hung back a few hundred feet, the occupants from the bureau's local office. Ferguson knew them all and assured me they were good men.
We crossed the bridge, headed north and picked up the New York State Thruway at Suffern and stayed at speed limit while the guard cars played little games to make sure nobody was following us. At our speed nearly everybody passed and kept on going or turned off at the exit ramps.
All the cars had constant radio communication and when we got to Kingston, we all turned off the thruway and gassed up. I found a store to pick up the clothes I needed, got a flashlight, extra batteries and a box of .45s. When we loaded up again, we picked up Route 28 going northwest and practically had the road to ourselves.
Now it was Ferguson's backyard. He knew where he was headed, took us past Mt. Tremper, through Phoenicia, and a few miles farther on he radioed the other cars he was turning off, would continue for a half mile and stop while they did the same thing a quarter mile up. If anybody was doing a delayed-action tailing job, they'd be spotted coming off the main road.
Where he pulled up was a shale-topped drive that had earmarks of having been long in use, but not very often. When we stopped, we waited for a full fifteen minutes before the all clear was given, then we drove ahead at slow speed, took a righthand fork for another half mile, then broke out of the woods that had surrounded us onto a grassy plain, and there ahead was the house and the rock outcroppings that made natural guard-posts.
Velda had slept through most of the trip. Now the sedative had worn off and she was having a rebirth, being in new surroundings, knowing her body was knitting together properly. Ferguson got our luggage and opened the cabin up while I got Velda out of the car and onto her feet. She was shaky and held on to my arm, taking each step carefully.
'Going to make it or do I carry you?'
'Across the threshold?'
I gave her a squeeze. 'I think you're strong enough to walk this one.'
Her elbow nudged my ribs. 'A girl can always hope.' Her grin had a pixie twist to it and I knew she was better. She was my girl again, the beautiful doll with the deep auburn page-boy hair that had a piece cut out of it now. The svelte-bodied beauty who still had colorful blue and purple shadows around one eye. The lush-hipped, full-breasted delight of a woman whom I had almost lost.
'What are you thinking, Mike?'
'No way I'm going to tell you that,' I said, and gave her a little laugh. I didn't have to tell her anyway. She already knew. I moved her to a big, soft La-Z-Boy chair, got her comfortable and went to help Ferguson and the others get the place ready.
Two of the agency men who never seemed to have anything to say got their gear together, large thermos bottles of coffee, water canteens, packages of food, and rolled everything up in their watertight ponchos. Each one carried a holstered sidearm and a Colt AR-15A2 rifle chambered for a .223 cartridge, a fast-firing, accurate rifle with deadly capabilities. Each one was equipped with a night scope. A metal case held the spare clips. When they were satisfied, they strode off to the rock outcroppings. Neither one had said anything at all.
Ferguson came in from the kitchen and handed me a set of keys. 'I'm leaving my car around the back in case you need it. It's out of sight, got plenty of gas and is facing forward in case you have to make a quick getaway.'
'Why would I do that?'
'Just a precaution.' He took a compact walkie-talkie from his pocket, thumbed the button and said, 'Number one, check.'
The radio said, 'One, check.'
'Number two, check.'
'Two, check,' the radio repeated.
He thumbed the switch off and laid the walkie-talkie on the table. 'You have emergency contact with both guard positions. And for Pete's sake, keep radio silence as much as possible. Let them alert you if possible. When their radios are receiving, other ears as well as theirs can hear them.'
'Got it,' I said. 'The phone working here?'
'Yeah, but the damn thing's on a party line, so stay off it.'
'How about television?'
'You lucked in. They ran cable in here last year, so amuse yourself on thirty channels. Everything else is in working order, you got groceries, beer and plenty of toilet paper. You want any smokes?'
'I quit.'
'Then enjoy yourself, pardnuh. Be nice to the lady.'
'Do me a favor, Ferguson.'
'Like what?'
'Have Pat call me when the bust goes down.'
Ferguson held out his hand and I took it. He said, 'Sure thing, Mike,' then went outside with the others. The engines of two cars came to life, then slowly faded out of earshot down the road.
The sun had gone down behind the mountain and the shadow threw an early veil of darkness around the house. I made the rounds, locking the windows and doors, familiarizing myself with the place. The living room was a good size
I checked out the porches, all the closets, and in the hallway I spotted an almost hidden ceiling hatch. I pulled a chair over, stepped up onto it, pushed the hatch cover up and stuck my head into the opening, probing the darkness with my flashlight.
Batts of insulation ran between the floor beams and most of the area was covered with sheets of plywood to provide storage space, but now there was nothing there but the roof supports and the hand-laid brickwork of the massive fireplace chimney. I pulled the hatch cover back in place and got down off the chair.
The windows had curtains that were nearly opaque and I closed them before I snapped on the TV set and let it give us all the light we needed. I brought over two egg salad sandwiches, opened the coffee thermos, poured out two cups and sat down beside Velda.
She said, 'Tell me about it. From the beginning. Don't leave anything out.'
So I told her from the beginning, but I did leave some things out. She asked questions and had me repeat events several times, putting the pieces of the picture in a framework that would contain something recognizable. Inside there she was looking for Penta too, searching for the killer who had almost killed her. There was no anger in the way she was thinking, simply a purposeful, quiet deliberateness that poked and prodded at the pieces, trying to get them to fit. I talked to her, held hands while she pondered, and when she came to the same blank stone wall that somebody had scrawled the name Penta on, she said, 'I'm tired, Mike.'
I got her into the bedroom and she turned around, put her arms around my neck and said in a tired voice, 'Do me.'
My fingers unzipped the jumpsuit, let it fall, then unsnapped her bra. She shrugged out of that too, letting herself sink to the edge of the bed. I pushed her back gently and pulled the covers up round her. 'Good night, Tiger,' I said.
There was no answer. She was already asleep.
I went back to the living room and sat in a wooden rocker. The news on TV was nothing spectacular. I tried CNN and caught a flurry of national stuff and the day's sports. There was nothing about a billion-dollar drug bust. I pulled a blanket off the other bed, turned off the TV, stretched out in the La-Z-Boy recliner and went to sleep with the .45 in my hand.
The sun came up the east slope, and I threw the window curtains open. The whole area was clear outside, and I picked up the walkie-talkie and said, 'Either of you guys want breakfast?'
One said, 'You go first, Eddie. I still have some coffee left.'
There was no answer, but I saw some movement beside the clump of rocks and the one called Eddie started to trot toward the house, the rifle slung over his shoulder. Everything was real military double time with those two.
I held the door open, let him through and locked it behind him.
'You got hot water? I need a quick shower.'
