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background.”
“That’s not the problem?”
“No.”
“Ok-ay.”
“The People’s Paradise of Africa,” Lohengrin said, “under the leadership of Dr. Kitengi Nshombo, has accused Khartoum of enacting a policy of genocide against the black tribal population of the south and west Sudan.”
“Got it. Genocide. Problem.”
“No,” Lohengrin said.
“Genocide not a problem?”
“Genocide isn’t happening. It is an excuse. The PPA has manufactured evidence and generated propaganda to make a case for the invasion of the Sudan. Its forces are making incursions across the border, and the Caliphate has mobilized to defend Sudanese national territory. Yesterday there was a battle in the Sudd. A terrible battle.”
“And that’s the problem, right?”
“Yes,” Lohengrin said. “In the bigger picture, that is the problem. But it gets worse. The PPA forces are being led by Tom Weathers. The Radical.”
Bugsy sat up straighter. “Hold it,” he said. “Same guy who tried to set off Little Fat Boy and nuke New Orleans last year?”
“Same guy,
ja
.”
“I don’t like him much, you know. He tried to kill me. I mean, I don’t like the Caliphate much either. They tried to kill me too.”
“Tom Weathers tried to kill many hundreds of thousands of people,” Lohengrin said.
“Yeah. And I was one of them.”
“The PPA has been a destabilizing influence for years. Now they have begun to use aces to further their own political agenda.”
The silence was a hum of climate-controlled heating and the distant ringing of phones. Lohengrin looked serious and waited for Bugsy to work through the implications.
“World war,” Bugsy said. “Only fought with aces. Meaning probably the Committee.”
“And a great many dead people,” Lohengrin said.
“What about getting Little Fat Boy back in play? A fourteen-year-old nuke with a personal grudge against Weathers should rein the PPA in, right?”
“Ra,”
Lohengrin said. “His name is Ra now, and no. So long as Old Egypt is not attacked, the Living Gods are determined to stay out of the conflict.”
“How very Swiss of them.”
“There is a further problem with Tom Weathers. We’ve always known that Weathers had more powers than most aces. Insubstantiality. Strength. Ultraflight. Heat beams. We know he was involved in the battle in part because these powers were in play. But other powers have been reported as well. The wave of darkness? The terrible mauling of the bodies?”
“You think he’s like the Djinn?” Bugsy said, sitting forward on the couch. Nothing took the humor out of a situation like the Djinn. “You think Weathers is picking up new powers.”
“I do not know,” Lohengrin said. “New powers. Or new allies. We know little about the man himself. Where he comes from, how he drew the wild card, what his weaknesses might be. What exactly his powers are. That is what I want you to uncover, Jonathan. Tom Weathers is likely the most powerful ace in the world, he is starting a war, and I know nothing substantial about him.”
“And so,” Bugsy said, “who the fuck is the Radical?”
Unnamed Island
Aegean Sea, Greece
“Daddy!”
The woman who came flying at him across rocky soil tufted with pale green grass was tall and slender. Despite the fact her handsome face was clearly middle-aged, it showed few lines. Her hair, long and blond, had begun by slowly evident degrees to turn to silver. Yet her manner was that of a seven-year-old girl.
A very happy one. She caught him in a hug that for all his superhuman strength still almost overbalanced him. She was just four inches shorter than his six-two.
He kissed her. “Sprout. Hey, sweetie.” He tousled the long straight hair. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. Can we go to the park soon?”
“Aye, that’s a good idea,” said Mrs. Clark, emerging from the modest field-stone cottage behind her. “It’s not fit for her to spend all her days cooped up here alone, with no one
“That’s not the problem?”
“No.”
“Ok-ay.”
“The People’s Paradise of Africa,” Lohengrin said, “under the leadership of Dr. Kitengi Nshombo, has accused Khartoum of enacting a policy of genocide against the black tribal population of the south and west Sudan.”
“Got it. Genocide. Problem.”
“No,” Lohengrin said.
“Genocide not a problem?”
“Genocide isn’t happening. It is an excuse. The PPA has manufactured evidence and generated propaganda to make a case for the invasion of the Sudan. Its forces are making incursions across the border, and the Caliphate has mobilized to defend Sudanese national territory. Yesterday there was a battle in the Sudd. A terrible battle.”
“And that’s the problem, right?”
“Yes,” Lohengrin said. “In the bigger picture, that is the problem. But it gets worse. The PPA forces are being led by Tom Weathers. The Radical.”
Bugsy sat up straighter. “Hold it,” he said. “Same guy who tried to set off Little Fat Boy and nuke New Orleans last year?”
“Same guy,
ja
.”
“I don’t like him much, you know. He tried to kill me. I mean, I don’t like the Caliphate much either. They tried to kill me too.”
“Tom Weathers tried to kill many hundreds of thousands of people,” Lohengrin said.
“Yeah. And I was one of them.”
“The PPA has been a destabilizing influence for years. Now they have begun to use aces to further their own political agenda.”
The silence was a hum of climate-controlled heating and the distant ringing of phones. Lohengrin looked serious and waited for Bugsy to work through the implications.
“World war,” Bugsy said. “Only fought with aces. Meaning probably the Committee.”
“And a great many dead people,” Lohengrin said.
“What about getting Little Fat Boy back in play? A fourteen-year-old nuke with a personal grudge against Weathers should rein the PPA in, right?”
“Ra,”
Lohengrin said. “His name is Ra now, and no. So long as Old Egypt is not attacked, the Living Gods are determined to stay out of the conflict.”
“How very Swiss of them.”
“There is a further problem with Tom Weathers. We’ve always known that Weathers had more powers than most aces. Insubstantiality. Strength. Ultraflight. Heat beams. We know he was involved in the battle in part because these powers were in play. But other powers have been reported as well. The wave of darkness? The terrible mauling of the bodies?”
“You think he’s like the Djinn?” Bugsy said, sitting forward on the couch. Nothing took the humor out of a situation like the Djinn. “You think Weathers is picking up new powers.”
“I do not know,” Lohengrin said. “New powers. Or new allies. We know little about the man himself. Where he comes from, how he drew the wild card, what his weaknesses might be. What exactly his powers are. That is what I want you to uncover, Jonathan. Tom Weathers is likely the most powerful ace in the world, he is starting a war, and I know nothing substantial about him.”
“And so,” Bugsy said, “who the fuck is the Radical?”
Unnamed Island
Aegean Sea, Greece
“Daddy!”
The woman who came flying at him across rocky soil tufted with pale green grass was tall and slender. Despite the fact her handsome face was clearly middle-aged, it showed few lines. Her hair, long and blond, had begun by slowly evident degrees to turn to silver. Yet her manner was that of a seven-year-old girl.
A very happy one. She caught him in a hug that for all his superhuman strength still almost overbalanced him. She was just four inches shorter than his six-two.
He kissed her. “Sprout. Hey, sweetie.” He tousled the long straight hair. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. Can we go to the park soon?”
“Aye, that’s a good idea,” said Mrs. Clark, emerging from the modest field-stone cottage behind her. “It’s not fit for her to spend all her days cooped up here alone, with no one
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