He peered over it.

He looked back at the instructor, who motioned casually with his head, as if to say, Go on, you can do it. Go on, you can do it.

The jumper peered back over the edge.

He closed his eyes...and stepped off.

He dropped like a rock, wailing as he went.

Then the tethered line snapped taut, and the jumper bobbed a few times under the tension of the springs before coming to a rest, gently swinging three feet above the sandpit LZ.

"Nice jump, Pierre!" the instructor called down. He had an American accent. "Next time, though, lose the scream, huh?"

Pierre, hanging his head with relief while staring at the sand LZ, didn't reply.

Canidy then heard a voice with a slight Italian accent call behind him, "We've been expecting you."

Canidy turned. He saw two men in Army fatigues without insignia coming down the stone steps at the building's main entrance. Both had dark olive skin and close-cropped black hair and bushy black mustaches; one was about six feet tall, the other a head shorter. He recognized the short one as Max Corvo.

"We got a heads-up from Algiers on the landline," Corvo said, offering his hand to Canidy. "Good to see you. Max Corvo."

"I remember," Canidy said, shaking his hand. "Nice to see you, too."

"Vincent Scamporino," the tall man said, offering his hand.

"Dick Canidy," he replied, taking the hand.

Canidy glanced at Darmstadter.

"And you've met the terror of the skies here?" he said.

Corvo turned to Darmstadter.

"I thought we'd come to some agreement about those buzzings," he said seriously.

"Major Canidy here grabbed the wheel. I was just trying to get control of the aircraft back before he killed us all."

Corvo, a stern look on his face, studied Canidy.

Canidy shrugged. "He said I should get a close look at the Sandbox."

Corvo looked at Darmstadter's blank expression and sensed he was having his chain pulled.

"All right," Corvo said finally. He looked at Canidy. "Let's go to my office and talk in private. I've got work to do."

The building construction of the old Catholic school was not unlike that of the villa that served as OSS Algiers Station. It was of a similar sturdy masonry design but more utilitarian, and certainly not as nicely furnished. Its hard surfaces amplified the softest of sounds and caused louder ones to echo.

The room that Corvo called his office had actually been a classroom, one that the church had thoughtfully supplied with a wooden crucifix that filled the space between the top of the doorframe and the ceiling, and, on the wall near the small window, amateur artwork in charcoal of what looked to Canidy's eye to be biblical scenes.

And that was how Corvo had left the room set up: a teacher's wooden desk and chairs, at the front of the room in front of the wall that held the wide blackboard, and the remainder of the room filled with two dozen wooden student desks, with hinged wooden writing surfaces, in three rows of eight desks each.

Judging by the size of the desks, Canidy guessed the room had served to instruct boys who were ten or twelve years old.

"Help yourselves to a seat," Corvo said, leaning his buttocks against the front edge of the teacher's desk. "Captain Fine said to give you whatever you ask. Tell me what I can do for you."

Canidy noticed that Darmstadter didn't move toward a chair, just leaned against the wall. Then Canidy looked at Corvo and wondered if he was the one now doing the chain pulling. But when Scamporino squeezed himself into one of the student desks, Canidy realized that Corvo wasn't.

"I think I'll stand," Canidy said finally. "I've been sitting a lot lately."

"Something to drink?" Corvo said.

"Maybe later, thank you. I'm in a hurry, so let me get right to the point."

"Please do."

"I need intel out of Palermo and I need it right now. And I need to set up a wireless team long-term," Canidy said.

"Okay," Corvo replied more than a little dubiously.

"Stan Fine says you have people, connections?" It was more a statement than a question.

Corvo looked somewhat surprised, then said, "In Sicily? Sure I do. My family is there"-he motioned at Scamporino in the chair-"Vincent's is. And Victor Anfuso's. Most of the men with me do. They're their uncles, grandparents, cousins, whatever." He shrugged. "AFHQ told us to get ready, but until they give us the go-ahead that we can get in there we're screwed. So we just train here with the French Resistance teams and wait."

Canidy snorted.

"Not good enough," he said.

Corvo stiffened.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Corvo said.

Canidy glanced at Darmstadter, who shook his head slightly.

Yeah...I don't need to get off on the wrong foot here, Canidy thought. Canidy thought.

"I mean," Canidy went on in a calm, reasonable tone, "that I can't wait for that."

"I have to for all kinds of reasons, not just AFHQ," Corvo said, feeling the need to explain. "Look, I could bring only ten recruits from the States; that's Vincent and Victor and eight others. We're assembling teams, and training them, as best we can. We found some Sicilians among the prisoners of war that were liberated here and are trying to integrate them."

"Are they good?" Canidy said.

"They're taking a lot of work," Scamporino offered. "But I can tell you that they're motivated. And a couple are quite ruthless. I don't know who they hate more, Hitler or Mussolini."

"Have you been able to tell if any of them, maybe these ones you call ruthless, are connected with the Mafia?"

"No," Corvo immediately replied. It was as if he had been expecting the question. "I can't work with the Mafia."

Canidy looked at him. "Can't or won't?"

Corvo crossed his arms on his chest.

"I made it clear back in Washington," he said emphatically, "that anyone with connections to the Mafia cannot be trusted, and that the Sicilians we do have-our relatives, their extended family, and others-are."

Canidy nodded as he considered that.

He profoundly believes that, he thought. he thought. Maybe he's right. But I can't rely on it, and it's not worth arguing now. Somehow, I don't think he'd be too impressed right now if I shared with him my letter of introduction from Luciano.... Maybe he's right. But I can't rely on it, and it's not worth arguing now. Somehow, I don't think he'd be too impressed right now if I shared with him my letter of introduction from Luciano....

"Do you have any teams close to being ready to go?" Canidy said.

Scamporino shook his head.

"Not even close," Corvo added. "But we have plenty of time."

Canidy grunted.

"Maybe you do," Canidy said.

"What's that mean?"

"I told you, I'm in a hurry. I don't have the luxury of time." He thought for a moment. "At the risk of this next question annoying you, too, I'll say it, anyway."

Canidy noticed that Corvo was practically glaring at him.

"What are the odds," Canidy went on, "that one of these former POWs of yours is a V-manner V-manner?"

"A what?" Scamporino said.

"That's what the Germans call their spies-" Canidy began to explain.

"Not a damn one!" Corvo interrupted.

"-It's short for Vertrauensmanner Vertrauensmanner," Canidy went on evenly, his attention still on Scamporino. "It means 'trustworthy men.'"

Canidy looked at Corvo. "Not one? That's too bad."

Corvo looked as if he could not believe his ears.

"Why in hell would you say that?" he said.

"Because he might make a good CEA."

Corvo glanced at Scamporino as he thought about that a moment, then said, "A double agent?"

Canidy nodded.

"I believe the OSS likes to use the term Controlled Enemy Agent," Canidy said, then added, "You might take another hard look. Just to make sure."

Corvo looked like he was about to explode.

Canidy held up his hand, palm out.

"Before you fly off the handle," he said, "consider your source. That they were in the POW camps during Operation Torch could mean they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time and simply got swept up with the real bad guys. Or...it could mean that there's one or more who were in a Nest, that they'd been pins on the map when we came through, and now, oh so conveniently, denounce the Nazis and Italians."

"Pins on a map?" Scamporino said.

Canidy noticed that even Darmstadter now was looking curiously.

"Max," Canidy said, "does Pins on the Map Syndrome mean anything to you?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, Major."

"You can call me Dick," Canidy replied.

The look on Corvo's face showed that he appreciated the gesture.

"It's the first I've heard of it, Dick," he said. "The syndrome, that is. Keep in mind I'm new to all this."

Canidy knew that when he had been recruited for the OSS, Corvo had worn the stripe of an Army private on his uniform.

"In many ways, me, too, Max," Canidy said, then, after a moment, added, "I gather that Nests Nests and and Asts Asts are unfamiliar terms also?" are unfamiliar terms also?"

Corvo nodded. Scamporino shrugged slightly.

"About how many men do you have, Max?" Canidy said.

"Everyone included," Corvo said, "about thirty."

"How soon can you round them up?"

Corvo looked at Scamporino and raised an eyebrow, passing the question.

"Fifteen minutes?" Scamporino answered.

Canidy nodded as he considered that. He looked at this wristwatch.

"You mind if I speak with them as a group?" Canidy said.

"Captain Fine said to give you what you want."

"Get 'em in here," Canidy said. "I can do this quickly, especially if I only have to do it once."

Canidy looked at Darmstadter.

"This will be good for your education, too, Hank. You might want to take advantage of picking out a good seat before the rest arrive."