"But why can't we go to Costa Rica now?" she asked in a girlish voice.

He forced himself not to scream. "Because it's not safe. We have to let the FBI check Costa Rica and find nothing. Then we can go there."

"What have you done, Andy? You said it was some kind of tax thing. How pissed off can the government be about that?"

What have I done? I killed a woman who looked a lot like you, only better. And if you keep this up, I might just kill you, too. He glanced worriedly at the dark windows. "You don't understand these things, Lisa. The simple truth is, we don't have a choice."

She gave him a long stare, surprising in its coldness. "Maybe you don't have a choice. But I haven't done anything. I can stay right here until it's safe in Costa Rica. Then I can join you there."

Rusk stared, incredulous. She sounded just like Thora Shepard! "You'd stay here without me?"

"I don't want to. You're the one making this happen, Andy, not me."

She's right, he thought. Cuba had seemed such a cool idea when Tarver suggested it five years ago. It was one of the last mysterious places on earth, the last commie outpost save China. And it had that Hemingway glamour. What more macho retreat could there be? The fucking Cold War was still going on there, for God's sake. But then Castro got sick. Nobody knew what was really going on. And forty-eight hours after having his umbilical to Dr. Tarver cut, Rusk thought the prospect of living in postcommunist chaos sounded dicey. Lisa certainly wanted no part of it. Maybe she wasn't so dumb after all.

"I can't do it, Andy," she said with sudden conviction. "I promise I'll come to Costa Rica when you get there. But I don't want to leave my mom and my friends to go to Cuba."

"Baby…once we get there, you'll see how great it is. Now go upstairs and pack the absolute minimum you need to leave the country. One suitcase, okay? One."

Instead of obeying, Lisa set her jaw and spoke through clenched teeth. "I said-I'm-not-going. You can't make me. And if you try, I'll file for divorce."

For the second time today, Rusk was stunned speechless. Lisa had to be bluffing. He'd written an ironclad prenup. If she divorced him, she'd get almost nothing. Well…that wasn't exactly true anymore. Over the past three years, he had found it advantageous to transfer some considerable assets into her name. It had made a lot of sense at the time. But now…now he saw himself as a sucker, like one of his pathetic clients. Before he realized what he was doing, he had slid his right hand up to her throat.

"One more inch and I'll scream," she said evenly. "And when those FBI guys bust in here, I'll tell them about every tax scam and swindle you ever pulled."

Rusk stood and backed away from his wife. Who the hell was this woman? And why in God's name had he married her?

It doesn't matter, he told himself. To hell with her. As long as I get out of the country, it doesn't matter what she does. She can have a few million. There's plenty more for me. If only Tarver would show the fuck up…

He walked toward the central hallway, meaning to check his e-mail on the computer in his study, but as soon as he entered the hall, he saw a massive shape silhouetted by the light spilling from the study.

"Hello, Andrew," said Dr. Tarver. "It's pretty crowded outside. Did you give up on me?"

Rusk couldn't see the doctor's face, but he heard the cool amusement in that voice. Nothing rattled this guy. "How the hell did you get through those FBI agents?"

Soft laughter from the shadow. "I'm a country boy at heart, Andrew. Remember when I shot the Ghost?"

Hell, yeah, Rusk thought, recalling the legendary buck with a flush of admiration. "You really pissed off the old-timers that day."

Dr. Tarver unslung a large backpack from his shoulder and dropped it on the ground with a heavy rustle.

"Can we get out?" Rusk asked, trying to sound calm. "I mean, have you got something figured?"

"Have you ever known me not to have things figured, Andrew?"

Rusk shook his head. This was true, though he couldn't remember them ever being in this kind of spot before.

"I appreciated this afternoon's e-mail about Alexandra Morse. I'd suspected that she was acting on her own, but I had no idea that the Bureau was going to terminate her. Most convenient."

As Rusk puzzled over this, Dr. Tarver turned toward the study. "Call Lisa in here, Andrew. We need to get started."

Rusk started to ask why the study, but then he realized it was because the room had no exterior windows. He looked over his shoulder. "Lisa? Come here."

"You come here," came the petulant reply.

"Lisa. We've got company."

"Company? Oh, all right. I'm coming."

With Dr. Tarver's miraculous arrival, Rusk felt the pleasant return of male superiority. Meaning to say something witty, he turned back toward the doctor and saw the pistol rise as Tarver shot him in the chest.

Alex struggled up out of a dark sea into piercing white light.

"Alex?" said a deep voice. "Alex!"

"I'm here!" She shielded her eyes with her left hand and reached out with her right. "Don't touch it, Uncle Will!"

"I'm not Will," said the voice, and gradually the blur above her coalesced into the face of John Kaiser. His hazel eyes held a worry as paternal as any that her father or Will Kilmer had ever revealed. "You're in the emergency room at UMC," Kaiser said. "You've got a pretty serious concussion, but otherwise you seem to be all right."

"Where's Will?" she asked, gripping the FBI agent's hand for support. "Tell me he's not dead."

"He's not. He may have some internal injuries. They stitched up his back and admitted him for twenty-four hours' observation. They're going to do the same to you."

She tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea rolled through her stomach. Kaiser eased her back down onto the examining table.

"How long have I been out?"

"Several hours. It's night."

"I'm sorry I lied to you, John. I know you told me not to go there. I know-"

"Stop wasting your energy. I should have known you'd go, no matter what. In your place, I probably would have gone, too."

"What the hell happened? A bomb?"

"You tell me."

She shook her head, trying to remember. "All I know is, I was looking inside at dogs, hundreds of them, and they were all asleep. Every last one. And it just seemed wrong, you know? Then I heard an engine, and out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a van racing away. It was just like the van that followed me in Natchez, only it was red. And I just knew, you know?"

Kaiser barely nodded, but his eyes told her he'd experienced such intuitive flashes before.

"I knew that somehow Noel Traver was Eldon Tarver, that Tarver was bugging out, and that he had let me get that close to him for a reason."

"You saw Tarver at the scene?"

"No. But I felt him. He meant to take me out, along with whatever evidence was inside that building."

Kaiser seemed discouraged by her answer.

"Did you get the warrant for his house?" Alex asked. "Is the SAC still stonewalling on an all-out investigation?"

Kaiser sighed heavily. "Not completely. We did get the warrant for Tarver's residence, and there's a team there now."

Alex raised her eyebrows.

"So far they've found nothing incriminating. Zero."

"Nothing tying him to Rusk?"

Kaiser shook his head. "But the VCP stuff you uncovered is mind-blowing. In conjunction with the explosion at the breeding facility, that convinced Tyler to ask for the search warrant. We just need to find some evidence that's fresher than thirty years old."

"What about Rusk? You should search his residence and his office."