"And he was shot while trying to escape after taking a hostage, all of which we have duly documented for regulatory review."

Tyree handed the gun back and resumed his pacing. "Those are basically the rules here. We keep them short and simple so that you will have no trouble remembering and thus following them. Please also keep in mind that here you have no privacy, no rights, no dignity and no reasonable expectation of anything except what we say you can have. At the moment you walked into this facility you ceased to be human beings. Indeed, because of the crimes that you have committed against humanity you have forfeited all rights to be considered human beings. No guard at this prison will have any compunction about ending your life at any moment and for any reason. You now will be officially processed into this prison's inmate population. If you give us no trouble, I can reasonably assure that you will live out your lives here in relative peace and security, though I cannot say how long that life will be. Supermax facilities are by their very nature dangerous places. We of course will make all reasonable attempts to ensure your safety, but there are no guarantees." He paused and faced them. "Welcome to Dead Rock, gentlemen. I can guarantee that you will not enjoy your stay with us."

CHAPTER 62

ANNABELLE WALKED INTO RITA'S, pausing at the door to survey the landscape. Half the tables were filled, as were all the stools at the counter.

"Can I help you?" A man came around the bar and was looking at her.

"I was looking for Abby Riker?"

"She's not here. She's at home."

"Midsummer's Farm?"

"Who are you?"

"Sheriff Tyree told me to come and see her."

"Oh, well I guess that's okay then. You might want to call out to the house and talk to her."

"Do you have her number?"

Annabelle made the call. When Abby answered it was clear that she had been crying. She didn't want to talk to Annabelle until she mentioned the man Abby knew as Ben.

"He's my father." Annabelle quickly told her the same story she'd told Tyree.

"He told me his daughter and his wife were dead," Abby said coldly.

"My mother is dead. Has been for decades. He told you I was dead because that's how he protects me."

"Government spy type? I knew there was something about him. Just different, you know?"

"Yep, that's my dad. Different. Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"He was at the hospital yesterday. Along with my son, Danny. Now they've both disappeared. I'm worried sick for a lot of reasons."

"Sheriff Tyree told me about what's been happening around here. I guess you have good reason to worry. Can I come out to see you?"

"Why?"

"Right now you're the closest lead I have to my dad."

"I told you I don't know where he is. Or my son either."

"But you might remember something if we keep talking about it. Please, it's my only shot."

"All right." Abby told her how to get to the place and a little while later Annabelle was seated across from Abby in her living room. Caleb had parked the van well back and had stayed there with Reuben. Annabelle tried various lines of questioning and Abby answered each of them, but nothing she learned helped her.

"Had you two become friends?"

Choosing her words carefully, Abby said, "He's a good listener. Not judgmental. I find that a rare combination. I hope he's all right." A tear slid down her cheek. "He had a way about him too. Just made you feel good about yourself."

"Do you think he and your son might have left the hospital together?"

"I don't know. Danny was pretty beat up. If it wasn't for Ben." She stopped and looked at Annabelle. "What's his real name?"

Annabelle hesitated, but Abby appeared to be genuinely concerned about Stone. "Oliver."

"If it hadn't been for Oliver I wouldn't have my son at all, so whatever I can do to help you I will."

"If you think of anything that might be helpful you can reach me at this number." She handed Abby a card, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and left.

Back in the van, she sat lost in thought in the passenger seat.

"What do we do now, Annabelle?" asked Caleb, while Reuben stared at her curiously.

"You okay?" he asked.

She started and looked at him. "What? Yeah, I'm good."

"Boy, Abby Riker has some big bucks," said Reuben as he glanced back at the enormous house.

"Yeah, only thing it cost her was her husband."

"What do we do now, Annabelle?" Caleb asked again.

Annabelle didn't say anything, because she didn't have an answer.

Where the hell are you, Oliver?

CHAPTER 63

BEING PROCESSED into Dead Rock included standing bent over naked with your butt cheeks spread as painfully as possible while a group of men and one woman looked on. The woman was also videotaping the proceedings, which added considerably to the dignity of the event. The body cavity search completed, their heads were then shaved.

Suspicion of lice, Stone heard one guard say, while another chuckled about a weapon perhaps being concealed in their hair roots.

They sat crouched in a corner naked while men scrubbed them raw with stiff brushes that felt steel-tipped. After this a fire hose blasted them with such force that they were pinned against the wall like ants at the mercy of a berserk garden hose.

Dressed in orange jumpsuits, cuffed and shackled, they were led down a stone hall to a cell. Guards held stun guns an inch from their prisoners' sides, seemingly just praying for a reason to hit them with a 50,000-volt tickle. The cell door was solid two-inch steel with a food and cuffing slot cut into the bottom half and a small viewing window in the upper half. They were pushed in, the shackles removed, the jagged links stripping at their skin, and then the door slammed shut and was loudly bolted behind them.

Knox and Stone slumped down next to each other as their gazes drifted dully over the eight-by-twelve-foot space. There was a steel toilet and sink unit bolted to the wall with no knobs that could be fashioned into weapons. There was also a steel slab for a desk and two steel slabs on the wall with a thin plastic mattress and pillow on each. A six-inch vertical slit in the thick concrete block and rebar wall constituted the sole window.

For the next half hour each man groaned and moaned and rubbed at innumerable bruises, cuts and bumps on their bodies.

Knox finally sat back against the wall, wiggled a loose tooth in the back of his mouth with his finger and looked over at Stone. "Whatever the hell happened to due process?"

"It seems to be growing less popular these days," Stone replied as he rubbed at a knot the size of a quarter on the side of his head.

"I'm surprised they put us in here together. I'd assumed we'd be segregated."

"They did it because they don't care what we tell each other."

"You mean because we're never getting out?"

"We don't really exist. They can do anything they want. And he murdered a man right in front of us. That shows he doesn't expect us to be a witness anytime soon. You think the cell is bugged?"

"I doubt they care that much, but you never know."

Stone drew closer and lowered his voice to a whisper and tapped his shoes against the walls to disrupt any audio surveillance. "Any chance your agency will find you?"

Knox joined in the wall-tapping. "There's always a chance. Looks like the only one we've got right now. But even if they do, you realize how many places there are to hide us here. Like you said, we don't exist."

"And they can always kill us. Invisible in life, nothing in death. Who sent you after me?"

"I guess it would sound pretty stupid to say that's classified under the present circumstances. Macklin Hayes."