And that memory, plus the nagging awareness that something — or someone — had placed some event, some action into motion drove Henry Lightstone now. He had to get word of his suspicions to his team as soon as possible.
Accordingly — and after one last futile pause to listen for any sound of movement amid the chirping of what sounded like hundreds of cheerful crickets — he glided forward in the darkness, crouched against the wall of the building, and rapped his knuckles in three quick double-strikes against a cold metal door.
The chorus of crickets came to an immediate halt.
An instant later, the tiny sliver of light seeping from under the now-much-more-securely sealed side door went out.
Moments later, the door swung open cautiously.
'It's me,' he whispered, then slipped quickly inside and waited against the inside wall until he heard the door close. Anticipating the blinding effects, he shielded his eyes as the lights came on.
It took Lightstone's eyes a few moments to adjust. Then he simply stood and blinked in amazement.
'What in the hell have you guys been doing?' he asked as he surveyed the mass of wadded clumps of duct tape that almost completely covered the warehouse floor.
'Don't ask,' Larry Paxton warned as he re-holstered his pistol.
'Yeah, don't,' Dwight Stoner agreed as he leaned the pump shotgun against the side of the team's rental car. 'He's in a real shitty mood tonight.'
'Okay, then, what the hell did you guys do to those terrariums?' Lightstone's eyes swept across the rows of glass containers now festooned with hundreds of irregular wads, shreds, and strips of duct tape. 'And,' he added, 'what's the deal with all the ice?'
From Henry Lightstone's viewpoint, all of the plastic swimming pools now filled with mostly melted blocks of ice, and the dozens of empty plastic bags — not to mention large puddles of water — scattered around the warehouse floor strongly suggested the previous presence of dozens of additional ice blocks.
'That's part of what you're not supposed to ask,' Stoner cautioned his fellow agent.
'Ah.'
Lightstone then heard the resident chorus of chirping crickets start up again, then gradually increase in volume to highly irritating levels.
'The next time we run an operation like this, if we ever run another operation like this, which we won't,' Paxton announced ominously, 'I get the sexy witch, the panther, and the whole gang of militant idiots all to myself. The rest of you get all the snakes and spiders and crocodiles… and the goddamned crickets. Ain't talking about it anymore. That's just the way it's gonna be.'
'He's a little upset 'cause we had to take all the terrarium lids off to put the light bulbs back in after we'd taped them all shut,' Thomas Woeshack explained cheerfully. 'We tried to freeze them again real quick so nothing would get out, but I guess the cold didn't bother the crickets all that much, 'cause most of them got out anyway. Then a couple of snakes almost got out, and one of them almost bit Larry, 'cause he was trying to hurry… and then one of the spiders ran up his arm real fast, and three of the crocs got loose when he fell backwards into their pool… and then we ran out of duct tape, and there isn't any more in the whole town, so…'
A warning wave from Stoner caused the eager special agent/pilot to terminate his briefing.
Lightstone examined Larry Paxton's expression carefully, while attempting to ignore the ever-increasing volume of cricket chirps.
'Are you okay, Larry?' he asked carefully. 'No problems with stress, lack of sleep, bunch of crickets running loose, anything like that?'
'Oh hell yes. Just fine and dandy. Don't hardly hear the damned things anymore.'
Lightstone decided to dismiss the slightly glassy look in his supervisor's eyes… at least for now.
'Yeah, Larry's fine, Henry. No different than he always is. So what've you got for us?' Stoner prompted the team's wild-card agent.
Another triple-series knock on the door interrupted Henry Lightstone just as he was in the process of describing his new job. He moved forward quickly and turned off the light in the suddenly silent warehouse, then cautiously opened the door as the other three agents stood with firearms ready.
Moments later, a flabbergasted Bobby LaGrange and Mike Takahara stood in the warehouse surveying the disaster around them.
'What the hell…' Bobby LaGrange started to ask when Lightstone interrupted.
'Don't even ask,' he warned. 'First things first. How's Susan?'
'She's fine.' The ex-homicide investigator smiled as the happy cricket chorus started up again. 'Got her tucked away with a couple retired cops we know out by the Rogue River. She's got her. 357, her fishing rod, and a couple of first-class bodyguards. Said to come get her when we were finished playing, but not to hurry.' LaGrange allowed his eyes slowly to sweep the warehouse. 'So all the crickets got loose, huh?'
'It's not a subject we talk about in Larry's presence,' Lightstone suggested gently. 'So what are you doing here?'
The ex-homicide investigator shrugged. 'Susan doesn't need me around to bait her hook, and I figured you boys might need some help sorting out the good guys from the bad guys.' A glint of something decidedly cold and malicious flickered across Bobby LaGrange's still-smiling eyes. 'I was heading this way when I ran across Stoner and offered to take over his surveillance of Charlie Team. In retrospect, I guess I should've come here and helped Larry instead.' He scanned the warehouse once more, but no trace of amusement remained in his smile.
Henry Lightstone knew that look all too well. Bobby LaGrange would not tolerate even the idea of someone making a threatening move toward his treasured wife.
'So what's Charlie Team doing now?' Lightstone asked as they all sat down in the folding chairs that Dwight Stoner set up in a tight circle.
'From what little I saw, not much,' LaGrange reported. 'At a little after six, everybody went into what Dwight told me was the team leader's room at the motel. I waited around for something to happen, but nothing did. So at seven, I linked up with Mike and we headed over here. If anybody else was surveilling them, I sure didn't see it.'
'Me neither,' Mike Takahara added, 'but I did pick up something with one of my scanners that might explain…'
'Wait a minute, Mike,' Larry Paxton interrupted, the familiar no-nonsense supervisory tone back in his voice. 'Before we get into that, I want you all to hear about Henry's new job.'
Relieved to see Paxton assuming control again, Lightstone told them about his activities in and around the Dogsfire Inn and the Chosen Brigade compound during the past three days.
'Where exactly is this training compound?' LaGrange asked when Lightstone finished.
'Direct line, a little less than a mile northwest of here.' Lightstone described the route he'd taken to get to the warehouse. 'There's a rough trail of sorts, but it branches off in several places along the way. Pretty easy to get lost if you don't have a compass and a map. It's about fifteen minutes away if you take the long way around by road.'
'You going to be able to find your way back to your bike?' Mike Takahara asked dubiously.
'Yeah, sure, it'll just take a while.' Lightstone glanced down at his watch. 'In fact, I've got to get going pretty soon. I'm supposed to be back at the compound by eight to help with some kind of night training exercise.'
'Don't worry about it,' LaGrange assured his former partner. 'I'll drop you off at the gate.'
Lightstone started to argue that he shouldn't reestablish the link to the LaGrange ranch, but Bobby LaGrange remained adamant.
'Don't worry about it,' he repeated. 'They've probably already seen us together anyway. This way, maybe one of them'll decide to follow me around for a while.' The ex-homicide investigator's expression made it readily apparent that the idea appealed to him very much.
'I don't think so,' Lightstone countered. 'At least not tonight anyway.'
'Oh, yeah? Why not?'
Lightstone described what little he knew about the night exercise, and then relayed his growing concern that something very big — and presumably very dangerous — involving the Chosen Brigade and Charlie Team had been set into motion.
'A thousand-dollar bonus for one night of playing tag in the woods with a bunch of self-righteous, anti-
