things. It's a matter of priorities. There are a lot of innocent lives at risk. The first thing we do is take care of Al-Qaeda in the Congo. We can put our own house in order later."
"What if they're planning something?" Veronica asks. "What if they're blackmailing whoever set up Derek to help them?"
"We're well aware of that possibility and we're taking measures to ensure that doesn't happen."
"What measures?" Jacob demands.
Strick fixes him with a cold stares. "Classified measures."
"Classified my ass," Jacob says, his anger finally bubbling over. "You aren't well aware of shit, and you aren't the least bit interested who set up Derek, or you wouldn't be hearing about all this from us. This is insane. You're telling us to go away? You should be asking us for help. I've found out more sitting at my computer than you have with the whole American intelligence budget behind you. Derek was murdered by one of you. By someone he was working for. But you don't actually want to find out who it was, do you? All you want is to use your pet Zimbabwe general to clean up in the Congo, collect the hosannas, then make your own problem go away before it makes you all look bad for not having noticed, this whole fucking time, that one of your own guys was in league with terrorists and genocidists. Never mind that they might be planning something in the meantime. The important thing is to keep your dirty laundry private, isn't it? You're nothing but a useless bureaucrat."
Strick recoils slightly, as if he has just been slapped. He looks at Jacob for a long moment. Then he says, in an oddly gentle voice, "I know he was your friend. But you have to let go."
"No, actually, I don't."
"Let me tell you a story."
Jacob opens his mouth to say he doesn't want to hear it. Veronica kicks him in the shin. He looks at her and subsides.
"I knew a woman once," Strick said. "A Kurdish woman. I was there on duty, this was between the gulf wars. We were going to be engaged. That is, we were engaged, but it was secret. We couldn't tell anyone. Then one day she disappeared. I didn't take it seriously for the first couple of days. I thought she'd come back. It wasn't the first time. She had a history. Fits of madness. I guess you're not supposed to call it that any more. Madness. She was younger than me. Sometimes it hits women in their twenties. Especially trauma survivors. Her family was all murdered in the eighties." He takes a deep breath. "But this time it wasn't madness. She told her cousin, he told her uncle, they took her away and killed her. Honor killing. So-called."
Jacob and Veronica stare at Strick.
"I could have gone after them," the gray-haired man says. "I could have had my revenge. I wanted to. But it would have ruined everything both of us had worked for. And what good would have come from it? What good would have come?"
They have no answer.
"So I let her go. You want to help. You want to know what happened to you and your friend. I respect that. But I'm sorry. You can't. Let it go. Leave it to the professionals. Don't interfere. No good will come of it. People like you, well-meaning amateurs, you can't do good here, not in Africa, the place isn't built for it. The harder you try, the more you fail. You almost died tonight, both of you. Please. Go home before it's too late."
* * *
Strick gives them a car and driver to take them home.
"Maybe he's right," Veronica says to Jacob, as they sail through Kampala's empty streets. "It sounds like they've got the whole Al-Qaeda angle under control. Maybe we should just go."
"Maybe we should. But I'm not going to."
"Why not?" she asks, frustrated, and still a little angry at him for losing his temper at the embassy. "I mean, honestly, what do you hope to get out of it? You really think you're going to get enough evidence to put somebody in jail? Here? With all this complicated mess? Come on."
"I'm going to find out who it was."
"And then what?"
"That is the what. I just want to know. Maybe I won't do anything, maybe that won't be possible. I understand that. But I want to know who and why. And I want them to know that I know."
"That's crazy."
"You think so? Then you