This morning, he had come to the museum very early. His daughter, Sydney, was staying with his parents for the week, so he had been able to spend a lot of productive time on his research.

He pulled a CD out of its case on the wall bookshelf and prepared to sit back at his desk, when a movement on the monitor caught his eye. The camera had a wide-angle lens, and faced across the street from the UFO Center, toward the Crashdown Cafe.

He watched as a black van and a black sedan pulled up in front of the Crashdown, and men in black leaped out and tackled Jeff Parker. Moments later, several of them burst into the Crashdown, guns drawn.

For a moment, Brody was too astonished to move. Then his survival instincts kicked in. Running to the wall, he toggled several switches, which triple-bolted all of the doors. Another switch brought a secondary set of doors sliding forward and locking into place; the thick steel barriers would act as a secondary shield should the first set of doors fail.

He kept his eye on the monitors to see if they were coming across the street toward him, or were down the alley, but he didn't see any movement.

"Who do I call?" he asked out loud, but only one name came to mind: Jim Valenti. Although the man worked in law enforcement, Brody trusted something about him. Maybe it was the way he had been so protective about Max and his friends. Maybe it was his clear and outspoken belief in the existence of UFOs and extraterrestrial life. Or maybe it was something deeper that Brody couldn't quite define.

Rifling through a stack of papers, Brody tried to find the number. Valenti had come to see him a week or two after the Rogers explosion, and had given him a special beeper number. "If anything… strange ever happens that you don't think you can discuss with the law, page me," Valenti had told him then.

"Why?" Brody had asked. He hadn't needed to elaborate on his question.

"You and I both know that there's more going on beneath the surface than most people will ever understand," Valenti had said, his voice steady and low. "If you ever need help, Brody, remember that I'm an ally. “

Now Brody knew he needed an ally more than ever before. He finally found the pager number and punched it into his cell phone.

The phone rang once, and then picked up. A tone buzzed in Brody's ear, and he punched in his private phone number, then the pound sign. An automatonlike female voice said, "Thank you." He hung up.

On the monitor, he saw the men in black pulling Nancy Parker out of the Crashdown by both arms. He pressed a button, and the camera focused in closer. He could see that she was gagged, and that the men all had black ski masks over their faces.

One of them re-entered the Crashdown and picked something up from the floor. He placed it in the window, and Brody saw that it was the "closed" sign.

And then, to his horror, Brody saw one of the men look across the street, directly toward the camera.

Directly at him.

Jim Valenti had just put on his Roswell Sheriff's Deputy jacket and was preparing to leave his house when the phone rang.

Strange. Who's calling at this hour? Amy had already left to go back home and change clothes before opening her shop.

He picked up the phone. "Hello? “

"Jim Valenti? “

It was a woman's voice. Familiar, but not overly so. "This is Jim. Who is this? “

"I don't think it's safe for me to say, Jim. But I will say that you once gave me some very good advice over drinks in Arizona." She paused for a moment. "Do you know who this is now? “

The voice clicked into place. The only woman he had given advice to in Arizona was FBI Special Agent Suzanne Duff, when he had counseled her about what not to put in her reports about the Laurie Dupree abduction and the shooting of Grant Sorenson.

"Yeah, I know who you are. What can I do for you? “

Her voice seemed strained. "I can't explain right now, over the phone, but I think something very bad is about to come down in your town. “

"What kind of bad?" Valenti's eyes darted around the room, and his hand automatically went to his sidearm.

"I'm not sure. But there's been some activity I've tracked in Wyoming and New York City, and something tells me that you aren't safe there. “

Valenti was about to reply when his second line beeped and his pager went off simultaneously When it rains, it pours, he thought ruefully. He looked quickly at the pager. It was Brody Davis from the UFO Center. Not a good sign. "Hold on. I have another call coming in," he said to Duff.

He clicked the "flash" button on his phone. "Valenti here. “

"Morning, Jim. It's Randy. You on your way into work? “

"Was just about to leave, Sheriff. What's up?" Valenti frowned, and the hairs on his neck began to rise.

"Uhhh, nothing special. I just need you at the office as soon as possible." Hanson sounded distracted, as if he was concentrating on something else. Jim recognized it as Hanson's "tell," the one thing that gave gamblers and liars away.

"Something up I should be aware of, Randy? “

"No," the sheriff said, too quickly. "Just get on in here. “

"All right. See you soon." Valenti hit the "Flash" button again. "You there? “

"Yes," Duff said. "What was it? “

"Trouble. I'm back at the Sheriff's Department… as a deputy now… and they just called me in but wouldn't tell me what about. And I just got an emergency page from someone else. “

Her voice was full of urgency. "Don't go in. Get out of there, and get anybody else who you think might be at risk out of there as well. “

Valenti wasn't going to argue. "Got it. I'm gone. “

"Jim, wait. I'm coming out there too. If you can, meet me where we had drinks before." Jim knew that meant the Dupree house in Tucson.

"I'll do my best." He looked down at his beeper again and saw Brody Davis's number flashing there.

"Good luck, Jim," Duff said, and the phone clicked as she hungup.

Valenti was torn now. Something big is going down. Is Amy at risk? He had grown to love the spacey Amy DeLuca more and more each day they spent together.

Do I call Brody back, or make sure Amy is safe? The choice wasn't really all that difficult. Grabbing his extra cell phone, Valenti moved out of his house and toward the departmental rover parked in the driveway. On the way, he dialed.

Diane Evans was just toweling off from the shower when she heard the phone ring. Wrapping a towel around her midsection, she ran to get it, picking it up just after the second ring.

"Hello? “

She heard the muffled sound of a harsh male voice, followed by the hushed tones of Nancy Parker. "Diane, it's Nancy. They've just taken Jeff, and they're raiding the house, looking for me. Oh, God, they're going to be here any second. Diane, you've got to… “

And then Diane heard a crash, as if something had exploded. Several men's voices were shouting for Nancy to get her hands up, and she heard Nancy scream, "Don't shoot! “

The phone line went dead.

Fear gripped Diane, and she ran for the bathroom, where Phillip had just started his shower. "Phillip! Something just happened at the Parkers'. There were men with guns! “

In seconds he emerged from the shower, narrowly avoiding slipping as he exited the bathroom. "Call Valenti! Hurry!" He grabbed the clothes he had worn yesterday, which were lying on a chair near the television, and wiped a towel around himself cursorily.

Diane looked at the list on the nightstand and punched in the number for Jim Valenti. A busy signal beeped repetitively in her ear. "It's busy," she said.

"Keep trying," Phillip said, pulling his pants on over his still-damp legs. As he fastened them at the waist, he moved toward the window and pulled the curtain a few inches open.

Hitting the re-dial button, Diane was dismayed to hear the busy signal again. She scanned the list for the special pager number Jim had given them, and dialed it. A tone buzzed, and she punched in their phone number.