Serpent

stretching out to the horizon. The backup team would move in to secure the road when darkness fell.

A gust of wind kicked up sand, and giant raindrops slapped the ground as Austin and Nina ducked inside the ranch house. Trout was in the kitchen, the only part of the house that still had a roof. Rain leaked in through a few holes and rapidly created rivulets in the dirt floor, but otherwise the interior was relatively dry and sheltered. The ragged opening where the door had been looked out on the RVs. The gaps between the adobe bricks provided views in every direction like the peepholes in a castle wall.

The wind and rain were mere preliminaries. A desert electrical storm doesn't simply sweep in and let loose a few desultory bolts of lightning. It picks a spot and hovers over it, unleashing torrents of rain and crooked bolts of lightning seconds apart, or sometimes in multiples. It will pound away with a malevolence more common to humans, battering the earth like an artillery barrage whose intent is to eliminate the enemy or break his will.

The nearconstant stroboscopic light froze the slashing raindrops. While Trout made visual checks, Austin kept in touch with the guards with a handheld radio. He had to shout to be heard over the thunder boomers and the pounding rain.

The watchdogs had been instructed to call in at regular intervals or immediately if they encountered something unusual. The men on the perimeter identified themselves by their own names. The six men posted at the old gas station called themselves the A Team. The chopper crew, simply known as the B Team, was to listen and maintain silence.

Austin's radio crackled with what sounded like static but was really rainfall.

'Ned to base. Nothing.'

'Roger that,' Austin replied. 'Come in, Carl.'.

A second later. 'Carl. Ditto.'

Taking to heart Austin's warning to keep messages brief, Joe answered, 'Dittoditto.'

Then, from the road, 'A Team. Negative.'

The storm lasted most of an hour, and when it moved on the premature darkness it had brought with it lingered, broken only by lightning flashes in the distance. The fresh-scrubbed air smelled strongly of sagebrush. Patrol reports continued to come in. All was still quiet until a call came in from the road crew.

A Team to base. Vehicle coming. Taking positions.'

The team's plan was to use two men to intercept the vehicle, two to cover them. One would watch the backs of the coverers, and the sixth would keep in touch with the others on the radio.

Austin went to the doorway and squinted toward the road. The headlights were pinpoints in the dark.

A minute later. 'Car signaled to stop . . . stopping. Approaching cautiously'

Austin held his breath. There was no mason for anyone to visit the site this time of night. He pictured the men advancing from each side of the car with guns cocked. He hoped it wasn't a diversion while the real thrust came elsewhere. He quickly checked in with the other watchers. All was quiet on the desert side.

The road team reported in after several tense moments. A Team.' The voice sounded more relaxed. 'Base, do you know anybody named George Wingate?'

'Yes,' Austin said. 'What about him?'

'He's operating the car.'

'Older man. White hair and beard?'

'Roger that. Says he's working on your dig.'

'That's correct. Is his wife with him?'

'Negative. He's by himself.'

'What's he doing here?'

'Says his wife forgot her pocketbook. Left it in an RV bathroom. He would have come back earlier except for the storm. Instructions?'

Austin chuckled. 'Okay, let him in.'

'Roger that. Over and out.'

Moments later headlights stabbed the darkness as the car made its way along the road. The Wingates' Buick pulled up between an RV and the shed. The door opened, and a man got out. Wingate's tall figure disappeared around the corner of a Winnebago. A minute later he emerged carrying something under his arm. He stopped and did a curious thing. He turned toward the ranch house and waved. Austin was sum it was no accidental gesture. Then he got into his car and drove off. Austin turned to Nina, who'd found an old butcher block to sit on. She must have seen the puzzled expression on his face.

'Problems?' she said apprehensively

'No,' he said to reassure her. 'False alarm.'

A minute later the road team called in. 'Visitor gone. A Team out.'

'Thanks. Good job. Base out.'

Trout shrugged. 'Maybe tonight's not the night.'

Austin was unconvinced. 'Maybe,' he said, working a muscle in his jaw.

Nobody was surprised when Trout's cell phone rang about fifteen minutes later. He had been trying off and on to make contact with Gamay and had left word for her to call him. He pulled the miniature Motorola flip phone from his pocket.

After a moment he said, 'No word? Would you ask the Nereus to let me know as soon as they hear from her? Yes, I'd be happy to talk to him. Hi, Rudi.' He listened another minute, his brow furrowed. 'Okay. I'll brief Kurt and get back to you.'

'That's odd,' he said after he hung up. 'Rudi had set up a dummy corporation that was coordinating this project. Phony name with a telephone number at NUMA headquarters. They got a call not long ago from police in Montana. Seems they picked up an older couple wandering down a highway. Fantastic story of being kidnapped.'

Austin was preoccupied with the nonevents of the night, so he was only half listening. 'UFOs?' he said.

'I don't think we ought to pass this one off. They said they'd been held a couple of days, that they were on their way to an archaeological dig in Arizona.'

Austin's ears perked up. 'Do the police have a name?'

'Wingate.'

Austin's reflexes had been dulled by a combination of the storm and the boredom of their uneventful watch. An alarm bell started jangling in his skull.

'Damn!' he snapped. 'Paul, get that chopper out here in a hurry. And pull the A Team into the site.' He bolted out the door. He was halfway between the ranch house and the RVs when the shed went up in a yellowish- red ball of flame. He hit the ground belly-first, covered his head with his hands, and buried his face in the wet sand. The propane tanks on the RVs went off in secondary explosions that rocked the earth and turned night into day. Glowing pieces of metal fell from the sky, but the wind left in the storm's wake carried most of it away, and only a few hot sparks singed the backs of his hands.

The patter of falling debris finally halted. He raised his head and spit out a mouthful of sand. The RVs and the shed had vanished. In their place was a crackling fire. The ground around the blaze was covered with glowing red embers.

When he was sure the explosions had stopped completely, he got up and walked closer to the burning rubble which was all that remained of the RVs and the shed.

Trout and Nina came running up.

'Kurt, are you all right?' Nina said apprehensively.

'I'm okay' Austin looked at the blazing pyre and wiped a few more grains of sand off his tongue. 'But I prefer my fireworks on the Fourth of July'

Carl, Ned, and Joe arrived seconds later: Then moving shadows materialized from every direction. The A Team was running in with no attempt to stay out of sight. Their confused yells were drowned out by the whup- whup of the helicopter rotors. The chopper pilot saw the rotors fanning the blaze and scattering sparks, so he hauled off and landed near the ranch house.

Circuits were rapidly connecting in Austin's brain. 'Paul, do you have the number of the motel where the Wingates are staying?'

'Yes, it's on my cell phone's memory.'

'Give the motel a call. See if they're still there.'