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His radio crackled. It would be Higgs, the agent in charge of the surveillance team he had just sent out.

'Yeah,' Levine said.

'We're on the western side of the building and there's nothing here, sir,' Higgs' tinny voice said.

'Okay,' Levine said. 'Just keep circling the building, and let me know if you find anything.'

'Roger that, sir.'

Levine clicked off the radio.

Swain reached the south-eastern corner of the building and ducked into the shadows of the southern wall.

He was breathing hard now, his heart pounding loudly inside his head.

He scanned the wall.

7:01

7:00

6:59

There. Near the far corner.

Swain ran forward and dived to the ground.

The radio crackled again. Higgs' voice.

'We are approaching the south-west corner, sir. Still nothing to report.'

Levine said, 'Thank you, Higgs.'

Swain lay on the grass next to the southern wall of the State Library, still holding the newspapers and the wine bottle.

He was peering at a small wooden window set into the wall at ground level, not far from the south-western corner of the building. The window was old and dusty, and it looked like it hadn't been opened in years. His wristband still beeped softly.

6:39

Swain leaned close and saw a jagged fork of tiny blue lightning lick out from the old window's frame--

A twig snapped.

Somewhere close.

Swain pulled the newspapers to his body and immediately rolled up against the library wall, his eyes inches away from the tiny sparks of electricity that licked out from the window.

Silence.

And then a soft beep... beep... beep.

The wristband!

Swain thrust his left wrist under his body to muffle the sound of the beeping just as he saw three sets of black combat boots step slowly around the corner.

NSA Special Agent Alan Higgs lowered his M-16 and winced at the figure lying huddled up against the wall before him.

A filthy body, curled up in the foetal position, wrapped in crumpled newspapers in a vain attempt to counter the cold. His clothes were filthy rags and the man's face was covered in black grime.

A bum.

Higgs put his radio to his mouth. 'Higgs here.'

'What is it?'

'Just a bum, that's all,' Higgs said, nudging the body with his boot. 'Rolled up tight next to the building. No wonder nobody saw him when they set up the perimeter.'

'Any problem?'

'Nah,' Higgs said. 'This guy probably never even noticed the perimeter going up himself. Don't worry about it sir, we'll have him out of here in no time. Higgs out.'

Higgs bent down and shook Swain's shoulder.

'Hey, buddy?' he said.

Swain groaned.

Higgs nodded to the other two agents -- like himself, they were dressed in full SWAT gear -- who slung their M-l6s and bent down to pick up the man.

As they did so, the bum grunted loudly and rolled sleepily toward them, feebly stretching out with one hand, pressing it against the face of one of the agents, as if to say, 'Go away, I'm sleeping here.'

The agent made a face and pulled back. 'Oh, man, does this guy stink.'

Higgs could smell the wine from where he stood. 'Just pick him up and get him the hell out of here.'

Swain kept the beeping wristband pressed tightly against his stomach and covered in newspapers as he was carried away from the library building, back into the park.

To his ears it was beeping louder than ever, almost certain to be heard.

But the two men carrying him didn't seem to notice. In fact, they seemed to be trying to keep their bodies as far away from his as possible.

Swain began to sweat.

This was taking too much time.

He desperately wanted to look at the wristband. To see how much time was left.

They couldn't take him away.

He had to get back inside.

'Ambulance?' one of the two carriers asked the third -- and presumably superior -- man walking in the lead.

Swain's body tensed as he waited for the response.

'Nah,' the third man said. 'Just get him outside the perimeter. Let the police pick him up later.'

'Roger that.'

Swain breathed a sigh of relief.

But if they weren't taking him to a hospital to clean him up, and if they weren't police officers, then there were still two questions to answer: where would they take him, and who the hell were they?

The heavily armed men carried Swain through the treeline and across the park, toward the rotunda.

Okay. You can put me down now, Swain willed them. You're taking too long...

They carried him up the steps of the rotunda and laid him down on the circular wooden stage.

'Here will do,' the senior one said.

'Good,' the one whom Swain had rubbed in the face said as he released Swain's arm.

'Come on, Farrell, he doesn't smell that bad,' the senior one said.

Swain breathed again, and his body relaxed.

There would still be time.

Now go, boys. That's good. Keep going...

'Wait a minute...' the one named Farrell said.

Swain froze.

Farrell was looking down at his gloves. 'Sir, this guy is bleeding.'

Oh shit.

'He's what?'

'He's bleeding, sir. Look.'

Stay calm. Stay calm.

They are not going to come over.

They are not going to look at your arm...