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and his brother would expect us to." The phone crackled with what sounded like coughing before the voice came back. “Miss Neeley is another matter.”
    Bailey looked at the large pile of earth and shrugged. “Anything else?”
    “Rebury him and return here.” The phone went dead.
    Bailey folded the phone, put it away and returned to his work.
     
    ***************
     
    Over six hundred miles away, three hundred feet underground at Fort Meade, a wrinkled hand cut off the speakerphone that had been connected to Bailey. The hand then retrieved a burning cigarette and brought it to his lips.
    The other man in the room watched as filaments of smoke escaped through the permanent tracheotomy in Mr. Nero's throat. The fingers that reached up to cover the hole were gnarled with age and tinged with nicotine. The face was hidden in the shadows, the three lights tilted toward the visitor. The tracheotomy was something that had gone into place when Nero had been out of action for several critical months prior to the 9-11 disasters.
    When the cigarette was done, Mr. Nero capped the hole in his throat and reached for the hand-held voice box that substituted for his larynx. Nero's voice through the wand was harsh and crackly.
    "As we suspected, Mister Anthony Gant is no longer with us. There is no sign of the object you are concerned with and we do have to assume that someone was with Gant at his death due to the fact that he was given a proper burial."
    The other man finally spoke. "Then we must act."
    Nero placed the fingers of his free hand along the side of his face. "Senator, I understand you are concerned, but premature action might upset the balance we have so delicately maintained all these years and bring about that which you most fear. Gant did nothing to upset things all these years; I do believe the chances are his legacy will do nothing either."
    The most powerful man on Capitol Hill shifted in his seat, trying to restrain his anger and concern. "I wouldn't have to be afraid of the past if we had terminated everyone who was involved in the incident and collected all their various objects of blackmail."
    "Does everyone include you?" Nero asked.
    "Don't get smart with me, Nero. I'm going to be nominated by the party. This couldn’t have come at a worse time. I've got all sorts of Congressional Staffers from the other party sniffing around, looking for dirt."
    "Nothing has happened," Nero noted, "other than Mister Gant expiring, for which you should be grateful. If you wait long enough, this will most likely go away as the others die natural deaths also and their secrets die with them."
    “Including you?” Collins snapped.
    “Including me,” Nero acknowledged. “Everyone has their time. I’ve been living on borrowed time for decades. The difference between me and you is that I am aware of it.”
    “What does that mean?” Collins demanded.
    “You know so little,” Nero said.
    Collins didn’t take the bait. "We don't know where Gant's videotape or the plans and contracts are. We don't know how the others are going to react to his death. I can't afford to sit around and have this hanging over my head. And remember, there are others besides me who were involved in this. A lot of powerful people who never agreed with the way you handled this."
    "The way I've handled it has been successful so far," Nero said. “Every action has a reaction, even if it takes decades for that reaction to occur. The CIA has a term—blowback. I assume since you’re on the Select Intelligence Committee, you’ve heard of it.”
    “When weapons we’ve sold end up getting used against us,” Collins said.
    Nero nodded. “I like to think in larger terms than simply weapons. The world is changing. As is apparent now that our enemies take different forms. Therefore we must take different forms.”
    “What the hell are you talking about?” Collins demanded, confused by the change in directions.
    Nero ignored the questions. "I recommend we do