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He jerked his head toward the house. “In a room upstairs with his father. They're so affectionate I knew they'd want to be together.”

“I'm going now,” Dickens said as his foot pressed on the accelerator. “I'm supposed to meet Ki Yong down the road to get my final payment.”

“By all means.” Trask didn't look away from Kerry as Dickens drove away. “Though he may have a surprise,” he murmured. “I doubt if Ki Yong is going to be prepared to pay him off. He'll probably prefer to rid himself of a potential witness in a more lethal manner.”

“Good. I don't care about Dickens. I want to see Jason.”

“You will.” His gaze returned to the burning barn. “But I want you to look at my fire first. I've gone to a great deal of trouble, and I want to savor it with you.”

Her gaze followed his to the flames. “I'm supposed to appreciate this destruction?”

“Maybe not. All you see is a shell with no true meaning.” He smiled. “But it's not as empty as you think.”

She went rigid. “You told me Jason wasn't in there. You said he was upstairs. And that you let the livestock out.”

“Oh, I certainly did. But I couldn't insult Firestorm by not providing the fuel it deserves.”

“What did you do, you son of a bitch? Who's in there?”

He chuckled. “The owner of this farm and his wife. But don't worry, they felt no pain tonight. I was forced to dispose of them last night. I couldn't chance them causing me any problems.” He shook his head. “Too bad. The effect would have been much more powerful on you if I'd been able to provide you with a little serving of hors d'oeuvres before the feast.”

Horror chilled her. She closed her eyes. Fight it. Fight him. She wouldn't have a hope of controlling him if she was this frightened.

She opened her eyes. “I don't want to see you cremate those poor people. That idea is as sick as you are. Take me to see Jason.”

He frowned. “You're disappointing me.” Then his expression cleared. “But I shouldn't be surprised. I expected a battle. Do you recognize this house?”

“Why should I? I've never seen it before.”

“True. But the Bartlett pear trees? The river?”

She had not even noticed the river in back of the barn. Something stirred in her memory. “What are trying to tell me?”

“I gave Dickens an old newspaper photo of the Krazky house and told him to find one similar.”

“Why?”

“Because that was probably the most thrilling kill I've ever made. The first time is always special, isn't it? And it means even more to me since that moment when I watched you looking at the ruins of that prick's house and suddenly realized how close we were.” He took a step closer and she could see the tenseness of his muscles, the excitement glittering in his eyes. “Look at the fire again and let yourself open to it. Doesn't it excite you?”

“No. Take me to Jason.”

He hesitated. “Very well.” He turned away. “End of Act One, and no applause. But it's early yet. I'll do better.” He started up the porch steps. “Come along. We'll reunite you with your family.”

She dared a quick glance down the road as she climbed the steps. She'd seen no sign of the Lexus since a mile or so before she'd smelled the smoke of the burning barn.

Don't panic. Naturally Silver and George wouldn't let any of the guards watching the place see them.

But, God, she felt alone.

There he goes,” George murmured as Dickens's car drove past the stand of trees where they'd parked. “Should we take him out now?”

“No. He's on his way to get his payoff. We may need to use him to get to Ki Yong.”

“Wouldn't it be better to put him out of action? We don't know how long this business is going to take.”

“No.” Silver was quickly drawing lines on the pages of his notebook. “He's already out of action.”

George looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“I had to damage him to get the information I needed,” he said absently as he put four crosses on his page. “He's brain-dead.”

George shook his head. “He's driving that car.”

“No, I'm driving that car. And I'd better park it so that I can concentrate on something besides Dickens.”

“Christ.”

Silver glanced at him. “You don't believe me?”

“I do believe you. That's what's scary. Did the CIA know you could do stuff like this?”

“No. Do you think I'm an idiot? I gave them what I wanted to give them. Information is one thing, mind control is another. They'd either try to use me as a tool or consider me a threat they couldn't handle. Probably the latter. I'd have a sanction on me within a few months.”

“So when you park his car and withdraw from Dickens, he dies?”

“Not right now. I'll leave a few tendrils to keep his vital signs going. We may need him later.”

“I don't believe I like the idea of using a”—George searched for a word—“zombie. I'd rather trust myself. If you don't mind, I'll take care of whatever you'd planned for Dickens.”

“Suit yourself.”

“I will.” He looked down at the page on which Silver was writing. “Tell me about the crosses.”

“One guard on the riverbank behind the barn to keep an eye out for boats.” He pointed to another cross. “A sniper with a Springfield behind the shed at the rear of the house.” He pointed to the third cross. “This sentry is a half mile ahead, guarding the road to the farmhouse.”

“And the last one?”

“Ki Yong and his driver. He's waiting ten miles from here for Trask to finish his party so that he can whisk him off to the airport to board his plane to Pyongyang.”

“You found out all that from Dickens?”

He shrugged. “It wasn't easy. Otherwise I might not have had to damage him.” His lips tightened. “But I probably would have done it anyway.” He looked down at the map. “We have to move. Which target do you want to take first? The one guarding the road?”

George nodded as he opened the car door and got out. “And the one on the riverbank. You get the sniper. Then we both go for Trask.”

“Not until Kerry presents us with a target.” Silver fell into step with him. “We'll stay outside and wait until we can get a clear shot at him. I promised her.”

George's lips lifted sardonically. “And how long will you keep that promise if you see Trask become a threat to her?” He lifted his hand. “Never mind. Don't answer that. I don't want you to get angry and ‘damage' me.”

“I wouldn't do that.”

He glanced at him. “No, I don't think you would. Do me a favor and wait until I join you before you try to take a shot at Trask. I don't want to insult you, but I have a better chance at making the score.”

“If you get there fast enough.”

“Oh, the pressure.” His pace quickened. “It should take us no more than five minutes to take out that first guard. Then the road to the farmhouse will be clear.”

Where are they?” Kerry glanced around the shabby living room as she entered the house. The windows were wide open and a faint haze of smoke was sweeping into the room, giving the room a surreal, otherworldly look. “Where's Jason?”

“Upstairs.” Trask was already climbing the staircase and motioned her to follow him. “I'm sure they'll be very glad to see you. Particularly your father. He seems quite desperate, ready to clutch at any straw on the chance of saving your brother. Not really very intelligent behavior. But then, that's what you're doing too. Emotion makes reason fly out the door, doesn't it?” He opened the door at the top of the steps. “I gave them the master bedroom. Nothing is too good for the people you care about, Kerry.” He stepped aside. “Go on.”

She hesitated.

“You think I may have an unpleasant surprise for you? Perhaps two cadavers like our farmer and his wife?” Trask smiled. “You won't know until you go in and see for yourself.”

She forced herself to enter the room.

No cadavers. Dear God, they were alive.

Her father was lying on the bed, tied to the bedpost, and Jason was roped to a chair by the window.