"That's the last one," Cranston said, hitting enter on the keyboard and giving a grim smile. "Not that it matters. There's no way help can come in time now." He picked up the snow globe the Pan-Nigerian Petroleum Company had given him for his fifteen year anniversary and studied it, as though the answers would be present there.

Malmud put a comforting hand on Cranston's and tried her best to smile. "It is not fault of yours. If l had the chance to do these things a second time, same difference would have been result ending of. Better to be here than waiting to be taken at the bank in Lagos."

"NO THE BLAME RESTS WITH ME," Khadee said softly. "EVER SINCE ASSASINATION OF MY HUSBAND AND CHILDREN, I NOT HAVE THOUGHT CLEARLY. WE SHOULD HAVE LEFT CONGO AS SOON AS WE JOINED OUR RESOURCES."

"Government troops be here soon," Malmud said. "Never l thought would our campaign of e-mail fall on deaf ears. Millions of dollars offered we the Americans, but they never responded to our cries for help."

"Our foes outsmarted us, my friends," Cranston sighed. "What can we three do against an army of e-mailers spoofing our efforts? How can anyone know who to believe?"

"MONEY NEVER WILL LEAVE CONGO NOW," Khadee said, her voice barely above a whisper. "KNOW YOU WE CANNOT LET THEM HAVE IT. THE TROOPS. MY HUSBAND WOULD NOT WANT IT TO FALL INTO THE WRONG HANDS."

Cranston nodded and opened the trap door. The stacks and stacks of bills in multiple currencies filled the secret passage under the bungalow. He checked the charges. "Very well," he said, and picked up the dead man's switch.

Malmud nodded and produced the pitcher of sports drink they had prepared. "It should be painless," she assured herself as much as them.

"GOOD," Khadee remarked, "MY HUSBAND AWAITS ME. HAVE DONE ALL I CAN HERE, I HAVE."

They passed out three cups and began to pour.