"You'll need a story to tell your banker to explain your income," Duncan added. "Perhaps you receive periodic installments from a trust fund. Perhaps you retired early after selling a business and for tax reasons you preferred a schedule of payments rather than a lump sum. Whatever fabrication feels comfortable to you."

Prescott took another sip of wine. "And the fourth stage? The one that presents the most problems?"

Cavanaugh looked around the table. Everyone glanced down, uneasy.

"Initially, a new life sounds tempting," Cavanaugh said. "An escape from your enemies. A fresh beginning. The chance to correct mistakes and start over. The trouble is, you have to make a complete break with your past. Do you have a family, Mr. Prescott?"

"No."

"No ex-wife? No children in college?"

"No. My work kept getting in the way of marriage and establishing a family."

"A lady friend?"

"No."

"A boyfriend?"

"I'm not gay," Prescott said with annoyance.

"That's remarkable. I've been protecting people for several years, and this is the first time I've dealt with someone who had no serious social connections. You said your mother was dead. What about your father?"

"Dead also."

"In other words, there's no one in the world who'll miss you if you drop out of sight."

"More or less." Uncomfortable, Prescott glanced down. "Yes."

"That makes it easier," Cavanaugh said, "because a clean break with the past means you'd never have been able to contact your parents if they were alive, or other relatives, or your friends. If you'd wished, a wife and children could have gone with you to your new life, but they'd have had relatives and friends they'd have missed, and eventually you or someone in your family would have been tempted to get in touch with people you cared for in your past. In most cases, if your enemy manages to find you, that's how it's done, by keeping a close watch on the friends and relatives you left behind, by checking their mail and tapping their phones and watching for any change in their routine. Fortunately, that's not going to be an issue here."

"Do you have any fantasy spot where you've always wanted to live?" Duncan asked. "When you decided to disappear, was there a place you had in mind?"

"No." Looking more abandoned, Prescott stared at his wineglass.

"Good," Duncan said. "Because, if you had, you probably would have mentioned it to people you worked with or did business with."

"Casual conversation," Chad said." 'Gosh, wouldn't it be great to live in Aspen and ski whenever I want in the winter.' So you disappear and move to Aspen, and the next thing, Escobar's men come crashing through your back door."

"Do you subscribe to any scientific journals?" Cavanaugh asked.

"Several."

"Not any longer," Duncan said. "Escobar will find out which journals publish articles in your specialty. He'll manage to get his hands on the subscriber list. He'll make a note of which subscribers recently moved and which people subscribed after you disappeared."

"And the next thing you know," Roberto said, echoing Chad's earlier comment, "Escobar's men'll come crashing through your back door."

"Do you like to play golf?" Cavanaugh asked.

"Yes. It's one of the few forms of exercise that-"

"Not any longer. You can't ever go near a golf course again. Escobar will find a way to learn your habits. If he somehow manages to figure out where you've moved, he'll arrange to have someone watch the golf courses, waiting for you to show up. On and on," Cavanaugh said. "Do you understand what we're trying to tell you?"

Prescott gulped the last of his wine and poured another full glass. "When you say 'a new life,' you mean it literally. I have to make a complete break from my past."

"With no exceptions," Cavanaugh emphasized. "The kind of clothes you like. The music you like. The food you like. You're going to have to change all of it. The books you like. Back at the warehouse, you had the collected poems of Robinson Jeffers and a couple of books about him. From now on, Jeffers is one author you can't ever be caught reading."

"You make it sound…" Prescott's voice faltered. "Depressing."

"For many, it is, once the people who disappear finally understand the full implications," Duncan said. "You have to prepare yourself and confront the problem now. How much are you afraid of Escobar? Are you ready to do everything that's necessary, no matter how isolating, in order to keep him away from you?"

Prescott took another long swallow from his glass. "I'm tired of being afraid. Yes." His expression hardened. "I'm ready to do everything that's necessary."

"Good," Duncan said. "Tomorrow, we'll take you to meet Karen in Albany, get your photograph taken, and receive the documents for your new identity."

Tracy suddenly entered the room. "Maybe not."

"Why?" Duncan frowned.

"Three helicopters are headed this way."

8

"Helicopters?"

Duncan came to his feet at the same time Cavanaugh did. Followed by Chad and Roberto, they hurried with Tracy out of the kitchen, along a corridor, and into the control room.

Various television monitors were stacked in rows along a wall, receiving green-tinted night-vision images from cameras positioned around the helicopter and the bunker. But what the team focused its attention on was a radar screen, which showed three blips heading north, approaching the area.

Roberto studied them. "Yeah, the speed and the formation are consistent with helicopters."

"What's happening?" Prescott's strained voice asked behind them.

"We don't know yet," Cavanaugh said. "It might not be anything to concern us."

"The moment they appeared on the radar, heading up the Hudson," Tracy said, "it was obvious they were following the flight plan we filed at Teterboro."

"Coincidence?" Duncan asked.

"Maybe," Chad said. "There are a number of small airports up the Hudson, not to mention the one at Albany. They might land at one of them and go to a corporate retreat or something. Hell, maybe these are politicians flying to the state capital."

"Maybe," Tracy said. "And maybe not."

"What are we going to do?" Prescott asked.

No one turned from the radar.

"If it's Escobar's men trying to follow us," Roberto said, "the destination on the flight plan's too vague to bring them here. There are a lot of mountains and valleys. Even in daylight, those choppers could search forever and not find this place."

"Look." Tracy pointed toward the screen, where the three blips separated, moving west from the river.

"They're heading into the mountains," Chad said.

"Splitting up," Cavanaugh said, "saving time, searching one to a valley."

"But even with night-vision equipment, they're not going to see anything that tells them where we are," Roberto said. "For all they know, we landed at a farm and our helicopter's in a barn. It would take weeks for them to search all the farms in this area."

"Plus, if they flew here from Teterboro, they'll have to refuel in an hour or so," Cavanaugh said.

"Look." Tracy pointed again.

On the screen, the three blips moved back and forth over separate areas.

"Systematically searching," Duncan said.

"But they're doing it awfully fast," Cavanaugh said. "Even with night-vision equipment, they'd need to move slower to make sure they don't miss anything."

On the screen, the three blips shifted rapidly to three other areas.

"Holy… Nobody can do a visual check of a valley that fast, not even in daylight," Tracy said.

"Unless that's not how they're checking," Chad said.

"What do you mean?"

"Not visually."

The rest of the group abruptly understood what Chad meant. They swung to look at Prescott.