“Give me fifteen minutes.”

The three assistants got up and dispersed, either because he had summoned them from chores they’d been doing and they wanted to finish or to keep him from thinking that they were discussing his revelations where he couldn’t hear them.

Summers turned to the notepad and wrote:

6 Glock 17 pistols, 9 mm with two magazines each

3 AR15 rifles with 10-power scopes

500 rounds 5.56 x 45 mm rifle ammunition

300 rounds 9 x 19 mm pistol ammunition

$200,000 in $100 bills

When the assistants returned, Summers handed the car assistant the list. The assistant read through the list and said, “When will you need these items, Mr. Summers?”

“I guess I’ve needed them for the past two years. I just didn’t know it until now. As soon as it’s done, you can go someplace safe.”

Three days later Brian Summers turned off the long, winding highway onto a wide, flat, dusty space that had been covered with gravel numerous times over the years. It looked as though the gravel wasn’t keeping the dust down this summer, and wouldn’t help much with the mud next winter either unless more gravel was added.

A steel cattle stile was set into the ground at the boundary between the turnaround space and the ranch road, and above it a wide steel gate was held shut by a thick chain and a heavy combination padlock the size of a man’s wallet. Summers waited while the cloud of dust he had kicked up floated over his navy blue BMW and away.

Then he got out of the car and stepped to the padlock, worked the combination he’d been given, and swung the gate open. A flock of quail just beyond the gate ran away from the incursion to disappear into the tall crop of dry weeds to the side. He drove in onto the ranch road and locked the gate again.

The dirt and gravel road went along a sturdy fence with five strands of barbed wire between the steel posts. He could not see exactly where the ranch road went because it climbed to a ridge with a flattened mound on it and then curved around behind the mound.

He began to drive along the road and glanced into his rearview mirror and confirmed what he’d expected: that he was trailing a cloud of dust that stretched a hundred feet and rose into the air about twenty. His arrival would not be a surprise. When his BMW reached the last part of the road and swung up the steep incline to the top of the ridge, the road turned and he found he was almost at the house. He studied it.