Can you call the trailer?

Fiske shook his head. No phone.

Okay, so we drive. Where is it?

Youve gone way beyond the call of duty already.

I dont mind, John.

Its about another hour and a half from here.

The nights sort of shot anyway.

You mind if I drive? Its off the beaten path.

She tossed him the keys. I thought youd never ask.

["C30"]CHAPTER THIRTY

Let me get this right: On top of everything else thats happened, you let him escape.

First of all, I didntlethim do anything. I thought the guy had just had a friggin heart attack. He was chained to the damn bed. He had an armed guard outside his door, and nobody was supposed to know he was even there, Rayfield snapped back into the telephone. I still dont know how his brother found out.

And his brothers some kind of war hero, I understand. Superbly trained in all forms of eluding capture. Thats just great.

It is for our purposes.

Why dont you explain that one to me, Frank?

Ive ordered my men to shoot to kill. Theyll put a bullet into both of them as soon as they get a chance.

What if he tells somebody first?

Tells them what? That he got a letter from the Army that says something he has no way to prove? Now weve got a dead Supreme Court clerk on our hands. That just makes our job a lot tougher.

Well, we were supposed to have a dead country lawyer too, but, funny, I havent read his obituary anywhere.

Rider went out of town.

Oh, good, well just wait until he gets back from vacation and hope hes not in discussions with the FBI.

I dont know where he is, Rayfield said angrily.

The Army has an intelligence component, Frank. What do you say you try to use some of it? Take care of Rider and then concentrate on finding Harms and his brother. And when you do, you put them six feet under. I hope thats clear enough for you. The phone went dead. Rayfield slammed the receiver down and stared up at Vic Tremaine.

This is going to hell in a handbasket.

Tremaine shrugged his shoulders. We take Rider out and then those two black SOBs, were home free, he said in a gravelly voice that seemed perfectly calibrated to command men to fight.

I dont like it. Were not in a war here.

We are at war, Frank.

The killing never did bother you, did it, Vic?

All I care about is the success of my mission.

Do you mean to tell me that right before you pulled the trigger on Fiske you didnt feel anything?

Mission accomplished. Tremaine put his palms down on Rayfields desk and leaned forward. Frank, weve been through a lot together, combat and otherwise. But let me tell you something. Ive spent thirty years in the Army, the last twenty-five in various military prisons just like this one when I couldve gotten a civilian job that paid a lot more. We all made a pact that was supposed to protect us from a stupid thing we did a long time ago. Ive kept my end of the bargain. Ive baby-sat Rufus Harms while the others went on with their lives.

Now, in addition to my military pension, Ive got over one million bucks sitting in an offshore account. In case youve forgotten, youve got the same little nest egg. Thats our comp for all these years of doing this crap. And after all the shit Ive been through, no one and nothing is going to keep me from enjoying that money. The best thing Rufus Harms ever did for me is escape. Because now Ive got a bulletproof reason to blow his sorry ass away and nobodyll ask any questions. And as soon as that sonofabitch has breathed his last, this uniform Im wearing goes into mothballs. For good.

Tremaine straightened up. And, Frank, I will destroy anyone who even remotely tries to mess that up. His eyes became black dots as he said the next word. Anyone.

["C31"]CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

On the drive to the trailer, Fiske stopped at an all-night convenience store. Sara waited in the car. A rusty Esso sign clanked back and forth from the force of a semi sailing past and made her jump. When Fiske got back in the car, Sara stared at the two six-packs of Budweiser. You intend to drink your sorrows away?

He ignored the question. Once we get down there, theres really no way for you to get back by yourself. Its really in the middle of nowhere; sometimesIget lost.

Im prepared to sleep in the car.

About thirty minutes later, Fiske slowed the car, turned into a narrow gravel drive and drove up to a small, darkened cottage. Youre supposed to check in here and pay the guest fee before going into the grounds, he explained. Ill do it before we leave tomorrow.

He pulled the car past the cottage and into the middle of the campground. Sara looked at the trailers, which were laid out in a street grid style. Most of them were brilliantly outlined with Christmas lights and had flagpoles either attached to the trailer or porch, or sunk into concrete. With the strings of lights and the moonlight, the area was surprisingly well illuminated. They passed late-blooming flower beds of impatiens, and red and pink mums. Clumpy vines of clematis gripped the sides of some homes. Everywhere Sara looked were outdoor sculptures of metal, marble and resin. There were a number of cinder-block grills and a large smoke pit; the commingled smells of cooked meat and charcoal lingered tantalizingly in the hot, humid air.

This place is like a little gingerbread town built by gnomes, Sara said. She eyed the numerous flagpoles and added, Patriotic gnomes.

A lot of the people are from the American Legion and VFW crowd. My dad has one of the tallest flagpoles. He was in the Navy in World War II. The all-year Christmas lights became sort of a tradition a long while back.

Did you and Michael spend much time here?

My dad only got a weeks vacation, but Mom would bring us down for a couple weeks at a time during the summer. Some of the old guys taught us to sail, swim and fish. Things Pop never had time to do. Hes made up for it since he retired.

He stopped the car in front of one trailer. It had bright Christmas lights and was painted a soothing, muted blue. His fathers Buick, with a SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL POLICE bumper sticker, was parked next to the trailer. Fronting the trailer was a bed of bulky plantation hostas. Next to the Buick was a golf cart. The flagpole in front of the trailer went a good thirty feet into the air. Fiske eyed the Buick. At least hes here. Well, this is it, John, no more reprieves, he thought.

Is there a golf course nearby?

Fiske glanced at her. No, why?

So whats with the golf cart?

The owners of the trailer park buy them secondhand from golf courses. The roads are pretty narrow here and, while you can drive your car to your trailer, you cant drive it around the grounds. And the people down here are elderly, for the most part. They use the golf carts to get around.

Fiske got out of the car with the two six-packs. Sara didnt move to join him. He looked at her questioningly.

I thought you might want to talk to your dad alone.

After everything weve been through tonight, I think youve earned the right to see it through. Ill understand if you dont want to. He looked over at the trailer and felt his nerves slowly disintegrate. He turned back to her. I could sort of use the company.

She nodded. Okay, give me a minute.

She flipped down the visor mirror and checked her face and hair. She grimaced and reached for her purse, doing the best she could with lipstick and a small hairbrush. She was sweaty and sticky too, her dress clingy, her hair beyond salvation thanks to the rain and humidity. As trivial as worrying about her appearance seemed under the circumstances, she felt like such a fifth wheel that it was the only thing she could think to address. With a sigh, she flipped the visor back up, opened the door and got out. As they headed up the wooden porch, she smoothed down her dress and fiddled some more with her hair. Fiske noted this and said, Hes not going to care how you look. Not after I tell him.