The detective had a fast glimpse of the slight man's mustachioed face as Shawn leaned forward and his hand shot out like a snake to rip Bishop's weapon away.

Bishop thought of Brandon and then of Jennie.

He sighed.

It all comes down to this…

Frank Bishop closed his eyes.

The chime on the CCU computer was merely an off-the-shelf.wav sound but to the team it blared like a siren. Wyatt Gillette ran to the workstation. "Yes!" he whispered. "Phate's looked at the picture. The virus is in his machine."

On the screen flashed these words:

Config.sys modified

"That's it. But we don't have much time – all he has to do is check his system once and he's going to see that we're inside."

Gillette sat down at the computer. Lifted his hands to the keyboard, feeling the unparalleled excitement he always did just before he started a journey into an uncharted part – an illicit part – of the Blue Nowhere.

He started to key.

"Gillette!" a man's voice shouted as the front door of the CCU crashed open.

The hacker turned to see someone striding into the dinosaur pen. Gillette gasped. It was Shawn – the man who'd pretended to be Charles Pittman.

"Jesus," Shelton called, startled.

Tony Mott moved fast, reaching for his large silver pistol. But Shawn had his own weapon out of his holster and, before Mott could even draw, Shawn's was cocked and aimed at the young cop's head. Mott lifted his hands slowly.

Shawn motioned Sanchez and Miller back and continued on toward Gillette, pointing the gun at him.

The hacker stood and backed away, his arms up.

There was nowhere to run.

But, wait… What was going on?

Frank Bishop, grim-faced, walked through the front door. He was flanked by two large men in suits.

So, he wasn't Shawn.

An ID appeared in the man's hand. "I'm Arthur Backle, with the Department of Defense Criminal Investigation Division." He nodded at his two partners. "These're Agents Luis Martinez and Jim Cable."

"You're CID? What's going on here?" Shelton barked.

Gillette said to Bishop, "We're linked to Phate's machine. But we've only got a few minutes. I've got to go in now!"

Bishop started to speak but Backle said to one of his partners, "Cuff him."

The man stepped forward and ratcheted handcuffs on Gillette. "No!"

Mott said, "You told me you were Pittman."

Backle shrugged. "I was working undercover. I had reason to suspect you might not cooperate if I identified myself."

"Fucking right we wouldn't've cooperated," Bob Shelton said.

Backle said to Gillette, "We're here to escort you back to the San Jose Correctional Facility."

"You can't!"

Bishop said, "I talked to the Pentagon, Wyatt. It's legit We got busted." He shook his head.

Mott said, "But the director approved his release."

"Dave Chambers is out," the detective explained. "Peter Kenyon's acting director of CID. He rescinded the release order."

Kenyon, Gillette recalled, was the man who'd overseen the creation of the Standard 12 encryption program. The man who was the most likely to end up embarrassed – if not unemployed – if it was cracked. "What happened to Chambers?"

"Financial impropriety," narrow-faced Backle said prissily. "Insider trading, off-shore corporations. I don't know and I don't care." Backle then said to Gillette, "We have an order to look through all the files you've had access to and see if there's evidence related to your improper accessing of Department of Defense encryption software."

Tony Mott said desperately to Bishop, "We're online with Phate, Frank. Right now!"

Bishop stared at the screen. He said to Backle, "Please! We have a chance to find out where this suspect is. Wyatt's the only one who can help us."

"Let him go online? In your dreams."

Shelton snapped, "You need a warrant if-"

The blue-backed paper appeared in the hands of one of Backle's partners. Bishop read it quickly and nodded sourly. "They can take him back and confiscate all his disks and any computers he's used."

Backle looked around, saw an empty office and told his partners to lock Gillette inside while they searched for the files.

"Don't let them do it, Frank!" Gillette called. "I was just about to seize root of his machine. This is his real machine, not a hot one. It could have addresses in it. It could have Shawn's real name. It could have the address of his next victim!"

"Shut up, Gillette," Backle snapped.

"No!" the hacker protested, struggling against the agents, who easily dragged him toward the office. "Get your fucking hands off me! We-"

They pitched him inside and closed the door.

"Can you get inside Phate's machine?" Bishop asked Stephen Miller.

The big man looked at the screen of the workstation uneasily. "I don't know. Maybe. It's just… If you hit one key wrong Phate'll know we're inside."

Bishop was in agony. This was their first real break and it was being stolen away from them because of pointless infighting and government bureaucracy. This was their only chance to look inside the electronic mind of the killer.

"Where're Gillette's files?" Backle asked. "And his disks?"

No one volunteered the information. The team gazed defiantly at the agent. Backle shrugged and said in a cheerful tone, "We'll confiscate everything. Doesn't matter to us. We'll just take it and you'll see it in six months – if you're lucky."

Bishop nodded at Sanchez.

"That workstation there," she muttered, pointing.

Backle and the other agents started looking over three-and-a-half-inch floppy disks as if they could see through the colorful plastic coverings and identify the data inside with their naked eyes.

As Miller stared at the screen uneasily, Bishop turned to Patricia Nolan and Mott. "Can either of you run Wyatt's program?"

Nolan said, "I know how it works in theory. But I've never cracked into somebody's machine with Backdoor-G. All I've done is try to find the virus and inoculate against it."

Mott said, "Same with me. And Wyatt's program is a hybrid he hacked together himself. It's probably got some unique command lines."

Bishop made the decision. He picked the civilian, saying to Patricia Nolan, "Do the best you can."

She sat down at the workstation. Wiped her hands on her bulky skirt and shoved her hair out of her face, staring at the screen, trying to understand the commands on the menu, which were, to Bishop, as incomprehensible as Russian.

The detective's cell phone rang. He answered. "Yes?" He listened for a moment. "Yessir. Who, Agent Backle?"

The agent looked up.

Bishop continued into the phone. "He's here, sir… But… No, this isn't a secure line. I'll have him call you on one of the landlines in the office. Yessir. I'll do it right now, sir." The detective scribbled a number and hung up. He lifted an eyebrow at Backle. "That was Sacramento. You're supposed to call the secretary of defense. At the Pentagon. He wants you to call on a secure line. Here's his private number."

One of his partners glanced at Backle uncertainly. "Secretary Metzger?" he whispered. The reverent tone II suggested that calls like this were unprecedented.

Backle slowly took the phone that Bishop pushed toward him. "You can use this one," the detective said.

The agent hesitated then punched the number into the phone. After a moment he came to attention. "This is CID agent Backle, sir. I'm on a secure line… Yessir." Backle nodded broadly. "Yessir… It was on Peter Kenyon's orders. The California State Police kept it from us, sir. They got him out on a John Doe… Yessir. Well, if that's what you'd like. But you understand what Gillette's done, sir. He-" More nodding. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be insubordinate. I'll handle it, sir."