"You got any extra shells?" Jose asked.

"Man, you ain't got to shoot more'n once if you shoot straight, old-timer."

"Right," Jose said, shutting the door and slipping the gun into the waist of his pants before he scooted into the dark.

He made his way through the shadows and around to the back of the motel. As he studied the terrain, he dialed up Casey's cell phone, listening for tension in her voice as she answered the phone.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "Where are you?"

"Outside."

"The motel?"

"Did you park the car by that car wash around the block?" he asked.

"Yes. What's going on?"

"Just stay calm," he said. "Don't go to the window, but I think we have some visitors out front. There's a white van. I'm out back and I don't see anything, but hang tight. Throw your things and mine in our bags. I'll ease up to the bathroom window and knock twice if it's clear."

Jose hung up and crept along slowly, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny, stepping into the rotten carcass of a dead animal and nearly vomiting before wiping his boot sideways in the switchgrass beyond the broken pavement. When he reached the window to their room, he studied the shadows around him one final time before rapping his knuckles softly on the glass.

Casey swept the curtain aside and her face appeared. Quietly, she opened the window and handed their bags out before climbing through herself, Jose helping her to the ground. He mashed a finger to his lips and signaled for her to follow and stay close. When they reached the far corner of the building he paused in the shadows and took a pair of night-vision goggles from his bag, peering around the corner and directing them at the van.

Inside the vehicle, he could make out three men in what looked like bulletproof vests carrying assault rifles and waiting, still as mannequins.

"What do you see?" Casey asked, her hand on his shoulder and her lips whispering into his ear.

"They aren't here to kidnap us," he said.

"Then why?" she asked.

"They're here to kill us. Come on."

Casey had dozed off and Jose let her sleep while he drove them back toward home. When she woke they were at a gas station and he was outside the Mercedes, adding fuel under the halogen lights. The sky showed no sign of the coming dawn and although no rain fell, the blacktop still bore the slick puddles and stains of earlier weather. Casey stretched, yawned, and got out, putting her hands on his shoulders and her face against the muscles in his back, absorbing his heat in the predawn chill.

"Want to use the facilities?" he asked.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"About an hour south of Dallas," he said. "Almost to the Lucky Star Ranch. I'm going in for a coffee with about three shots of espresso for a booster. Want one? Can you believe they have espresso in a gas station?"

She yawned and said she'd take a coffee and hit the restroom. When she returned, he fired up the car and pulled around the side of the truck stop.

" Sharon called twice," he said, glancing her way. "And a couple numbers that didn't have a name. I wanted to let you sleep."

"Did you talk to her?" Casey asked.

"I did," Jose said, nodding. "I also got a call from Soto, the kingpin I went to see. The information he's getting is in line with what Sharon thinks is happening. I had Sharon send the important stuff to my e-mail. If we can get a signal, I've got Verizon Wireless and you can download it."

"Don't you want to just tell me?" she asked.

"I could. But I want to see if you see it the way I do. I don't want to poison your thinking.''

"Too late for that.''

Jose booted up his computer and opened the material from Sharon before handing it over to her. She sat hunched over the computer, scrolling down, page after page, her brow furrowing deeper and deeper as she read articles from around the globe about the incredible breakthrough drugs Kroft Labs was producing.

"So, am I straight with this?" Casey asked. "They're five or ten years ahead of the competition in coming up with drugs that work on humans when the others have perfected them in animals only."

"I think you're straight," Jose said, his hands gripping the wheel.

"So," Casey said, "if you could use humans instead of animals for your research, you'd be way out in front, years ahead of everyone else."

"Patent the stuff," Jose said.

"Wipe out all the nightmare diseases everyone worries about," Casey said, musing. "Maybe win some Nobel Prizes or something along the way."

"And make a nice chunk of change."

"Billions," Casey said, picking up her phone and dialing. "And if you can make billions, what's a couple hundred people?"

"Especially if they're Mexicans," Jose said bitterly.

Casey put the phone to her ear and said, " Sharon?"

"Did you get it?" Sharon asked.

"Yes, I saw it."

"Am I crazy here?" Sharon asked. "When you said people disappear and I started reading that this company is coming up with all these breakthrough drugs, I'm thinking they're using people instead of lab rats."

"I think it's possible," Casey said, "anything is."

Sharon went silent for a moment, then said, "Listen, I know you haven't been checking messages on your cell phone because of all the media calls, but Stacy had the office phones forwarded here until we get new space. Mandy Chase is trying to get ahold of you. She called three times. She-"

"What's her number?" Casey asked, cutting her off. "We're heading back to the clinic. Jose says all we have to do to get inside is cut through some police tape. Screw the EPA. I'll meet her there."

"He told me you were planning to go there while you were asleep," Sharon said.

"So what's her number?" Casey asked.

"You don't have to call her," Sharon said. "She's already there."

"It's like four in the morning," Casey said.

"She sounded scared.''

THE CLINIC LOOKED LIFELESS UNDER THE WEAK ORANGE GLOW from the streetlight on the corner. Nothing but shadows lay beneath the old pump station roof. Mandy's Range Rover waited for them in the back. As soon as the Mercedes rounded the corner of the building, the Rover's dome light went on and Mandy hopped out. She wore a white designer jogging suit with her bleached blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. With no makeup, the lines of age and the red-rimmed eyes added fifteen years to her face. Casey hopped out of the car and smelled liquor in the air.

"I'll do it," Mandy said, shaking her head. "I'll ruin him. He thinks I won't, but I will. Little gargoyle."

"Come inside," Casey said gently.

Jose led the way to the back door, cutting through the yellow police tape and placing his hand on the warning sticker sealing the door that announced that tampering with it was a federal offense that would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

"Vandals," Jose said, slicing through the sticker.

Casey handed him her key. He jangled the set and opened the door, flipping on the lights. The file cabinets and shelves stood open and barren. Casey righted one of the guest chairs in front of her desk, offering it to Mandy. Jose ducked out to the car and returned with a tray loaded with triple cappuccinos. He offered one to Mandy. She took it and sipped.

Casey took one, too, and drank gratefully, letting the caffeine rush through her empty stomach to her brain. Mandy slapped a manila folder against her leg.

"I'm glad you made it back," Mandy said, looking from Jose to Casey. "You wouldn't have, if he got his way. He wanted you killed in Mexico. I heard him say it."

"Anyone else with him when he said it?" Casey asked, hopeful.

"Jeff Macken."

"Who is he?"

"My husband's chief of staff," Mandy said. "He knows everything."