"I'll put these folks first on my list."

5

Over Darryl Heth's objections, Jack left him with a Ben. The man might have protested more if not for the take-the-money-and-shut-up look his wife was giving him. A man's time was worth something. He'd taken up some of Heth's, and Heth in turn had saved Jack a lot of his own. A hundred bucks for that seemed the deal of the century.

He'd given Jack directions, warning him that he'd need four-wheel drive to reach the house. So Jack took Pocomo back to Wauwinet Road where he made a left and followed the harbor head's shoreline.

He had no intention of bracing the yeniceri in daylight, but he wanted to get a look at the house, scope out its shape and size and possible routes of access.

Far along he passed a little guard shack with a stop sign and a warning that only residents and four-wheel-drive vehicles were allowed past this point. But the shack was empty and Jack kept going.

Past the shack he found a hotel of sorts on the left: THE WAUWINET—AN INN BY THE SEA.

Past that the pavement narrowed, then vanished, replaced by sandy ruts. Jack levered the Liberty into four-wheel drive and pushed on. Eventually the scrub pines vanished, leaving nothing but sand and brush. About half a mile out on the isthmus between the wind-whipped, white-capped Atlantic and the frozen head of the harbor sat a big lonely house.

Was this the place? He looked down at Heth's directions. He'd followed them to the letter. And the house looked just as he'd described it: two stories atop a two-car garage.

Shit.

The isthmus looked about four hundred feet wide—certainly no more than five hundred—and had no access other than the sandy path that passed it on the ocean side. Jack's map called the path Great Point Road, named he guessed after the finger of land that jutted out from the island's northeast corner.

The perfect safe house. No way to sneak up on it during the day; if they had floodlights—which he assumed they did—no way to sneak close enough to matter at night. They could zero in on any approaching car and keep it covered until it was well past. Same with hikers, although Jack doubted there'd be many of those in this weather.

He pulled out his compact binoculars and focused them on the place. Two garage doors faced him. The set of stairs Heth had mentioned ran up to a door on the harbor side of the second level. Two decks jutted from the top level, one facing the harbor, the other the ocean.

Jack imagined the views in the summer must be fabulous. Be great to rent it some day. Gia and Vicks would love—

What was he thinking? They weren't going to see another summer if he didn't find a way into that house for a little face time with the 0. And even then… if she couldn't put him in touch with the Ally… or if she could but the Ally wasn't into making deals…

So many it's…

He focused on the stairway landing and the deck not quite directly above it. From this angle he couldn't tell how much space separated them.

It began to snow. Small, scattered swirling flakes, but the sky promised more. Much more.

Shit.

He seemed to be saying that a lot lately.

6

Cal had given up on calling Miller or hearing from him. He sat at the kitchen island with Novak, watching the hulking, dark-haired man spread Skippy super-chunky on Ritz crackers and shove them into his mouth. Grell stood at the counter over by the window, whipping up some sort of chicken thing to cook later for dinner.

Lewis and Geraci had another half hour to go on their guard shift. Come four o'clock, Cousino and Finan would be on till midnight, after which Cal and Dunsmore would take over. Three eight-hour shifts covered by four teams of two allowed everyone to rotate through each shift.

A few hours earlier Cal had driven to the Stop & Shop and stocked up on nonperishables like canned chili and Spaghetti-Os, bottled water and soft drinks and such. He'd also bought lots of crackers and peanut butter. And a hand-powered can opener. The house had an electric model, but that wouldn't be much use if the storm knocked out the power. Yeah, they had a generator, but it never hurt to be prepared for anything.

Diana was taking a nap—she hadn't got much sleep last night. Cousino and Dunsmore were playing cards. Finan was reading. They'd spread out the thousand pieces of a puzzle of one of Monet's lily ponds on the dining room table. Diana spent a lot of time with it, and everyone else tried to fit in at least one piece as he passed.

He looked out through the sliding glass doors at the inch of snow that had already collected on the top-floor deck. The Boston TV weathermen were predicting a bad one. Who knew how long they might be stuck here? Days, or maybe not at all. Either way, none of what he'd stocked in would go to waste.

Novak washed down a cracker with a mouthful of Pepsi and said, "What're we going to do, Cal? Nice as this place is, we can't stay here forever."

Cal knew what he was feeling. He felt it too. Only a couple of days here and already island fever was setting in.

"You're right. We can't, and we won't. But this will have to be Home until the camps send reinforcements."

Grell turned from the counter. "And when will that be?"

"I talked to Idaho. They're stretched pretty thin already. Everyone they've got is green and raw."

"Did you tell him we're down to eight?" Novak said around a mouthful or Ritz and PB.

"Of course. He's going to do what he can."

"Which is?"

Cal shook his head. "Wish I knew."

Grell rinsed his hands and perched his long, angular body on a stool at the counter.

"Welcome to Cretaceous Park."

Cal looked at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Obvious, don't you think? Yeniceri are dinosaurs and the big meteor that's going to make us all extinct is breathing down our necks."

"Well, aren't you Mister Cheerful," Novak said.

"Just stating the facts. No use in kidding ourselves about Miller and Gold and Jolliff and Hursey. They're not coming back. We started off the week with twenty guys. Now we've got eight." He shook his head. "The writing's on the wall. All you've gotta do is read it."

Cal knew what he meant. They were losing—losing big. He looked for a way to put a positive spin on it, but couldn't find one. If Oculi kept dying at the present rate, by this time next year they'd be extinct. And that would leave the surviving yeni§eri—assuming any remained—adrift, with no purpose, no place in the world.

Ronin.

He looked at Grell. "So what do you think we should do? Give up? Walk away and leave Di—our Oculus unprotected?"

Grell stared at a corner of the ceiling. "Well, why not? Might be the best thing for her. With no yeniceri to answer her Alarms, there'd be no reason for the Adversary to bother with her."

"Don't count on that. She's one of the Ally's eyes."

"Until she gets her heart torn out."

"But what if the Adversary's plan is to blind the Ally? Okay, I doubt he can do that, but taking out all the Oculi could sure as hell make it myopic."

Grell shook his head. "I still think she'd have a better chance—"

"Forget that she's an Oculus. She's a scared little girl, terrified and alone. Who's going to take care of her? She was crying last night. I went in and sat with her and talked to her. Since I've got the midnight shift, I won't be able to do that tonight. One of you might have to."

Grell looked uncomfortable. "What do you say to her?"

"You say what I did: That she should think of us as family and that we're always here for her and that we're ready to die protecting her."

Grell nodded. "Oh. You mean like the truth."

Cal loved him then.

"Yeah. The truth."