T he next morning they left at the crack of dawn in three vehicles. Parks drove with King and Michelle, and two Suburbans carrying grim-looking, armor-wearing federal agents followed them.

King and Michelle had filled in Parks on the developments with Kate Ramsey and Michelle's theory on how all the dots connected, however precariously.

Parks did not look convinced. "With the way things have been going in this case, I'm just waiting for another damn curveball."

On the way down over coffee and Krispy Kremes, Parks went over the attack plan: "We're going to send one of the trucks down to the house after we disguise it as a county survey vehicle. One of our guys goes up to the door with his clipboard while another pulls out the survey equipment. Some of our men will be inside the truck. The others will have surrounded the place and set up a perimeter. Our guy knocks on the door, and when someone opens it, everyone pops out loaded for bear and we go in hard and heavy. If nobody's home, we go in clean and execute on our search warrant. With any luck no shots are fired, and we all go home happy and alive."

King was riding in the backseat. He reached over and touched Parks on the shoulder. "You know Bob Scott is a weapons freak, but he's also an expert in hand-to-hand. That's how he escaped from the Viet Cong. Story goes he spent six months filing a metal buckledown to a razor's edge and then cut the throats of his two captors with it. Not a guy you want to slip up with."

"I hear you. We go in with surprise and overwhelming force. Textbook. That's the best way I know how to do it." Parks then said, "You really think we'll find Bruno and maybe Joan there?"

"Maybe," said King, "but I don't know if they'll be breathing."

B uick Man and Simmons were completing their preparations. The generators were in place and fully operational. The wires had been laid, the explosives set, the detonators readied. The items that Buick Man had so diligently created were also in place and ready for the big moment. All equipment had been tested and checked a dozen times. All it had to do was work perfectly the thirteenth go-round, and victory was theirs.

As Buick Man surveyed his handiwork representing so much planning and work, he didn't even allow himself a look of satisfaction. Simmons noted this and put aside the box he was rechecking.

"Well, it's almost show time. Looks like we're actually going to pull it off. You ought to feel good about that."

"Go check on them," Buick Man ordered crisply, and then sat in a chair and went over every detail again in his head.

Simmons made his way to the prisoners and eyed them through the separate doors of the rooms they were being held in. Unconscious for now-their food had been drugged-they'd be awake soon enough. And if all went according to plan, he'd be on his way out of the country with enough money to last him several lifetimes. He returned to where Buick Man still sat, eyes closed, head lowered.

"How long before you think they come calling here?" Simmons asked, breaking the silence hesitantly, for he knew how the man craved quiet.

Buick Man answered, "Soon. They should be hitting the Tennessee bunker any time now."

"They'll be surprised."

Buick Man looked at him disdainfully. "That's the general idea. Do you have any comprehension of the thought and planning that's gone into this? Do you think this is all simply for your amusement?"

Simmons looked down nervously. "So when will she be getting back?"

"She'll be here in time. She wouldn't want to miss the next part. I'm actually looking forward to it myself." Now he looked at his companion. "Areyou ready?"

Simmons squared his shoulders and assumed a confident look. "I was born ready for this stuff."

Buick Man stared at him intently for a moment or so and then lowered his head and closed his eyes once more.