“I can hardly move,” groaned Corrie.

“You’ve got to,” Skip told her.

They started off at a run, which soon deteriorated into a shambling jog. Nora’s lungs were burning, and the feeling of nausea returned.

And then, overhead, the sound of the lawn mowers returned.

“Keep going!” Skip urged. “They’re not going to fire close to a navy station!”

Nora was so exhausted and frightened that she could hardly think. The desert was hard-packed gravel and they walked onward, stumbling through the low bushes. The buzzing grew louder, and once again the big black shapes passed overheard, like cruising torpedoes—but none fired a missile.

The birds came back around. The station loomed ahead, a collection of ugly, low concrete structures beside a cluster of communications towers. On one side, spreading out over a vast acreage, were a web of wires on short posts—some sort of gigantic antenna farm.

The drones were now doing tight circles above them, and over the sound of her gasping for air and pounding heart Nora could make out the thud of a helicopter. Rising over the mountains came a chopper, brilliantly lit. And at the base of the mountains, the bobbing lights of the pursuing soldiers appeared, heading their way.

The three reached a fence surrounding the antenna field. They ran alongside it toward the buildings. Behind them, the helicopter was fast approaching a landing zone just beyond the navy station. Nora had no doubt that the general and Lieutenant Woodbridge were in it.

They’d run out of time.

Now they reached the closest building. Light streamed out a small window, and Nora could make out a few figures inside, sitting around a table. They hesitated, uncertain, as the helicopter banked in for a landing.

And then Skip picked up a heavy rock and heaved it through the window with a terrific crash.

“What the hell are you doing?” Corrie cried.

“What the hell do you think? Getting our asses arrested!”

There was no time for any more talk. The door flew open, and several sailors came out, weapons drawn. Skip raised his hands. “Don’t shoot. We’re unarmed!”

“Down! Face down! Hands behind your heads!”

They threw themselves down in the dirt and were immediately surrounded. An officer in a commander’s uniform came running over. “What’s this?” he cried. “Who are these people?”

“Intruders, sir.”

“Good God, way out here?” He looked down at them. “Who are you?”

Corrie spoke. “Special Agent Corinne Swanson, Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

“What? FBI? Show some ID.”

“No ID, sir.”

“They threw a rock through the window, sir,” one of the seamen said.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. More nuclear protestors. You wouldn’t think they’d tramp all the way out here.” The officer sighed with irritation. “Search them.”

They were quickly patted down for weapons and then pulled to their feet.

“You’re under arrest,” the officer said. “Master-at-Arms, cuff them.”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

Their hands were pulled behind their backs and cuffs slapped on. Nora saw the helicopter settling down on the landing zone a few hundred yards away, dust billowing upward.

“It’s General McGurk, sir,” said a sailor, bringing the commanding officer a radio. The CO listened, spoke briefly, handed the radio back.

“Bring them inside,” he said. “We’ll wait for the general.”

60

THEY WERE MARCHED inside to a small, bunker-like room where the sailors had been playing cards. A few minutes later, Nora could hear the general’s barking voice and the door opened again. McGurk stepped in, followed by half a dozen army soldiers. Lieutenant Woodbridge came last, as cool and controlled as ever.

The general turned to the CO. “These are the spies I told you about,” he said in a loud voice. “I’ll take them now.”

“Wait,” said Corrie. “The general is engaged in illegal activity. I’m an FBI agent with the Albuquerque FO. Call them for verification. Special Agent Corinne Swanson.”

The CO looked at her again with naked disbelief. And no surprise—they were filthy, sticks in their hair, clothes torn and wet, faces bloody from scrapes and cuts.

“Call the FO—” Corrie began again.

“Quiet!” said the navy CO. He turned to the general and said in a cold voice, “Our masterat-arms has placed these intruders under arrest. They are in navy custody.”

Only now did Nora realize the genius of what Skip had done in getting them arrested.

“I’m the commanding general here,” McGurk said. “I order you to turn them over, Commander.”

“General, with all due respect, I’m in command of this station, and that decision is mine. Will you please tell me exactly what is going on here?”

The general made a visible effort to control himself. “Commander, we’ve been pursuing these intruders. They’re spies.”

“What kind of spies?”

“We don’t know yet. Possibly nuclear saboteurs for a foreign government.”

“We’re not spies!” Corrie said. “The general and these people are in the process of stealing a valuable Spanish treasure from Mockingbird Butte—”