The house was totally dark when it finally came into view. According to Jessie, Lisa was still "taking a nap" so that meant she was on the bed in the guest room. Foregoing the lights, Spencer walked purposefully through the house, banging her knee hard on a table she hadn't remembered. Finding Lisa was the only way to bring even a thread of comfort to the little four-year-old, whose whole world seemed to be unraveling all at once.

Her eyes adjusting to the darkness, she spotted the small figure on the bed and scooped it up, turning to go back out the way she came, this time more cognizant of the table. When she reached the kitchen, a ray of light swept through the whole house, like headlights moving down the drive.

Spencer froze as she picked up the sound of a car creeping along the freshly spread gravel. Her heart pounded as her brain tried to force her feet to move.

"You take the trailer. I'll get the house," a male voice ordered.

There were two of them and they were in the back where Ruth usually parked. Quickly, she ran to the front door, banging her knee on that goddamned table again. In the dark, she fingered the thumb bolt, and turned the knob. Viv seldom used this door, and the top corner stuck when she tried to open it. With a hard yank, it came free.

The storm door was locked and she worked her long fingers frantically in the dark to flip the latch. She could hear the back door squeak, and when she finally pushed the storm door open, it sent a stiff breeze through the whole house. Careful not to let it bang, she lost precious seconds waiting for the hydraulic closer to release its air.

Moments later, she was off the porch and headed for the woods on the side of the house. She would have to circle behind the trailer to get to where she'd left the Jeep. With any luck, they'd- "Mike!" It was the agent inside the house. The other one appeared in the doorway to the trailer. "Get the flashlight. I think somebody just went out the front door."

Oh, bloody hell! Spencer pushed along in the darkened woods, staying low to avoid the anticipated sweep of the flashlight. The recent rains had made the ground soggy, so at least she wasn't making a lot of noise rustling the leaves. Over her shoulder, she could see the men entering the woods where she had gone in. If they found her trail in the wet leaves, they would close quickly.

The woman was behind the trailer now, picking up speed. Only a hundred more yards through the woods and she'd come out where the Jeep was parked.

"Go get the car and see if there's another way around."

Fools! She'd won this game last time at Margadon, and she would win it again. On a dead run, Spencer cleared the woods and climbed into the Jeep, tossing the still sleeping Lisa into the back seat, where the rear window suddenly exploded in an ear-splitting blast. The vehicle lurched forward, fishtailing and spraying the air with gravel and mud. As she reached the main road, the long black sedan turned to block her escape.

"You can't be serious," she muttered, jerking the gearshift into four-wheel drive as she bounced across the culvert, catching the front of the car with the powerful SUV and pushing it to the ditch on the other side of the road.

Triumphant once again, she sped away, turning as soon as she could onto a secondary road that would take her back to Jerry's. She needed to get this Jeep stowed as soon as possible, and then it might be a good idea for all of them to move again.

The bespectacled agent in a rumpled suit stood on the doorstep of the yellow Cape Cod home, flanked on both sides by deputies from the Somerset County Sheriff's Office. The porch light suddenly came on, and the tall door swung open.

"Can I help you gentlemen with something?" Deputies often came to Judge Howard's home in the evening to get warrants signed, but they usually called first.

"Uh, we have a warrant, Judge Howard," one of them stammered.

"Very well. But you should have called first," he scolded, taking the document as he held the screen door open. "Come on in. I need to get my glasses."

The deputies and the IRS agent stepped inside, the latter following the sound of a sitcom that emanated from the den off the main hall.

"That appears to be what we're looking for, deputies," Fennimore said, standing in the doorway and pointing to the expansive entertainment system. "Would you verify the serial numbers for me?"

"I beg your pardon," the judge said indignantly. "Who are you, and who gave you the right to go wandering through my home?"

"My name is Thomas Fennimore. I'm a Special Agent with the Internal Revenue Service. That warrant you're holding was signed by a federal judge in Washington, DC, and it gives me the authority to search these premises for a JVC home entertainment system, delivered to this home by Drummond Appliances on October sixteenth of last year. According to their records, this system was never purchased and it was written off an as uncollectible debt. While you are certainly allowed to receive such a generous gift, Drummond Appliances is not allowed to deduct its value as a business loss, and is therefore in violation of the Federal Tax Code." Thomas observed with satisfaction the ghastly look on the judge's face and he dropped the other shoe. "I'll be returning for your statement once I've completed the other phases of my investigation. Of course, if you wished to be forthcoming about any unusual circumstances pertaining to how you came to acquire this gift, I would be most grateful to take that information and your cooperation under consideration as the Federal Government proceeds with this case. I assure you that all violations will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."

"I'm really sorry about your car, Viv."

The gray-haired woman waved her hand flippantly. "It's just a car. Thank goodness you weren't hurt."

"Okay, the truck's packed, puppies and all," Jerry announced. He'd loaded up their things as soon as Spencer had gotten home. The whole group was headed out to stay with friends of his cousin. The underground network was coming to life tonight to help, all because Viv had helped Jerry out when he needed the surgery.

"Listen, Viv, when Jessie gets settled, I'm going to ask Jerry to borrow his truck so I can go find a phone. I need to call Elena again and see what's happened." Spencer hoisted the tired little girl into the front seat.

"You should take Jerry with you. He might be some help."

"I don't want to put him in danger, Viv. It's bad enough that I've put all of you at risk. And now Ruth's been caught...." The emotion overwhelmed her for a moment and her voice shook while her blue eyes filled with tears.

"Don't worry about us. We'll be okay. I promised Ruth I'd take care of this child and if it takes my last ounce of strength, that's what I'll do."

Spencer drew the older woman into a hug then helped her up into the truck beside Jessie and her doll. On the way to the next house, Spencer asked Jerry about borrowing his vehicle.

"You don't need to go find no phone. You can just use my cell phone."

"It's not that simple. They'll trace the call back to you and then you'll be part of all of this too."

"I'm already part of it. Besides, they ain't gonna trace my phone," he said cockily.

"What do you mean?"

"Mine don't broadcast," he said with a grin.

"How'd you manage that?"

"It's one of those old analog phones. I took it apart once to see how it worked and I had a couple of pieces left over when I put it back together. Ever since then, it don't flash a caller ID, and if we drive around out in the boondocks, they won't even be able to triangulate the signal."

Spencer was skeptical, but Jerry was an electrician, which made him the closest thing to an expert they had. But there was a hell of lot at stake here. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Cal Akers dumped another load of gravel from inside his folded jacket into the ditch beneath the rear wheel. If they could just get a little more traction, they could get back up onto the road.

"Okay, let's try again." They'd been at this for over an hour. As Pollard gently applied the gas, Akers bounced on the rear fender, pushing it into contact with the ground, throwing rocks and mud against his shins as he cursed. Finally, the sedan jolted forward, catching the lip of the ditch as it sent one final spray of mud in the face of the frazzled agent.

"Where to?" Pollard asked innocently.

"I need to change my clothes," he answered sarcastically. "Then we have to head back downtown. We need to do something about Ferguson before she talks."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I was thinking you might bring her back out to the trailer to identify some of her belongings. A desperate woman like that might escape."

Pollard didn't like that idea. It would reflect on his service record if she got away under his watch. But Akers was the senior agent, and he'd done the dirty work on Estes and Thayer.

Elena Diaz was dead on her feet. Since Saturday morning, she'd had only a few hours of sleep, most of that coming early Sunday. But things were finally coming together.

Twenty-three critical warrants sat on her desk, all signed by a federal judge and awaiting execution: the IRS would freeze all accounts for the individuals suspected of involvement; Margadon's Kryfex operations would come to a halt and the company's network would be disabled; suspects would be taken into custody; and Spencer, Ruth, and Ruth's daughter would be transferred to protective custody. Ideally, the operation would be initiated when Spencer turned herself in, as she was the one person who could pull the whole case together.

"Agent Diaz?" Chad stood in her doorway, his tie loosened and his coat thrown over his arm.

"You calling it a night?"

"Yeah, for both of us. Come on, I'll walk you down." Elena got up and walked into the hallway, away from the listening devices.

"I don't know, Chad. I have a feeling Spencer's going to call again. I think I should wait here."

"You need some sleep, Elena. There's nothing you can do from here that you can't do from home."

Elena nodded in resignation, returning to her office to gather her things. As she and her boss started down the stairs, the phone in her pocket rang.

Glancing at the display, she shook her head in confusion. "Elena Diaz."

"Did you get to her? Is she okay?"

Relief rushed through the agent's veins. It was Spencer.

"She's in custody. She's due to be extradited tomorrow morning." The agent hated delivering the bad news, but this wasn't the time for sugar coating. "But we're on it, and things look pretty good for her. We have to deal with you now," she said firmly, knowing that the sons of bitches in the van were tuning in.

"They know who she is, Elena. They know she's with me."

"I don't think so. They know she's-"

"They know! They came to look for me."

Elena held up her hand to shush her boss, who was encouraging her to have Spencer come in.

"Okay, listen, we're not ready for this yet. I need for you to stay out of sight for at least another day. I tell you what, Spence...here's what I want you to do: tomorrow, the pizza place, usual time. Do you understand?"

"Tomorrow?"

"That's right, Tuesday, same time as before."

"I've got it."

"Stay out of sight until then. And take care of yourself, okay?"

"Take care of Ruth."

"Don't worry about her. We're on it."

The call ended and Elena cracked her first smile in nine days. The boys in the van were scratching their heads about this one. She was a genius.

"What's happening?"

Elena looked at her watch. "We need to get rolling with the warrants, Chad. She's coming in in about two hours."

"What's the 'pizza place' all about?" Chad was totally out of the loop.

"It's kind of personal, Chad," she answered sheepishly. "But she's going to walk into an all-night grocery in Alexandria at one a.m. and we need to arrange for a black and white to bring her into custody and take her to their precinct."

"But you told her tomorrow."

"I said Tuesday, same time. She knows what I mean."

"So we're rolling?"

"That's right. It's time to get everyone in place."

CHAPTER 27.

"THE PIZZA PLACE," Spencer chuckled. "Good call."

"What?"

"I've got good news and bad news, Jerry. The good news is that you get to get rid of me, and in a day or so, your life might be back to normal. The bad news is that I need you to drop me off in Alexandria at one o'clock in the morning."

"No problem." Jerry enjoyed the excitement, and if it helped Viv, he wanted to do it.

Spencer smiled to herself at her ex-lover's coded message. When their respective libidos ignited on their first date, she and the IRS agent skipped the restaurant and went right to Elena's townhouse. At one a.m., they emerged from their carnal explorations, starving, but with nothing in the house to eat. Spencer insisted that she was owed a dinner, so they picked up a frozen pizza at an all-night grocery nearby, later feeding it to one another in bed. To this day, it was always their recommendation when someone suggested going for pizza.

"Why don't we go back so I can tell Viv what we're doing? She's going to need a way to know when it's safe for her to go home."

"What the hell does that mean?" Calvin Akers was pissed as hell. They'd caught the conversation when Rollins called in, but Diaz was trying to give them the slip. "The pizza place, same time."

"I guess Rollins and Diaz had a favorite place they'd meet for pizza," Pollard offered.

"Ya think?" There were times Akers thought seriously about offing his stupid partner.

The surveillance team reported that Diaz and her boss had gone home for the night, but Akers didn't trust this woman as far as he could throw her. It was time to call out the troops.

"Look, I'm going to drop you at the office. Go ahead and take care of Ferguson and I'll handle Rollins."

"What's your plan?"

"Just do your part and don't worry about mine," Akers growled with irritation.

Akers pulled to the curb and watched Pollard go inside. On his cell phone, he dialed the memory code for Jeffrey Wilkinson. His best chance was to make this about ego.

The director had gone home after his meeting at the IRS, still unsure of what action he should take. But the more he thought about it, the more he concluded that Elena Diaz was too close to the suspect in this case to be objective. There might be something illegal going on at Margadon, but the idea that two of his agents were involved in crimes murders, no less was absurd.

"Hello, Jeff? Akers. Listen, something's moving with the Rollins case, but we can't tell what it is. She called in and Diaz gave her some sort of code for coming in. I don't trust her. Rollins is going to slip through our fingers if we don't go full force to bring her in. We're not just going to lose this collar; we're going to be the laughingstock of the Bureau if she pulls this off right under our noses."

Wilkinson grew incensed as he heard his agent's report. If Akers and Pollard were up to something, they wouldn't be playing it out in front of the whole force. Diaz and Merke had crossed a line with their little cat and mouse game, and it was time to remind them that the Bureau was the King of the Hill.

"Tell me what you need."