"Well, I'll be damned. Was that you? Small world." Mr. Khalil picked up the ball and said, "In fact, I saw your photograph in the newspapers. You and the woman. Yes. And your name was mentioned in Mr. Weber's memo that I found in your Conquistador Club. Mr. John Corey and Miss Kate Mayfield. Of course." "Hey, this is special. Really." You prick. "In fact, Mr. Corey, I believe I had a dream about you. Yes, it was a dream, and a feeling… a presence, actually." "No kidding? Were we having fun?" "You were trying to capture me, but I was more clever and much faster than you."

"I had just the opposite dream. Hey, I'd really like to meet you and buy you a drink. You sound like a fun guy."

"I don't drink."

"You don't drink alcohol. You drink blood."

He laughed. "Yes, in fact, I licked the blood of General Waycliff."

"You're a mentally deranged camel-fucker. You know that?"

He thought about that and said, "Perhaps we will meet before I leave. That would be very nice. How can I reach you?"

I gave him my number at the ATTF and said, "Call anytime. If I'm not in, leave a message, and I'll get back to you."

"And your home number?"

"You don't need that. I'm at work most of the time."

"And please tell Mr. Rahman someone will be calling on him, and the same to Mr. Wiggins."

"You can forget that, sport. And by the way, when I catch up with you, I'm going to kick your balls into your mouth, then rip your head off, and shit down your neck."

"We'll see who catches who, Mr. Corey. And my regards to Miss Mayfield. Have a good day."

"Your mother was fucking Gadhafi. That's why Moammar had your father killed in Paris, you stupid-" The line was dead, and I stood there awhile, trying to get myself together. The room was really quiet.

Finally, Tom said, "You did a nice job."

"Yeah." I walked out of the living room, into the TV room to where I had spotted a bar, and poured myself a few inches of Scotch. I took a deep breath and drank it all.

Kate came into the room and asked softly, "You okay?"

"I will be soon. Want a drink?"

"Yes, but no thanks."

I poured another and stared off into space.

Kate said, "I think we can go now."

"Go where?"

"We'll find a motel and stay in Ventura, then check in tomorrow with the L.A. office. I still know some people there, and I'd like you to meet them."

I didn't reply.

She said, "Then, I'll show you around L.A., if you want, then back to New York."

I said, "He's here. He's very close to here."

"I know. So, we'll stay around a few days and see what develops."

"I want all car rental agencies checked, I want the Libyan community turned upside down, all ports of departure watched, the Mexican border under tight-"

"John, we know all of that. It's in the works right now. Same as New York."

I sat down and sipped my Scotch. "Damn it."

"Look, we saved Wiggins' life."

I stood. "I'm going to sweat Rahman a little more."

"He doesn't know anything more, and you know it."

I sat again and finished my Scotch. "Yeah… well, I guess I'm out of ideas." I looked at her. "What do you think?"

"I think it's time to leave these people to their work. Let's go."

I stood. "Do you think they'll let us play with the goo-gun?"

She laughed, the kind of laugh that's more a sigh of relief when someone you like is getting weird, then gets back to normal.

I said, "Okay. Let's blow this place."

We went back into the living room to wrap it up and say good night. Rahman had disappeared somewhere, and everyone was looking a little down. Tom said to Kate and me, "I called Chuck to give you a lift to a motel."

Just then, Tom's cell phone rang, and everyone became quiet. He put the phone to his ear and listened, then said, "Okay… okay… no, don't stop him… we'll handle it here." He hung up and said to us, "Elwood Wiggins is coming home." He added, "Lady in the car with him."

Tom said to everyone, "We'll all stay here in the living room, and let Mr. Wiggins and his friend enter his house-through the garage or the front door. When he sees us-"

"We all yell, 'Surprise!'" I suggested.

Tom actually smiled and said, "Bad idea. I will put him at ease and explain the situation."

I hate it when they faint, or bolt out the door. Half the time they think you're bill collectors.

Anyway, I didn't need to be around for this interesting moment, but then I decided I'd like to meet Chip Wiggins, just to satisfy my curiosity and see what he looked and sounded like. God, I'm convinced, looks after His most clueless and carefree creations.

A few minutes later, we could hear a car pull up in the driveway, the garage door opened, then closed, followed by the kitchen door opening, then a light went on in the kitchen.

We could hear Mr. Wiggins rummaging around the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. Finally, he said to his lady friend, "Hey, where did all this food come from?" Then, "Whose baseball hats are these? Hey, Sue, these hats say FBI."

Sue said, "I think someone was in here, Chip."

What was your first clue, sweetheart?

"Yeah," Chip agreed, maybe wondering if he had the right house.

We waited patiently for Mr. Wiggins to come into the living room.

He said, "Stay here. I'll check it out."

Chip Wiggins walked into his living room and stopped dead in his tracks.

Tom said, "Please don't be alarmed." He held up his badge case. "FBI."

Chip Wiggins looked at the four men and four women standing in his living room. He said, "Wha…?"

Chip was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and hiking boots, and looked fairly tan and fit, and younger than his age. Everyone in California looks tan and fit and young,, except people like me, who are just passing through.

Tom said, "Mr. Wiggins, we'd like to talk to you for a few minutes."

"Hey, what's this about?"

The lady friend peeked around the door jamb and said, "Chip, what's happening?"

Chip explained to her where the FBI hats had come from.

After a minute or so, Chip was seated, the lady was escorted into the TV room by Edie, and Chip was relaxed, but curious. The lady, by the way, was a knockout, but I didn't notice.

Tom began by saying, "Mr. Wiggins, this matter concerns the bombing mission you participated in on April fifteen, nineteen eighty-six."

"Oh, shit."

"We took the liberty of entering your house based on information that a Libyan terrorist-"

"Oh, shit."

"-was in the area, and was looking to harm you."

"Oh, shit."

"We have the situation under control, but I'm afraid we're going to ask you to take some time off from work, and take a vacation."

"Huh…?"

"This man is still at large."

"Shit."

Tom gave Chip some of the background, then said, "I'm afraid we have some bad news for you. Some of your squadron mates have been murdered."

"What?"

"Killed by this man, Asad Khalil." Tom gave Chip a photograph of Khalil, which he encouraged Chip to look at and to keep.

Chip stared at the photograph, put it down and said, "Who was killed?"

Tom replied, "General Waycliff and his wife-"

"Oh, my God… Terry is dead? And Gail…?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. Also, Paul Grey, William Satherwaite, and James McCoy."

"Oh, my God… oh, shit… oh…"

"And, as you may know, Colonel Hambrecht was murdered in England in January."

Chip got himself under control, and the realization dawned on him that he'd had a close call with the Grim Reaper. "Holy shit…" He stood and looked around, as if trying to spot a terrorist. He said, "Where is this guy?"

"We're trying to apprehend him," Tom assured Chip. "We can stay here tonight with you, though I don't think he'll show up here, or we'll wait until you pack, and escort you-"

"I'm outta here."