start peeling。 When you get to your skin； wish you could zip out of it； too。 But you can’t； so
Riley will wash you down。”
“You’re kidding；” said Coughlan； but he could see that Finn was not。 “For Chrissake； why？”
said Coughlan； loosening his tie and belt even as he protested。
“I can’t tell you。”
Coughlan’s hands hovered over his fly。 “So help me； Finn； if you’re jerking me off – “
“Peel；” said Finn。
Coughlan peeled。
Oakland
3 Hours 16 Minutes After Trinity
Refugio wallowed in a sea of pain until the tide ebbed； stranding him in a dry reality。 He was
facedown on the front seat of the laundry van。 Then he remembered the instant that the world
had exploded as Masarek shot him。 He sat and looked down at himself。 Blood。 A lapful of it。
Afraid of what he would find； he explored his lap with his left hand。
The relief of finding himself intact was so great that Refugio nearly fainted again。 Then came
fiery pain as he brushed his hand across his left thigh。
“Refugio？” asked Salvador anxiously。
“It’s all right；” said Refugio； his eyes closed。 “The cabrón shot me in the leg； nothing more。 How
long was I out？”
“Only a moment。”
Refugio opened his eyes and wiped the sweat away； leaving bloody streaks everywhere his hand
had been。 He looked into the back of the truck。 Neither Masarek nor Lopez was recognizable；
but it was obvious that both men were dead。
“The blonde；” said Refugio； his voice hoarse。 “You’ll have to get her。”
“How？”
“Go to the car in back of the van。 The car with a red serape in the back window。 The woman
who came with Masarek is hiding there。 But be careful。 Don’t trust her。”
“A rattlesnake’s mate is no less poisonous for being female；” said Salvador； leaning over the seat
and scooping up his knife and shotgun。
“Take her – “ Refugio bit off a sound of pain。 With great care； he straightened slowly； so that
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the waves of pain did not make him dizzy。 He pressed his face against the cold glass on the
driver’s side； then rolled down the window and peered out。 The cream…colored flower truck was
across the street； nearly a block to the rear。 Between the flower truck and the laundry truck was a
car with a red blanket in the rear window。
“The green car。 Take her from it。 Go to the white van with the red rose on the side。 See it？”
Salvador leaned over the seat and looked。 “Yes。”
“A Japanese is in the truck。 A friend。 Knock out the blonde； tie her and drive the van up here。
Just knock her out； don’t kill her。 Understand？”
“Yes。”
Salvador turned and picked his way past the bodies to the rear of the truck。 His foot hit a canvas
bag containing the smaller piece of uranium and sent it skating aside until it thumped up against
the bag with the larger piece of U…235。 Radiation bloomed in a soundless； subtle rush of blue； so
faint he did not see it。
Salvador opened the rear door and got out。 After a quick look around； he walked toward the
dark green car。 Mist swirled capriciously； but the red blanket was like a beacon。 Even so； he
hesitated before he opened the car door。 The car looked empty and cold； its windows un…fogged
as though nothing warm breathed inside。 Then he saw that the windows were rolled down just
enough to let out any telltale warmth。 He peered inside； but saw only a back seat heaped with
more rumpled blankets。 Knife in hand； he opened the back door。
“Se？orita？” whispered Salvador。
Beneath the blankets； Vanessa smiled； thinking it was Refugio’s voice whispering to her； Refugio
delivered to her by Masarek； as promised。 The muffling blankets were no impediment to her
silenced 。38。 She aimed as she had practiced； at the exact center of the open door； regretting
only that she could not see Refugio’s leer dissolve into horror as he felt death tearing at his
body。
Vanessa pulled the trigger again and again。 Only the twitching blankets marked the silent passage
of bullets。 Salvador reeled backward； fell； and felt the cold surface of the street engulf him。 He
reached toward the blankets as though to warm himself。 Then he felt nothing at all。
Vanessa waited beneath the blankets； holding her breath and counting silently。 Nothing moved
in or outside the car。 When she reached thirty； she threw aside the blankets and gulped air
untainted by cordite and smoldering wool。 All she could see of the man who had whispered to
her was a broad； blunt hand clenched around a trailing edge of blanket。
She yanked off her dark scarf with her left hand and snapped the cloth across the fingers clinging
to the blanket。 There was no flicker of response。 Deliberately； she raised her gun and fired a shot
through the hand。 It twitched from the bullet’s impact； but did not bleed。 Dead。 She kicked
aside the hand and squirmed out of the back seat。
The man slumped against the pavement was too big； too broad； too thick。 Refugio was smaller。
She turned over the corpse with her foot and looked into dead eyes that were not Refugio’s。
Then she looked up the street at the pale van parked neatly along the curb。
Had something gone wrong？ Had Masarek been forced to kill Refugio himself？ Or was it
Masarek who was dead and Refugio alive？
Vanessa shook herself impatiently。 Masarek was no child to be killed by Mexican smugglers。
Nonetheless； she would take care to keep a car between herself and the van as she approached it。
Refugio swore softly as the woman’s gold…white hair slipped from cover to cover like a ghost。
He had been watching in the sideview mirror when Salvador fell backward out of the car。
Refugio could not tell precisely what had gone wrong； but he could see that Salvador was
certainly hurt and probably dead。 Refugio also knew that Kestrel wanted the woman alive。
Silently； Refugio rolled down the window on the passenger side of the car。 The barrel of his 。45
scraped on metal as he aimed back along the body of the truck。 Kestrel wanted the blonde alive；
yes； but he wanted the metal even more。 Refugio knew he was too weak to take a live prisoner
who had dispatched Salvador as coolly as a campesina grinding corn。 He would have to kill
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Vanessa。
Vanessa darted along the curb to the cover of another car。 Sweating； Refugio took aim carefully；
knowing that if he waited any longer； she would be behind his van in a blind spot。 His finger；
slippery with sweat and blood； took slack out of the trigger。 He exhaled until there was no air
left in his lungs； then held very still； waiting for Vanessa’s blond head to appear over the trunk of
the car behind the van。
The sound of Refugo’s unsilenced 。45 shattered the early…morning calm。 Glass exploded and
bullets screamed off metal。 Ana woke up in a rush of adrenaline； disoriented by the heavy smell
of roses； thinking she was a child again； awakened by firecrackers thrown by her brothers to
frighten her。 Then she remembered where she was； and why。
Three more shots came； sounds so loud that Ana suppressed a scream only by biting her
knuckles。 She desperately hoped that the shots were not related to Refugio or Kestrel and hence
to her； but she knew hope was false and fear was true。 Kestrel was far away and she was here；
afraid。
She eased aside the curtain and stared out the windshield。 At first she saw only gray light and fog
dripping onto the pavement； shining in the middle of the street。 Then she realized that it was
glass； not moisture glistening on concrete。 Halfway up the block stood a car； its door open；
something black huddled against the side。 Farther up the street was a car with darkness where
windows should be； and something black huddled against the back of the car。
Shots came like sharp blows。
Vanessa was flattened on the pavement； shards of glass winked in her hair。 She tasted blood and
fear and anger all at once。 Her silenced gun spat several times before it was empty。 She had used
too many bullets on the man who should have been Refugio。
She knew if she stayed she would die。 She knew she would die if she tried to get the uranium。 She
knew Masarek was dead as certainly as if she had killed him herself。 She also knew how far it was
to the border。 Many things could happen； many people could die。 Refugio would be one of
them – if she could get out of this rancid gutter。
Vanessa squirmed backward until she was beneath a parked car。 She did not notice the macadam
tearing her hands or the rivulets of blood on her face from the first explosion of glass。 She had
only one thought in her mind： The man who had killed Masarek was trying to kill her。
With an eel…like motion； she squirmed from beneath the car； feinted toward the sidewalk； then
spun on one foot as a shot exploded off the curb。 Instantly she crouched over； weaving toward
the green car。
Refugio swore and tried again； but as Vanessa crossed to the street side of the parked cars； she
put the back of the van across Refugio’s sights。 He dragged himself over to the driver’s side of
the van。 Vanessa was already inside her car。 He heard an engine rev； tires shrieked on moist
pavement。 She turned the car around and was accelerating away from him。 He pulled the trigger
but no sound came。 The gun was empty。 He reloaded； but it was too late。 She was gone。
Ana ducked reflexively as Vanessa’s car careened by； then looked up the street toward the van。
A shout rang out as clear as a shot。 Ana looked in the sideview mirror。 Behind her； far down the
block； an old； fat man in a gray watchman’s uniform was waving his arm to someone behind
him。 The watchman must have realized what a fine target he made on the suddenly empty street。
He ducked back into the cover of the brick building he was guarding。
Ana wanted to follow his example； to retreat like a snail behind a protective coil of shell。 She did
not want to climb into the driver’s seat； start the van and drive past shattered glass up to the
laundry truck。 She did not want to do anything except hide。 But she started the van and drove up
to the laundry truck anyway。 Kestrel had taught her that there was more to life than fear。
She leaned across the seat； rolled down the window on the far side； and called out softly：
“Refugio？”
If Ana’s hair had been any color except black； she would have died in Refugio’s first startled
reflex。 As it was； Refugio hesitated； then spoke in rapid Spanish。
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“Ana？ Is it you； Ana？”
“Yes。 How are you？”
It was not an idle greeting。 Ana was concerned by the thready sound of Refugio’s voice。
“Fine；” Refugio said； lying。
Refugio heaved himself over the seat into the back of the van； swearing volubly。 Sweating； dizzy；
he bent over the two canvas bags containing the uranium。 He wanted Ana’s help now； but she
was only a woman； if she saw the bloody mess inside the van； she might run away。 He needed
her。 She must drive for him； because he knew that the pain he felt now was nothing to what he
would feel when the first shock of being wounded wore off。
“Refugio？” said Ana。 She could not see him； could only hear him。 “Do you need help？”
Refugio tried to pick up both sacks at once； but could not。 The pieces of metal thumped
together in their sacks； bounced； then rested against each other； separated only by two layers of
canvas。 The cloth blushed with a vague blue light。 The heavier sack slipped out