Near the door, Jamon Albondigas weighed Copefeld's placating words carefully. It took him a moment to react. When he took a step back toward the table, Sham Tokumo felt the very air lighten. It was over.

"I accept your apology," Albondigas said tightly as he strode back to the table. "And I wish you dead, as well. In the healthiest, business-metaphor sense, of course."

As the others laughed, Albondigas resumed his place at the conference table.

When Sham Tokumo glanced at Copefeld, the Cali lawyer was mopping sweat from his tan face. Tokumo frowned at the man's strange behavior even as he felt relief that they could now resume the more mundane business before them.

At the head of the table, Mandobar had been a surprisingly silent observer. Not a word had passed the broad lips. Even now, that famous face remained unreadable. As though it could have been carved from a chunk of gleaming coal. But as Tokumo and the others returned to their papers and briefcases, a happy chuckle rose from the far end of the great table. When those gathered glanced up, they found that the stern mouth had melted into a broad grin.

Mandobar laughed a deep, rolling belly laugh. The black eyes sparkled, and the familiar laugh lines returned. It was the same face they'd all seen on newspapers and television screens since the nation of East Africa had been so abruptly thrust into the world spotlight some fifteen years before.

"Do you not see?" Mandobar happily asked the puzzled faces. "This was the first real test of our new union, and the crisis has been resolved peacefully. With words, not violence. Gentlemen, we have already succeeded. It is as I have promised.