The Lion's Game

CHAPTER 54

Route 101 took us into Ventura, at which point the highway left the hills and became a coastal road. The fog was really thick, and we could barely see twenty feet in front of us.

I did see the lights of the Ventura Inn Beach Resort to our left and said to Kate, "That's where I got engaged."

"We'll come back here on our honeymoon."

"I was thinking of Atlantic City."

"Think again." After a few seconds, she thought again and said, "Whatever makes you happy."

"I'm happy if you're happy."

Anyway, we were doing only about forty miles an hour, and even that seemed too fast for the road conditions. I saw a sign that said SANTA BARBARA -30 MILES.

Kate turned on the radio, and we caught a news replay from an earlier broadcast. The news guy gave an update on the big story and said, "The FBI now confirms that the terrorist, who is responsible for the deaths of everyone aboard Flight One-Seven-Five at Kennedy Airport in New York, as well as four people at the airport, is still at large and has possibly killed as many as eight additional people as he flees from Federal and local law enforcement authorities."

The news guy went on, reading incredibly long and convoluted sentences. Finally, he wrapped it up with, "An FBI spokesperson confirms that there appears to be a connection between several of the people who have been targeted by Asad Khalil. There is a major press conference scheduled in Washington tomorrow afternoon to update this important and tragic story, and we will be there to cover this development."

I switched to an easy listening station.

Kate said, "Did I miss it, or did that guy not mention Wiggins?"

"He didn't. I guess the government is saving that for tomorrow."

"Actually, it's today. And we're not going to make that morning flight out of LAX."

I looked at the dashboard clock and saw it was 2:50 A.M. I yawned.

Kate unpocketed her cell phone and dialed. She said to me, "I'm calling the Ventura office."

Kate got Cindy Lopez on the line, and asked, "Any word from the ranch?" She listened and said, "That's good." What wasn't good was that apparently Douglas Rat-Fink had already called because Kate listened further, then replied, "I don't care what Doug said. All we're asking is that the agents from the Ventura office, who are in Santa Barbara, meet us in Santa Barbara, call the ranch, and tell the Secret Service we are driving to the ranch to meet with their detail." She listened again, then said, "Actually, John just spoke to Asad Khalil-yes, that's what I said. They have established some sort of rapport, and that would be invaluable if a situation developed. That's right. I'll hold." She covered the mouthpiece with her hand and said to me, "Cindy is calling the Secret Service detail at the ranch."

"Nice move, Mayfield."

"Thank you."

I suggested, "Do not let them mess us around with a telephone conference. We will not accept any calls from the Secret Service. Only a meeting in Santa Barbara, with FBI and/or Secret Service, followed by an invitation to the ranch."

She said, "You're going to get a piece of this if it kills you-aren't you?"

I replied, "I deserve a piece of it." I added, "Khalil not only murdered a lot of people who served their country, but he also threatened my life and your life. Not Jack's life, not Sturgis' life. My life, and yours. And let me remind you, it wasn't my idea to put my name and photo in the papers. Someone owes me, and it's time to pay."

She nodded, but didn't reply. Cindy Lopez came on the line. Kate listened, then said, "Forget it. We are not discussing this over an unsecured cell phone. Just tell me where we can meet them in Santa Barbara." She listened, then said, "Okay. Thanks. Yes, we will." She hung up and said to me, "Cindy says hello and when are you going back to New York?"

Everyone's a comedian. "What else did she say?"

Kate replied, "Well, the FBI detail is in a motel called the Sea Scape, north of Santa Barbara, not far from the mountain road that leads to the ranch. There are three people from the Ventura office there-Kim, Scott, and Edie. With them is a Secret Service man, who is acting as liaison. We are to go to the motel and tell them about your phone conversation with Khalil, and no, we cannot go to the ranch, but we can wait at the motel until dawn in case something develops and you're needed to chat with Khalil, by phone if Khalil in cuffs, not you."

"Got it." I added, "You understand we're going to the ranch."

"Take it up with the Secret Service guy at the motel." We continued north, not making good time, but after a while, there were signs of civilization, and then a sign said

WELCOME TO SANTA BARBARA.

The coast road passed through the south edge of the city, then veered north away from the coast. We continued north up Route 101 for about twenty more miles, and the road swung back to the coast. I said, "Did we miss that motel?"

"I don't think so. Call the motel."

I thought a moment, then said, "I think we should save time and just go on to the ranch."

"I don't think you understood our instructions, John."

"How can we find that road that goes to the ranch?"

"I have no idea."

We moved slowly through the fog, and I could sense, but not see, the ocean to our left. To our right, I could see that the ground rose, but I couldn't see the mountains that Kate said came right down to the sea in some places. In any case, there were very few roads that entered Route 101 at this point. In fact, I hadn't seen one in some time now.

Finally, to our left, was a flat, open piece of land between the road and the ocean, and through the fog was a lighted sign that said SEA SCAPE MOTEL.

Kate pulled into the lot and said, "Rooms one-sixteen and one-seventeen."

"Drive to the reception office first."

"Why?"

"I'll get us two more rooms and see if we can get some snacks ana cofee.

She pulled up to the front office under a canopy, and I got out.

Inside, a desk clerk saw me through the glass door and buzzed me in. I guess I looked respectable in my suit, even if it was crumpled and smelled.

I went to the desk clerk and showed him my credentials. I said, "I think we have colleagues registered here. Rooms one-sixteen and one-seventeen."

"Yes, sir. Do you want me to call them?"

"No, I just need to leave them a message.

He gave me a pad and pencil, and I scribbled, "Kim, Scott, Edie-Sorry I couldn't stop by-See you in the morning-J.C." I gave the note to the clerk and said, "Call them about eight. Okay?" I slipped him a ten and said casually, "How can I find the road to the Reagan ranch?"

"Oh, it's not too hard to find. Go north another six tenths of a mile, and you'll see to your left Refugio State Park, and to your right is the beginning of the mountain road. Refugio Road. But you won't see a sign." He added, "I sure wouldn't try it tonight."

"Why not?"

"You can't see anything. Near the top, the road makes a lot of switchbacks, and it's real easy to zig when you should zag, and wind up in a ravine. Or worse."

"No problem. It's a government car."

He laughed, then looked at me and said, "So, the old man is home?"

"Just for a few days." I asked him, "Am I going to have trouble finding the ranch?"

"No. It's sort of at the end of the road. Bear left at the Y. There's another ranch to the right. You'll see some iron gates if you bear to the left." He again advised me, "It's a tough drive in the daylight. Most people have four-wheel drive." He looked at me to see if he was getting through, wanting, I'm sure, to give it his best shot so he could say to the State Police later, "I warned him." He said, "It will be light in three hours and some of this fog might burn off an hour or so after sunrise."

"Thanks, but I have six pounds of jelly beans I have to deliver before breakfast. See you later."

I left the reception area and got back to the car. I opened Kate's door and said, "Stretch a little. Leave it running."

She got out and stretched. "That feels good. Did you get us rooms?"

"They're full." I slid behind the wheel, closed the door, and lowered the window. I said, "I'm going to the ranch. You staying or coming?"

She started to say something, then let out a sigh of exasperation, came around to the passenger side and got in the car. "Do you know how to drive?"

"Sure." I drove back onto the coast road and turned north. I said, "Six tenths of a mile, Refugio State Park to the left, Refugio Road to the right. Keep an eye out."

She didn't reply. I think she was angry.

We saw the sign for the state park, then at the last second I saw a turnoff and cut the wheel right. Within a few minutes we were headed uphill on a narrow road. A few minutes later, the fog got worse, and we couldn't have seen the hood ornament if there had been one.

We didn't say much, but just crept along the road that was at least straight at this point as it went up a sort of ravine with walls of vegetation on either side.

Kate finally spoke and said, "They're just going to turn us back."

"Maybe. But I have to do this."

"I know."

"For the Gipper."

She laughed. "You're a total idiot. No, you're Don Quixote, tilting at windmills. I hope you're not showing off for me."

"I don't even want you along."

"Sure you do."

So, up we went, and the road got steeper and narrower, and the surface started to get rougher. "How did Ron and Nancy get up here? Helicopter?"

"I'm sure of it. This road is dangerous."

"The road is fine. It's the drop-offs on each side that are dangerous."

I was really tired, and I had trouble keeping awake, despite the fact that I was starting to become anxious about the road. I said to Kate, "I own a Jeep Grand Cherokee. I wish I had it now."

"It wouldn't matter if you had a tank. Do you see those drop-offs on either side of us?"

"No. Too much fog." I asked her, "Do you think we should turn around?"

"You can't turn around. You barely have room for the car."

"Right. I'm sure it widens up ahead."

"I'm sure it doesn't." She added, "Kill the headlights. The parking lights should be better."

I switched to the parking lights, which didn't reflect as much off the fog. We pushed on. I was becoming disoriented by the fog, but at least the road remained fairly straight.

Kate called out, "John! Stop!"

I hit the brakes and the car lurched to a halt. "What?" She took a deep breath and said, "You're going off a cliff."

"Really? I don't see it."

She opened the door, got out, and walked ahead of the car, trying to find the road, I guess. I could see her, but just barely, looking very spectral in the fog and parking lights. She walked off into the fog and disappeared, then came back and got into the car. She said, "Keep bearing left, then the road makes a hairpin turn to the right."

"Thanks." I continued on, and caught a glimpse of where the right edge of the blacktop ended and a very steep drop began. I said to Kate, "You have good night vision."

The fog actually got a little thinner as we climbed up the mountain, which was good because the road got a lot worse. I put the headlights back on. The road started to make hairpin turns, but I could see about ten feet in front of me now, and if I kept the speed down, I had time to react. Zig, zag, zig, zag. This really sucked. A city boy shouldn't be out here. I asked her, "Are there wild animals around here?"

"Besides you?"

"Yeah, besides me."

"Maybe bears. I don't know. I never came this far north." She added, "I think there may be mountain lions up here."

"Wow. This place really sucks. Why would the leader of the Free World want to be here?" I answered my own question and said, "Actually, it's better than Washington."

"Concentrate on the road, please."

"What road?"

"There's a road. Stay on it."

"Doing my best."

After another fifteen minutes, Kate said, "You know, I don't think they're going to send us back. They can't send us back. We'll never make it."

"Exactly."

Her cell phone rang, and she answered it, "Mayfield." She listened and said, "He can't come to the phone, Tom. He has both hands on the wheel and his nose against the windshield." She listened again and said, "That's correct. We're heading for the ranch. Okay. Yes, we'll be careful. See you in the morning. Thanks."

She hung up and said to me, "Tom says you're a lunatic."

"We've already established that. What's up?"

"Well, your special rapport with Mr. Khalil has opened the gates for us. Tom says that the Secret Service will let us into the ranch." She added, "They assumed you would drive up at dawn, but Tom will call and tell them we're on the way."

"See that? Present them with a fait accompli, and they find a way to give you permission for something you've already done. But ask for permission, and they'll find a reason to say no."

"Is this in your new manual?"

"It will be."

After another ten minutes, she asked me, "If we'd been turned back, what would you have done? What's Plan B?"

"Plan B would have been to dismount and find this ranch on foot."

"I figured. And then we'd be shot on sight."

"You can't see anyone. Not even with starlight scopes in this fog. I'm good at land navigation. You just walk uphill. Moss grows on the north side of the trees. Water runs downhill. We'd be at the ranch in no time. Over the fence and into the barn or something. No problem."

"What's the point? What do you want to accomplish?"

"I just need to be here. Here is where it's at, and here is where I need to be. It's not that complicated."

"Right. Like at Kennedy Airport."

"Exactly."

"Someday, you're going to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Someday I will. But not today."

She didn't reply, but looked out the side window at a rise in the land that towered over the car. She said, "I see what Lisa meant about ambush heaven. No one on this road would stand a chance."

"Hey, even without an ambush, no one on this road would stand a chance."

She rubbed her face with her hands, yawned and said, "Is this what life is going to be like with you?"

"No. There'll be some rough moments."

She laughed, or cried, or something. I thought maybe I should ask her for her gun.

The road straightened out and the incline leveled off. I had the feeling we were near the end of our journey.

A few minutes later, I noticed that up ahead the land flattened and the vegetation thinned. Then I saw a road going off to the right, but I remembered that the motel clerk had said to go to the left. Before I got to the Y in the road, a guy stepped out of the fog and put his hand up. I stopped and put my hand on my Glock, as did Kate.

The guy walked toward us, and I could see he was wearing the standard dark windbreaker with a shield pinned to it, and a baseball cap that said SECRET SERVICE. I lowered my window, and he came up to the driver's side and said, "Please step out of the car, and keep your hands where I can see them."

This was usually my line, and I knew the drill.

Kate and I got out of the car, and the guy said, "I guess I know who you are, but I need to see some identification. Slowly, please." He added, "We are covered."

I showed him my ID, which he examined with a flashlight, then looked at Kate's, then shined the light on the license plate.

Satisfied that we fit the description of a man and a woman in a blue Ford whose names were the same as two Federal agents who were on the way to this location on the most fucked-up road this side of the Himalayas, he said, "Good evening I'm Fred Potter, Secret Service."

Kate replied in the brief second before I could think of something sarcastic. She said, "Good evening. I assume you're expecting us."

"Well," said Fred, "I was expecting you'd be at the bottom of a ravine by now with your wheels spinning. But you made it."

Again, Kate, in a pre-emptive bid to keep my mouth shut, said, "It wasn't that bad. But I wouldn't want to try it downhill tonight."

"No, you wouldn't. And you don't have to. I have orders to escort you to the ranch."

I said, "You mean there's more of this road?"

"Not much more. You want me to drive?"

"No," I replied. "This is an FBI-only car."

"I'll get in the front."

We all got into the car, Kate in the back, Fred in the front. Fred said, "Bear left."

"Bear? Where?"

"I mean… go left. Over there."

So, my silliness indulged, I went to the left, noticing two more guys, with rifles, standing near the road. We were indeed covered.

Fred said, "Keep it about thirty. The road is straight, and we need to go another couple hundred yards up Pennsylvania Avenue before we come to a gate."

" Pennsylvania Avenue? I really got lost."

Fred didn't laugh. He said, "This part of Refugio Road is called Pennsylvania Avenue. Renamed in eighty-one."

"That's neat. So, how are Ron and Nancy?"

"We don't discuss that," Fred informed me.

Fred, I sensed, was not a fun guy.

Within a minute or so, we approached a set of stone pillars between which was a closed iron gate no more than chest high. From either side of the pillars ran a low wire fence. Two men, dressed as Fred was dressed, and carrying rifles, stood behind the pillars. Fred said, "Stop here."

I stopped, and Fred got out and closed his door. He walked up to the pillars, spoke to the men, and one of them swung open the little gate. Fred waved me on, and I drove up to the pillars and stopped, mostly because the three guys were in my way.

One of them came around to the passenger side, got in, and closed the door. He said, "Proceed."

So, I proceeded up Pennsylvania Avenue. The guy didn't say anything, which was okay with me. I mean, I thought the FBI were tightly wound, but this bunch made the FBI look like Comedy Central.

On the other hand, this had to be one of the worst and most stressful jobs on the planet. I wouldn't want it.

There were trees on both sides of the road, and the fog lay there like snowdrifts. My passenger said, "Slow down. We're going to turn left."

I slowed down and saw a split-rail fence, then two tall wooden posts across which was a wooden sign that said RANCHO DEL CIELO. He said, "Turn here."

I turned and passed through the entranceway. In front of me was this huge, fog-shrouded field, like an Alpine meadow, ringed with rising slopes, so that the meadow was like the bottom of a bowl. The fog hung in a layer just above the ground, and I could see under it and over it. Spooky. I mean, was this an X-Files moment or what?

I could see a white adobe house ahead with a single light on. I was fairly sure this was the Reagan house, and I was anxious to meet them, knowing, of course, that they'd be up and waiting to thank me for my efforts to protect them. My passenger, however, directed me to make a left on an intersecting road. "Slow," he said.

As we drove slowly, I could make out a few other structures here and there through the clumps of trees that dotted the fields.

Within a minute, the guy next to me said, "Stop."

I stopped.

He said, "Please turn off the car and come with me."

I shut off the engine and the lights, and we all got out of the car. Kate and I followed the guy up a rising path through some trees.

It was very cool here, not to mention damp. My three bullet wounds were aching, I could barely think straight, I was tired, hungry, thirsty, cold, and I had to take a leak. Other than that, I was fine.

The last time I'd noticed the dashboard dock, it was five-fifteen, meaning eight-fifteen in New York and Washington where I was supposed to be.

Anyway, we approached this big, tacky-looking plywood-sided building that had Government Structure written all over it. Not literally, but I've seen enough of them to know what they mean by the contract going to the lowest bidder.

So, in we go and the place looked really rundown and smelled musty. My X-Files guide showed us into a big sort of rec room with old furniture, a refrigerator, a kitchen counter, TV set, and all that. He said, "Have a seat," and disappeared through a doorway.

I remained standing and looked around for a men's room.

Kate said, "Well, here we are."

"Here we are," I agreed. "Where are we?"

"I think this must be the old Secret Service facility."

I said to her, "Those guys are grim."

"They don't mess around. Don't bug them."

"I wouldn't think of it. Hey, do you remember that episode-"

"If you say X-Files, I swear to God I'll pull my gun."

"I think you're getting a little cranky."

"Cranky? I am falling asleep on my feet, I just had a car ride from hell, I'm tired of your-"

A guy entered the room. He was wearing jeans, a gray sweatshirt, a blue windbreaker, and black running shoes. He was about mid-fifties, ruddy-faced and white-haired. And he was actually smiling. He said, "Welcome to Rancho del Cielo. I'm Gene Barlet, head of the protective detail here."

We all shook hands, and he said, "So, what brings you out on a night like this?"

The guy seemed human, so I said, "We've been chasing Asad Khalil since Saturday, and we think he's here."

He could relate to that bloodhound instinct and nodded. "Well, I was briefed about this individual, and the possibility that he has a rifle, and I might agree with you." He said, "Help yourself to coffee."

We informed him that we had to use the facilities, which we did. In the men's room, I splashed cold water on my face, gargled, slapped myself around, and straightened my tie.

Back in the big common room, I made myself a coffee, and Kate joined me at the counter. I noticed she'd reapplied some lip gloss and tried to paint over the dark rings around her eyes.

We sat on some chairs at a round kitchen table, and Gene said to me, "I understand that you've established a rapport with this man Khalil."

I replied, "Well, we're not exactly buddies, but I've established a dialogue with him." To earn my room and board here, I gave him a nice briefing, and he listened attentively. When I finished, I asked Gene, "Hey, where is everyone?"

He didn't reply immediately, but then said, "They're at strategic locations."

"In other words, you've got an understaffing problem here."

He replied, "The ranch house is secure, and so is the road."

Kate said, "But anyone could enter the property on foot."

"Probably."

Kate asked, "Do you have motion detectors? Listening devices?"

He didn't reply to that, but looked around the big room. He informed us, "The President used to come in here Sundays to watch football with the off-duty people."

I didn't reply.

Gene reminisced a bit, then said, "He got shot once. That's one time too many."

"I know the feeling."

"You get shot?"

"Three times. But all on the same day, so it wasn't too bad."

Gene smiled.

Kate pressed her question and asked again, "Do you have electronic devices here?"

Gene stood and said, "Follow me."

We stood and followed him into a room at the end of the structure. It was a room as wide as the building, and the three outside walls were mostly picture windows looking down the slope, I noticed, at the ranch house. There was a nice pond behind the house that I hadn't seen when we approached, plus a big barn and a sort of guest house.

Gene said, "This was the nerve center here, where we monitored all the security devices, tracked Rawhide-that's the President-when he went riding, and where we had communications with the entire world. The nuclear football was also kept here."

I looked around at the forlorn room and noticed a lot of dangling wires, and a terrain map still mounted on the wall, along with lists of code words, radio call signs, and other faded notes. I was reminded of the Cabinet War Rooms that I had seen in London, the place where Churchill had run the war, frozen in time, a little musty and manned by an army of ghosts whose voices you could hear, if you listened closely.

Gene said, "There's no electronic security left. In fact, this whole ranch is now owned by a group called the Young America's Foundation. They bought the ranch from the Reagans and are turning it into a sort of museum and conference center."

Neither Kate nor I replied.

Gene Barlet went on, "Even when this was the Western White House, it was a security nightmare. But the old man loved the place, and when he wanted to come here, we came here with him and roughed it."

I said, "You had about a hundred people then."

"Right. Plus all the electronics and the helicopters, and state-of-the-art everything. But I'll tell you, the damned motion and listening sensors picked up every jackrabbit and chipmunk that came on the property." He laughed, then said, "We had false alarms every night. But we had to respond." He reminisced again and said, "I remember one night-it was a foggy night like this, and next morning the sun came up and burned the fog off, and we see a pup tent pitched in the meadow, not a hundred yards from the ranch house. We go over to investigate and find this young guy asleep. A hiker. We wake him, inform him that he's on private property, and point him toward a hiking trail. We never told him where he was." Gene smiled.

I smiled, too, but the story had a serious point.

Gene said, "So, can we guarantee one hundred percent security? Obviously not. Not then, not now. But at least we can limit the movements of Rawhide and Rainbow-that's Mrs. Reagan. Rainbow?

Kate said, "In other words, they'll stay inside the ranch house until you can get them out."

"That's right. Brimstone-that's the ranch house-has thick adobe walls, the drapes and blinds are shut, and there are three agents in the house and two right outside. Tomorrow, we'll figure out a way to get the Reagans out of here. Probably we'll need a Stagecoach-that's an armored limo. Plus a Tracker and a Tracer. That's a lead and trail vehicle. Can't use a Holly-that's a helicopter," He motioned toward the surrounding rims of rising terrain and said, "A good sniper with a scope could take out a helicopter with no problem."

I said to Gene, "Sounds like you guys need a Hail Mary."

He laughed, then replied, "Just need a little night prayer. At sunrise, we're getting some reinforcements, including choppers with counter-sniper teams equipped with body-heat sensors and other detection devices. If this Khalil is in the area, we stand a good chance of finding him."

Kate said, "I hope so. He's killed enough people."

"But understand that our primary mission and concern is protecting Mr. and Mrs. Reagan, and moving them to a safe location."

I replied, "I understand. Most locations will be safe if you kill or apprehend Asad Khalil."

"First things first. We're in a static mode until the sun rises, and this fog burns off. You want to bunk down?"

"No," I replied. "I want to put on a pair of jeans and a cowboy hat, and ride out on a horse and see if I can draw this bastard's fire."

"Are you serious?"

"Actually, no. But I am thinking about taking a look around. I mean, do you have to go check the guard posts or anything?"

"I can do that by radio."

I said, "Nothing like the real thing. The troops appreciate seeing the boss."

"Sure. Why not? You want to take a ride?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Kate, of course, said, "I'll come with you."

I had no intention of being protective, so I said, "If it's okay with Gene, it's okay with me."

Gene said, "Sure. Are you two wearing vests?"

I said, "Mine's in the laundry. You have some extras?"

"No. And you can't borrow mine."

Well, who needs bulletproof vests anyway?

We left the Secret Service building and went outside where an open Jeep Wrangler sat. I noticed that the Jeep had the new California license plates that said RONALD REAGAN LIBRARY, with a photo of the Gipper on the plate. I need one of those for a souvenir.

Gene climbed behind the wheel, and Kate sat beside him. I got into the back. Gene started it up, turned on the yellow fog lights, and off we went.

Gene said, "I know this ranch like the back of my hand. There are probably a hundred miles of horse trails, and the President used to ride all of them. We still have stone markers at strategic locations, with numbers actually drilled into them so that no one could mess around and change them. The Secret Service detail would ride with the President and radio in to the control center at each marker, and we'd plot the location." He added, "Rawhide wouldn't wear a vest, and it was a nightmare. I held my breath every afternoon until he got back."

Gene sounded like he had some real affection for Rawhide, so to be a good guest, I said, "I was once on an NYPD presidential protection detail back in April eighty-two, when he spoke at the Sixty-ninth Regiment Armory in Manhattan."

"I remember that. I was there."

"How about that. Small world."

We drove off into the boondocks, along horse trails obscured by fog and choked with brush. With the yellow fog lights on, the visibility wasn't too bad. I could hear night birds singing in the trees.

Gene said to me, "There's an M-14 rifle in that gun case. Why don't you pull it out?"

"Great idea."

I saw the gun case now, leaning against the driver's seat. I opened the case and pulled out a heavy M-14 rifle with a scope.

Gene asked me, "You know how to use a starlight scope?"

"Hey, starlight scope is my middle name." I couldn't find the On switch, however, and Gene talked me through it.

In a minute or so, I was sighting down this really nifty night scope that made everything look green. There were a few breaks in the ground fog, and I was amazed at how this high-tech toy illuminated and magnified everything. I adjusted the focus and scanned three hundred sixty degrees while kneeling on the back-seat. Everything looked eerie, especially the green-tinted fog and these weird Martian-like rock formations. It occurred to me that if I could see the surrounding terrain, then Asad Khalil could certainly see a Jeep with fog lights moving around.

We rode around awhile, and I mentioned to Mr. Barlet, "I don't see any of your people out here, Gene."

He didn't reply.

Kate said, "This must be beautiful in the sun."

Gene replied, "It's God's country. We're about twenty-five hundred feet above sea level, and from parts of the ranch, you can look down and see the Pacific Ocean on one side and the Santa Inez Valley on the other."

Anyway, we rolled along, and to be honest, I didn't know what the hell I was doing there. If Asad Khalil was out there, and he had the same night scope I did, he could put a bullet between my eyes at two hundred yards. And if he also had a silencer on his rifle-and I was sure he did-I'd fall silently out of the Jeep while Gene and Kate went on chattering. It occurred to me that there was no upside to this ride, and it was a long trip back to the ranch house.

The bush suddenly ended, and the trail opened up onto a stretch of open, rocky ground. I could see we were approaching a precipice, and I was going to mention this, but Gene, who knew the terrain like the back of his hand, stopped. He said, "We're facing west and if it was a clear day, you could see the ocean."

I looked, but all I could see was fog, fog, fog. I couldn't believe I had actually come up that way from the coast.

Gene turned toward the left and drove too close to the edge of eternity for my comfort. Horses at least know not to walk off cliffs, but Jeep Wranglers don't.

After a few long minutes, the Jeep stopped, and a man appeared out of the fog. The guy was wearing black, had black stuff on his face, and was carrying a rifle with a scope. Gene said, "That's Hercules One-that means a counter-sniper response person."

Hercules One and Gene exchanged greetings, and the guy, whose real name was Burt, was introduced to us. Gene said to Burt, "Mr. Corey is trying to draw sniper fire."

Hercules said, "Good. That's what I'm waiting for."

I thought I should clarify this and said, "Actually, I'm not. I'm just getting the lay of the land."

Burt, who looked like Darth Vader all in black, checked me out, but said nothing.

I felt a little out of place in my suit and tie out here in God's country among real men. Guys with code names.

Gene and Burt chatted a minute, then off we went.

I commented, "The posts seem spaced a little far apart, Gene."

Again, Gene didn't reply. His radio crackled, and he put it to his ear. He listened, but I couldn't hear what the caller was saying. Finally, Gene said, "Okay. I'll take them there."

Take who where?

Gene said to us, "Someone wants to meet you."

"Who?"

"Don't know."

"Don't you even have a code name for him?"

"Nope. Got one for you though-Nuts."

Kate laughed.

I said, "I don't want to meet anyone without a code name."

"I don't think you have a lot of choice in the matter, John. It was a high-level call."

"From whom?"

"I don't know."

Kate glanced back at me, and we sort of shrugged.

So, off we went into the fog to meet someone in the middle of nowhere.

We drove another ten minutes or so across this sort of windswept high plateau, covered with rocks and wildflowers. There was no trail, but we didn't need one because the terrain was flat and open. We seemed to be on the highest point in the area.

Through the swirling fog, I could see something white ahead, and I picked up the rifle and focused in on it. The white thing was green-tinted now through this weird lens, and I saw that it was a concrete building about the size of a big house. The building sat at the base of a huge, man-made embankment of earth and stone. Beyond the building, at the top of the embankment, was a tall, strange-looking structure, like an upside-down funnel.

As we came within a hundred yards of these fog-shrouded, intergalactic-looking structures at the top of the world, Kate turned to me and said, "Okay-this is an X-Files moment."

Gene laughed. He said, "That's a VORTAC installation."

"Well," I said, "that clears that up."

Gene explained, "It's an aircraft navigation beacon. You understand?"

"What kind of aircraft? From what planet?"

"Any planet. It sends out omni signals-you know, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree radio signals for civilian and military aircraft to navigate. This will be replaced by the satellite Global Positioning System someday, but for now, it's still in operation." He added, "Russian nuclear submarines off the coast also use it. No charge."

The Jeep continued toward this VORTAC station, so I assumed that's where we were going. I said, "That looks like crap duty."

Gene replied, "These things are unmanned. It's all automatic, and it's monitored by Air Traffic Control in L.A. But people come up here and do routine maintenance. It has its own power source."

"Right. That would be a long extension cord back to the ranch house."

Gene sort of chuckled. He said, "We're on Federal land now."

"I feel better already. Is this where we're meeting someone?"

"Yup."

"Who?"

"Don't know." He went on with his tour and said, "Right here, where we're driving, used to be Playground Three-the presidential helipad. Concrete and lighted. It was stupid to take it out."

He stopped the Jeep about twenty yards from the VORTAC site and said, "Well, see you later."

"Excuse me? You want us to get out?"

"If you don't mind."

I said, "There's no one here, Gene."

"You're here. Somebody else is here waiting for you."

I was getting nowhere with this guy, so I said to Kate, "Okay, let's play the game." I jumped out of the open Jeep, and Kate got out, too.

She said to Gene, "Are you leaving?"

"Yup."

Gene didn't seem to be in a talkative mood any longer, but I asked him, "Can I borrow that rifle?"

"Nope."

I said, "Okay, thanks for the tour, Gene. Hey, if you're ever in New York, I'll take you to Central Park at night."

"See you later."

"Right."

Gene put the Jeep in gear and rode off into the fog.

Kate and I stood there on the open plateau, mist swirling around, not a light to be seen anywhere, except one, coming from the extraterrestrial structure sitting all by itself. I half expected a death ray to come out of that weird tower and turn me into protoplasm or something.

But, my curiosity was piqued, so off I went toward the VORTAC, Kate beside me.

Kate was looking at the structure as we walked and said, "I see some antennas. Don't see any vehicles. Maybe this is the wrong VORTAC." She laughed.

She was pretty calm, I thought, given the situation. I mean, there was a crazed assassin out there somewhere, we were armed only with pistols, we had no body armor, no transportation, and we were meeting someone who I wasn't even sure was from this planet.

When we got to the concrete building, I looked inside through the one small window, which revealed this big electronics room with blinking lights and some other weird high-tech stuff. I tapped on the window. "Hello! We come in peace! Take me to your leader!"

"John, stop being an idiot. This isn't funny."

I thought she had made a joke a minute before. But she was right-this wasn't funny.

We walked along the base of the forty-foot-high pile of dirt and rocks, on top of which was the white upside-down funnel, rising about eighty more feet into the air.

We came around to the far side of the mound, and as we turned a corner, I saw a man dressed in dark clothing, sitting on a huge flat rock at the base of the embankment. He was about thirty feet away, and even in the dark and fog, I could see that he was peering through a set of what must have been night vision binoculars.

Kate saw him, too, and we both put our hands on our pistols.

The man heard or sensed our presence because he put down the binoculars and turned toward us. I saw now that he had a long object lying across his knees, and it wasn't a fishing pole.

So, we all stared at each other for a few long seconds, then the man said, "Your journey has ended."

Kate said, in a barely audible voice, "Ted."