The hypocrisy of the U.K. and the weak-kneed sensibilities of his own nation were stunning, but with his credibility all but destroyed he was forced to surrender those battles, withdraw from the national scene, use his wits and skills and whatever closet supporters he had left-and thank God there were a bunch of them-to earn a living.

He did it alone, because his wife had withered under the scrutiny and catcalls, the burning bags of feces on the doorstep and the death threats on voice mail.

He made his deals in back rooms, wrote or produced anonymously because even his friends were afraid of Lawrence Soren, Muslim backlash, or both.

But he did it all, survived so he could get to this point.

Not to stroke his wounded pride, not to show a president or prime minster that by God he was right.

He did it for this one chance to help the nation save itself from itself.

5

Sofia, Bulgaria

The moment Hassan Haddad stepped off the elevator, he knew he was being watched.

It was a weeknight, and across the lobby the hotel lounge and casino were full of European and American businessmen, either drunk or getting there, planning their schemes to rape and pillage the country’s economy as they gambled away their weekly salaries.

Both the hotel and casino were examples of the new Eastern capitalist vulgarity. Crowded craps tables, roulette wheels, and slot machines, surrounded by gold-inlaid walls and marble floors-all symbols of decadence and woeful immorality.