She looked at it and said, “I’ve got my own phone, man. It’s lots better than this cheap piece of shit.”

“I’m sure it is,” I said. “But the only one who’s got the number of that particular phone is me. Put it in your pocket, will you? When that thing goes off, you’ll know it’s time to start the party.”

I went over to where Daddy Longlegs was sitting behind the wheel. “Once it starts, keep your eyes on the mirror. This works, a bunch of guys are gonna come bursting through those trees and make a beeline for the truck. They get within fifty feet or so, that’s when you start moving.”

“Keep the speed down to twenty or twenty-five,” Karl told him. “The objective is to keep them following you, not lose them.”

“I gotcha,” Daddy Longlegs said. “Just like a bunch of dogs chasing after a bitch in heat.”

“I heard that,” Scar said from the truck bed. “Who’re you calling a bitch?”

“Not you, baby,” Daddy Longlegs said. “Purely a metaphor.”

“Good thing,” she said. Then she looked at me, and the evil grin reappeared. “Shit, I don’t even like doggy-style.”

That put an image in my mind that I tried to banish by focusing on the task at hand, and the risks it involved for all of us. That worked, more or less.

“OK, follow our car,” I told Daddy Longlegs. “When we stop, come up right behind us and park. Then Karl and I are gonna drive down the road a little farther. Wait for the phone call, then crank it up. OK?”

“Got it. And thanks, man.”

“For what?”

“This here’s the most fun we’ve had in a long time.”

“Glad to hear it. I hope you still think so an hour from now.”

There was no traffic moving on Lake Scranton Road at two in the morning . Good thing, too, since there were now two vehicles driving on it without showing any lights.

After a while, Karl said, “Tree’s coming up, ’bout a hundred feet.”

We’d figured out the night before just where we wanted the flatbed to be, then marked the place by tying a handkerchief around the branch of a nearby tree. Karl touched the brakes, and we rolled to a slow stop. In my side mirror, I could see the flatbed inch up behind us until our bumpers were nearly touching. Daddy Longlegs turned the truck’s engine off, and Karl and I continued on.

Between the big house and the road was about two hundred feet of woods. That was where we expected the guard detail to come bursting through. The house had a driveway leading to the road, but Scar had told me that the men would come to her using the most direct route possible, even if it meant fighting their way through heavy vegetation.

“They’re gonna be outta their fuckin’ minds,” she’d said. “Trust me on that.”

“I will.” Then something else had occurred to me. “Those guys are all armed to the teeth. Are they likely to bring their guns with them?”

She’d thought about that for a moment. “Naw, they always drop anything they’ve got in their hands. These dudes are gonna become what you might call ‘single-minded’ real fast.”

“What if some of them have a backup piece – a handgun in a holster?”

“If it’s something they’re wearing, I guess they’d still have it,” she’d said with a shrug. “So what?”

“So, when they can’t reach you, aren’t you afraid they might shoot, out of frustration?”

“Don’t you get it, man? They won’t be interested in hurting me – they’re just gonna want to fuck me. Like they’ve never wanted to fuck anybody in their lives.”

I was giving silent thanks for the industrial-strength ear protection that I’d be wearing when she said, “I dunno – maybe after a while, we should stop the truck and let them have me. You said you wanted a diversion, right? What’s more diverting than a gangbang?”

“Scar–”

“How many guards did you say there were – six? That could make for quite a party, dontcha think?”

“Now, listen–” I’d said, but she’d stopped me with a peal of laughter.

“Don’t get your undies in a twist, man. I don’t do gangbangs – well, except for that time in St Louis, and I was drunk then. I just said it cause I wanted to see that expression on your face. Priceless!”

I’d decided then and there: if Christine ever wanted to go to college, she was not going to Mount Holyoke. Not if I had anything to say about it.

Karl stopped the car again. We’d chosen a spot that gave us a clear view of the estate’s driveway through the windshield and of the woods behind us through the mirrors. When the time came, we’d be taking the most direct route to the house – right up the driveway.

I turned in my seat, pulled a heavy canvas bag from the back seat, and put it between my feet. It contained a few things I’d persuaded Frank Dooley, the SWAT team commander, to let me have for the occasion. I know that Sacred Weapons and Tactics deals with supernaturals exclusively, but even they have to take down a door once in a while.

I put the earmuffs around my neck, ready to slip into place. Then I pulled out my TracFone and looked at Karl. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Do it.”

I had the number of the phone I’d given Scar on speed dial, and all I had to do was push a button. So I did – and nothing happened.

I peered at the phone in the gloom, and saw that the call had gone through. I didn’t expect Scar to answer, but I did expect to hear music. I cancelled the call and placed it again. Went through that time, too – but still no sound from the truck.

“Sweet fucking Jesus – what happened? Did Wilson’s guards get to them already? It just isn’t possible–”

Karl laid a hand on my arm and squeezed gently.

“The generator’s noisy, Stan. The kids didn’t want to get it going until you gave the word. And those amps of theirs take a minute or so to warm up.”

I felt my heart, which had felt like it was about to burst through my chest, settle back into place. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me that?”

“I thought one of the kids already had. Sorry, I didn’t – OK, here we go.”

The sound of an electric guitar split the night, and I quickly put the plastic muffs over my ears.

After a few seconds I asked Karl, “What’s she singing – anything you recognize?”

Karl pulled out his notebook, wrote busily, then showed the page to me. “A punk version of Somebody to Love, that old Jefferson Airplane tune. Grace Slick should be rolling over in her grave right about now, except I don’t think she’s dead.”

“If she hears this, the shock might kill her,” I said. “Hope she doesn’t have a vacation home around here – I always liked that band.”

A little while later, Karl nudged me and pointed toward the rear window. I turned in my seat, and there was enough moonlight to see a man on the road, running hard in the direction of the truck and its singer.

As I watched, another guy burst through the trees and followed him. Then two more. Ten seconds or so later, another man stumbled out onto the asphalt and took off running. This one was limping, as if he had twisted his ankle or something. But he still ran, as fast as he was able. Then another man fought his way out of the brush and headed up the road after the others. It didn’t take him long to overtake his gimpy colleague, and he passed the limping runner without even a glance.

“OK, that’s six,” I said.

Karl held up his hand in a “Wait a minute” gesture. Good thing, too. A few seconds later, a seventh man burst out of the woods, with number eight right behind him. Like the others, they immediately took off in the direction the truck had taken.

“You said there were six,” I told Karl.

Karl pulled out his notebook and wrote, “Said I counted six. Last two stationed behind house, maybe?”

With his vampire sight, Karl could see the men much better than I could. I was sure if one of them had been Patton Wilson he’d have said so, but I wanted to be one hundred percent sure.