T hey laid the wires out in precise lengths and then connected them to the explosives, all of which were located at load-bearing points. They worked slowly and methodically, for at this juncture there was no room for error.

"Wireless detonators are a lot easier to work with," said "Officer Simmons" to the other man. "And we wouldn't have to carry all this damn cable."

The Buick Man stopped what he was doing and turned to look at him. They each wore battery-powered lights attached to plastic helmets, since the darkness here was complete. They could have been far underground where no light ever reached.

"And like cell phones versus hard line, they are unreliable, particularly as the signals would have to penetrate thousands of tons of concrete. Just do what you're told."

"Just voicing an opinion," said Simmons.

"I don't need any more opinions, especially from you. You've been more than enough trouble. I thought you were a professional."

"I am a professional."

"Then start acting like one! I've had enough of amateurs running around not following my instructions."

"Well, Mildred Martin won't be doing any more running. You saw to that."

"Yes, and let that be a lesson to you."

The heavy-duty portable generator was set up in the corner, and Buick Man started going over its controls, lines and fuel tanks.

Simmons said, "You sure that'll give us all the power we need? I mean for everything you've got planned? That'll take a lot of juice."

Buick Man didn't even bother to look at him. "More than enough. Unlike you, I know exactly what I'm doing." He pointed with a wrench to a large coil of electrical wire. "Just make sure the lines are strung properly. To every location I gave you."

"And you'll double-check my work, of course."

"Of course," he replied tersely.

Simmons looked at the elaborate control board that was set up in the far corner of the room. "This is some nice stuff. The best, in fact."

"Just wire it the way I told you," Buick Man said curtly.

"What's a party without lights and sound, right?"

They started wheeling in the heavy boxes on hand trucks, unpacking these containers and stacking the contents neatly in another corner of the cavernous space.

The younger man looked at one of the items from the boxes. "You did a good job on these."

"They needed to be as accurate as possible. I don't like imprecision."

"Yeah, don't I know that."

While lifting a container Simmons suddenly grimaced and clutched at his side.

The Buick Man observed this and said, "That's what you get for trying to strangle Maxwell instead of simply shooting her. Didn't you ever consider that a Secret Service agent might be armed?"

"I like my victims to know my presence. It's just my way."

"While working for me you'll subvert your ways to mine. You're lucky the bullet just nicked you."

"I suppose you would have just left me to die if the bullet had done serious damage?"

"No. I would have shot you and put you out of your misery."

Simmons stared at his companion for a long moment. "I bet you would have."

"Yes, I would have."

"Well, we got the gun back, that's the important thing."

Buick Man stopped working and looked at him steadily. "Maxwell frightens you, doesn't she?"

"I'm not afraid of any man, much less a woman."

"She almost killed you. In fact, it's only by sheer luck that you escaped."

"I won't miss next time."

"See that you don't. Because if you do miss, I certainly won't miss you."