“I don’t see a deception pattern in any of Dr. Richardson’s statements,” Vincent said.

“Good. That’s what I expected.”

“The only deception came from General Nash. Take a look…” Vincent typed a command and one of the monitors showed a digital recording of Kennard Nash’s brain. A close-up of the cortex showed that the general was concealing something during most of the conversation.

“For technical reasons, I always take images of both people in the Truth Room,” Vincent said. “It shows me if there are any problems with the sensors.”

“That wasn’t authorized. Please remove all images of General Nash from the system.”

“Of course. No problem.” Vincent typed a new command and Nash’s deceitful brain disappeared from the screen.

A SECURITY GUARD escorted Dr. Richardson out of the building. Five minutes later, the neurologist was sitting in the back of a stretch limousine as it carried him to New Haven. Lawrence returned to his office and sent an e-mail to one of the Brethren who had contacts at the Yale Medical School. He started a file on Richardson and typed in the doctor’s personal information.

The Brethren placed all of their employees in one of ten security levels. Kennard Nash was a level one and had full knowledge of all operations. Dr. Richardson had been given a level five clearance; he knew about the Travelers, but would never learn about the Harlequins. Lawrence was a trusted level-three employee; he was able to access a vast amount of information, but he would never learn about the Brethren’s grand strategies.

SURVEILLANCE CAMERAS FOLLOWED Lawrence as he left his office, passed down the corridor, and took the elevator down to the underground parking lot beneath the administrative center. When Lawrence drove out the gates of the compound, his movements were tracked by a global positioning satellite and the information was sent to an Evergreen Foundation computer.

During his time at the White House, General Nash proposed that every American citizen wear or carry a Protective Link, or “PL device.” The government’s Freedom from Fear program stressed both national security and the practical aspects of the program. Coded a certain way, the PL device could be a universal credit card and debit card. It could access all of your medical information in case you were in an accident. If all loyal, law-abiding Americans wore a PL device, street crime might disappear within a few years. In one magazine ad, two young parents wearing PL devices tucked in a sleeping daughter whose Protective Link ID card was being held by her teddy bear. The ad slogan was simple but effective: Fighting Terrorism While You Sleep.

Radio frequency ID chips had already been inserted beneath the skin of thousands of Americans-mostly the elderly or people with serious medical conditions. Similar ID card devices were tracking employees who worked for large companies. Most Americans seemed positive about a device that would protect them from unknown dangers and help them get through the checkout line at their local grocery store. But the Protective Link had been attacked by an unusual alliance of left-wing civil liberties groups and right-wing libertarians. After losing support from the White House, General Nash was forced to resign.

When Nash took over the Evergreen Foundation, he immediately set up a private Protective Link system. Employees could keep their ID in their shirt pocket or hang it from a cord around their neck, but all the top employees had the chip inserted beneath their skin. The scar on the back of their right hand indicated their high status in the foundation. Once a month, Lawrence had to lay his hand on a plug-in charger. He felt a warm, tingling sensation as the chip gained enough power to continue transmitting.

Lawrence wished he had known how the Protective Link worked during the beginning of the program. A global positioning satellite tracked one’s movements and the computer established a frequent destination grid for each employee. Like most people, Lawrence spent ninety percent of his life in the same destination grid. He shopped at certain stores, worked out at the same gym, and traveled back and forth between his town house and the office. If Lawrence had known about the grid, he would have done a few unusual things during the first month.

Whenever he deviated from his frequent destination grid, a list of questions immediately appeared on his computer: Why were you in Manhattan on Wednesday at 2100 hours? Why did you go to Times Square? Why did you travel down 42nd Street to Grand Central Terminal? The questions were computer generated, but you had to respond to each one. Lawrence wondered if his answers went promptly to a file that no one read or if they were scanned and evaluated by another program. Working for the Brethren, you never knew when you were being watched-so you had to assume that it was all the time.

WHEN LAWRENCE ENTERED his town house, he kicked off his shoes, removed his necktie, and tossed his briefcase on the coffee table. He had bought all his furniture with the help of a decorator hired by the Evergreen Foundation. The woman announced that Lawrence was a “spring” personality, so all the furniture and wall art were color coordinated in matching pastel blues and greens.

Lawrence followed the same ritual whenever he was finally alone-he screamed. Then he walked over to a mirror and smiled and frowned and shouted like a madman. After his tension was released, he took a shower and put on a robe.

A year ago Lawrence had constructed a secret room in the closet of his home office. It had taken months to wire the room and conceal it behind a bookcase that rested on hidden rollers. Lawrence had been in the room three days ago, and it was time for another visit. He pushed back the case a few feet, slipped inside, and switched on the light. On a small Buddhist altar he displayed two snapshots of his parents taken at a hot spring in Nagano, Japan. In one of the photographs, they were smiling at each other and holding hands. His father sat alone in the second photograph, looking off at the mountains with a sad expression on his face. On the table in front of him were two ancient Japanese swords: one with a handle that had a jade fitting, the other with fittings made of gold.

Lawrence opened an ebony wood box and took out a satellite phone and a laptop computer. A minute later he was online and wandering through the Web until he found the French Harlequin named Linden in a chat room dedicated to trance musik.

“Sparrow Son here,” Lawrence typed.

“Safe?”

“I think so.”

“News?”

“We’ve found a doctor who has agreed to implant sensors into the subject’s brain. The treatment will start soon.”

“Any other news?”

“I think the computer team has made another breakthrough. They seemed very happy in the dining room during lunch. I still don’t have access to their research.”

“Have they found the two most important elements of the experiment?”

Lawrence stared at the monitor screen, and then typed rapidly. “They’re looking for them right now. Time is running out. You must find the brothers.”