Its Vic Tremaine and Rayfield.

Shit! Josh exclaimed. What they carrying? Rufus took one long breath. Vics got a machine gun.

Shit! Josh said again as they all listened to the heavy boots clattering into the building. In another couple of minutes, maybe less, they would be here. He suddenly glared at Fiske and Sara. I told you. They set us up. We been sitting here jawing with them while the Army surrounds this place.

In case you didnt notice, were not in uniform, Fiske said. Maybe they followed you.

We didnt come from the direction of the prison. When they see the two of us, theyre gonna shoot, and thats it.

Not if you give yourselves up, they wont.

That aint an option, Josh said loudly.

It aint an option, Rufus repeated. They aint gonna let me live, knowing what I know.

Fiske looked at Rufus Harms. The mans eyes darted left and right. He had admitted to killing the girl. Shouldnt that be an end to it? Why not let the Army put him back in his cage? But Mike had wanted to help him. Fiske jumped up. Josh covered him with his pistol. Dont make this no harder than it is.

Fiske didnt even look at him; his eyes were squarely on Rufus. Rufus? Rufus!

Rufus finally seemed to break out of his inertia and looked at him.

Maybe I can get you out of this, but you have to do exactly what I say.

Josh said, We can damn well get ourselves out of this.

In about thirty seconds those two guys are going to come through that door and itll be over. You cant match their firepower.

How bout I put one of my bullets in you right now? Josh said.

Rufus, will you trust me? My brother came to help you. Let me finish what he started. Come on, Rufus. Give me a chance. A bead of sweat trickled down Fiskes forehead. Sara couldnt even speak. All she could hear were those boots, all she could see was that machine gun, coming closer and closer. Finally, almost imperceptibly, Rufus nodded. Fiske launched into action. Get in the bathroom, both of you, he said. Josh started to protest until Rufus cut him off and pushed him toward the private bath adjoining the office.

Sara, you go with them.

She looked at him, stunned. What?

Just do what I say. If you hear me call your name, flush the toilet and then come out. You two he nodded at the brothers stay behind that door. If you dont hear me say your name, Sara, stay put.

And you dont think them Army boys might just want to come take a peek at the toilet, especially if the doors closed? Josh asked sarcastically.

Let me worry about that.

Okay, Josh said slowly. But let me give you another thing to worry about, smart boy. You sell us out and the first bullet I fire is gonna hit you right about here. Josh placed his pistol against the base of Fiskes skull. But you wont even hear my pistol fire. Youll be dead before your damn ears tells your damn brain.

Fiske nodded at Josh as though accepting his challenge, which, in effect, he was. He looked at Sara; her face was pale. She leaned into him, shaking hard, trying, without success, to catch her breath, as the pounding feet drew closer.

John, I cant do this.

He gripped her shoulders hard. Sara, youcando this. You are going to do this. Now go. Go. He squeezed her hand and then she and the Harms brothers went into the bathroom and Sara shut the door behind them. Fiske looked around the office, fighting hard to get his composure. He spied a briefcase against one wall, grabbed it and unsnapped the lid. It was empty. He stuffed files from the top of Riders desk into the briefcase. As the boots boomed down the hallway, he raced to the small conference table set up in one corner. As he sat down, he heard the outer door open. As he pulled a file from the briefcase and opened it, he heard the inner door start to open. He leaned back in the chair and pretended to study some of the papers as the door opened. He stared up into the faces of the men.

What the hell he started to say until he saw the machine gun pointed at him and fell silent.

Who are you? Rayfield demanded.

I was about to ask you that question. Im here for a meeting with Sam Rider. Ive been waiting ten minutes already and he hasnt bothered to show up.

Rayfield edged closer. Youre a client of his?

Fiske nodded. Flew in from Washington this evening on a chartered plane. The meetings been planned for several weeks now.

Little late for a meeting, isnt it? Tremaines eyes bored into Fiske.

I have a very busy schedule. This was the only time I could meet. He looked at both men sternly. And why is the Army bursting in here with machine guns in the first place?

Tremaines face flushed angrily, but Rayfield assumed a more diplomatic tone. Its not our business, Mr

Fiske started to say his real last name, but then decided not to. Rufus had known these men by name. That meant these men were somehow involved with whatever had happened to Rufus. If that was true, they might have killed Mike.

Michaels, John Michaels. I run a real estate development company and Rider is my land-use attorney.

Well, youre going to have to get another lawyer, Rayfield said.

Im happy with Sams work.

Thats not the point. The point is Riders dead. He committed suicide. Killed his wife and then himself.

Fiske stood up, trying to make his expression as horrified as possible. It wasnt too hard, given the fact that he was trying to scam two armed men, with two more armed men in the adjoining room. If he failed, he would be the first casualty, if Josh Harms had anything to say about it.

What the hell are you talking about? I spoke with him recently. He seemed fine.

Thats all well and good, but the fact is hes dead, Rayfield said. Fiske sat down abruptly, looking numbly at the files in front of him. I cant believe it, he said, slowly shaking his head. I feel like an idiot. Sitting in the mans office waiting to hold a meeting. But I didnt know. No one told me. The door to his office was unlocked. Christ! He pushed the files away, then looked up sharply. So what are you two doing here? Why is the Army involved?

Tremaine and Rayfield exchanged glances. Theres been an escape from the military prison nearby.

Good Lord, you think whoever escaped is around here?

Dont know. Fact is, Rider was the escapees lawyer. We thought he might hit this place for some cash or something. Who knows, the prisoner might have murdered Rider, for all we know.

But you said it was a suicide.

Thats what the police think. Thats why were here. To look around, catch the guy if hes here.

Fiske watched with a sinking heart as Tremaine headed to the bathroom door.

Susan, can you please come out here? Fiske called in a loud voice. Tremaine stared hard at Fiske as they all heard the toilet flush. And then the door opened partially and Sara came out, trying her best to look astonished. She did a pretty good job, Fiske thought, probably because she too was scared shitless.

John, whats going on?

I told these gentlemen about our meeting with Sam Rider. Youre not going to believe this, but hes dead.

Oh, my God.

Susan is my assistant. She nodded at both men.

I didnt get your names, Fiske said.

Thats right, Tremaine shot back. Fiske hurriedly continued: These men are from the Army. Theyre looking for an escaped prisoner. They think the person might have had something to do with Sams death.

Oh, my God. John, lets just get back on the plane and get out of here.

Thats not a bad idea, Tremaine said. We can search the place a lot faster with you two out of the way. He once again looked over at the bathroom door. Holding his gun with one hand, he reached out to push the door all the way open.

Well, I can tell you theres no one hiding in there, she said with as straight a face as she could.

If you dont mind, maam, I like to see these things for myself, Tremaine said curtly. Fiske watched Sara. He was sure she was going to start screaming. Come on, Sara, hold on. Dont lose it. Behind the door of the darkened bathroom, Josh Harms had his pistol pointed directly at Tremaines head through the slight gap between the door and doorjamb. Josh had already sized up the tactical advantages he had, slight though they were. Vic Tremaine first, and then Rayfield, unless Rayfield got him first, which was a real possibility given Joshs very limited field of vision. Well, there was no way he could miss the little Sherman tank of a target Vic Tremaine represented. His hand tightened on the trigger as his brother loomed over his shoulder, pressing his bulk up as far as he could against the wall. But there was barely an inch of space between him and the door. As soon as Tremaine touched the wood, it would be over. At that moment Fiske started to stuff the files in his briefcase. I cant believe it. First two black guys almost run us over and now this.