"What is a multiband..." Blancanales started.

Gadgets continued to read from the list. "Ah... you will be going, after all. I'll need someone to carry claymores."

"Claymores? How many?"

"Ten or fifteen."

"What? You'll break my back with that..."

"Ironman, you can do it. Three and a half pounds each. No problem. Not for a big mean man like you."

"That's forty-something pounds..."

George interrupted them. "You three men have five hours only to prepare. I have been with this project since you captured Rouhani. If you have questions, only I can answer them. And nothing in those folders leaves this aircraft. This project is classified Top Secret, Need to Know Only..."

"And Burn Before Reading," Lyons interrupted. "I got a question already. Dastgerdi's in Nicaragua — so what? If the rockets are in Lebanon, why aren't we going there?"

"We do not know that the rockets are in fact still in the Bekaa Valley," George answered. "The rockets may be in transit or they may have already arrived in Nicaragua. But we know for certain as of yesterday that Dastgerdi's in La Laguna de Perlas. Interrogating him will reveal if the rockets are there, or if..."

Blancanales spoke next. "And what if they are not?"

"Hopefully, the information we gain from Dastgerdi will allow us to intercept them on the Atlantic."

"Hopefully?" Lyons demanded. "What does that mean? We can't hope for shit. What happens if..."

The screen went black. George flicked on the lights. "The briefing is over. Study your materials. I repeat, nothing leaves this..."

"Hey, clerk! I'm asking a question!" Lyons shouted. "You said you've been on this for weeks. So what happens if the rockets aren't in Nicaragua or on a ship? I'll tell you what happens! We'll go to Lebanon and hit those ragheads like we should've as soon as you found out we got played by a decoy. And I want to know what you desk jockeys have been doing for all these weeks!"