said Spider. "It's been a while."

"I know," said Sarah.

Leo's pale skin was blotchy. "So…do you think Aztlan's going to declare war on us?"

"We may not get a formal declaration," said Sarah, serious again. "It may just happen."

"Perhaps Brandt's declaration of support for the Belt, presenting a unified front, will give Aztlan pause," said Spider. "It might at least buy time."

"Did you see General Kidd?" said Sarah. "He looked even grimmer than usual. At least compared to Amir."

"Young warriors are always eager for battle." Spider wrapped the blanket tighter around himself. "Old warriors know better."

"Do you want to go in?" Sarah asked him.

"I prefer it out here," said Spider. "I like hearing the children."

"Rakkim's got the cross," Leo said abruptly. "That's got to help."

"Are you getting religion, Leo?" Sarah teased.

"Whatever works, that's my philosophy," said Leo. "I don't care if it's magic beans or a prayer cloth dipped in the Jordan River."

"The cross will help," said Spider. "When Rakkim gets back he can turn it over to the president. Then Brandt can present it to the Belt president in a formal ceremony. Prove to the people of the Belt that Brandt's statement wasn't just words."

"The cross will do more than affirm Brandt's good intentions," said Sarah. "You have no idea the symbolic power it has for Christians."

Spider shrugged.

"I haven't heard anything from Rakkim in days," said Leo. "Has he contacted you?"

Sarah shook her head.

"Are you worried?" asked Leo.

Sarah went back to the parapet, looked down on the kids playing. "Always."

"You should learn to relax, Ibrahim," said the Old One. "Enjoy life."

"I am busy insuring my salvation." Ibrahim edged closer to his father as the crowd surged outside the Mighty Neptune Hotel and Casino, thousands of people pressed up against the railing surrounding the expanse of blue water. "Can we not leave this place?"

"Las Vegas is the happiest place on earth, that's what everyone says." Like many in the crowd the Old One carried a plastic trident and wore a seashell crown on his head. "Aren't you happy?"

"We've been here a week and I've hated every minute of it," said Ibrahim.

"I like this city and its endless enthusiasm. It makes me feel…it makes me feel young again. Hopeful. Have fun, Ibrahim. Life is short."

The crowd roared as Moby Dick surfaced from the center of the lake, the white whale spouting water two hundred feet into the air, a rainbow mist in the twilight. Japanese-made, of course. They made the best creatures.

The Old One cheered along with the crowd, waved his trident overhead. "Smile, my son, what you see before you is the handiwork of Allah."

"Father."

The Old One swept the trident across the water. "Over thirty billion gallons of freshwater. The largest man-made lake in the world, right here in the middle of the desert. Drained an aquifer to fill it and keep it filled, but did that stop the builders? No, it did not. They simply found another aquifer and piped it in. Where does such ambition and expertise come from other than Allah?"

Moby Dick rushed toward them, dove, its tail fluke kicking up a vast wave that broke over the crowd, drenching them.

The crowd howled with delight, none of them louder than the Old One, his clothes soaked, water dripping off his nose and ears.

Ibrahim looked miserable, his shirt soggy.

"I should have left you back in Miami," said the Old One.

"Doubtless you would have had a better time with the whore," muttered Ibrahim.

"Don't speak that way of your sister."

"My half sister," said Ibrahim.

"Baby is blood of my blood, as are you."

"Father-"

The Old One hooted as the Pequod, a full-sized, three-masted sailing ship, emerged from the casino and out onto the lake, sails catching the wind. Captain Ahab strode the deck with his peg leg, commanding the sailors while a tattooed man with a harpoon took a position near the bow. A tourist beside them hoisted a small boy onto his shoulders so he could see better, the boy wearing a pirate hat and waving a plastic scimitar.

"Avast, matey!" the Old One shouted at the child, shaking his trident.

The boy stared at him, then turned back to the Pequod.

"I hope you know what you're doing with Brandt," said Ibrahim. "His speech today-"

"Brandt's irrelevant. He could barely stand up without Amir beside him."

"Amir is irrelevant without General Kidd," said Ibrahim.

The Old One glanced at his son, then turned away, peering at the surface of the water, trying to determine exactly where the whale would resurface. As often as he had seen the show he could never be sure. The whale's central processor used random selection to heighten the excitement. Leo could probably work out the math to predict its exact appearance, but…He jabbed a finger at the lake. "Thar she blows!"

Moby Dick shot straight up not too far from the spot he had indicated, twisting in the air before landing in the water with a huge splash. The wave raced across the lake, sent the Pequod bobbing, Captain Ahab fighting to retain his balance.

The crowd whistled and applauded as the whale headed for the ship.

"I fear that you underestimate Aztlan, Father," whispered Ibrahim, water still dripping from his beard. "Their air force rolled back the Central American military in less than a week, and two days of aerial bombardment was enough to convince Venezuela to cede Aztlan their offshore oil wells."

Moby Dick picked up speed, the enormous sperm whale rushing through the water. On the Pequod, the tattooed sailor reared back with his harpoon.

"Study your history," said the Old One, watching the great white whale charge the sailing ship. "In 1967, the Israelis destroyed the entire Egyptian air force in one single afternoon. The whole war was lost while the Egyptian commanders sipped tea."

The tattooed sailor launched his harpoon deep into the white whale, but Moby Dick barely slowed, crashing into the Pequod midship, rending the wood planking. The crowd fell silent as the ship split in half, started to sink, the child beside them clutching his father's hair while Moby Dick slowly circled.

The Old One looked at Ibrahim. "So tell me, boy…do you think we are any less capable of smiting our enemies than Jews?"

"I…I just feared we were taking an unnecessary risk, that's all," said Ibrahim hurriedly.

"I'm leaving for Seattle tonight to ensure the takeover proceeds smoothly in the weeks ahead." The Old One scanned the crowd. "I want you to go back to Miami."

"Father, please-"

"Seattle is rainy, my son," said the Old One. "You might catch your death of cold there. I would never forgive myself."

CHAPTER 45

"How can you drive in this slop?" said Baby as the rain beat against the windshield, the wipers barely able to keep up. "It's raining cats, dogs and every other animal on the ark."

Rakkim leaned forward, blinking in the glare from the oncoming headlights.

Baby gnawed a pork rib thick with meat, takeout from a barbecue joint about ten miles back. "Might as well look for a motel. Even if we made it to the airport tonight, no way they're going to have flights leaving for Miami in this mess."

"You're probably right."