Dahlgren came closer and glared at the hole. “Bullshit.”

“I’m just telling you how I see it, sir. Two shots in one hole. Mr. Davis hit him three times. It’s a thirty. Perfect score. Mr. Davis won.”

“You sure of that?” Dahlgren said. “Absolutely sure?” His question was etched with an unspoken threat.

The RO looked carefully at the target. It was a close call, no doubt. He swallowed, met Dahlgren’s eye for a moment, then said, “No, sir. I guess I’m wrong.”

“Excellent,” Dahlgren said. “Glad you see it my way. One hit, one clean miss. Right?”

The RO looked at Gideon apologetically, then shrugged in agreement.

Gideon shook his head in disgust.

Gideon's War and Hard Target

“Give us a minute, Agent Stimson,” Dahlgren said. The RO...

Nancy Clement stepped closer. “Sir, witnesses at the scene strongly implied that he’d been kidnapped. Why would he have been kidnapped unless—”

“Strongly implied,” Dahlgren interrupted sharply. “What does that even mean?”

The usually outspoken Nancy fell quiet, so Gideon spoke up. “I don’t have a dog in this fighigh±€†t, but I think you’re making a mistake. I spoke to this guy, heard his recording, and I think there’s a strong possibility that he’s telling the truth.”

Dahlgren stepped back and raised his voice a little as he extended his hand toward Gideon. “Well, sir, I sincerely thank you for taking an interest. It’s always a pleasure to meet a public-minded citizen. You take care now, Mr. Davis. My assistant will see you back to the gatehouse.”

7

ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA

What is it?” Kate asked.

They’d been unpacking for an hour and Gideon hadn’t said much.

“I just can’t get this thing out of my head,” he said, pulling a stack of books out of a box and putting them on a shelf.

“You’re talking about this Mixon person.”

Gideon nodded. He had given Kate the details of his encounter with Mixon and his frustrating visit to the FBI with his old girlfriend, Nancy Clement, which she had taken surprisingly well. “If this guy is right, we could be looking at a major attack. He used the phrase ‘mass casualties.’ For all I know, he could be talking about another 9/11.”

“What does Nancy think about it?”

Gideon had a long conversation with her after they left Quantico. He couldn’t convince her to go around Dahlgren to pursue Mixon. “At the end of the day, she’s a loyal public servant. Her boss ordered her to let it go. So unless something surfaces, she needs to follow orders.”

Kate nodded, watching Gideon as he slid another book on the shelf.

“But I did a little poking around online,” he continued. “The militia group Mixon talked about live in a pretty remote part of West Virginia that’s filled with fringe types who live off the grid—militia guys, survivalists, end-timers, bikers, people trying to get away from everything and everybody.”

“Isn’t your brother up in West Virginia somewhere?”

Gideon hesitated. A thought had been growing in his mind since yesterday, a thought that had sunk its talons deep in his head. “Funny you should mention that . . .” he said finally.

Kate looked at him for a moment. “Seriously? Tillman lives in the same area as these people?”

“Their compound’s not far from him.” He paused. “My guess is, they’re holding Mixon there. Assuming he’s still alive, they’ll question him hard until he tells them what he told the FBI.”

His voice trailed off. He knew what he wanted to do. What he needed to do. He needed to go to West Virginia, hook up with his brother, Tillman, and find out precisely what the hell was going on with Ervin Mixon.

But it was only a matter of weeks until he and Kate got married. All the books on how to be a sensitive caring male in the twenty-first century told him the right thing to a mmmmid a do at this moment was to let it go and lovingly unpack the crystal together.

“Are you looking for permission from me to help out on this?” Kate said.

Gideon didn’t answer. He wasn’t asking for permission. Not exactly. He knew the consequences of what he was considering—not only the potential danger, but the legal mess that would inevitably follow—and he didn’t want to take it any further without Kate’s blessing.

“How did she look?”

“Who?”

“Don’t give me that hand-in-the-cookie-jar look. You know who. Nancy.”

Gideon shrugged. “Good, I guess.”

“Did she let you hold her gun?”

“Stop it. You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Should I be?”

“No,” Gideon said. “But the truth is, I think this guy had something.”

“And you think you can help?”

Instead of answering, Gideon reached into an open box and pulled out a book. “A Diplomatic History of Yugoslavia,” he read.

“You’re changing the subject.”

“Bear with me.” Gideon leafed through the book for a few seconds. Then he turned the book around and showed Kate an old black-and-white photograph of a nerdy-looking young man with a thin mustache and a sad expression on his face.

“Recognize this guy?”

“Looks very much like Gavrilo Princip,” Kate said.

“You read the caption.”

Kate smiled. “Busted.”

“Gavrilo Princip was a Serbian anarchist. One day he snuck up on Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, and shot him in the neck. One bullet, one angry little man. That’s all it took to start World War I. Four years later, nearly ten million people were dead.”

“I sense you’re making a point,” Kate said.

Gideon’s green eyes went serious. “What if you were the guy who said, ‘Aw, we get threats against the archduke every day. I wouldn’t take this one too seriously.’ ” He put the book on the shelf. “I mean one bullet really can change the world.”

“You’re saying you want to get back out there, follow this where it leads.”

“It could be nothing. It’s probably nothing. But what if it turns out to be something, and I could have stopped it?”

“Is that what this is really about?” Kate’s hair was still damp from her morning shower. It hugged the delicate curve of her neck.

“Of course. What do you mean? What else would it be about?”

“Come 821Á€†on, Gideon. You think I haven’t noticed how antsy you’ve been since we moved in together? Maybe . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head.

“Maybe what?”

After a girding moment, she turned to him. “Maybe this isn’t right for you.” She waved her hands at the boxes. “The house. The teaching. Me.”

“Kate—”

Gideon's War and Hard Target

“I’m a big girl. I can take it.”

“It’s not you. It isn’t. But if I don’t follow this up I don’t know if I could sleep at night.” What he didn’t tell her was that some part of him had woken up on the Obelisk. And now that he was awake, he didn’t want to go back to sleep. “It’s just for a few days,” he said. “While I run this down with Tillman.”

She looked at him, and he wondered if she could read his uncertainty. Then she said, “I’ll pack you a bag.” She walked off toward the stairs.

Gideon watched her go, his heart thrumming with anticipation in his throat. It was a feeling—if he was totally honest about it—that he liked. No, not just liked. Loved.

As Kate disappeared from sight, he picked up his cell phone and dialed Nancy Clement. “Hey,” he said. “It’s me. I think I might be able to help find Mixon.”

“Gideon,” Nancy said, “I’ve been ordered off this thing.”

“I know. That’s why I’m going to help. If we do it right, you’ll have total deniability. If I find something useful, you can run with it. If not, nothing I do can be connected to you. But I’m going to need a couple of things from you . . .”

Kate poked her head over the railing of the stairs. “Honey, do you want the Glock or the SIG?”

Gideon put his hand over the receiver for a moment. “The SIG,” he called.

8

ANDERSON, WEST VIRGINIA