"I've just come to see you off, Commander," Falkirk said.

"There was no need for that, sir," Delroy replied.

"Angry, Commander?"

"Frustrated mostly, sir."

"But you're angry, too."

Delroy couldn't fathom the captain's easygoing nature. "I think I'm entitled, sir."

Falkirk nodded, and the sun gleamed from the blue lenses. "I think you are, too. Because if you're right and God has raptured his church-"

"Begging the captain's pardon," Delroy interrupted, "I am right."

Falkirk's gaze behind the blue-tinted lenses was implacable and accusing. "Yet here you stand, in a world that's been left behind, in a world of non- and near-believers."

The captain's words stung. Delroy pushed his breath out. "Sir, I've got a helicopter waiting for me. The longer it sits on that helipad, the more fuel it burns. I wouldn't dare to presume to tell you your job, but I think I'd be a little more miserly with my resources till I figured out where I stood in this thing."

"So why do you think you were left behind?" Falkirk gazed up at Delroy from behind the sunglasses.

"My beliefs are hardly under your purview, Captain," Delroy stated stiffly.

"Aren't they, Chaplain?" Falkirk's voice took on an edge. "You came into my office and started talking, as Colonel Donaldson called it, crazy talk. You advanced your theory-"

"It's not a theory. It's the truth."

Falkirk ignored the interruption. "Your theory that the world was raptured, in an attempt to explain the disappearances aboard Wasp and among the Marines sent to the border conflict. That advancement of said theory places your contentions under my purview." He paused. "Wouldn't you agree, Commander?"

Muscles knotted along Delroy's jaw. He made himself answer with effort. "Aye, sir."

Falkirk looked away, seemingly staring at the whitecapped waves rolling in toward Wasp's bow. "As captain of this ship, I've got a responsibility to the Navy, to the Marines, and to the men and women I serve with."

Delroy remained silent even though he knew the captain awaited a response from him.

"Your view on the happening aboard this ship incited a colonel in the United States Marine Corps to point a gun at your head and later take a swing at you. A colonel. Can you believe that?"

"Sir, in my defense, I did not provoke the colonel."

Falkirk swiveled his head and looked at Delroy. "No, sir, you didn't. Your view did."

Exasperated, Delroy asked, "Captain, do you know why Colonel Donaldson reacted the way he did?"

"Of course I do, Commander. Donaldson is afraid that you're right."

Surprise stole Delroy's voice.

"The problem is," Falkirk continued, "I am the captain of this ship. I am supposed to set a standard for this vessel and her crew to adhere to. Yet, here are two of the most respected officers aboard my ship, clearly at odds with each other during the greatest crisis this ship-and very probably, the world-has ever faced." He paused. "So I have to make a choice."

"And you chose Donaldson."

"Chaplain, do you know who the most dangerous person on this planet is?"

A multitude of scenarios involving nuclear weapons and biological agents came to Delroy's mind. Wasp's crew knew all about those from intensified studies and debriefs as a result of the current rise in terrorist activity.

"The most dangerous person on this planet, " Falkirk continued before Delroy could answer, "is the person who believes he is a pretty good Christian."

At first, Delroy couldn't believe he'd heard right. He thought perhaps the rotor wash had slurred the captain's words.

"Pretty good Christians," Falkirk repeated, "believe they are doing the right thing, living a good life as God would have them do. But they're actually a shell. They live it right on the outside, keep up the appearance, go to church, talk the right talk, do the right things." He paused. "But they don't believe. Not where it matters." He tapped his chest over his heart. "Do you know why I'm still here, Chaplain Delroy?"

"No, sir."

"Because I'm a pretty good Christian," Falkirk said. "I didn't believe with the strength and the faith and the conviction I was supposed to. And do you know how big that faith is supposed to be?"

"The size of a mustard seed, Captain. At least, that's what my father told me in his church and in his house."

"When I saw Donaldson go at you," Falkirk said, "when I saw the fear in him and I knew in my heart that you were right, I knew if I wasn't careful I was going to watch this ship's crew tear itself apart. Believers, nonbelievers. Christians, non-Christians. Those who were afraid, and those who were not." He paused. "I couldn't allow that to happen. Not on my watch."

"So you decided to jettison me, sir?" Delroy let some of the outrage he felt spill into his voice. "And you stand there telling me you believe what I'm saying is true?"

"Chaplain, the world is living in fear at this moment. Everything that has happened on Wasp has happened in the rest of the world. Russia stands poised to attack the United States with its nuclear arsenal and take us straight into Armageddon. I'm not willing to go there. Not without a fight."

"But, Captain," Delroy protested, "I could do a lot of good aboard this ship. I could counsel the men. I could-"

"You could," Falkirk interrupted in a calm, firm voice, "do a lot more toward saving lives by speaking at the Pentagon and convincing the Joint Chiefs of Staff of your belief." He paused. "Of our belief, Chaplain."

Delroy felt as though he'd been poleaxed. "The Pentagon, sir? The Joint Chiefs of Staff? Me, sir?"

"You'll enjoy the joint chiefs. They'll be a tough crowd, but after watching you witness to Colonel Donaldson in my office, I know you're the right man for the job. Your father would be proud of you."

The enormity of the task laid before him hit Delroy like a ton of bricks. "But, sir, my place is here. With Wasp. This crew has never needed me more. And I have never been more able to serve them."

"Are you scared, Chaplain?"

Delroy took a deep breath. "Aye, sir. More than I can ever remember being."

Falkirk smiled a little. "You can do more in Washington right now, Chaplain, than you can here. Let's work to save lives first, then we'll work to save souls." He offered his hand. "I made my decision down in my office. I'd made it before your confrontation with Colonel Donaldson. I was prepared to try to convince you of the Rapture. "

"That's why you had the Bible on your desk?"

"That Bible," Falkirk said, "is always on my desk or near to hand. When I have to deal with problems with personnel, I reach for that Bible before I reach for the Navy manuals."

"I didn't know that, Captain."

"Just as I didn't know if your convictions had strengthened enough to handle this situation. I know your son's death troubles you, and I know you've struggled with your own faith."

Delroy's face felt hot. "I'm shamed to know that you were aware of that."

"We all struggle with our faith," Falkirk said. "I just didn't know if you'd be ready for the task I was going to ask of you. But when I saw you stand up to Colonel Donaldson, when I saw the belief in your eyes, I knew I didn't have to sell you. Just as I know you won't back down from the joint chiefs."

"No, sir."

"Then shake my hand, Chaplain," Falkirk said, "and climb aboard that helo. You're wasting fuel standing here talking, and I don't know that I have the reserves for it."

"Aye, sir. You're right, sir." Delroy shoved his hat under his arm and took the captain's hand. They shook.

"Godspeed, Chaplain," Falkirk said.

"Thank you, sir." Delroy stepped back, saluted smartly, then performed an about-face and jogged toward the waiting Sea Stallion.

Once Delroy was safely buckled in his seat, the pilot pulled the CH-53E into the air and informed him they would be stopping in Greece to pick up the plane Falkirk had requisitioned for the flight to Washington, D.C. The pilot informed him that the plane trip would take fifteen or sixteen hours.

Delroy gazed down through the window, watching as Wasp and the rest of the ARG grew smaller and smaller against the blanket of green sea. Seeing the vessels made him realize how small his world really was while he was living aboard Wasp.

And how big the problem facing him really was.

But the stakes, God help me, You know what the stakes are. As he bowed his head and began to pray, Delroy was surprised at how quickly and easily the words came to him, but he took strength in them.

Edessa Hotel Sanliurfa Sanliurfa, Turkey Local Time 2:13 P.M.

"It's hard sitting around watching the news when you don't get to be part of it, isn't it?" The words carried the plummy accent of the finest British boarding schools.

Seated at a back booth in the Edessa Hotel's restaurant, Danielle Vinchenzo swiveled her gaze from the nearby wall-mounted television and looked at the dark-complexioned woman standing in the aisle near her table.

The woman was striking-though her appearance was a surprise. Instead of the fair Sloan Ranger Danielle expected after hearing that voice, she saw a woman who would stand out in any crowd-and especially in a crowd of British blue bloods. She had cafe au lait skin that gleamed in the light and a mass of black hair pulled up in a style that made her look both professional and alluring. Her dark brown silk business suit was a handmade Italian original that showed off her slim figure. Her purse complemented the look and the suit well. She could have been a runway model for modem businesswomen's attire. Her age could have been anywhere from mid-twenties to mid-fifties. She obviously took good care of herself.

"Do I know you?" Danielle asked.

"Not yet," the woman replied. "My name is Valerica Hergheligiu." "I'm Danielle-"

"Vinchenzo," the woman said. She smiled. "I know who you are, Miss Vinchenzo. I've seen your work."

"I'm flattered." Danielle sat up a little straighter. The horrific events at Glitter City had taken place nearly seven hours ago. By rights, she felt she should have been up in her hotel room fast asleep. Or even better, in the thick of things, reporting on them.

Only she couldn't sleep. And she couldn't work. She was stuck out here watching the television, being a spectator to the breaking news instead of part of it. Her boss hadn't returned her calls. And her news crew had refused to even think about going to the border where the action was. They'd been too shaken up, between the bombs and the deaths and the bullets and the people who had disappeared from among them. The crew didn't have satellite access for a broadcast anyway. Their equipment was another casualty of this disastrous day.

So she'd been stuck in her hotel. She'd tried to watch the news from her room, but it hadn't been an option because the violence of the morning had seemed to gather around her and wrap her in a cloud of invisible menace. She'd been too uncomfortable alone in her room to be able to watch the news there. She needed lights, people, noise around her-anything to make the world feel normal again. So here she was in a hotel restaurant, with a television tuned to news for company, and a woman trapping her in the booth, wearing clothes that cost more money than Danielle made in a month.

"You should feel flattered," Valerica said. "I've come a long way to find you."

"You have?" None of this was making sense to Danielle.

"Yes, I have." Valerica glanced at the booth seat on the other side of the table. "May I sit down?"

"Of course. I'm sorry." Danielle waved to the other booth.

"Please. Make yourself at home." Though if that suit was any indication, home wouldn't look anything like this hotel's restaurant.

The woman sat, then gestured to a waiter. "Have you eaten?"

"No," Danielle admitted.

"That's Turkish coffee you're drinking?"

Danielle glanced down at her demitasse cup. "Yes. I've developed a weakness for it since I've been here."

"Turkish coffee is the milk of chess players and thinkers," Valerica said.

"That's what I've been told," Danielle agreed.

"On an empty stomach, dear girl, that drink is much too sweet and rich."

Danielle studied the woman. She had always prided herself on reading people, had always been quick to figure out an angle someone was about to play. But she couldn't get a reading from Valerica.

The waiter hovered expectantly.

"The mutton shanks kebab with vegetables is very good here," the woman suggested. "Allow me to order for us both."

"All right." Danielle watched as the woman ordered in fluent Turkish, though she had the impression that language wasn't her native one.

The waiter nodded and went away.

"You'll have to forgive me," Danielle said, "but I'm frazzled and not quite myself. It's been an unbelievable day, and I'm about done for. I'm hardly good company right now. I imagine I'm going to appear rude or abrupt."

"Not at all, dear girl." Valerica gazed at her with complete interest. "I'm sure you have questions about many things. Including who I am. Please feel free to ask them."

"Why are you here?"

"In Turkey?"

"Talking to me."

The woman shrugged and smiled as if at her own humor. "Why, I'm here because I want to make you an offer that you can't refuse."

The bald statement made Danielle uneasy, but she couldn't pinpoint why. Maybe it was the too-casual manner in which the woman had made her announcement. She held her silence and waited to see what else this woman had to say.

"You're a media specialist," Valerica continued. "You interview well. You stay current on your assignments and the rest of the world that you're not covering. You look good on camera."

For a moment, the thought that she should get up from the table and just walk away bumped gently through Danielle's mind, like a butterfly banging against a glass window. But it vanished as her innate curiosity took over. There was a story here. She could feel it. There was always a story when she got that cold itch across the back of her neck.

"So?" Danielle said.

Valerica smiled and reached into her purse. She laid a business card on the tabletop.

Danielle read the card. "One World Communications. I'm impressed."

"Not without just cause, dear girl. OneWorld Communications is quickly becoming a media force to be reckoned with."