Ham drove quickly back to Orchid Beach, watching his rearview mirror to be sure he wasn't followed. He drove down AlA to the South Beach area, turned in to a driveway and waited for a car to pass. Nothing did for one minute. He backed out, drove to Holly's house and parked the car. She wasn't home, so he hiked along the beach to the house next door and found her having dinner with Harry, Doug and Eddie.

Harry saw him at the sliding door and waved him in. "Ham, it's dangerous for you to come here a lot."

"Nobody followed me," Ham said. "I checked thoroughly, then I parked at Holly's."

"Get yourself a beer," Harry said. "You want some pizza?" He waved at the three open boxes on the table.

Ham got himself a beer, grabbed a slice of pizza and took some deep breaths.

"What is it, Ham?" Holly said. "You look funny."

"I feel funny," Ham said.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"Listen, Harry," Ham said, "when I got into this, I thought I was looking for bank robbers, you know?"

"Right."

"And then I thought maybe it was a little more complicated than that, but…" He stopped.

"Ham, what is it?" Harry asked.

"This is a lot bigger than any of us thought." Ham repeated his conversation with John, word for word.

When he had finished, Harry and Holly sat and stared at him, saying nothing.

"Well?"

"Well, shit," Harry said, putting down his slice of pizza and taking a big swig from his beer bottle.

"What do you want me to do, Harry?"

"Do you think this guy was just blowing smoke up your ass? You think he's fantasizing all this?"

"Not for a minute," Harry said. "If you'd been there, you wouldn't think so, either. This guy is perfectly serious."

"You think maybe he was exaggerating a little?"

"No, I think he was holding a lot back."

"Of course, they have checked you out thoroughly," Harry said. "They've got to believe you're who you say you are and not a Fed."

"I'm sure they do. Jesus, I wish I had been wearing a wire."

"Did they search you for one? Have they ever?"

"No, never."

"That's kind of weird, in a way," Harry said. "You'd think they'd be more careful."

Eddie the Hacker spoke up. "They don't necessarily have to frisk him, you know. They could have something that could pick up transmissions."

"Yeah, but that sort of thing couldn't pick up a recorder."

"You've got to start wiring me," Ham said.

"I know," Harry replied, "but I'm reluctant. If they should ever really search you…"

Eddie spoke up again. "We don't have to send him in there with a conventional wire. We can do a lot better than that, if you'll make a call to Washington for me."

"I'll make the call," Harry said.

"He's talking about subverting the army, Harry," Ham said. "I don't really see how he can do that. I mean, this is not Germany in nineteen thirty."

"We know there are right-wing, racist groups in a lot of army outfits," Harry said. "We keep a very close watch on that sort of thing. I don't think they could actually do what John says they're going to do. I'm more interested in how he's going to finance all this. He can't rob that many banks."

"He said he'd have the financing soon," Ham said. "I didn't press him on that."

"He must have a benefactor," Harry said. "Somebody with big bucks, who's willing to invest in a future he thinks he can control. I'd sure like to know who that might be."

"I don't think that's the kind of thing he'd tell me," Ham said.

"I agree. You're too new."

Ham turned to Eddie. "Have you got some equipment I can plant out there? They seem to hold a lot of meetings in Peck's office; that would be a good place to bug."

"Depends on how paranoid they are," Eddie said. "If they sweep the place and find something, then we're screwed."

"You mean Ham's screwed," Holly said.

"Come on, Eddie, you must have something that would work."

"I've heard rumors about stuff," Eddie said, "but I don't think the Bureau is in charge of it."

"You're talking about the National Security Agency, aren't you?" Ham asked.

"Yeah. I've heard rumors about their capabilities, and they're scary. They could be listening to us right now."

Holly looked at Harry. "Why do I think you wouldn't want to bring another government agency into this?"

"Don't needle me, Holly."

"Something's building out there," Ham said. "I don't know what it is, but if all you've got is me, then I think you need a lot more help, Harry."

"I guess at some point I'm going to," Harry admitted. "But not yet. In order to get the NSA in on this I'd have to go right up the Bureau's chain of command to the director, who'd then chat with the attorney general about it, and if he thought it couldn't damage him politically, then he might talk to the director of Central Intelligence, and if he felt like it, he might authorize the director to talk to somebody at NSA. But there's no way to be sure of that, and before I go that route, I want some hard information."

"I believe this is a catch twenty-two," Holly said. "We can't get the information without outside help, and you don't want to ask for outside help until you have the information."

"That's about it," Harry said. "What I can do, though, is get Washington to equip Eddie with something cuter than a regular tape recorder. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Eddie?"

Eddie nodded enthusiastically.

"I'll make the call in the morning, after they've had their coffee," Harry said. "We'll get hold of something."

Holly chimed in. "Get hold of something that won't get Ham's ass fried, will you, Harry?"

Ham was spending every day at Lake Winachobee now, and his students were becoming expert shots, one after another. Only occasionally did he find someone who could not learn to shoot reasonably well. They were usually people with shaky hands.

One morning, after sending a shooting class to the range, Peck whistled at him from his house and waved him over.

"What's up?" Ham asked.

"I want you to hear a little presentation John's giving to some of our newer folks," Peck said, ushering him into his study. A dozen people sat around the room, and John sat in a comfortable armchair, chatting easily with a couple of them. He looked up and saw Ham and Peck enter.

"All right, listen up," John said to the group. "We know from our previous discussions that the founding fathers of our country intended that it should be run under principles set down in the Bible: whites are the chosen people of God; homosexuals are an abomination and should be exterminated. Also, the paper money issued by the government is unconstitutional, and so are the income tax laws, but of course, we have no chance of getting the Supreme Court to rule that, not without a new Supreme Court. Now, we're going to see what can be done about avoiding taxes and keeping our financial dealings secret."

John stood up and went to an easel. He took a felt marking pen and began drawing a chart. "What we've done is set up something called a warehouse bank," he said, pointing to the first block. "We take deposits into numbered accounts, and that's very important. Once we establish an account and give you a number, we destroy any record that would show who owns the account. This drives the IRS crazy. I saw a quote from one official who said that investigating a warehouse bank is like looking for a needle in a stack of needles." This got a good laugh.

"Now, let's say you open your account with ten thousand dollars. We then transfer these funds to certain western banks. When you want to pay a bill, you send an e-mail to the warehouse with your instructions and your account number; that is transmitted to the partner bank, which sends a banker's draft to your creditor. So the bill is paid without your name being mentioned, only your account number with the creditor. If you want some cash, you request that by e-mail, too, and the money is sent by certified mail or an overnight delivery service.