"Either give me some ID or I radio ahead for the cops who'll be waiting at the next stop." He pointed to the young men. "You too."

The quarterback gave a groan and spit up some blood.

"He needs some medical attention," Stone said quickly. He knelt next to the young man and put a hand on his shoulder, only to have it thrown off.

"I don't need any damn help from the likes of you!"

Stone rose and said to the conductor, "I think we need to call in a doctor."

"If he wants medical attention, we'll get it, but I'm still waiting for your ID, sir," the Amtrak man said stubbornly.

He just isn't going to give up, is he?

"I'm getting off this damn train at the next stop," said the quarterback. He rose on shaky legs.

"That's fine. You can all get off as far as I'm concerned," the conductor said.

"What is the next stop?" said Stone.

The man told him. "And you either show me some ID or I radio for the police."

Stone thought for a moment. "How about I get off the train at the next stop too?"

"Works for me," said the conductor, staring at him intently. Stone did not like the look on the man's face; it was full of suspicion.

The conductor pointed at the young men lying on the floor. "Now all you get back in your damn seats and stay there or else you're going to jail, and I mean what I say."

The beefy kid Stone had pounded first wailed, "What if I want to press charges against this son of a bitch?" He pointed at Stone.

The conductor said, "Fine, and then that feller"-he pointed at the quarterback-"can press charges against you. And this man," he added, indicating Stone, "can press charges against you too and your buddies, because what I'm hearing from all the other passengers is that you came after him first. So what's it gonna be, mister bloody nose?"

Beefy's cheeks quivered. "Screw it, just forget it."

"Smartest thing to come out of your mouth yet. And next time you want to brawl just make sure it's not on my train. You don't want to mess with Amtrak, sonny boy." The conductor turned and stalked off.

Stone retook his seat, inwardly fuming. Why the hell had he gotten involved? Now he'd lost his ride.

The woman next to him leaned over and said, "You sure were brave to do what you did. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"Boy Scouts," Stone said absently.

Her eyes widened. "Boy Scouts? You're kidding?"

"The Scouts were a lot tougher in my day, ma'am."

But then he grinned weakly and she laughed. "That was a good one," she said.

Stone stopped smiling.

Not really. Because now I'm screwed.

CHAPTER 7

CALEB SHAW and Reuben Rhodes had been depressed before Alex Ford came to Caleb's high-rise condo and dropped the latest news on them. Now their attitudes sank right through the floor.

Caleb poured himself a sherry and started popping greasy potato chips in his mouth as fast as possible, a longtime nervous habit of his, and he was the possessor of many. "How much more tragedy are we expected to endure?" he exclaimed.

Reuben said, "So he killed Simpson and Gray?"

"He didn't come right out and say it in the letter, but that looks to be the case," Alex said.

"Pricks deserved it," Reuben said staunchly.

"It was still murder, Reuben," Alex pointed out.

"And look what they did to him. Anybody get one day in jail for that? Hell no."

Alex looked ready to debate the point as he had with Annabelle but then seemed to think better of it.

"Where do you believe he is?" asked Caleb.

"Running," answered Alex. "And don't be surprised if the FBI shows up on your doorstep asking questions."

"If they do, I don't know nothing," Reuben stated firmly.

"Be careful on that score," Alex warned. "A perjury charge can get you a few years in a federal lockup."

"I'm not saying anything that'll get these bastards caught up with Oliver, Alex. And I'd expect you to do the same."

"My situation is a little different," Alex said defensively.

"Are you Oliver's friend? Didn't he save your life?"

"Yes. And I returned the favor, unless you've forgotten."

"And isn't he the reason you got that special commendation for busting that spy ring?"

"I get the point, Reuben."

"No, obviously you don't," the big man said, rising up to stand next to the tall Secret Service agent. "Because if you say anything to help them find Oliver, you're a traitor, plain and simple."

"There's nothing simple about it, Reuben. I'm still a federal agent. I took an oath to uphold the law."

"What does Annabelle think about that?" Reuben demanded.

"What the hell business is that of yours?"

"She thought it sucked too, didn't she?"

"Please," Caleb pleaded. "I'm sure Oliver would not have wanted this to drive a wedge between us."

"There's no wedge, Caleb. There's just the right way to be a friend and a wrong way," Reuben pointed out. "And I just want supercop here to be real clear on which side he needs to come down."

Alex did an eyeball-to-eyeball with Reuben. "Is that some sort of threat?"

"Oliver has been through hell and back because of Simpson and Gray. I'm glad they're dead. I would've put a round in their heads myself."

"Then you would've gone to prison."

"Right, under your way of thinking I guess Hitler deserved a trial."

"What the hell is your problem? You're making it seem like I'm against Oliver."

"It sounds to me like you are!"

"Alex, maybe you should leave, before things get out of hand," Caleb said. "Please."

Alex looked from the red-eyed Reuben to the distressed Caleb and walked out the door.

So much for the Camel Club, he thought. That was over. Done. Dead. And he was reasonably certain he would never see Annabelle again.

So preoccupied was he that Alex never saw the two men watching him from their car. When he drove off they followed. Meanwhile, another pair waited outside Caleb's apartment. The hunt apparently had already started.

CHAPTER 8

AS THE TRAIN pulled out of the station that was basically a few planks thrown together and poorly lighted at that, Stone looked at the quarterback. Then he eyed the three punks, who were staring at them both with looks of unfinished business they wanted to jump right on.

Stone heaved up his duffel bag and grabbed the young man's arm. "Let's go."

He jerked back. "I ain't going nowhere with you."

"Then you can stay here and let them finish what they started," Stone said, nodding at Beefy and his boys.

"They'll wanta jump you mor'n me. You kicked their ass."

"Your ass, on the other hand, they were kicking pretty easy. So which road do you think they're going to pick?"

For the first time Stone saw some element of reason slide across the young man's features.

"Okay, now that I seem to have your attention, why don't you start by telling me where you're coming from?"

"Home. Just getting away. Make my own life."

"I know the feeling. But as things stand right now it might make more sense to go back home, get patched up and then start your trip over. You got parents?"

"Got a mom."

"Where's home?"

The kid looked angrily over at the gang of three, who hadn't moved a muscle.

"I don't want to go back there. I just got away from that damn place."

Stone ran his gaze over the kid's jacket. "Looks like you were some athlete."

"Best ever to come out of that little shithole, and look what good it did me."

"Not many people make it in professional sports. That doesn't mean it wasn't worth it, or that you're some kind of failure."

"Thanks for the pep talk, changed my whole life," the kid said scornfully.