They lived in the same small but handsome hotel on the edge of town, and they usually had breakfast together twice a week before scattering. As the months passed and they settled into their new lives, they saw less and less of each other. They had differing interests. Spicer wanted to gamble and drink and spend time with the ladies. Beech preferred the sea and enjoyed fishing. Yarber traveled and studied the history of southern France and northern Italy.

But each always knew where the others were. If one disappeared, the other two wanted to know it.

They'd read nothing about their pardons. Beech andYarber had spent hours in a library in Rome, reading American newspapers just after they fled. Not a word about them. They'd had no contact with anyone from home. Spicer's wife claimed to have told no one that he was out of prison. She still thought he'd escaped.

On Thanksgiving Day, Finn Yarber was enjoying an espresso at a sidewalk caf‚ in downtown Monte Carlo. It was warm and sunny, and he was only vaguely aware that it was an important holiday back home. He didn't care because he would never go back. Beech was asleep in his hotel mom: Spicer was in a casino three blocks away.

A vaguely familiar face appeared from nowhere. In a flash, the man sat across from Yarber and said, "Hello, Finn. Remember me?"

Yarber calmly took a sip of coffee and studied the face. He'd last seen it at Trumble.

"Wilson Argrow, from prison." the man said, and Yarber put down his cup before he dropped it.

"Good morning, Mr. Argrow," Finn said slowly, calmly, though there were many other things he wanted to say.

"I guess you're surprised to see me."

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"Wasn't that exciting news about Aaron Lake's landslide?"

"I suppose. What can I do for you?"

"I just want you to know that we're always close by, just in case you need us."

Finn actually chuckled, then said, "That doesn't seem likely" It had been five months since their release. They had moved from country to country, from Greece to Sweden, from Poland to Portugal, slowly heading south as the weather changed. How on earth could Argrow track them down?

It was impossible.

Argrow pulled a magazine from inside his jacket. "I ran across this last week," he said, handing it over. The magazine was turned to a page in the back where a personal ad was circled with a red marker:

SWM in 20's looking for kind and discreet American gentleman in 40's or 50's to pen pal with.

Yarber had certainly seen it before, but he shrugged as if he hadn't a clue.

"Looks familiar, doesn't it?" Argrow asked.

"They all look the same to me," Finn said. He tossed the magazine on the table. It was the European edition of Out and About.

"We traced the address to the post office here in Monte Carlo." Argrow said. "A brand-new, box rental, with a fake name and everything. What a coincidence."

"Look, I don't know who you work for, but I have a very strong hunch that we're not in your jurisdiction. We haven't broken a single law. Why don't you bug off?"

"Sure, Finn, but two million bucks isn't enough?"

Finn smiled and looked around the lovely cafe. He took a sip of coffee and said, "You gotta keep busy."

"I'll see you around." Argrow said, then jumped to his feet and vanished.

Yarber finished his coffee as if nothing had happened. He watched the street and the traffic for a while, then left to gather his colleagues.