Lauren watched the scenery go by and felt buoyed by it. Everything suddenly looked green and beautiful, whereas just hours ago she'd looked at the still-dormant trees and thought spring would never come.

She thought of another question-she'd already lobbed several at her father-concerning her new friend. It didn't take a psychic to comprehend that John Rainbird was not her father's favorite person. This alone enhanced Rainbird's attractiveness.

"He said he studied military science and strategy. Did he go to West Point, do you think?"

"Who?"

"John."

"Uh, I'm pretty sure he didn't go to West Point. But he was in Panama. That's how he got to look the way he does."

"What, he was shot?"

"No, a mine blew up in his face."

"Oh, God! That's horrible! But he survived," she said, marveling at John's fortitude. She liked the idea of him enduring such a trial and managing to get on with his life. He looked like a tough guy. She didn't know many. She knew jocks in school, but they were rude and smelled sweaty. Besides, they were boys. John was a MAN.

She fell silent, still trying to come up with a way to ask her father if John was married. She didn't think he was-he wore a cool-looking turquoise ring but no gold band-but it would be nice to be sure. Married guys were a big turnoff for her.

"Who's worked for the Shop longer, you or John?"

"He's been around there forever," replied her father. "He must be near ready for retirement."

"Oh? How old is he?"

"I dunno. Older than me."

"Yeah, he's probably got kids my age."

It worked. Her father snorted. "I don't think so! He's not married. What woman would look twice at him? He's a weird character. Nobody likes him. He lives out in Arizona somewhere, with the other reptiles."

Lauren laughed. "What does he do for the Shop?"

Her father glanced at her and started to reply, then stopped. "You know I can't go into specifics about what we do there."

Conroy suddenly felt nervous. Lately, he'd been having funny lapses, forgetting what kind of outfit he worked for. Next to the National Security Agency, the Shop was one of the most closed organizations in the federal government. Security was extremely tight, and employees existed under a myriad of confidentiality policies and other regulations. Bringing Lauren into the library to use the computers had been a major violation of the rules. He knew there were cameras all over the place, so Cap would probably call him on the carpet Monday for that.

He wondered if they'd trace the calls he'd made today, even with the stolen access code. It didn't matter. His friends in Miami had been very encouraging, and soon he could leave this paranoid place altogether, take Kate and Lauren and retire early on the commissions he was making. He was tired of worrying, and tired of the constant pressure to perform. The world had changed beyond his ability to adapt, and he wanted out of the intelligence community. But the family had to be provided for. Resigning early meant giving up a lot of benefits, so it had to be worth his while. He could wait. It wouldn't be long, maybe not even a year. And then he could leave losers like Rainbird behind, once and for all.

They drove on, each lost in a private daydream.

***

Rainbird remained in the library long after Lauren and her father departed. In fact, he didn't wrap things up until after 2:00 a.m., with only one break for fresh coffee.

He briefly considered whether he had lost control somehow, if he was nothing more than a dirty old man.

Then he recalled the encounter in its entirety, and made a mental comparison of Lauren and the sorry excuse for a man she called her father. He stopped second-guessing and proceeded with the new project.

She was very nearly 18. That was good. She'd be out of high school in just over three months. Also good. That was a perfect time frame for making preparations, concerning both Lauren and her father. The Shop couldn't afford making cavalier accusations. Losing agents and retraining new ones was not a simple matter; nor was the cleanup that followed every sanction. A case had to be built-even though the case evidence was often buried right along with the body.

As Rainbird traced Conroy's steps, he was impressed with how well he'd incriminated himself. More trips to Miami and Key West; more contacts; more probable deals. Still, nothing critical that could really bring down The Shop or the country. Rainbird wondered if Conroy understood how insignificant all his efforts were. Conroy probably fancied himself as a real gamesman. It was pathetic. He'd hold out his hand one day, expecting his big payoff, and would get little more than dust. And when he turned around, The Shop would be gone and he'd be out in the cold.

Rainbird wanted to meet Conroy's wife. He wanted to see the woman who would be brought down by her husband's stupidity. The woman who had raised Lauren. He had no sympathy for her, whoever she was. She had, after all, married Nathan and stayed with him.

First, though, he had to report all this to Cap. For now, he'd say nothing about Lauren, but would make his recommendations. When he was sure he had Cap in his corner, he'd reveal what he had in mind. Cap would recoil at first, but Rainbird knew his boss well enough to understand his deep-rooted sense of irony. The plan would work.

Cap's secretary was chatting on the phone, laughing softly, as Rainbird approached her. The look in her eyes hardened when she saw him, and she terminated the conversation abruptly.

"I need to see Cap," he said.

Rachel always got flustered when he spoke to her, but the reaction bore no resemblance to the response he had elicited from Lauren the night before. Rachel simply hated him, and always would. Rachel herself would have trouble identifying the source of her aversion, but Rainbird thought he knew what it was. He'd figured it out one day when he'd sat in the reception area several months ago on a similar occasion. Two men had come into the building within fifteen minutes of each other. The first had been a nattily dressed young man, a Keanu Reeves type, all smooth courtesy. She'd sent him on his way ultimately, since all he wanted was to sell laser prints. She told him she was not interested, but had let him sit and chat her up for awhile, and there was little in the rejection that really felt like one. The second visitor had been a young African-American in Army camouflage and dusty work shoes, who was here on legitimate business with one of the other senior-level agents. He had an appointment, and he had papers. Rachel had kept him waiting, standing, by her desk for several minutes, questioning his credentials, his papers, and the scheduling system she kept on her computer, before she picked up the phone and called the agent, who came out in a hurry to greet his visitor and express regrets at having kept him waiting. Rainbird had pondered all of this as he sat quietly by the potted ficus near the window. Easy to dismiss it as racial prejudice, but he strongly suspected it had more to do with the color of the men's clothing than their skin. Rachel went for the veneer of respectability, every time. The trappings-Cap's military officer's uniform, and the Botany 500 suits that most of the agents sported. She was unfailingly courteous to the other operatives, even Orville Jamieson, who called himself OJ and gravitated toward assignments that allowed him to abuse women. Rachel always complimented him on his ties and cufflinks. But Rainbird, in his old desert boots and faded jeans, gave an impression of indifference, perhaps even disrepute, and it pushed some deep, subconscious button with Rachel, more than just his face, or even his notoriety.

So he withstood her contempt, and waited to be called into Cap's office. It wasn't a long wait. The door opened and Nathan Conroy came out, looking very much like a boy who had been summoned to the old woodshed. His face, including the much-expanded forehead, was flushed, his expression irritated and defensive. He hustled away, and never noticed Rainbird.

Seated in Cap's office, Rainbird efficiently summarized his findings, and commented on Conroy's flustered appearance shortly before.

"Yeah," said Cap, "I had to tweak him. He brought his daughter in last night, let her sit in the library and do her homework while he went back to his office and used the phone. The camera outside in the hall recorded it. Strictly against regulations, and why Security didn't do a better job of stopping him, I intend to find out." When Cap declined to comment about Rainbird's encounter with Lauren, which would also have been observed, Rainbird understood that Cap had checked the first few minutes of the surveillance tape, and Conroy's login on the first computer where he'd set Lauren up. Probably the phone calls Conroy had made as well. That was enough for Cap; he hadn't reviewed the entire tape.

"Thought it might serve as a taste of things to come. Or, knowing him, it'll throw him off the scent."

Rainbird nodded. "He'll assume that if we knew anything damaging about him, we wouldn't waste time dressing him down about unauthorized personnel in a restricted area."

"So how will we approach him?"

"The usual way. Tell him he has no choice but to leave the country. I hear Cuba's nice this time of year."

"Rainbird, I think the man's too stupid to accept those terms. He'll try to strike up some sort of bargain."

"No. Give me, oh, two months, three at the most. I'm getting a clear picture of where his weaknesses lie. By that time, I'll have a lever to use on him. A very sweet one."