A spark of memory flared in the man's mind. He tilted his head and looked at the doctor.

"That's right; it's teasing you right now, isn't it?" The doctor stood, went to a closet, and pulled open a door. He reached in and removed an item from inside, then closed the door and turned. He held up a small silver key, obviously one that would unlock the handcuff. As the man examined the doctor, he saw that the white lab coat had a patch on the left-hand breast pocket. It was an L, with what looked to be two dolphins on either side, making it look like [?] L[?]. Beneath that was the symbol for a medical doctor, the twin-snake motif.

"Now, would you like to be filled in on who you are and what is expected of you? If you behave, I think we can dispense with the security measures." He went to the bed and tapped the handcuff.

5

MONTAUK POINT,

LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK

Carl Everett stood just inside of the parking area of one of the most famous lighthouses in the United States. Jason Ryan and Will Mendenhall stood on either side of him, waiting for the mysterious rendezvous to take place. Behind them sat a stretch limousine with its motor off and headlights on. They had been at the point for thirty minutes watching as the fog became thicker each passing moment they waited. The only sound that was audible through the thickening mist was the seaboard dinghies with their forlorn toll.

"Goddamn FBI, how can they plan for an entity they know absolutely nothing about?" Everett mumbled, his eyes never leaving the shoreline.

"Director Compton should have acted without presidential knowledge," Ryan said, looking to his right at the closest FBI HRT member laying low underneath the cover of a large bush. Hostage Rescue out of Quantico had been called in for the ambush, and several of them were half-buried in the rough and rocky sands of the point.

Everett turned, chanced a look at the naval lieutenant, and sniffed.

"Some people like to go by the book, Mr. Ryan, even if you don't."

"I've known Compton to toss that book away from time to time," Ryan countered.

Everett didn't respond to the challenge. He just pursed his lips and then turned up his coat collar.

Mendenhall looked at his watch, then turned around and looked at the limousine that was minus one important element inside its interior: Director Compton. He also tried his best to peer through the swirling fog beyond, feeling uncomfortable. Absentmindedly he rubbed the scratch on his arm, wondering if he was going to get some sort of infection from that old man's ring this afternoon.

"Okay, what's on your mind, Will?" Carl asked, noticing it was the tenth time Mendenhall had turned to look to the rear.

"I can't shake this feeling that someone is out there, behind us. I've had it ever since we got here."

"There arepeople behind us; it's the FBI, and they have one hell of a lot of guns," Ryan said.

"I'm beginning to think Jack taught you something after all, Lieutenant. I'll let you in on a little secret. I have the same feeling." Carl turned and looked at Jason Ryan. "And it's not the FBI. Whoever it is, is far better at hiding than they are."

Ryan turned and looked at Mendenhall, who raised his brows as if to say I told you.

"Well," Ryan said, also looking at his watch, "our ecoterrorists are officially late--it's now oh-two-hundred and--"

Suddenly a larger-than-normal breaker crashed onto the beach and rocks, hard enough that seawater washed over into the parking lot and covered their feet. The sea retreated, and the breakers went back to their normal surge.

"You guys are navy boys. Is that normal? Like, was it a tidal surge, or maybe a rogue wave or something?" Mendenhall asked as he shook water off his shoes.

"You've been watching far too much Discovery Channel, Will," Everett said as he watched the fog in front of him, knowing they were no longer waiting for their company.

Everett reached behind him and placed both hands underneath the back of his nylon coat. He felt the nine-millimeter automatic, chambered a round, clicked off the safety, then brought his hands free of his coat. Ryan and Mendenhall mimicked his action.

Carl switched on the voice-activated microphone attached to his wristwatch.

"All units and positions, we have movement out at sea. Stand by. We don't know anything definite with this fog, so hold station."

The fog eddied and swirled around them. Carl chanced a glance at the limousine parked fifteen feet away. The fog should have been sufficient to cover the fact that Niles Compton was over two thousand miles away in Nevada.

"Ahoy the beach!"

The voice came from a loudspeaker. Everett couldn't track it because of the denseness of the fog.

"All units, we have voice contact only. Remain in place," Everett said. He took three steps toward the water, puting one hand behind him to stay Ryan and Mendenhall. "Ahoy the boat. I am Captain Everett, United States Navy. Identify yourself."

"Advance to the water's edge with Dr. Niles Compton, please."

Everett turned and looked back at Jason and Will for a moment, then turned back toward the fog-shrouded sea.

"That's not the way this game is going to be played. Dr. Compton keeps his station behind me until such a time as I'm satisfied with the situation and his safety."

"I assure you, Captain, we do not play games. Nonetheless, upon your word as a United States naval officer, we will approach the beach."

Everett hoped the FBI special agent in charge heard the response from their guests. Carl could feel the fifteen weapons of the hidden agents ready to open up.

The sound of water being pushed aside came to his ears as he finally caught sight of the boat that had lain offshore. It was like a Zodiac rubber craft, but far larger. As it approached, he could see only two figures inside. It grounded almost noiselessly onto the rocks, narrowly missing two large boulders that jutted out from the shore. Everett heard no engine sounds, so that meant they were using a form of propulsion that was silenced to a large degree. A large man quickly stepped easily over the gunnels of the Zodiac and stood looking at the three men.

"Captain, I am here to exchange one of your people for Dr. Compton. Would you present him, please?"

The captain saw the man was wearing a coverall, not unlike those worn by military personnel in the Event Group complex. There were patches arrayed on the long sleeve and shoulder and some sort of rank was evident on his collar, but that was as far as his vision would allow.

"The name of your vessel, sir," Everett called out.

The man lowered his head and then shook it. "That is not for me to answer, Captain, but suffice it to say you will learn all there is to learn upon Dr. Compton's return to your complex under the desert."

"I guess they're well informed," Ryan whispered to Mendenhall.

"Now, Dr. Compton, please, Captain."

Everett knew he had to make his play. The sniper in the lighthouse would take the man standing next to the boat, hopefully wounding him, and a two-man team in the water would take the hostage. There was only one man, so taking a prisoner was no longer an option. He felt as if he were betraying a trust, but a presidential order had been given, and no matter the distaste, it was now his duty. He raised his wrist to his mouth.