Brian found his eyes closing; even with the pills he had not slept well the night before. He woke when Ben shook him lightly by the shoulder.

“Time to get moving,” he said.

Dermod led the way and Ray fell in behind them when they went on deck. The water was smooth, the day sunny. The aircraft carrier was barely slipping through the water when Brian made his way carefully down the steps behind Dermod. The boat waiting for them turned out to be a thirty-foot deep sea cruiser with its fishing poles secured vertically. As soon as he was helped aboard, and the others jumped down behind him, the motors burbled and roared and they swung away around the island, leaving the Nimitz behind. The Mexican coast came into view and they cut around two other fishing boats as they headed toward the marina. Brian found that the palms of his hands were suddenly moist.

“What happens next?”

“Two unmarked police cruisers will be waiting for us, driven by the Mexican plainclothesmen I told you about. We drive directly to Telebasico — who are expecting us.” Ben dug into his pocket and handed over two black plastic boxes, about the size and weight of dominoes. Brian turned them over, noticed the socket each had in its base.

“Memory,” Ben said. “These are GRAMs I told you about.”

Brian looked dubious. “There may be a lot of records in those files, years’ worth maybe. Is there enough memory space in these two to hold it?”

“I should hope so. You don’t really need both — the second one is for backup. Each of them holds a thousand megabytes. Should be more than enough.”

“I should say so!”

The cars were long and black, the windows so heavily tinted that very little could be seen of the insides. The two Mexican plainclothesmen who were waiting by the cars had natural mustaches that were even more impressive than Brian’s fake one.

“The guy in front is Daniel Saldana,” Ben said. “He and I have worked together before. He’s a good man. Buenos dias, caballeros. ¿Todos son buenos?”

“No sweat, Ben. Easy as falling off a log. Good to see you again.”

“The same. Ready for a little drive?”

“You betcha. We have been instructed to take you and your friends to a business premise here, and after that safely to the border. I will be pleased to drive you there.” He opened the door of the first car. Ray stepped forward.

“No problem getting three in the back of this, is there?” he asked.

“If that’s the way you want it.”

Ben traveled with the other plainclothesman in the second car. Brian, sitting in the middle of the backseat, felt like the filling in a sandwich. Both big men kept their eyes on the street outside. Dermod, sitting on Brian’s left, unbuttoned his jacket with his right hand — and kept his hand at his waist after that. When they swayed around a turn the jacket gaped open and Brian had a quick glimpse of leather and metal. So it had been a bulge he had seen in his armpit.

It was a brief drive to the industrial area, the typical low and windowless factories of high-tech manufacturing. The two cars drove into the complex and parked behind one of the buildings, entered it through the loading bay. The detectives had obviously been here before and led the way to a small, wood-paneled office. There were two men already there, sitting before a computer terminal. It was uncomfortably crowded when all of them except Ray, who stayed behind in the hall, pushed in and closed the door.

“Which of you is the gentleman with the account?” one of the technicians said, taking up a sheaf of papers.

“I am.”

“I understand that you have forgotten your identification number and password, Mr. Delaney?”

“You might say that.”

“This has happened to us before, but you will understand we must still take every precaution.”

“Of course.”

“Good. Could I please have your signature here — and here. This is your agreement not to bring charges against us if you cannot access your files. It also says that you guarantee you are who you say you are. Now — all that is left is to make the final verification. Could I have your hand, please.”

He held out an electronic instrument about the size of a portable radio, touched it to the back of Brian’s hand.

“It will take a few moments,” he said, carrying it across the room and plugging it into a larger machine there.

“What is it?” Brian asked.

“Portable DNA matching,” Benicoff said. “Just coming into commercial use. The adhesive on the handpiece picked off a few of your epidermal cells, the ones that flake off all the time. Now it’s matching up your MHC complex with the one on file.”

“Never heard of that.”

“Major histocompatability complex. These are the so-called self recognizing antigens and are completely different for every person. The best part is that they are on the surface of the skin so DNA doesn’t have to be extracted from the cell nucleus.”

“Would you come over here, Mr. Delaney? Please use this terminal. Did you bring some memory — I see, fine. Everything checks out perfectly and we are satisfied re your identity. We have unlocked the security files and obtained your identification number and password.”

The operator plugged in the GRAMs as Brian sat in front of the screen that faced away from the rest of the room. He also passed over a piece of paper. “This is your access number. After you have entered it you will be asked for a code — this is it.”

PADRAIG COLUMBA, Brian read. The two most important saints in Ireland — no wonder he hadn’t guessed it.

“After you enter that you will be in your files. After you have verified that they are yours, control key F12 will download to memory. Verification during loading is automatic. Do you want to enter a new code word — or are you closing this account?”

“I’m closing it.”

“There is a balance due of…”

“I’ll pay that,” Benicoff said, taking out a roll of bills. “I’ll need a receipt.”

Brian entered the number, then the code, then hit return. He scrolled through quickly, then leaned back in the chair and sighed.

“What’s wrong?” Benicoff asked, worried. “Isn’t it what we were expecting, what we were looking for?”

Brian looked up and smiled.

“Bingo,” he said, and stabbed his finger down on F12.

Dermod led the way back down the hall, but stopped when he reached the outside door.

“Mr. Saldana — could I ask you a question?” he said.

“Of course.”

“Did you have other cars tailing us, keeping an eye on our rear?”

“No. I did not think it was needed.” The Mexican detective frowned. “Why? Did you see one?”

“I thought I did for a while, but it turned off when we crossed Independencia.”

“And another car might have picked up the trail?”

“Always a possibility.”

None of them were smiling now. Brian looked from face to strained face, his hands plunged deep into his pockets — with one of the GRAMs clutched tightly in each. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing — we hope,” Daniel said, then snapped a quick command in Spanish to his companion, who eased out the door and closed it behind him.

“Do you want to shout for help?” Ben asked.

Daniel shook his head no. “The uniforms here are tourist police. I can get trained people — but not quickly. If there is anyone out there and we wait for reinforcements — they might be doing the same thing. We are to take you to the border at San Ysidro — is that correct?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Then I say do it and do it fast. Your Mr. Doe here will be in the second car with you driving, Ben. My associate and I will lead the way. What do you say?”

“We go,” Dermod said. “But I’ll be driving the second car, since I know TJ, Tijuana, very well. If there’s trouble we are not stopping for you.”

Daniel flashed a large toothy grin. “It would be unprofessional to do anything else.”